Doris checked her watch. “Ten minutes ago.”
“Oh shit,” growled Marie. “We have to get out there. If they see it, they’ll know what we’re up to.”
“That would be a bad idea,” said Doris. She followed Marie and they strode around to the front of the big house. When there was no sign of the delivery truck, Doris pointed up the driveway. “Maybe we should go meet the guy up at the gate?”
Marie nodded her head. “That’s a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that? Come on, sister.”
Doris wished Marie would stop calling her that, but she tagged along. She had never felt so alive and she supposed that Marie had something to do with that. The afternoon sun baked down on them and Doris wiped sweat from her brow. Her flea-bitten thighs were chafing under her nylon slacks, but she barely noticed. Dollar signs danced in her eyes and cabana boys swam in her dreams. They were so close to the money that Doris felt she could taste it.
Marie stopped and leaned heavily against the gate. “I think I’m going to have a heart attack,” she panted.
Doris was also exhausted, but she wasn’t about to let Marie know that. She forced herself to run in place, raising her knees until they nearly touched her bosom. “I feel so good,” she said, huffing and lying at the same time.
“My God… sister,” gasped Marie. “Will you stop? You’ve got to… save some energy… for tonight.”
Doris did stop and she fought to keep her breathing even. “You should really start taking better care of yourself,” she said, knowing how much she hated it when anyone said the same thing to her.
Marie glared at her. Like a boxer coming out for the fifteenth round, she staggered away from the gate. “What are you talking about? My body is a temple.”
“Yeah, maybe the Temple of Doom. Look at you, Marie, you’re wiped out.”
“I didn’t sleep well. You know I have a hard time sleeping in someone else’s bed.”
Doris was about to reply when the little flatbed delivery truck pulled into the driveway. The driver stopped at the gate and parked. He then checked his paperwork and nodded his head. Marie and Doris walked around the gate to meet him. He was a big, potbellied man with short white hair. “Are you going to open the gate?” he asked.
“I wish we could,” said Doris, “but the darn thing is broken. I’m Doris Picacello, the woman who called to rent the ladder.”
“This is a big ladder,” said the fat man. “Do you want me to help you carry it up to the house?”
“Thank you,” said Marie, “but that won’t be necessary.”
The fat man stared at her. “Are you sure about that? If you don’t mind me saying so, you look like you’re going to have a stroke or something. Are you okay?”
Marie let the poor man have it and two minutes later, he was back in his truck and heading down the road. “Did you see how rude he was?” growled Marie. “I can’t believe the nerve of some people.”
Doris stared at the humongous extension ladder and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said, “maybe we should have let him help? This thing looks pretty heavy.”
“We’ll just have to break it up into sections.”
“Do you know how to do that?”
“Well, no, but how hard could it be? It’s just a stinkin’ ladder, for crying out loud.”
For the next fifteen minutes, the women worked at trying to disassemble the big orange ladder. Finally, Marie gave it a kick and she crossed her arms. Doris stood up and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “We’re going to have to drag it behind the gate and into the woods. Shari could be back any minute.”
“I was just about to say the same thing,” said Marie.
They both stood at the front of the ladder and they gave it a test life. “This isn’t too bad,” said Doris. “I think we can handle it.”
“Picacello strong,” grunted Marie.
“Picacello strong,” agreed Doris.
They began dragging the heavy ladder around the gate. The back end slid across the grass and they had no problem until they hit the woods. There, the end of the ladder sunk into the pine needles and got hung up in the undergrowth. The women strained at the weight, working together like a team of oxen, they huffed and pulled the ladder deeper into the woods. Suddenly, Marie pointed back to the gate. “I think Shari is here,” she whispered. “Hit the deck!”
They dropped the ladder and flattened themselves in the pine needles. Over Marie’s heavy breathing, Doris could hear the sound of Shari’s fancy car as it waited for the gate. She cursed their luck and hoped that Shari wouldn’t notice them. A long moment passed, but then the car roared past them and soon. “That was close,” she said, getting to her knees.
Marie climbed to her feet and began brushing the pine needles from her clothes. She looked worse than she had up at the gate. Her face was white as a sheet and she staggered around like she was drunk. “I don’t feel so good,” she said, falling down and sitting on her rump. “I think I might be having heat stroke.”
Doris looked at her. “But you’re not even sweating,” she said.
“You fool,” growled Marie. “That’s one of the symptoms!”
Doris vaguely remembered hearing something like that and she nodded her head. She then plopped down next to Marie. “Give me a minute,” she gasped. “Then I’ll walk up to the house and get you a glass of water. I’m just pooped out.”
“Ten minutes ago, you were ready to run a marathon. For crying out loud, get off your fat ass and bring me a bucket of water. I’m dying over here.”
Reluctantly, Doris hauled herself back to her feet. She then began the long walk back to the house.
Chapter 23
Tom looked from Shari to Sam, hoping against hope that Sam would come up with a whopper story to tell his wife. One look at Sam’s face told him everything he needed to know. Tom sat on the bed next to Sam and like the Angel of Death, Shari hovered over them.
