Plaguesville, USA

by Jim LaVigne

  “To be honest, sir,” he’d said, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  “Aw, come on, doc,” Lampert had smiled. “What about you an’ Teresa? Don’tcha wanna settle down with her, get yourself a nice place to live, maybe raise some brainy, tough-as-whipcord little kids?”

  “Maybe,” Justin had said desultorily. “But then again, who can say? It just could be that she and I aren’t exactly right for each other.”

  “What?!” the Old Man had almost yelped. “What the hell kinda talk is that? Not right for each other? Shit, doc, she’s smart, she’s tough, she’s funny and pretty and she’s got a body that any man who don’t like other men would kill to get their hands on! Plus, she’s crazy about you! Any fool can see that, just the way she looks at ya. So what’s your problem? You gone gay or somethin’? Or are ya just stupid?”

  “I don’t know,” Justin had frowned. “Maybe I am stupid. Maybe that’s the trouble, I don’t know. I think that it’s just that she’s so inured. So used to this terrible world and all of its violence and brutality. I’m just not sure that I can get used to that side of her personality.”

  Lampert had laughed wheezily. “So yer upset ‘cause she’s normal? Because she’s strong enough to survive? Shit, doc, you can hardly fault her for that! Besides, where would we be right now if she wasn’t as tough as she is? Killed, chopped into patties, and eaten by fat men in cop suits, that’s where!”

  “Well when you put it that way… ,” Justin had said. “But still, there’s also the age difference. After all, I am old enough to be her father.”

  “So fuckin’ what?” Lampert had rejoined. “So you’re older than her. Big deal. If you ask me, that’s as relative a thing as any other. I mean, to me, at a hundred and fucking two, you both seem like children, know what I mean? Twenty, thirty, fifty, to me, that is the goddamn bloom of youth! And anyway, who’s gonna care about it, anyhow? Who’s left to care? Naw, doc, that’s a weak argument, at best. Yer gonna have to do better than that.”

  Justin had frowned. “I’m not sure that I can, or that I want to. I don’t know, maybe I was just thinking that our relationship was more of an infatuation. That, once we were through with the mission, I would finally realize that she was, well, more of a fling, a sort of marriage of convenience. I guess I’m just torn. On the one hand, I admire her strength, but on the other, I’m appalled at her more violent tendencies.”

  Lampert had laughed again, shaking his head. “Same old Just In Case,” he’d cackled. “Still thinking too much. Hell, doc, this ain’t somethin’ you can pin down, it’s nothin’ you can see under your microscope. An’ you shouldn’t bother to try! Love is a messy, stupid thing, Doc. No tellin’ where it’ll go, but you sure as hell gotta take the ride!”

  Justin had smiled. Despite the Old Man’s left-handed delivery, the conversation had made him feel better, in a desperate, fatalistic way. After all, who knew whether he and the Old Man (and, by extension, the rest of humanity) would even survive this latest insane caper? If they made it, well, then there would be time for such things. Time for life and love and even mistakes. At the time, smiling warmly at the Old Man, he’d nodded.

  “I believe you’re right,” he’d said. “And if I am still the same old Justin Kaes, over-thinking? Then you are still the same Howard Lampert, born philosopher. Perhaps we should find some comfort in that.”

  “Yeah,” Lampert had said, settling back. “Not a lot o’ things left these days that stay the same, are there? Not like you an’ me.”

  There was an amicable pause. From the next room came the constant buzz of animated conversation. He should be getting back in there. Who knew what mayhem they were contemplating? Then he shrugged and left it alone. He’d made his position more than adequately clear. After a while, his mind wandering pleasantly, for once, he’d asked about something.

  “I was wondering…” he’d said, by way of preamble.

  “Yeah?”

  “Well,” Justin had continued, “I was just thinking about earlier, and your comparison of our mission to The Wizard of Oz.”

  “And?”

  “And how are we doing? That is, do you still think that it’s an apt analogy? Are we still in Oz?”

