by Ralph Gibbs
“I can extend our offer to your people?” Major Barrette asked.
“How about we go into the living room after dinner and talk about this offer?”
“Coffee?” Toscana asked when they were getting from up from the table.
“Oh God, yes!” Major Barrette said.
“You don’t have to do that,” Danica said. “I can—”
“Nonsense. Making coffee isn’t hard.”
“I’ll head out and see about the deer,” Ruiz said.
“Matthew, come with me,” Toscana said. “Greg, if you follow me into the kitchen, I’ll get you a cup to take with you.”
“If it’s all the same, I’ll take a cup, but only if you join me in one,” Greg said. “We can take the time to go over the birthing process. Besides, if I walk over there with coffee, Tisden is likely to knife me in the back and take it.”
Toscana laughed at the joke. “I’d enjoy the company.”
Danica pointed at a chair across from the couch. They were the only two in the room.
“So, major—”
“Please, just Bill when we’re not in front of the men,” Major Barrette said to Danica as he sat down.
“Is it really Bill, or William?”
“Nope. It’s just Bill.
“So, why don’t you tell me why you and your men are here?” Danica said as Toscana entered carrying a tray with a pot of coffee and two mugs.
“That smells good,” Major Barrette said.
“There’s cream and sugar in the bowls,” Toscana said. “We have fake sugar if you prefer.”
“No,” he said. “Just cream is fine when I’m not around the men.” He laughed. “I usually have to drink it black. I have to keep up appearances. There was a time when I loaded my coffee with copious amounts of sugar, but when my doctor warned me I was close to becoming a diabetic, I stopped and started using flavored creamer.”
“I don’t think we have any sugar-free creamer,” Toscana said.
“That’s fine,” the major said. “I don’t use a lot.”
“All right, then,” Toscana said. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
The major sipped his coffee as Toscana left and beamed at the taste. “Basically, I’ve been authorized by Father Winthrop to extend you an invitation to join our group in Atlanta.”
“Join what? And who is Father Winthrop?”
“Join the rightful government of the United States. Father Winthrop is the current President of the United States.”
“Rumor has it the rightful government of the United States is sitting inside a mountain in Colorado. Is the rumor not true?”
“It is our position that Dixon is not the rightful representative of the government and never has been.”
“I remember him being elected. Isn’t that the definition of a rightful representative? I don’t remember a Winthrop being on the ballot when I voted.” Being too young, Danica didn’t vote, but she figured it best to keep up appearances. Besides, if she had been old enough to vote, Dixon would have gotten it, so it was only a little lie.
“Are you doing away with the Constitution?”
“Not at all. In fact, we practice the Constitution as originally written.”
Danica sat up straighter. “Slavery?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Everyone agrees slavery was a blight on our democracy. Our forefathers couldn’t even bring themselves to use the word in the document. Slavery should never have been allowed. It was and always will be a crime against humanity.”
“But it was in the Constitution.”
“Not really,” the major said, knowing what she was about to say. “At the chance of sounding like a right-wing nut job, that’s just a liberal lie. Okay, that’s maybe too harsh. Let’s call it a misconception. Look, I know that’s what most of us learned in school, but it’s just not true. Most people look at the three-fifths clause as condoning slavery. Again, another misconception. Three-fifths didn’t have a racial meaning at all. It never looked at Africans as three-fifths of a person.”
“African-Americans might disagree with you.”
“Completely understandable. If I were black, I’d probably feel the same way. Father Winthrop and his administration aren’t disputing that African Americans have had a raw deal throughout American history. Even after the Civil Rights movement, it’s been a raw deal for them. However, that doesn’t change the fact that the three-fifths rule was more of a compromise on the way the government levied taxes and apportioned representation in Congress than it was about condoning slavery. If anything, it penalized slave-holding states. If one of the original thirteen colonies abolished slavery, they were allowed to count free blacks on a one-for-one basis for the purposes of sending representatives to Washington.”
Danica could tell it was a well-practiced and rehearsed speech. She just wasn’t sure how much of it she believed. It seemed to go against everything she’d ever heard and believed. Her father once told her that racism never went away; it was just repackaged into something sounding reasonable on the surface, but if you peeled it back, and really checked out the engine, it was still racism.
“Take the argument by many southern groups that state’s rights, and not slavery, was the real reason for the Civil War,” her father said. “If you take a long, hard look at it, it amounts to the same damn thing. The Confederacy fought for their states’ right to continue the institution of slavery. It just sounds better when they say the Civil War was fought over state rights and leave out the slavery part. It’s all about packaging.”
Danica changed the subject. She didn’t want the conversation with the major to turn adversarial. “What is it your offering, major?”
“Security and a normal life, at least as normal as can be expected in times like these. I just came from there, and it’s a utopia, of sorts.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
“Not really, but that’s what I’ve been ordered to say. The truth is, it may not be a utopia, but it’s secure, and there’s plenty of food, water, and medical staff.”
