First Days After

by Jay Vielle

  “Tell yourself whatever you must, Reyes,” said Wes. “But we all know the truth.” Lou Orville had a look of assurance on his face, but I noticed Mark Longaberger’s looked very, very uncomfortable. He chewed his lip, his eyes darted around, and he looked constipated as Wes spoke.

  “Don’t worry about what I tell myself. What I’m telling you is we’re going in whether you like it or not,” I said. Wes smirked at me and glanced over at Mark and Lou. Lou smirked as well, but Mark looked a little like he swallowed a frog.

  “Help yourself, Eddie,” Wes said. “We’re not going to threaten you with violence. Like you said, it’s your school too.” Wes made a sweeping gesture towards the doors. That made me uncomfortable. I looked at Jake confusedly.

  “What’s he up to?” I whispered. Jake shrugged, then started walking in. Waiting in the rotunda, near the back by the cafeteria’s entrance, were all the people who had been with us at the beginning. Every single one of them looked uncomfortable. Unsure of just what to say, just what to do, they just stood there gawking at us as we walked in.

  Jake looked at each of them. Some of them couldn’t hold his gaze. Jennie Custis scowled at us. I always hated that bitch, and now I felt it in my bones. Melanie Richmond’s look of discomfort became one of disgust as we got closer, and I realized that I never liked her either, and I wondered how I ever faked it before when she pulled her two-face routine. Robin Eaves was expressionless. She had gone along with all of the fervor that had led to our banishment, just not quite as zealously as Melanie had. The Heffners stood together and looked mildly ashamed, which I admit was a small comfort to me. They were pawns in Wes Kent’s power play, were now dependent on his charity and couldn’t help it.

  Jake broke the awkward silence. “Hello again. I understand how awkward this is, but if you consider that the backdrop for all of this is World War III, you also understand why I don’t give a shit. We have traveled nearly a thousand miles, seen several very different cities, been abducted into slave labor, been barred from looking for our loved ones, and fought back some kind of mutated creatures who, of all things, were trying to eat us. Your awkwardness at this moment is really, really low on my give-a-shit-list. We are back, I don’t know if--or how long--we are staying, and I don’t care how welcome we are or aren’t. Those of you who have decided to hate me, or us—there’s not much I can do about that. Those of you who are still on the fence should probably have a conversation or two. For now, I am going to take a shower and probably help myself to something to eat.”

  Then he walked towards the athletic wing and the coaches’ locker room. The others gawked wide-eyed, and I grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  “I’m going to my classroom,” I said. “Estela, Morgan, are you hungry? Do you need to use a bathroom?”

  Morgan nodded. “Yes, to the bathroom, thanks. Vinny, can you show me around your school a little?” Vinny brightened, nodded, and gently grabbed her elbow. Estela came with me and waved almost imperceptibly to Morgan. Al and Maureen started to walk to the wing where their classrooms were, and Jada and Glen went straight into the cafeteria to talk to some of the other students who had stayed.

  That left Tommy and Wendy. They glanced at each other uneasily. Tommy frowned slightly. Wendy forced a smile. “So, you went to school here?” she asked. Tommy nodded silently. A tense moment went by with no words or movement.

  “I think I’ll use the bathroom too. I’ll catch up with Morgan,” she said, and she walked hurriedly to follow Vinny and his friend. Tommy stood alone, taking in his alma mater.

  “They’ve got some nerve,” said Wes. “But they’re in for a surprise when they get to their classrooms and find homeless families living there,” he said smiling.

  Mark looked uncomfortable still. “What do you think they’re going to say?”

  “I don’t much care,” said Wes. “What can they say? We’re housing homeless people! Who would be so selfish or heartless as to have a problem with that?”

  “Easy to say when it’s not your room,” Mark added.

  “They left,” said Wes. “I didn’t.”

  “But you ran them out,” said Mark. “They have a right to be upset.”

  “You’re missing the big picture, my boy,” said Wes. “We’re helping an entire community.”