  “Heh,” the Old Man had chuckled dryly. “Yeah, I been thinkin’ about that, too. Especially ‘cause we ended up in Kansas, like in reverse, you know? Like Toto, I don’t think we’re in Oz anymore. Weird. But all in all? I dunno, maybe this New America is the Emerald City. Maybe this Governor character is the Wizard and these Council people are the Tinman and Lion and Scarecrow. You know? One thing always bugged me about that, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The name Oz itself,” Lampert had waved. “I mean, they probably screwed it up, going from the book to the movie, but the title is The Wizard of Oz, right? As in, the Merry Old Land of Oz. But then, when they actually meet the guy, he calls himself Oz, the Great and Powerful. So what’s the deal? Is the world named Oz or is the wizard named Oz? Or both, or what?”

  Justin had smiled. “That’s a good question,” he’d admitted. “And I’ve also been wondering something else about that story.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “The ending. As I recall from the film, Dorothy finally prevails and gets her wish. She returns, home to Kansas. Is that right?”

  “Yup. Clicks her heels together and doodly-doodly doop! One crappy special effect later, she’s home. So?”

  “Well, what happens after that? After all, she returns to a somewhat less than appealing future, doesn’t she? Living in dustbowl Oklahoma on some sort of hardscrabble, tornado-ridden farm with her aged aunt and uncle? And don’t forget, Miss Gulch, the mean lady down the way who was going to do away with poor Toto? Well, she hasn’t gone anywhere, has she? She wasn’t the witch; she didn’t melt. Maybe Toto escaped from her once, but what will prevent her from simply returning and snatching the poor dog all over again? Indeed, if you think about it, none of the things that made Dorothy run away in the first place have changed in the least!”

  “Heh, ya know?” Lampert had nodded sagely. “That’s right! But at the end, she’s all happy and shit anyway! She’s gonna quit lookin’ for anything, because whatever it is, it’s right in her own back yard. No place like home. All that crap. Makes you think she’d been a helluva lot better off just staying where she was! In Oz, hell, she’d have been best buds with the Wizard, she’d have had her pals, the Tinman and all. Probably could’ve even taken over the witch’s place, all her minions and flyin’ monkeys, that big-ass castle? Just do some painting, redecorating… damn, she coulda been a freakin’ queen!”

  Justin had nodded and smiled. “That’s what I was thinking,” he’d said. “And I think that maybe Dorothy was just plain mistaken. Perhaps there is someplace other than home, so to speak.”

  Lampert had wheezed another laugh, stubbing out his smoke. “Oh man, doc! That’s like, deep, you know? But hell, all that really was, that ending—and I still would bet they screwed with it for the movie—all that was was a plain message to the kiddies and the more ambitious folks to forget about anything better. Just do your job, whatever back-breaking, thankless slavery it is, and don’t look beyond your own back yard for anything better, because Oz is just a dream. It ain’t real, so don’t bother even lookin’ for it. Sorta like religion, you know? Opiate of the masses?”

  “I suppose so,” Justin had allowed. “But that’s not really my point.”

  “So what is?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Justin had said honestly, tiring of the whole topic. “I suppose I’m just seeing connections, analogies, what have you, that aren’t really there. After all, we’re talking about an old children’s book here, aren’t we? And this is no kind of world for children.”

  Lampert had grunted, whether in agreement or dissent, it was impossible to tell, and sat back in his wheelchair. Justin had sat for a moment, feeling somehow both better and worse for the conversation, and now, waiting ner
vously as the people around him strapped on arms and armor and got ready to go, he had the same feeling, a bittersweet sense that he’d done just about all he could for the Mission and that now it was in the hands of others.

  He was deep in thought, recalling all of this, and hardly noticed when Teresa appeared in his field of vision. Then he shook himself and looked up at her. As beautiful as ever, her features were nonetheless set in a sad, angry sort of expression and her mouth turned down at the edges. Nodding to him once, she cocked her head and shrugged.

  “Guess you gonna go soon, hey?” she said sullenly.

  “Yes, I think so,” Justin said, eyeing a nearby window. “It’s almost dark.”

  He smiled at her as best he could, then led her gently by the hand, back to the same cafeteria where he’d chatted with Lampert. There, he smiled and took her in his arms. Stiff at first, she quickly yielded in his grasp and hugged him back.