“You had better calm down,” said Sam. “You’re going to blow a gasket. I’ve seen it happen and it ain’t a pretty sight.”
“I’ll calm down… when you tell me what it is you’re not telling me.”
“No,” said Tom, “I’m guessing you won’t.”
“Listen mister, I already warned you about telling the truth. You can either give it to me, or you can walk out that door. I won’t have secrets in this house. That’s the way it is.”
“We ain’t tellin’ you nuttin’ until you sit down and take a deep breath,” said Sam. “And then you’re gonna hear everything that Tommy told me. And I’ll tell ya another thing, Shari. You’re going to think long and hard about what we’re sayin’. You better not freak out and fly off the handle. Think you can do that?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know damn well what it means.”
Shari sat down in the chair. “I’m sorry, Sam. I promise not to fly off the handle and jump to conclusions. I’ve learned my lesson and I won’t do it, not ever again. There, you see? I’ve calmed down and I’m ready to hear what all of this is about.”
Tom stared at his wife and wondered where he should start. He reached back and grabbed one of the journals and he handed it to Shari. “Take a look at this,” he said.
Shari took the journal and suddenly her hands began to tremble. “I’ve seen this before,” she whispered. “This belonged to Norma. Where did you get it?”
“I got it from my mom’s neighbor, Mrs. Kindersley. Norma was her sister.”
Tears filled Shari’s eyes as she gingerly began leafing through the pages. “She had the best penmanship,” she whispered. “I’d recognize it anywhere.”
“Tell us about what you’re old man did for a living,” said Sam.
“He worked in semiconductors. What are you getting at?”
“I don’t know anything about no semiconductors. What do those things do?”
Shari rubbed her eyes and continued thumbing through Norma’s journal. “They’re the little circuits tha
t make computers work. Mom and Dad, and Norma, were working together to design microchips for medical use. They made a lot of money doing that.”
“Yeah, I can see that. What kind of medical use?”
“Oh, stuff like monitoring kidneys and liver, your pancreas, even your heart. Instead of doing another invasive surgery, the idea was to plant a chip that would alert the doctor to a potential problem. My parents were very good at what they did.”
“That’s why they worked in Fort Knox, over there?” asked Sam, pointing to the door.
“That’s right. Some people would have paid a lot of money to see their laboratory. I imagine they would still love to get in there. That’s why I keep it locked up.”
“So, you think Tom is a spy and that’s why you don’t want him to go in there, huh?”
“What kind of a question is that? I never said such a thing.”
Tom reached out and took Shari by the hand. “Then… why won’t you take me in there?”
“I already explained that to you. The memories are just too painful for me. I don’t even go in there. Nobody goes in there.”
Sam rolled his eyes and stared at Shari. “So, what you’re tellin’ him is that that house is a secret, ain’t that right?”
“Don’t go putting words into my mouth.”
“Look, you can call it anything you like, but in the end it’s still a secret. Why don’t you get off that high horse of yours and get down on the ground with us peasants. Maybe you don’t think Tommy is good enough to step into a joint like that, eh?”
“I never said that. Tom, are you going to let him talk to me that way?”
Tom sat back on the bed. “Sam, that’s enough. You made your point.”
“No, I don’t think I have.”
“Why is it so important for you to go inside that place?” asked Shari, testily. “What is it that you hope to find?”
Tom reached over and tapped the journal. “The answer to that is in these journals.”
“That’s right,” agreed Sam. “Your old man built somethin’ and it’s still hidden inside that house. We’ve got to find it; the world is depending on us to find it.”
“What did he build?”
“A ray gun,” said Sam, before Tom could stop him.
Shari put her hand to her mouth and she began to laugh. “You two are putting me on, right? Is this some kind of payback for me accusing you of taking me gun? I get it. You guys are real funny.”
Sam shook his head. “This ain’t no joke,” he said. Then he got up and walked out of the room, nearly colliding with Doris, who stood right outside the door. “What the hell are you doin’?” he asked.
“I came up here to ask Tom if he would buy me some cigarettes, not that it’s any of your beeswax.”
“Don’t give me that crap. You had your ear pressed against the door.”
“I did not.”
“Whatever, I’m goin’ home. My crazy tank is full.”
“Who are you calling crazy?” asked Shari.
Sam just shook his head and continued walking down the stairs. He walked out the patio door and over to his truck. Sam climbed inside and angrily, he started up the engine. He was almost back to the gate when he spotted Marie. She was crawling along in the ditch. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he hissed, slapping the transmission into park.
Doris and Shari helped Marie into a tub of cool water in the master bath. It was the best they could do for her, seeing how she refused to seek medical attention. The cool water revived Marie’s hot temper and she soon returned to her grouchy old self. By this time, Sam was already home. Tom felt bad for him; Sam had wrenched his back helping Marie out of the ditch. “It was like wrestling a dead cow,” he had said.
Tom and Shari sat in the living room as Doris and Marie slept. Shari, as promised, was reading the journals. Tom was still smarting from what his mother and Marie had said about him, when he had stumbled into them behind the big house. Finally, he could take it no more. “What do you see in me?” he asked.