  “But it’s a select community of your church’s congregation,” said Mark. “And their rooms were simply confiscated. They didn’t volunteer them. Don’t you think they’re going to have some problems with this?”

  “I’m not sure who’s side you’re on, son,” said Wes. “But I don’t like your tone.”

  “It’s not a tone Wes, it’s just an observation. I mean, there’s two sides to every coin.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Wes, scowling. Mark made a face of incredulity as the front doors swung open again. In walked Father Joe, Pablo Fuentes, Emery Butler, Billy James and the mysterious Oleg. Lou and Wes turned.

  “Padre,” said Wes. “You come at an awkward time.”

  “What’s the matter?” said Father Joe.

  “Our undesirables have returned,” said Wes.

  “Returned? Why? I thought they left,” said Father Joe.

  “So did we,” said Wes. “But here they are. And they’re not particularly contrite,” said Wes. “They’re defending their actions and just brazenly walked in here, daring me to stop them.”

  “How unfortunate,” said Pablo. “Some people have no shame. What do you plan to do?”

  “What can I do?” said Wes. “This Fisher comes and goes as he pleases. We’re powerless to stop him. He’s very violent.”

  “Violence should be a last resort,” said Father Joe, looking directly at Oleg when he said it. Oleg nodded without expression. “Perhaps I can talk to them.”

  “I would value that greatly, Padre,” said Wes. “Hopefully you can help them see reason.”

  But suddenly I was in a very unreasonable mood. I had taken one look at two families of homeless people living in my classroom and lost the last bit of my composure.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I said, stomping back to the rotunda. Wendy and Morgan had stayed in the ladies’ room, and Vinny was with me.

  “What is the meaning of this? You’ve put squatters in my classroom to live? What right do you have to my room?” I shouted.

  “What right do you have to it?” said Wes. “We are all just public servants here. These aren’t our rooms. We occupy them as teachers. We all get moved from time to time. They don’t belong to us any more than the cafeteria does, or the gym.

  “Easy for you to say. I’m guessing no homeless people are living in your classroom,” I shouted.

  “As a matter of fact, they are,” said Wes. “I moved my things to another spot to accommodate them.” I didn’t know what to say to that, but knowing that Wes was a snake in the grass, I supposed that just enough of it was true that he could equivocate.

  “Well, I never gave you permission to do anything with mine,” I yelled.

  “You left. How was I supposed to know you were coming back?” said Wes.

  “You kicked us out, you asshole!” I said.

  “You kicked yourselves out. You made yourselves unwelcome. Besides, these people need places to say. We’re offering them Christian charity. Are you so self-absorbed that you can’t even see past your own ego to notice that?” I had nothing to say to that either. Not without sounding like a giant dick.

  “Look, Eddie. I didn’t try to screw you intentionally. There’s no question that the only thing we can agree on is that you and I agree on virtually nothing. We are worlds apart politically and religiously. But we—our church, these people you left—are trying to do something charitable here. If there is anything you need from your room, you know that you are welcome to get it.”

  “That’s not the point, Wes,” I said.

  “Then what is the point?” he said. I had nothing for that either. I just made a face of disapproval and shook my head slightly.<
br />
  “I, for one, would like to personally thank Mr. Reyes for the use of his classroom,” said Father Joe. “I understand the awkwardness of all of this. We didn’t anticipate your return, of course, so we moved ahead with our charitable projects. I’m sorry for your inconvenience, but you are truly helping us do God’s work.”

  “And you are?” I asked.

  “Apologies,” he said. “I’m Father Joseph Clarque of the Church of Many Blessings. It’s a pleasure,” he said, offering his hand. I took it and shook uncomfortably. I knew what I thought of his church—and had heard like-minded people privately call it ‘The Church of Many Snobs’ in my presence.

  “Father,” I said. “I appreciate your candor.”

  “Of course. Let’s address the elephant in the room, shall we. I know that you all had a bit of a falling out philosophically. That is none of that is my business, of course. But when Wes said you all had left, and I suggested we use the school to help house some of our displaced flock, Wes thought your rooms would be permanently deserted, and I accepted on behalf of the church. I’m sorry.” He was good, this guy. I wanted to be really, really pissed about this, but he had assuaged my anger in just a few moments with a couple of apologies, some explanation, and apparently altruistic projects.

