“Oh, yes. He brought toys and clothes and diapers, and Sara got a new watch.”
“Well, I sure do wish I was there with you guys. Not having you this time of year makes me realize what’s truly important in life…
“Wait a minute. Did you say Santa brought you diapers?”
“Yes. We thought for Christmas we’d give you a grandson. His name is Chris. He’s healthy and looks just like me. He asked me to tell his grandpa to hurry home.”
For a moment, the radio fell silent and Jordan thought they’d lost the signal. But Scott was just too moved to speak. After a few seconds he regained his composure, but was glad that Jordan couldn’t see the tears in his eyes.
“That’s great news, son. Being a father will be the greatest thing you’ve ever done. How’s Sara doing?”
Sara leaned over Jordan’s shoulder and he keyed the mike for her. She shouted, “I’m fine, Dad! I love you!”
“I love you too, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you both again, and to hold my first grandson. Congratulations.”
Jordan said, “Here. Your other son, the freakazoid, is driving me crazy wanting to talk to you.”
“Well, then, put him on.”
Zachary took the mike and said, “Baby, schmaby… you people act like having a baby has never been done before.”
Even as he feigned jealousy, he was grinning ear to ear.
“A new child is a wonderful thing, Zach. It’s a special kind of magic.”
“I know that, Dad. And I’m gonna be the best uncle ever. I’ll teach Chris to swear, and when he’s old enough I’ll even show him that stack of Playboy magazines that Jordan has hidden in his mattress.”
Everyone in the room laughed, except for Jordan and Sara. Sara looked at him, raised an eyebrow and said, “Really?”
Jordan stood silently with a sheepish look on his face.
Zachary went on.
“Dad, when do you think you’ll be back?”
“Soon, I hope. The CDC is saying that the cold weather has helped to control the plague. They’re expecting it to run its course over the next few weeks. But they’re not going to consider it gone unless there are no signs of it when spring gets here.”
“I wish you could come back now.”
“I know, son. So do I. But if I did, I would be putting all of you in danger. Especially that brand new nephew of yours. So just tough it out and trust me when I say I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
“I know, I know…”
“Merry Christmas, son. I love you. I love all of you. Now, is there anything else you want to tell me before you put Joyce on the line?”
Joyce, standing behind Zachary, poked him in the shoulder and said, “That, young man, was a subtle hint.”
“No, Dad, that’s it. Just be careful and I love you. And, oh, have somebody take your picture in your cop uniform for me to keep.”
Scott laughed.
“I don’t know if any of the digital cameras survived. I’ll see if I can find one. I love you too.”
Joyce was now on.
“Hi, Baby. I love you.”
Everyone else in the room wandered off and found something to do, in order to give Joyce and Scott a little bit of privacy.
Scott said, “I love you too, sweetheart. I miss having you near me. Especially at night. Sleeping alone really sucks.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Are you being safe and extra cautious?”
“Yes, but you’ll have to trust me. There isn’t a lot of violence left anymore. Most of the bad guys are dead or gone. Ninety percent of what we do isn’t related to crime at all. It’s just trying to find various ways to help people and help the community recover.”
“Good. Because if I ever lost you I wouldn’t be able to go on.”
“Stop saying things like that. You’re not going to lose me. I’m too tough and too stubborn to die. I proved that once, remember?”
“Yes, unfortunately I do remember. Those days, and especially the nights, were the worst of my life. I don’t want to go through that again. And even though most of the bad guys are gone, I won’t be happy until all of them are. Do you have body armor you can wear?”
“Yes. It’s a required part of the uniform. Where did all of this gloom and doom come from?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You know I’ve always had a very keen intuition. I just have a bad feeling that there may be something dreadful on the horizon.”
“Well, I think it’s silly and you’re just being a worry wart. But if it’ll make you feel better, I promise to be extra cautious and to always call for backup if things look like they may get ugly. Will that help?”
“Yes, lots. Thank you, Scott. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Doll. I need to give the microphone over to John now, so he can talk to Hannah and the girls. That’s fair, after all, since it’s his radio. He just let me talk first as my Christmas present, but he needs a Hannah fix just as badly as I needed one from you.”
“I understand. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow, okay?”
“Count on it, Doll. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Joyce called for Hannah and handed her the microphone.
“Scott says there’s some handsome cop on the other end named John. He said he wants to arrest you for being too beautiful or something. At least that’s the way I understood it.”
Hannah took the mike and her girls giggled in anticipation that they’d soon be able to tell their Daddy what they got for Christmas.
Joyce left the room, somehow sad but not knowing why. She just had a sense that there was trouble on the horizon.
-30-
Hannah and John were only able to talk for a couple of minutes before their daughters fairly wrestled the microphone away from her. She didn’t mind. For so long while he was in the hospital, they’d cried themselves to sleep each night. Now, hearing his voice every day or two was a special treat. For all three of them, really.
“You guys tell your daddy everything, because when I get back with my cup of coffee I want the radio back.”
