“I don’t have kids, but I’ve always believed being a parent must be the hardest job there is.”
“Was that by choice?” she asks. “Not having kids, I mean?”
He shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t meant to be. We almost adopted a baby. A little boy. But, at the last second, the mother changed her mind. It broke my wife’s heart. She didn’t want to put herself through that again.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”
He waves his hand. “Nah. Don’t be. It was probably for the best. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, thinking about your kids as the time gets closer. Wanting to protect them, like you’ve always done, but not being able to do so.”
Rhonda bows her head, and Carl watches as tears fall down her face. He reaches out and touches her hand. “Hey. Don’t cry. I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”
She sniffles. “The thing is, I haven’t always protected them. I really am a terrible mother. I chose my boyfriend over my daughter. I couldn’t stand how she was acting. The way they fought, all the time. So, I kicked her out. Told her she had to go live with her dad.”
“You probably did the best you could at the time,” Carl says.
She wipes the tears away with her thumbs. “No. I should have done better. She deserved better.” She stands up. Starts pacing again.
There is so much regret hanging from this woman, and Carl wishes he could just cut it away for her. All those people he helped and had fun with, giving them something they wished for, and here is this woman, who’s been so kind, and he can’t do a single thing for her.
Or … can he?
EMERSON CRIED for a long time, there in the field, next to the freeway. A car would drive by every once in a while. A couple of them honked. But Vince and Emerson stood there, beneath the clear blue sky, in each other’s arms, ignoring all of it.
Eventually, the tears dried up. She was spent. Exhausted beyond words. Vince helped her to the car. Put her seat in the reclining position. She crawled in, closed her eyes, and slept.
When she wakes, the first thing she does is glance at the clock. “Vince, why’d you let me sleep so long?”
“Trust me, you needed it.”
“But I wasted precious time.” She feels like she might start crying again, although she doesn’t want to. Because sadness is not very helpful right now.
When she realizes they aren’t moving, she reaches over and pops her seat up. “Where are we?”
“Well, I decided we needed something to eat. When I saw the Shari’s sign from the freeway, and noticed cars parked out front, I thought we could check it out.”
“You think it’s open?”
“I don’t know. But we’re about to find out.”
“Why would it be open, though?” she asks.
“Maybe the same reason the karaoke place was open? To help people somehow? Come on, let’s go.”
In some ways, it seems like a silly thing to do, when time is ticking away. But she can’t deny it—she’s hungry.
As they walk to the front door, she looks at the signs, all over the windows. Most of them are advertising pie.
Pie!
“Oh my God, I want pie,” she says out loud.
Vince laughs. “What about that cheeseburger we were talking about earlier?”
“That, too. I know, let’s order the entire menu. Everything. We have enough money, right?”
“Probably.”
“Our last meal will be all eighty-seven items on the Shari’s menu. Doesn’t that sound awesome?”
“Wait. Have you actually counted how many things are on the menu?” Vince asks as he opens the front door and holds it for her.
“Remember that one time we went and ordered two waters and split a plate of french fries?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t notice me counting everything on the menu.”
He steps behind her, into the waiting area. “You’re joking.”
“Yes. I’m joking. Still, we’re ordering everything. Deal?”
Before Vince can reply, an old man with glasses, lots of age spots, and hardly any hair stands up from a long table off to the side that’s filled with people. Fifteen to twenty people, Emerson guesses.
The old man waves. Smiles. “Oh, good, two more! Please, come in. We’ll get you a couple of chairs. Don’t worry, we haven’t started yet. We’re glad you’re able to join us.”
Vince and Emerson look at each other, not sure what to do. A couple of people from the group have sprung into action and gathered up two more chairs. Everyone scoots over and back, to make room.
“It’s all right,” the old man says. “Don’t be frightened. We’re absolutely thrilled you’re here. You’re so young, too. Most of us skeptics are in the over-sixty crowd. It’ll be great to hear what you have to say.”
Vince looks at Emerson again, and as he does, he glances quickly toward the door. Like he’s telling her they should make a run for it. But Emerson doesn’t want to go. The word skeptics has made her curious. She moves toward the empty chairs, so Vince follows. As they approach the table, she sees some people have ordered food.
“I’m Burt,” the old guy says. “I’m the organizer of this meeting. And you are?”
“I’m Vince, and this is Emerson.”
As they take their seats, Emerson says, “We’ve been traveling and we’re really hungry. Would it be possible to order some food?”
“Of course,” a middle-aged man with a big belly says as he stands up. “I’m Tom, the manager here, and I’m happy to get you something to eat. It’ll just be a sandwich and some potato chips. Hope that’s all right?”
“That sounds great,” Vince says at the same time Emerson asks, “Do you have any pie?”
Vince turns and looks at her, his eyebrows high, like he’s surprised by her question. She just shrugs her shoulders.
“We have one pie left,” Tom says. “I’m afraid it’s not very exciting: pumpkin. But I have some whipped cream to go with it.”
Emerson leans back and smiles. “Perfect.”
Tom returns her smile and then leaves the table, heading back toward the kitchen.
“So, how did you hear about us?” Burt asks.