  “Not a problem, Father,” I said. Now he actually had made me feel guilty about being upset of being robbed of my room. Vinny and Tommy stood there awkwardly watching all of this. Father Joe turned to them.

  “And who are these strapping young lads?” he asked.

  “Thomas and Vincent Fisher,” said Wes.

  “Fisher, eh?” said Father Joe. “Coach Fisher’s sons, then, I presume.” He offered a hand to each of them. They shook dutifully and firmly.

  “Yes sir,” said Tommy.

  “Firm grips, good handshakes, both of you,” said Father Joe. “Your dad taught you well.” Both boys smiled automatically. Wendy walked up alone.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello,” said Wes, looking like a wolf at the attractive researcher. “And who might you be?”

  “Wendy Yubashiri,” she said. “I work—worked, at Fort Detrick with the National Institute of Health. These people rescued me and my supervisor from a bad situation there.”

  “Nice to meet you, Wendy,” said Wes.

  “Fort Detrick?” said Father Joe. “You have certainly faced life’s trials, my dear.” Father Joe offered her his hand and a warm smile. “Things there were particularly egregious,” he said.

  “Yes, yes they were, Father,” said Wendy. “Nice meeting you.”

  A wet Jake Fisher came walking up with a small towel around his neck. He glistened a bit having just gotten out of the shower, and his tight haircut was even spikier than usual in its damp state.

  “Coach Fisher, good to see you,” said Father Joe. “I understand you’re a bit of a hero, rescuing damsels in distress.” Jake nodded blankly as he walked up. He took Father Joe’s hand.

  “Father.”

  “Wendy here was just telling us tales of your heroism,” he said. Wendy’s slightly awkward look betrayed his false embellishment.

  “We arrived at the right place at the right time, Father. I’m glad we could help Wendy and the Colonel when we did.”

  “Saved another one, did you? A Colonel, you say? Is he not with you, then?” asked Father Joe.

  “No. He had to report to people in Washington,” said Wendy.

  “Washington,” said Father Joe. “You have been out and about. What is the status of Washington? I heard that no one can get near it. Apparently you have some clout.” Jake looked at me wordlessly, and I instantly knew his thoughts. Neither of us trusted Father Joe as far as we could spit, and he was wrangling information out of us with ease. He was the kind who could use that information to his benefit. Jake always likened him to Hannibal Lecter from The Silence of the Lambs. I always thought that comparison was a little extreme, but there was no denying that Father Joe had the ability to worm information out of anyone with their unwilling compliance.

  “No, we couldn’t get in either,” said Wendy. “But the Colonel could.”

  “You all certainly did travel some distance, didn’t you?” said Father Joe. “Made it past Roanoke, I take it?” Father Joe’s knowledge of our destinations irritated me and obviously concerned Jake. Wendy didn’t know any better, so she simply kept up polite conversation.

  “Yes, all the way to Blacksburg. It’s amazing how different all of the towns are on the way,” she said. “Frederick is a ghost town and fairly terrifying for a number of reasons. But Lexington and Blacksburg were virtually untouched. Communication is still not that great, though,” she said. Jake tensed up with every piece of information she gave.

  “I am guessing that our enemies went after our satellites first, my dear,” said Father Joe. “We are an advanced country with many advantages. If I were in their shoes, that’s the first place I would target,” he said. Something about that answer gave me chills, even though all of us had probably thought it at one point or another in retrospect.

  “So, what are your plans now?” Father Joe queried. Just then Morgan and Estela walked up. Estela had joined Morgan and Wendy in the ladies’ room, but Estela had stayed a bit longer with her new love interest. They walked up to the group in the rotunda, but as they neared, Estela looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  “Estela, what’s wrong?” asked Morgan. “What is it?” Estela grimaced and stared at the church members.

  “That man,” Estela said. “Is my father.”