“Aw, Mom…”
“Aw, nothing. Why are you wasting time complaining to me? Talk to your father, silly.”
John got to hear all about the girls’ hopes and dreams, was promised all their love a thousand times, and asked at least eight times what he wanted for Christmas.
He gave them the same answer each time: “I want you guys and Mommy to be safe so when you come back here someday we can all be healthy and happy again.”
It was a great conversation and the best Christmas present John could have hoped for, under the circumstances.
But like everything else in life, it eventually came to an end. After all the “I love yous” were said and the kisses blown, he signed off the radio with a smile on his face.
Robbie came up behind him in a Santa Claus outfit.
“Better hurry up, smiley, or we’re gonna be late. And I’m gonna tell the chief it’s all your fault.”
John looked at the clock above his radio console.
“Oh, crap!” he shouted and ran off to his bedroom to get dressed.
It had been the police chief’s idea, although he blamed it on the mayor so his officers didn’t give him as much grief.
“Hey, fellas, I tried my best to talk him out of it. But I got absolutely nowhere. We have to do it. After all, he’s the boss, so what can I do?”
He threw his hands up in exasperation, and his officers bought it hook, line and sinker. They thought their chief fought the good fight on their behalf and lost to a higher authority.
The truth was, Chief Martinez had pitched the idea to the mayor a few days prior.
“There’s a Toys ‘R’ Us trailer parked in the middle of South Flores Street that’s chock full of toys. Two blocks away from it is a Kohl’s truck chock full of shoes and clothes.”
“Okay. So what? What good does that information do me?”
“It helps you b
righten the Christmas spirits of all the survivors out there, that’s what. And God knows, after the last few months they can sure use some.”
He had the mayor’s attention.
“Okay, Chief. I’m listening. I have the feeling this is gonna be really good.”
“Here’s what we do. You have your secretary use that raggedy ass antique typewriter she found to type up two letters.
“One will be addressed to the general manager of the local Kohl’s store. It will say that you needed the truck full of clothes and shoes to pass out to the survivors of the disaster. You’ll give him the license number of the truck and the registration number from the trailer. You’ll say that the city of San Antonio will pay for the items if the manager will prepare a bill and attach your original letter to it.
“She’ll prepare a similar letter to the general manager at the local Toys ‘R’ Us.”
“Okay, then what?”
“Then you sign both letters and give them to me. Both of the stores have already been broken into and looted, so I won’t have to break into either one. I’ll just walk into each of them, find the managers’ offices, and place their letters on each of their desks.”
“But the managers may be dead. They may never come back. Shoot, for all we know the companies no longer exist.”
The chief winked and smiled.
“That’s my guess. But as long as we offer to pay, our conscience is clear. And if they do come back and give us a bill, I’m sure there’s enough money left in the city coffers. Hell, I’m still authorized to sign checks from the SAPD budget. I’ll write them each a check and let them figure out how to cash them.”
“You’re a sneaky son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
“You’ve been in politics a lot longer than I’ve been a police chief. Are you telling me you’re not?”
“Nope. I never said that.”
The mayor smiled.
“And after you get the goods, then what?”
“Our officers are assigned to individual neighborhood patrols now. They’ve gotten to know the survivors. They have a pretty good idea how many people are living on each block and how old the children are. They can load down their trunks and back seats and make deliveries on Christmas Day.”
The mayor nodded his approval.
“I like it. It’s a great idea.”
“Then it’s a go?”
“Yes. Under one condition.”
Chief Martinez rolled his eyes and held his breath. With Mayor Alonzo there were always conditions.
“What would that be?”
“I want your officers to dress like Santa Claus. It’ll make more of an impression, and might give the kids the first smile they’ve had in months.”
“Pardon my stupidity, sir, but where in the bloody hell are we going to get all those Santa Claus costumes?”
“When’s the last time you were at Toys ‘R’ Us, Chief?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to Toys ‘R’ Us. I don’t have kids, remember? In fact, I hate the little buckets of snot.”
“Then how come you want to take them Christmas gifts?”
“I’m a single man, your honor. And sometimes I get lonely. There are a lot of single moms out there who will be appreciative if I make their kids happy.”
He paused just a moment for dramatic effect.
“Very appreciative.”
“Okay, I catch your drift. I go to Toys ‘R’ Us all the time with my grandsons. At least I used to, before all this crap happened. Do you even know where it’s at?”
“No, but one of the guys will know.”
“Let me save you the trouble. It’s in Potranco Mall. Right next to Costume City.”
The mayor placed emphasis on the words “Costume City.”
Chief Martinez got the hint.
“So, you think Costume City would have ninety four Santa Suits in stock, even though the lights went out last spring?”
“From what I know of places like that, they have huge warehouses in the back. After Christmas season is over, they take everything left over and just shove it into their warehouse until the following season. It’s not like Santa costumes go bad or anything.”
“Okay. We’ll give it a shot.”