“Uh, well,” Vince says, “to be honest, we don’t know much. We just, uh, we—”
Emerson can tell he’s struggling, so she cuts in. “We heard some people talking about you in downtown Portland. And we were curious, you know?”
This seems to satisfy Burt. He nods. “Ah. Well, good. I’m glad to hear the measures we took to get the word out actually worked. Did you bring any evidence along with you?”
Emerson narrows her eyes. “Evidence?”
“Yes,” Burt says. “Evidence that suggests this asteroid thing is all a giant, horrible hoax.”
Emerson’s mouth drops open for a moment, before she comes to her senses and responds. “No, sorry. We don’t have any evidence. But we’d love to hear what you have to say.”
Burt nods. “Yes. That’s why we’re all here. So let’s get started, shall we?”
EMERSON IS trying to wrap her head around this. These people are here because they think the whole thing has been made up?
As in, a big, fat lie?
It’s so bizarre, and part of her thinks maybe they should have run the other way when they had the chance. But another part of her is curious and really wants to hear what they have to say.
“First of all,” a lady sitting next to Burt says, “I think we should share the reasons why we believe the government would do this to us. Why they would leak a fake disaster and create a crisis where none existed before? And then after that, we can share the evidence we’ve discovered.”
“Sounds good to me,” Burt says. “Let’s go around the table, and hear what you each have to say. Please tell us your name before you speak.”
Emerson listens intently as each person gives a reason.
“I’m Joe. They hate ninety-nine percent of us. It�
��s that simple.”
“Name’s Bud. They want us to wake up and smell the coffee. The world was going to hell in a handbasket, and no one seemed to give a damn. So they’re giving us a wake-up call like nothing we’ve seen before.”
“Hello. I’m Shirley. And yes, I agree with Bud. I think they were frightened about where our nation was headed, and they simply didn’t know what else to do.”
“My name is Gloria. I have a different theory from a lot of you. I think it’s real, but I believe they’ve figured out a way to prevent it from happening, and haven’t told us yet. I think they want to take us as close to the estimated time of impact as possible. Really shake things up so when it’s all over, our country won’t be as divided as it once was.”
“I’m David. Interesting theory. Personally, I think they wanted to get rid of as many of us as they could. And it worked, didn’t it? I bet when it’s over, some will come home, but many will stay where they are. Most of those who’ve left have probably begun the process of starting over. Lots of people talk about how we need free health care and free education. Well, once they find it in other countries, why would they want to come back here?”
It’s Vince’s turn now. He looks around the table, like he’s trying to think of what to say. The words come out slowly. “I’m Vince. I’m thinking maybe they wanted to teach us a lesson.”
An old lady with pure white hair who hasn’t spoken yet leans forward, across the table. “But, what kind of lesson, exactly?”
“I don’t know,” Vince replies. “Maybe to remind us of what’s really important in life? Like, if you’ve got your health and your family, you’ve got a lot, and you should be thankful for that. They say money is the root of all evil, and it seems like our society had hit an all-time high with its greed.”
“The problem with that theory, however,” Bud says, “is that the government is the greediest of them all. How does this help them in the end?”
Vince just shrugs his shoulders and looks at Emerson. Everyone else does the same, since it’s her turn now.
“Can I ask a question?” she says.
“Of course,” Burt replies. “Ask away.”
“Whatever the reason for this ‘hoax,’ as you call it, doesn’t it all seem a little extreme? I mean, couldn’t they have come up with something less terrifying? Less tragic, maybe?”
“We must remember, wars have been started over much less,” a tiny old man says at the opposite end of the table. “And what are wars, if not extreme, terrifying, and tragic?”
No one says anything as they take that in. A few people nod their heads in agreement. Just then, Tom returns, carrying two large plates of food. He sets the plates in front of Emerson and Vince. “There are glasses and pitchers of water there, on the table.” He points. “Help yourselves. I’ll be right back with your pie.”
“Thank you,” Emerson and Vince say simultaneously.
“So, what’s your theory?” the old lady asks, looking at Emerson. “Do you have one?”
Emerson has already picked up her sandwich and taken a bite. It’s ham and cheese on toasted white bread, and it’s delicious. She finishes chewing and then says, “Maybe they’re punishing us. Maybe this is how they say—stop being assholes, because ultimately, assholes don’t end up with the good stuff. They get what they deserve. So stop wanting your way, all the time. Stop fighting all the freaking time. Try to get along with one another. I mean, have you seen the headlines of the paper recently? There’s this one machine downtown that’s broken, and it’s easy to get a free paper …”
Her voice trails off as she realizes she’s just admitted to stealing the newspaper. She picks up a chip, pops it in her mouth, and looks at Vince. “No one gets along anymore. What’s with all the school shootings? The mall shootings? And terror threats, every day practically, and everywhere. Most days, doesn’t it seem like the world has gone insane? So, they decided to punish us. Give us a good, hard kick. And suddenly, we’re forced to get along, right? Look at all of us, sitting here.” She leans in. “I mean, really. Would you all have been so friendly to us under any other circumstances?”