Shari looked up and gave him a confused look. “What do you mean? I see the man I married.”
“I mean… I’m no George Clooney. My ma and Marie made a point of telling me that, this afternoon. They said that now that you’re over the Bell palsy, you could have any man you want. You’re a beautiful woman and you deserve better than a schlep like me.”
“Stop it.”
“I can’t stop it. I need to know why you married me.”
“I married you because I love you, silly. I fell in love with you the second we met. You know that, so don’t go getting all weird on me. Have you read these journals?”
“I kind of browsed them.”
“Oh my God, Tom… I can’t believe what I’m reading. Sam was right… Dad built some kind of ray gun that neutralizes microchips. She even marked the spot where she thought it was hidden. This is just insane.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“I was never mad at you, baby. I was just disappointed.”
“Does that mean we can go over there and find that ray gun?”
“I didn’t say that. Let’s just say that I’m considering it. Do you really think that the President has been chipped?”
“Not just the President, but a bunch of other people, too. If you think about it, it’s the only thing that explains why everyone seemed to go crazy at the same time. People just don’t stand up in droves and renounce their religion.”
“No, they don’t, do they?”
Tom shook his head. “We can’t say for sure what happened to them. They could have been hypnotized, that’s always a possibility.”
“Or maybe they’re just nuts.”
“We are talking about politicians, so that’s also possible. Still, I would think the safest way to pull something like this off, would be to use your father’s technology.”
“My mom and dad would have never allowed their research to be perverted like that. They were trying to make this a better world.”
“And they were killed for it.”
“Their plane crashed.”
“Oh, and how convenient was that? Norma died only a few days before they did. What were the odds of that happening? Can’t you see, Shari? They were all killed for knowing too much. The CIA does that sort of thing.”
Shari covered her mouth and turned away. “I can’t believe that.”
“You have to believe that. There is no other explanation. Shari, have you ever thought that you might have been chipped? Think about it. Think about this obsession you have with keeping everyone out of your parent’s house. That isn’t normal. Yeah, it might have been too painful to go back in there for a year or two, but it’s been over five years. You should be strong enough by now to go in there.”
Like a frightened deer, Shari sprang from her chair. Clutching one of the journals, she ran out of the room and up the stairs.
Tom thought about following her, but he thought if he did he might backpedal. Five years was a long time. Enough was enough. Tom turned on the cable news and watched a ten minute segment on what the government was doing to get the trucks back on the road. The price of diesel was nearly a dollar a gallon cheaper than it had been before the crisis, which was welcome news to the truckers that were interviewed. Minnesota’s Democratic U.S. Senator, Merlin Levitz, Shari’s neighbor, had successfully filibustered against passage of the Sharia Law Bill. Levitz conceded that the fight was long from over, but admitted that he thoroughly enjoyed the twelve hours he spent talking about his family vacation to Israel. “There’s nothing like a captive audience,” he said with a laugh.
On the flipside of that coin, seven legislators had renounced their Christian faith since Friday afternoon, each converting to Islam. And that was all that was said on the subject, which Tom thought was odd. The news people were treating the story as if it barely merited a mention. Worse, there was no mention of last night’s uprising by Islamic militants. That story seemed to have gone away. It was replac
ed by widespread reports of hate crimes being perpetrated against the Muslim people by skinheads and several groups of white supremacists. The FBI was said to be involved in the investigation. There was also some talk that martial law would be rescinded the following day.
On the financial front, most experts were speculating that the market would bounce back on Monday. Tom was so happy to hear this that he nearly walked upstairs to tell Shari. He decided to have a sandwich, instead. He ate in the kitchen and returned to the living room and flipped through the news channels. By all accounts, the worst of the financial storm had passed. By nine O’clock, Tom was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He shut off the TV and climbed the stairs. When he opened the bedroom door, he found that the lights were already off. Tom undressed in the twilight and crawled into bed. He then quickly fell asleep.
The plan had been to wake up at midnight, but neither woman woke until well past five in the morning. Doris was the first to rise. She dressed in a new black blouse over a pair of black stretch pants. She then put on a pot of coffee. The smell of the fresh brew woke Marie from her hibernation. She dressed in yesterday’s clothes and stomped into the kitchen. “I feel like shit,” she grumbled. “I tried telling you that I had heat stroke.”
Doris rolled her eyes as she poured them both a cup of coffee. “All you ever do is complain, Marie, can’t you ever try to look at the bright side?”
“What bright side are you talking about? I’m single, pushing sixty, big-boned, and I’m out of smokes.”
Doris handed Marie a cup of coffee and put her fingers to her lips. She then pulled a twenty dollar bill out from her blouse pocket. “I found this in the cookie jar,” she whispered. “Can you still drive a car?”
Marie perked up at the sight of the cash. “Hell yes,” she said. “What time do they get up on Sundays?”
Doris shrugged her shoulders. “Who cares? I asked Tommy to get us some cigarettes, yesterday. Did he do it? No. Besides, if we leave now, they’ll never know we were even gone.”
The Minnesota Candidate Page 23