“You have doctors?” Danica said, sounding surprised.
“Not yet, but we have several trained nurses.”
“Do you control all of Atlanta?”
“Not in the military sense, and that’s how I usually think. I don’t think it’s any different here. You control this small area, but once outside your security perimeter, things can get dicey if you’re not careful. It’s the same in Atlanta. The only difference is we’re actively working on expanding our security perimeter.”
“We had a group pass through here a while ago tell us that a fire gutted Atlanta,” Danica said.
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. The fire was pretty extensive. But it happened before we arrived. It burned a large area near downtown. Are you familiar with Atlanta?” She shook her head. “The fire was near Grant Park. It’s near the Atlanta Falcons football stadium. It burned most of the houses in a six-block radius: from Glenwood Avenue near the highway all the way to Abernathy Avenue. It’s a bit more extensive than that, jumping a little further in all directions, but it didn’t touch every house either.”
“What started it?”
“No idea. Most assume lightning. We’re in the process of cleaning it up. We’re salvaging what we can, burying who we find and knocking down the rest of the houses in the area. We’re going to turn it into a giant farming area.”
“What do you want from us?”
“To come and help. If you come, you’ll only be required to be functioning members of society, just like before the pandemic. We’re building the United States as it should have been.”
Danica sipped her coffee. “And how should it have been?”
“A Christian nation built on Christian values.” Danica was about to ask what that meant for homosexuals when Toscana barged in.
“Major, do you have more people coming in?” she asked.
“We have about four or five groups visiting other small communities
in the area. However, we were the only ones scheduled to come here.”
“There are other communities nearby?” Danica said, shocked. The major smiled.
“They’re not all as large, but yes,” Major Barrette said. “The closest one is about five miles southwest of here.”
“How the hell do we not know about them,” Danica said, to no one in particular.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Major Barrette said. “You don’t have our resources. Besides, Atlanta is a magnet for people that are traveling. We always question people when they come in about what and who they’ve seen. It’s how we learned about your group.” He pointed to the sky. “Also, we have air support. Mostly helicopters.”
“I think I would have heard them,” Danica said.
“Most likely,” he said. “I don’t think they’ve been used around here. At least, not yet.” He looked up at Toscana. “Do you know what they look like?”
“The sentry runner described them as a group of six,” Toscana said. “A group of three women, two children, and a man. All armed.”
“If they have children, then they’re definitely not any of my people,” Major Barrette said.
“Major,” Danica said, getting up and offering her hand. “I want to thank you for the information, but I guess I need to greet our new visitors.” The major clasped her hand.
“Would you like me and my men to go with you?”
“They don’t sound dangerous. Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning. Feel free to join me for breakfast.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“I’ll have someone stop by to tell you when that will be,” she said. “This might end up being a long night.”
CHAPTER 34
By the time the second group arrived near the community, it was late. Like the first, this group seemed headed straight for the heart of the neighborhood. Two different groups doing the exact same thing on the exact same day didn’t sit well with Danica. She’d left word with David, one of the more competent people in the community, despite the zombie incident, with orders to watch Major Barrette’s group. He’d radioed that the major and his men hadn’t moved. They even left the lights on and remained huddled in the living room with the blinds raised so they could easily be seen. They were playing cards, poker by the look of it. The major expected her actions and went out of his way to show he was no threat.
“And you can see them all moving?” she asked.
“It’s not like they put a mannequin in one of the chairs,” David said. It’s exactly what she was thinking.
When the group rounded the corner, she was again leaning against the open door holding the police cruiser’s mic. Because it was dark, she reached in and turned on the car’s headlights.
“That’s far enough,” Danica said into the mic. “Who are you, and what do you want here?” They threw up their arms to shield their eyes from the sudden bright lights but didn’t bring up their weapons. It took a moment for the group to get over the shock, but once they did, a tall, well-dressed woman in a black pantsuit and green hiking boots stepped forward. She looked like a CIA agent, just without the shades. Reaching into her jacket, the woman pulled out an identification wallet and held it up.
“Trooper, Special Agent Paris Ishida, FBI,” Paris shouted.
“Why is there an FBI agent in this neck of the woods?” Danica shouted back.
“She’s with me,” Franklin said, stepping forward. “I’m here looking for my son.”
Another group looking for loved ones. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. Most likely, these people would spend a few days here and then move on disappointed their loved ones weren’t alive, here or both. Danica put down the handset.
“Stay here,” Danica said to the few people with her. She moved up to the group. “I know everyone here, and since I grew up just around the corner, I know a good many that aren’t here anymore as well. What’s your name?”
“Franklin Turnipseed.”
“I can tell you right now there is no one here with that last name. I’m sorry, I don’t think there has ever been anyone here with that name. That’s not a name you forget.”
“Their last name wouldn’t be Turnipseed. His mother and I divorced. She went by her maiden name, Chambers.”