“Good. While my secretary is banging away on that old manual typewriter and cursing up a blue streak, I’ll have her type a third letter for Costume City. Just in case I’m right, which I almost always am.”
“Oh, brother.”
Chief Martinez turned to leave.
“Hey, Chief?”
“When the survivors start telling your officers how grateful they are for the gifts, have your officers tell them it was all the mayor’s idea.”
Martinez chuckled.
“Sure. You can count on that. Trust me.”
-31-
And so it was that at 10:35 a.m. on Christmas morning, SAPD unit Twelve Charlie Four turned onto Bane Street SW, parked halfway down the block, and let out four loud blasts from its siren.
The houses all emptied so the residents could see what the commotion was all about.
It was a spectacle for them to see Scott Harter and Randy Rhodes, in full Santa Claus regalia, step out of the police car and open the trunk. They passed toys and new coats to each of the children, then coats, sweaters and blankets to each of the adults.
Just as Chief Martinez had predicted, some of the children smiled for the first time in months.
Most of the women hugged the pair. Most of the men shook their hands. A few of each gender cried.
For the first time in a long time, Scott felt a bit of hope in the air. Hope that someday the world would be normal again. Someday people would be happy again. All of the bodies would be burned, the bones disposed of, and the survivors would press on.
And he hoped that one of the first things mankind would do in the new world was work to find a way to protect the planet’s peoples from similar events in the future. Because he darn sure didn’t want to go through this again.
Talking Randy Rhodes into participating had been a monumental task in itself. At first he flat refused to even go along.
“You can make a fool out of yourself without my help. I have to sit in a car with you, but that doesn’t mean I have to look stupid in an ugly red suit.”
In the end, though, he relented, after two hours of negotiation.
It cost Scott two MREs per week for three months, his agreeing to stop wearing Aqua Velva Blue, and Scott’s personal appeal to the other members of Charlie Squad to stop super gluing Randy’s locker shut.
“And I refuse to wish anyone a Merry Christmas, under any circumstances.”
He was adamant about the last part, but he did anyway. Wish people Merry Christmas, that is. Even a Grinch like Randy Rhodes gets caught up in the Christmas spirit after awhile.
When a little girl of five hugged Randy’s leg and said “I love you, Santa,” Scott even thought he saw the hint of a tear in Randy’s eye.
He decided to keep that little gem to himself. Nobody would have believed him anyway.
At the end of the day, after all the hugs had been given and the presents passed out, Scott drove Randy to his apartment to drop him off.
“Thanks for talking me into this, Scott. It was actually kind of fun.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I was hoping you would. And you’re welcome.”
Randy started to say something else, then seemed to think better of it. He opened the car door.
“Hey, Randy…”
“Yes?”
“A couple of the guys are getting together tonight to play poker and do a little drinking. Would you like to join us?”
“I don’t know how to play poker.”
Scott suddenly felt a tinge of sadness for Randy. It occurred to him for the first time that Randy’s attitude and laziness had surely driven away others for a very long time. And that perhaps Randy had no close friends or social contact outside the job.
“Oh, it’s easy. Even R
obbie knows how to play, and he’s an idiot. I’ll tell you what. I’ll sit out for a few hands and sit behind you to coach you until you get the hang of it.”
“Are you sure you don’t just want me to come so you can beat me out of my money?”
“What money? We play for pennies and nickels, just to keep it interesting. And money has no value anymore anyway, so we might as well be playing for nails and toothpicks.”
Randy put one foot outside the door, then hesitated. He seemed to be struggling with a mighty decision.
Scott was patient, never saying a word. After a full minute, Randy put his foot back into the car and closed the door.
Of all the gifts Scott passed out that day, the one that seemed to matter the most was when he gave Randy Rhodes back his dignity.
-32-
On the first Tuesday after Christmas, San Antonio had a major windstorm. In previous years it would have created chaos by blowing trees over onto power lines and shorting them out. It would have left thousands without power.
In a city already without power, the storm damage wasn’t as deeply felt.
But to some neighborhoods, which hasn’t yet finished bringing in their crops of wheat and corn, it created a different kind of problem.
Scott turned onto Misty Plain Drive, the street which recently lost all of its men to the ravages of the plague.
He’d been coming by here a lot lately, a few hours here and a few hours there, to help the women and little Billy wander up and down their rows of wheat, harvesting it a little at a time.
It had been a slow and disheartening process, made harder by the fact that the women were elderly and had to stop for frequent breaks. And that little Billy was easily bored and frequently ran off in search of other pursuits.
What caught Scott’s eye and broke his heart as he turned the corner onto the street was the sight of both of the women, standing at the curb and forlornly looking at what was left of their wheat crop.
The wind had taken its toll. The wheat had ripened long before, and the stalks laid limp and dried out. It didn’t take much wind to shake the stalks and free the wheat kernels to fall to the ground.
Their efforts to that point, all the hours they’d spent harvesting, had cleared only a third of their crop.
Rise From The Ashes: The Rebirth of San Antonio (Countdown to Armageddon Book 3) Page 12