A couple of the people at the table squirm slightly.
“Punishing us,” a woman with short red hair says. “Interesting. I’d never thought of it like that before, but it makes sense. I’m April, by the way.”
Emerson eats another chip and keeps talking. “My friend Vince here, he’s a good guy. He’s always looking out for people. But me? I mostly keep to myself if I can. I don’t trust other people, generally. In my mind, everyone’s bad until I get proof otherwise. But not Vince. He wants to bring out the best in everyone. Do you know how we’ve spent the last twenty-four hours? Helping people. That’s what he wanted to do. If only the rest of the world were like that, you know?”
Vince sets his sandwich down and reaches over and rubs Emerson’s back. She smiles over at him as she takes another bite of her sandwich.
Tom appears with the plates of pumpkin pie and sets them on the table before he returns to his seat.
“All right,” Burt says. “Clearly, there are more than enough theories to go around as to why they’d do this to us. The more we talk about it, the more it seems like it really could be an evil, elaborate plan.”
Emerson is a bit surprised when she finds herself nodding her head in agreement.
“So, just to play the devil’s advocate,” Vince says. “We’ve all heard the theory that a huge asteroid is what killed off the dinosaurs millions of years ago. What’s not to say that it really is happening? That tonight will be the end for all of us?”
“Well,” Burt says, “that’s where the evidence comes in. Are we ready to present what we have to the group?”
Everyone nods.
Vince and Emerson look at each other, like they can’t believe what they have accidentally stepped into. And then, still hungry, they go back to eating.
“THE FIRST thing to examine,” Burt says, “is the state of the economy at the time we got word of the asteroid.”
“I had the exact same thought,” Tom says. “Unemployment rates had been going up for months. Businesses were shutting their doors right and left. Then, the stock market crashed and it was unlike anything we’ve seen since the Great Depression. It was twenty-four hours of absolute chaos. The economy was in a tailspin.”
“Shortly thereafter,” Burt says, “the announcement of the impending disaster hit the airwaves. Highly suspect, don’t you agree?”
Emerson glances around the table as, once again, everyone nods their heads.
The woman with the red hair, April, clears her throat, and all eyes turn to her. She’s not as old as most of the others. Forty, maybe. Intelligent-looking. “If they’d been waiting for the right time to pull the trigger, so to speak, they found it.” She leans in. “But I have something very interesting that you’re not going to believe.”
The table gets very quiet. Emerson stops chewing and sets her sandwich down on the plate.
“Did you ever wonder,” April continues, “why the only interviews they showed in the days immediately following the announcement were with the same two astronomers?”
“I never thought about it, actually,” Joe says.
“I have a friend at the Pentagon,” April says. “I spoke with him a few days ago. Unlike many others, he did not leave the country. It seemed strange to me, so I asked him straight-out, to tell me what he knows. He was reluctant to do so at first. But I pressed him, and I kept pressing him. I said, in just a few days, everyone is going to find out the truth anyway. One way or the other, the truth will be revealed. What does it hurt to tell me now?”
Emerson is on the edge of her seat as she listens to this lady talk about secrets at the Pentagon. She feels Vince’s hand reach under the table to find hers, and it makes her relax a little bit.
April folds her hands and puts them on the table in front of her. She speaks slowly. Carefully. “There was an astronomy conference right before the annou
ncement of the asteroid. Apparently, top experts from around the world, who were at this conference, are now locked away in a secret location.”
“How convenient,” Burt says.
“Yes,” April says. “He wouldn’t tell me where they are, and when I asked him why they’ve done that, he said the go-to answer is for research purposes. That, of course, government officials want to do everything in their power to see if they can find a way to stop the tragedy from occurring.” She pauses. “But I asked him, why do I get the feeling that the go-to answer isn’t the real answer? The honest answer?”
“Because it’s not,” Bud says. “Isn’t that right?”
April leans back. “That’s all I could get out of him. He said he’d told me far more than he should have.”
“What do you think?” Burt asks. “What do your instincts tell you, April? Surely you must have had a gut response after you hung up the phone.”
“I think he was lying through his teeth,” April says. “My theory? They’ve gathered up all of the experts and locked them away so none of them can cry foul. They bought off a couple of others who would respond to questions and tell the world the lies that our government has meticulously created.”
“God,” Emerson whispers. “This is sick.”
Vince squeezes her hand, as if trying to reassure her.
“But what about cell and Internet service going out?” Gloria asks. “The shortage of gasoline? Are you saying that’s all been staged?”
“Of course,” Joe says. “They’ve gone to great lengths to make it look real. And don’t you find it strange that we still have electricity? It doesn’t make sense.”
The look on Gloria’s face tells Emerson she is feeling very confused, and Emerson wants to tell her she’s not the only one. Instead, she asks the question that’s been bouncing around inside her head for the past few minutes. “So, when we don’t blow up, what happens then? What will they say about it all?”
“They’ll tell us they found a way to prevent it,” Tom says. “The United States government will come out smelling like a fresh load of laundry. They’ll make us believe that the team of experts solved the problem in the nick of time. Trust me, they’ll have an answer for everything.”
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