The other man waited.
The man at the window continued, “When I was first briefed on the possibilities of a new ice age, by that guy from NOAA…what was his name?” he asked and looked back at the man standing by his desk.
“Benton, Mr. President. Dr. Benton.”
The President turned back to look out on the glorious day outside. “When Dr. Benton first told me that we may be entering a new ice age…how did he put it?”
“A glaciation or a glacial age, sir.”
“A glaciation,” the President said and nodded. “Thank you. Yes, he explained that, technically, we’d been in an ice age all along. It was kind of over my head, at the time. Something about the fact there was still year-round ice in Greenland and Antarctica… I’ve got that right, haven’t I?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“It didn’t make sense. There’s supposed to be ice at the South Pole, or so I thought…” There was a long pause. “…most of us thought.
“When he told me he thought we were entering a new glaciation, my first reaction was, ‘What happened to the global warming shit?’ But after he gave me the explanation, I asked, ‘What happens to the United States if he’s right?’ I don’t want to say I was prescient, but my thoughts were, ‘If that’s what’s happening, this is the end of the world.’ Not literally, of course, but it would be the end of the world as we know it. It may even be the end of the United…” He didn’t finish.
The other man didn’t say anything. He was just awaiting an order from the man who was Commander in Chief.
Another long silence followed until the President said, “Here are my orders: They are to put down insurrection wherever they find it. Any troops joining the seceding states will be considered ‘deserters in combat’ and will be punished as such. In fact, put it this way: As Commander in Chief, I am ordering that deserters will be shot. And key roads are to remain open. The United States will not tolerate anyone fucking with I-95, I-40, Highway 101 on the West Coast, or any other major arteries. You have a list of them. I want that as an order to the military, and I want it broadcast to the states and the civilian population.”
He turned around to face him. “Do you realize that, during World War II, we shot deserters? Not just one or two, but quite a few.”
“No, Sir, I didn’t.”
“We did. I looked it up. There was one, a guy named Slovik. Slovik became a cause célèbre, and there are many who think he was the only one. But, according to Studs Terkel in The Good War, we shot quite a few. It’s one of those dirty little secrets from American history. And we may have to do it, again. But it won’t be a secret. Do you understand the reasons?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He turned to face his National Security Advisor, Fred Cotta, and added, “We are a Union, and we will remain that way. That’s what I want the Joint Chiefs to know. Tell them to mobilize the troops and keep this fucking country together. If they can’t do it, I will replace them with someone who can.”
The National Security Advisor nodded, “Yes, Sir.” It was the exact message he wanted to deliver to the Joint Chiefs.
“I also want rumors that we may move the capitol further south, denied. We’re going to remain here at least another year.”
“Yes, Sir. Is that all, Sir?”
“Send Sam in, would you?” the President asked referring to his speechwriter. “He’s probably been waiting a while. I want to go over tonight’s radio address. I want to deliver it early enough to be picked up on both coasts.”
“Yes, Sir,” Cotta said, and he left the Oval Office and went to brief the Joint Chiefs on how to handle the secessions that now included nine of the states. In the meantime, Georgia and South Carolina were examining their options to join those seceding. He knew things were going to get a lot worse for everyone before they got better—if they ever got better in the lifetime of anyone now alive.
Chapter 18
August 30
When she came to, she couldn’t remember where she was. When she did remember, she didn’t know why she was on the couch.
He was sitting on the chair where he held Whoops and was whispering to her. The second he heard Danielle stir, he jumped out of the chair and brought the baby to her. He placed her on Danielle’s chest, then retreated back to the chair.
Whoops was glad to see her sister, again.
The side of Danielle’s face was sore.
“I’m sorry,” she heard him say.
Little by little, she remembered the argument they’d been having. Then, nothing.
“What happened?” she asked. It hurt to talk. Her anger came back to her. “What did you do to me?”
He wouldn’t answer.
“Did you rape me or something?” She asked sitting up.
“I didn’t touch you,” he said. But he wouldn’t look at her. “I just put you on the couch.”
“What were you doing to my sister?”
“I was just holding her. She was crying.”
“You’re a shithead: Capital S, capital H.”
He could see, despite her combative nature, she was scared. “Shithead’s all one word,” he said.
“Oh! Then you know!” she said sitting up. “You’ve been called shithead before, so you looked it up. Is that your name?”
“My name’s Zach,” he said in a soft voice.
“Zach? Did you hear that?” she asked her sister. “His name is Zach. Do you know what Zach means in Greek? It means shithead!” she screamed.
“It doesn’t mean anything in Greek.”
“Oh,” she said to Whoops, “did you hear him that time? He’s looked it up, to make sure it doesn’t mean shithead.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Will you stop it?”