“Erica!” Danica said, shocked. She knew people were traveling the United States looking for family, but she figured the odds of anyone finding friends or family was next to nil. “Erica Chambers was your wife?”
“You know her, then?”
“I did. I’m afraid she’s dead. I buried her in the backyard of her house.”
“And our son?” Franklin asked with a mixture of hope and dread.
“So, Matthew Chambers is your son,” she whispered, still in shock.
“Is?” Paris chimed in.
“Matt’s alive,” Danica said excitedly. “He’s with a friend at my house, right now!” Franklin stood stunned for a moment and then sat on the road and started to cry. Anita came over, sat on his lap, and hugged him.
“Matthew’s here,” Anita said. “You should be happy.”
“I am honey,” Franklin said, hugging her back. He stood up. “Take me to him.” He started to move forward.
“Hold on,” she said, stepping in front of him and putting her hands on his chest.
“Look, officer. I really am his father.”
“I don’t doubt that. I can’t think of a single reason anyone would come here, pretending to be Matthew’s father. Besides, I can see a little of you in him.”
“The family always said Matt looked like Erica, but Erica always said he reminded her of me. Can you take me to him, please?”
“I will, I promise, but you need to know something first.”
“Hold on Franklin,” Paris said, putting a restraining hand on his arm. “It’s been this long; you can wait a few more minutes. What’s your name, trooper?”
“Danica Justice,” she said, introducing herself for the second time today.
“That’s a nice name,” Anita said.
“Thank you. And what’s your name, little lady?”
“Anita.” She turned and pointed at her brother. “And that’s my brother Nate.”
“Trooper, what is it you need to tell us?” Paris asked impatiently. “I’m not sure how long I can hold him back.”
“There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’ll just come out with it,” Danica said. “Matthew is blind.” Franklin just stared at Danica, too shocked to say anything.
“We’ve run into one or two people that were blinded by the plague,” Gunilla said. “So, it’s not completely unsurprising.”
“And it’s not treatable?” Franklin asked Gunilla.
“I haven’t thought about it. It wasn’t treatable back in the classical Greek period, but technology has changed so much that if the cause can be isolated, maybe we can reverse it. My best guess is it’s caused by retinal scarring, which itself is treatable, but it will depend on how much retinal scarring there is. Can he see at all?”
“No,” Danica said.
“That indicates a lot of scarring,” Gunilla said. “Which probably isn’t . . . Given our state of technology, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. But don’t give up completely.”
“But they’re bound to have state-of-the-art facilities in Colorado,” Franklin said, almost pleading for confirmation.
“They should,” Paris agreed. “If the president is still there, it’ll be up and running. They may have already isolated the cause and come up with a treatment. If not, I’m sure Gunilla can help with it.”
“Then we should get him to Colorado,” Gunilla said.
“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” Danica said to Gunilla.
“She’s from Sweden,” Paris said.
“And from the sounds of it, she’s a doctor?” Danica said.
“Not really,” Gunilla said. “I’m a virologist.”
“But you have some medical train
ing?” Danica pressed.
“A bit more than some,” Gunilla said. “Did you need me to look at that arm of yours?”
“What?” Danica said, bringing up her arm on instinct. “Oh, no. We have a pregnant woman in the community, and I was hoping you might be able to check on her. You know, make sure everything’s okay.”
“Sure.”
“Trooper, can you take me to my son now?” Franklin asked impatiently.
“One last thing Mr. Turnipseed,” Danica said. “Your wife didn’t die from the plague; she was murdered.”
“Murdered?” he said incredulously. “How?”
For the next several minutes, Danica laid out everything she knew, what she could piece together, and what Matt told her. Then she ended the story with Wade’s death. When she finished telling the story, Franklin was stunned into silence. After a moment, he reached out and hugged her.
“Thank you for watching out for him.”
“Yes,” thank you, Trooper Justice,” Paris said.
Danica started to say something, hesitated, and finally came to a decision. Then she looked behind her to make sure none of the group was within earshot. “Actually, I’m not a state trooper. My father was the trooper. I just dressed in his clothes because I thought it would keep people from messing with me. Everybody just assumed I was a trooper, and I never said otherwise. Hell, I’m not even sure why I’m telling you, except that you have an actual FBI agent with you, and I it’s against the law to lie to the FBI.”
“How old are you?” Paris asked.
“Seventeen,” Danica said.
“By the sounds of it, your father would be proud,” Paris said.
“Thank you,” Danica said. “Come on, I’ll take you to your son. We have food, hot showers, and soft beds.”
“Oh my God,” Gunilla said, almost squealing like a schoolgirl. “Hot showers. I so want a hot shower.”
“Do me a favor and keep the fact that I’m not a real trooper to yourself.”
“No worries,” Franklin said. “It’s the least I can do.”
“The only people that know are Matthew and Toscana,” Danica said.
“Toscana?” Tempest asked. “Did you say Toscana? Latin girl about this high, beautiful.”