  “Teresa, I don’t know what to say,” he whispered miserably. “We may never… that is, if anything happens to me…” he choked and then swallowed a lump and shook his head. “Oh hell, why am I screwing around? What I want to say is, that if anything goes wrong, I just want you to know that I love you. With all my heart, and until my last breath, I love you.”

  Teresa pulled back a few inches and Justin saw that she was crying. He’d never seen her cry before. Wiping a tear from her chin, he tilted her head up a fraction and stared into her dark, glistening eyes. After a long moment, she blinked hard and wiped her nose with the back of her hand before emitting a bitter little laugh.

  “Guess that’s good,” she said heavily. “Cause I gotta say somethin’ too. See, I’ma have a baby. Your baby.”

  Justin reeled, buffeted by conflicting emotions. It was entirely possible— they’d never used any kind of birth control. But how had she arrived at this conclusion? And had she been with anyone else, at Baron Zero’s, perhaps? Much as he didn’t want to know, he had to ask.

  “Are you… sure?” he asked softly. “That is, how do you know for certain? And do you know for certain that it was me? It couldn’t have been anyone else?”

  She shook her head. “Naw, only you,” she said. “And trus’ me, I gotta baby. I snicked one’a them prego-tests from that wreckered SA? Turnt blue an’ ever’thing.”

  “Teresa, I, I don’t know what to say! Again! This is wonderful news, of course! I can’t even quite believe it. Me! A father! But…” he trailed off lamely.

  “Yeah, I know whatcha mean,” she said. “Sure as ploop ain’t the best time for it, hey? With the world, way it is, the Sick and the Fall and Saving the Humanity Race an’ all that. An’ now you goin’ off, prob’ly get yerself clacked, an’ even if ya don’t, you be all the way out in Cali, savin’ the world,” she gasped and began to sob in earnest, shaking in his arms.

  For a second he thought about reassuring her, telling her that it wasn’t that bad and that she shouldn’t worry, but the words died in his throat. She was far too smart and experienced to fall for something like that, and besides, he didn’t like to lie. Finally he just hugged her closer and told her the truth.

  “Teresa, listen to me,” he said, feeling her hot tears through his shirt. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. This plan might work out and it might not. If it doesn’t, well, that will be the end. For you, for me, for our child, and for everyone else. Maybe not right away, but eventually, the Plague will claim us all. And if the plan does work, and we can get Mr. Lampert to the labs in San Francisco and make a vaccine? Well, then we’ll have won and you and I and everyone else will be able to start living again. See what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “Like flippin’ a coin, hey? One or the other. Guess that makes it kinda easier, like, to think about.”

  For a long moment they just stood and held each other. Then Teresa, her voice muffled in his chest, sniffed and looked up at him.

  “What it be like?” she asked softly. “When we win, I mean. When we stop the Sick and start livin’, like you said. What that gonna be like?”

  Justin sighed and smiled. “To be honest, I haven’t thought about it that much. But I do know that it will be better. And with any luck, much more peaceful.”

  “Yeah, but,” she persisted. “Like, we gonna have our own place? Like a house?”

  “Well, certainly!” Justin smiled. “And why not? It’s not like there’s a housing shortage anymore. Who knows? Maybe we can find a place in San Francisco. I’ve heard it’s very nice! Or, for that matter, we could live anywhere we want, as long as it’s safe.”

  “Safe, yeah. Like with no bangers, hey? No muties or cannibos or road freakers or anything like that, right?”

  Justin nodded. “Yes. It’s what we used to call civilization.”

  She smiled faintly and nodded. “Yeah, like Before,” she said wistfully. She stared into his eyes again for a long moment. Then she looked down and sniffled. “Still wish I could go with. Gonna be hard, stayin’ here, waitin’ an’ thinkin’ about it.”

  “I know, but I need to know that you’re safe. Now more than ever! And I promise I’ll send word as soon as I can.”

  Then came a yell from the adjoining room, calling his name, and he pulled back to arm’s length and dredged up a smile for her. Gamely, she smiled back.

  “I guess it’s time,” he said.