“Stop what?” she asked with mock incredulity.
“Stop being an asshole.”
“At least an asshole has a function. What’s a shithead for?” she asked and clutched the baby to her breasts. Disturbed by Danielle’s yelling, Whoops watched her cautiously.
Zach understood that, more than being angry, Danielle was scared. Something had happened to her and soon she’d remember what. He didn’t say anything.
She felt her jaw, then she remembered.
“You hit me, didn’t you?”
“I said I’m sorry.”
“I want to go back to the road, now.”
“I’ll take you back,” he said in a low voice.
She got up from the couch and lay Whoops down on it. She began gathering her belongings quickly and haphazardly. She was so angry she was shaking.
He stood and put on his coat.
“You’re staying here,” she said when she saw what he was doing. “I can find the 101, myself.”
“Put on your coat,” he said.
“I don’t want you going with me.”
“Put on your coat,” he repeated.
She continued packing.
She got her sister dressed for the outdoors. Then she started to gather up everything she was going to carry.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m leaving. What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“You’re not going to need anything. We’re just going out to the field.”
She stopped. “What do you mean?”
“I just want to take you to the edge of the field.”
She was silent for several seconds. She started to feel panicky and she felt a churning begin in her stomach.
She still didn’t move.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she whispered and held Whoops tightly.
“For what?” he asked.
“For everything I’ve done,” she said in a low voice. She wanted to be angry, instead she was becoming scared. “For the things I said. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” he said.
“Don’t do this to us. Just let us go,” she begged.
He stood there for a long m
oment. Then, as if reading her mind, he asked, “Is this the way your last day at the Brady compound started?”
When she didn’t answer he said, “Nothing’s going to happen to you or Whoops. I just want to show you something…I have to show you something. Then I’ll take you back to the road.”
“Why are you bringing the gun?” she asked looking at the rifle in his hand.
He looked at it, then back at her. “Have you been watching me?” he asked with a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Do you ever notice what I do?”
He pointed to the door. “I never go through that door without a rifle—and a handgun—even if I’m just going to the outhouse. And if you were going to be here more than another ten minutes, I’d make you do the same.”
“I hate guns,” she whispered staring at the floor and still clutching her sister to her chest.
“If it weren’t for my guns, you and your sister would be dead.”
She still didn’t move.
“I could leave the guns here, to make you more comfortable, but I won’t. Please, come.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“I’m going to poop my pants,” she said in a high voice.
He took the Model 60 from his pocket and she flinched. He opened the cylinder so she could see it was loaded. He closed the cylinder and tried to hand the gun to her. “Put this in your pocket.”
She thought of taking it, but she didn’t know what was going on. She looked at the floor again, making herself as small as she could, and shook her head. She couldn’t count on her and her sister surviving a trip “out to the field,” again.
He reached toward her and stuffed it into one of her pockets himself, but he looked at her accusingly but she didn’t know why and, taking her elbow, he steered her to and out the door, leaving the dog behind.
With him still holding her arm, and her clutching her sister, they trudged through the snow until they came to where the field of snow butted up to the edge of the forest. There were three markers sticking out of the snow. Grave markers.
They stood there a long time and she was afraid to ask why he’d brought her there.
Finally, he said, “She couldn’t take it. The change in the world, the cold…she kept telling me she couldn’t take it. She was always crying. She told me she was always depressed. She said she wanted to die.”
He looked at her to see if she was listening, and she was.
He looked at the markers, again. “She didn’t like being left alone when I went out to hunt…and scavenge. I kept thinking she’d get used to it…that we could work it out…that I could save her…save us… One day I came home from a hunt…” There was a long pause as if the next words would burn his throat when they came out. “She slit their throats…hung herself in the living room…left a note saying she was sorry, but that she couldn’t go on…it was best for her and the kids…”
He started shaking his head and repeated, “She said, it was best for her and the kids.” He was getting angry, now, and she thought he was going to cry. “In her note, she asked me not to hate her…”
He didn’t go on until he could calm himself down. Then he said, “I can’t understand why she had to do it to the kids; why she had to take them away from me. I can’t understand why she had to take herself away from me.”
“Oh, Christ, I’m sorry,” Danielle said.
“You have nothing to be sorry for…but thank you.”
“She killed your kids?”
“Yeah.”
Danielle started to hug Whoops tighter. She stared at the markers and was afraid she’d start crying. Then she did.
They stood there a long time and some of the words she’d said to him before she went unconscious started coming back to her. And all of his actions, once seemingly random to her, suddenly made sense in her mind. Even the accusing look just before they came outside. It explained his preoccupation with Whoops. It also explained his hostility toward her. The first time he’d ever seen her she was offering her sister up to be shot.