  Wait a minute, I thought. Didn’t she say her parents were dead? Or deported to Mexico? I couldn’t remember. But I’m certain she didn’t say her father was in Emmitsburg. I decided to turn my head from Father Joe’s prying questions and instead listen to Estela and Morgan to see if any of this could jog my memory.

  Pablo Fuentes looked at Estela with a scowl. “I have no daughter,” he said.

  Wendy tip-toed over to me. “Eddie, didn’t she say at that restaurant in Lexington that she came here from a detention center in California? And I thought she said her parents were in Mexico,” she said.

  “So did I. I thought I was remembering wrong,” I said. Pablo evidently heard us.

  “Still lying to people about who and what you are?” said Pablo. “This story is a new one. Touching, I admit, and more creative than usual.”

  Estela’s face was a mix of fear and rage.

  “What is this about?” asked Morgan. “Aren’t you from Texas? Weren’t you held in jail?”

  Pablo laughed out loud. It was a belly laugh than rang with insincerity, clearly designed to draw attention and make a point.

  “The real story isn’t nearly as interesting, is it?” he said.

  “Estela, what is he talking about. Is this guy your father?” asked Morgan. Estela had no reply at first. She was battling to hold it together. Just seeing Pablo had set her off balance, but being pressed by so many questions seemed to push her to the brink of losing it.

  “Is he your father?” Morgan said again.

  “Ask him,” said Estela.

  “I already told you. I have no daughter,” said Pablo.

  “You can fool these people, Papa, but God is watching,” said Estela. “And you can’t fool Him.” She pointed to the sky as she said it.

  “It is because God is watching that I say that I have no daughter,” said Pablo.

  “You are a cabrón,” she said.

  “Watch your mouth, girl,” said Pablo.

  “If you are no longer my father, you no longer can tell me what to do,” Estela answered.

  “I gave up trying to tell you what to do long ago,” he said. “I see that you have not abandoned your abominable choices. I’m guessing this is your new one?” Pablo asked, nodding at Morgan.

  “Leave her out of this,” said Estela. “This is between you and me.”

  “There is nothing between you and me, mi caída.” Said Pablo. “Until you change your demonic
ways, I have no place for you.”

  “You drove everyone I ever cared about away from me, you bastard!” Estela shouted.

  “You did that yourself. The scriptures are clear, and your little girlfriend simply wised up and decided to read them. She valued her soul, unlike you seem to do, and she made the decision to save herself from the fires of Hell. You can’t blame me for that.”

  “You are the one who pushed her out, Papa. You made her read the scriptures that you gave her. You scared the hell out of her and chased her away from me with your dogma. Then you kicked me out of your house and your life and left me to fend for myself. If Mama was alive, she would curse you for what you did!” Pablo took a step forward and smacked Estela in the face.

  “Do not speak of your mother to me,” he said. “You have no idea what she would have said. You are a source of shame for me, our family, and our God.” Estela shrieked as she was slapped, and clutched her face, and began to cry into her hands.

  “What the hell is going on here?” I asked. Morgan and Wendy looked at me as if to agree that none of this made sense—at least according the stories that Estela had told us. Estela composed herself for a moment and turned on the man she now claimed was her father.

  “My God is love. Your god is a hateful bigot,” she said, breaking into tears. Morgan didn’t know what to say, but gently approached and wrapped her arms around Estela, who cried with her face buried in her shirt.

  The man known as Father Joe walked up beside Pablo and silently nodded towards him in acknowledgment, then made a gesture with his hands as to seemingly offer his help. Pablo scowled at his daughter and lowered his head and turned towards Father Joe.

  “Padre, I am sorry that this bit of embarrassing family business had to take place in front of you. If they are staying, perhaps I should take my leave,” said Pablo. Estela remained with her face buried in Morgan’s shirt. Wendy and I stood awkwardly wondering what in the hell was going on.

  “Why don’t you, Billy, Emery, and Oleg go wait for me in Wes’s office and we’ll meet there in a few minutes,” said Father Joe. The four went into the Main Office and walked back to the administrative suites.