  “Uh huh,” she said. Her eyes filled with tears again but this time she blinked them back and smiled. “I love you, Justin,” she said simply. It was the first time she’d ever used just his first name.

  “I love you, too, Teresa,” he managed, his heart lurching. Then, with a supreme effort, he straightened up, tugged his uncomfortable armored bodysuit into shape, and set his jaw. Improbably, Teresa apparently found this amusing and let out a sniffling laugh.

  “Ya know, Case?” she grinned through tears. “You kinda look like somebody who gonna save the Humanity Race! Like, if anybody could do it, you could, hey?”

  “Really? You think so?”

  “Yup. Now go on. Go finish this thing.”

  A final kiss, and then, in one of the most difficult acts of his life, he turned and walked away.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  This week on Historical Crime Busters, Amadeus Mozart goes head to head with a biker gang while Orville and Wilbur Wright mean double trouble for a swindler! Don’t miss the excitement!

  —promo ad for TV show, UZS network, circa 2052

  After all of the planning and talk and preparation, it felt good to Lumler to finally be doing something. Not that he didn’t appreciate the value of planning, but he was not really much of an idea man. To him, guns blazing was a strategy. But this was not some raid on a den of traitors; the future of mankind was on the line. If they screwed it up and didn’t get Lampert, Dr. Kaes, and Stiletto to the Governor’s plane, they were all dead. As in everyone on Earth.

  This concept, that humanity itself was on the brink of extinction, had a strong influence on him, but his nature and thought processes were not such that he dwelt on it. Instead, he felt a very strong but very nebulous sense of free-floating anxiety, one that dwarfed even the horrors of the Fall, like a big storm was coming, building just over the horizon, that would soon come roaring down on them all like an avalanche. Like the End was near.

  Doggedly, he shook off this baleful line of thought and kept his eyes and ears open. They were rolling along in the city’s main storm sewer, riding a sort of train of five old electric golf carts the Council had rigged up to move quickly and quietly through the underground. Splashing through about an inch of brackish water at maybe ten miles an hour, they’d already gone about half a mile, and the right-hand turn toward the Governor’s mansion should be just ahead.

  He thought back to the other night, when they’d ambushed and killed that psycho Hanson Knox, the late Chief of Police, but it had been such an open and shut, by-the-book operation that he didn’t dwell on it for long; the man had deserved to die and he had died, quickly and efficientl
y. End of story.

  Sitting in the final occupied car, with only the storage cars behind, he kept glancing backward, just in case, but their trail was clear and mostly he just had to wait. After another long stretch of sewer tunnel they came to an intersection and slowed down to make the turn. Slowly as Santiago went, though, it became obvious that the golf cart train wouldn’t make the angle and they’d have to dismount and shift the cars by hand.

  Quickly, they all piled out and took up positions on the carts’ sides and then heaved the relatively light vehicles around the 90-degree bend in the tunnel. As they dropped the last cart, a heavier one filled with ammo and weapons and covered in a tarp, Lumler was jolted by the small but quite audible and definitely human grunt that issued from its interior. What the hell? With a quick jerk, he ripped the tarp from the cart and jumped back.

  Sheepishly, but still somehow defiantly, the hot banger girl, Teresa, glared up at him. She’d obviously removed a few of the boxes of ammo and hidden under the tarp. She’d stowed away. And she wasn’t alone. The weird little kid was there, too, hiding around her ankles like a pet cat. With a scowl, Lumler glared back.

  “Whatta we got here?” he said, calling the others attention. “Looks like a stowaway or two. Maybe one and a half.”

  Clustering around, the raiding party reacted variously, but the Plague-doctor, Kaes, about flipped his lid. Slapping himself on the forehead, he sounded like he was going to cry.

  “Teresa, what the hell are you doing?” he pleaded. “I thought we agreed, you’d stay behind! Well, it’s no good, anyway. You’ll just have to go back. You and the kid, you can take one of the carts and just head right back to the Council HQ.”

  “Nuh uhn,” said Teresa, rising from her hiding place. “I ain’t gonna go back. An’ you can’t make me, neither.”