She kept looking from the markers, to her sister, and back at the markers. She couldn’t stop the tears running down her face.
“Don’t get mad, but do you hate her?”
“Sometimes…usually, I just hate myself.”
She looked at him. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t see it coming.”
“This is why you said you were saving Whoops and not me…because of what happened to your kids.”
“I don’t know what I meant. I try not to think about it. Except that now and then I think about what I could have…should have…might have…done different. I feel as though, somehow, because I couldn’t save them, I must have killed them. I just…I should have listened. I should have realized how depressed and desperate she was. There must have been something I could have done.”
After a long moment she asked, “What if you knew what was coming? What if you’d known what she might do? What would you have done?”
He thought about her question. He thought a long time as he stared at the graves. “I don’t know. I really don’t. Maybe we could have all died together.”
“Would you really have let that happen? Would you have just died and let them die?”
“Why are you asking this stuff?”
She thought a second. “That’s not an answer to my question.”
He thought about it. “No.”
“Okay.” Then she said, “I think I said, ‘For all I know, you murdered them.’ Then you hit me, didn’t you?” She started crying uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry,” he said once more.
“Were you hitting me or her?”
He turned to her defensively. “I never hit Sandra. I never even raised my voice to her.”
“Then were you hitting yourself?”
He looked at her, again. “I hadn’t thought about that one.”
“’Cause of what she did…” Danielle said and wiped her eyes off…“that’s why you said you saved Whoops and didn’t give a shit about me. And is that why you took Whoops from me on the road?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re not much into self-analysis, are you?”
“No.”
“My Mom said men like you are typical guys,” she said and laughed through her tears.
He looked at her funny. He was puzzled by her laughter. He said, “I just wanted you to understand where I’m coming from. You can pack when we get back to the house. I’ll take you to the road.”
“Thank you.”
But they stood there and didn’t talk again while she got her tears under control. Finally, she said, “You hate women…and I hate men. Fine mess we’re making of things.”
“I don’t hate anyone,” he said. “I don’t even feel anything, anymore.”
“Yeah, you do,” she said and held Whoops up as empirical evidence of something he cared about.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You do,” she said and started crying again. “You care about Whoopsie. Thank you.”
After another minute, unable to think of the right words she finally gestured toward the graves and asked, “Can I ask…when did…she do it?”
“Last winter. I thought I was over it. I was getting along pretty well…adjusting…until I saw that guy—I don’t even know his name—throw Whoops into the snow. When he did that, he was already dead. He just didn’t know it. I didn’t know why you held her up the way you did…I do, now…but she was safe…he was gonna die before he pulled that trigger …”
“Thank you,” she said again.
“You’re welcome.”
They stood there staring at the graves longer and she shivered once.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“It’s okay.”
“No, I’m really sorry. I thought you were just a crazy man.”
“You thought I was crazy? Me?” he asked hiking his thumb at himself.
“Yes. Why?
Did you think I was crazy?” she asked.
“I thought you were a lunatic. The way you were coming after me, I had a hard time thinking I was going to let you leave here with Whoops.”
“You couldn’t tell I was scared?”
“Scared of what? Me?”
“Well, look at you. The way you were so quiet…you live alone out here, like a hermit…you kept taking or trying to take my sister away from me…and the way you talked in your sleep…”
“What did I say?”
“You don’t want to know, but you were yelling at your wife…and after what those men did to me…and what they were going to do to my sister…and I saw you kill at least three guys…what did you think I was going to think? I thought you were just another dangerous crazy man.”
“When you put it that way, I guess I’d have thought I was crazy, too.”
“Do you hate me?” she asked.
“No. Why?”
She looked at the grave marker that read Sandra Gibbons Amaral and said, “I just asked.”
He went back to staring at the markers.
After another minute she said, “We can stand out here longer than you can. Whoops and I are really becoming pros at being cold.”
He shook his head. “You’re really combative, aren’t you?” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t like being this way. I grew up thinking the world was nice. Then the ice age started…”
“I didn’t say that as an insult.” He looked back at the graves. “If she’d been half as combative as you, we’d still be a family. Whoops is really lucky she’s got you.”
“Well, she’s lucky you came along, too. She’d have died out there on the road…we’d both have died out there if you hadn’t taken her from me, wouldn’t we have?”
“Probably. I wasn’t thinking about it, then. I just did what I did.”
“Can I ask you one more question?”
She had his attention.”
“If you’d found a live baby in a car on the road, would you take it or leave it to die?”
“I’d take it,” he said as if amazed by her question.
“I thought so,” she said.
“Why would you ask a question like that?”
Danielle Kidnapped: A Novel of Survival in the Coming Ice Age Page 19