“I just can’t believe this is happening to us,” Katherine said. Mrs. Baker stepped closer.
“I’m sorry I can’t offer words of encouragement,” she said. “But I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Let me get Ed,” Miranda said. “Mother, stay here with Mrs. Baker.” Katherine didn’t want to sit on the woman’s pristine bedspread with her dirty clothes, so she stood in the middle of the room while Miranda went to Frank’s room.
“Hey Eddie,” she said. “Your mother is a tad baffled by what’s going on. Maybe you outta have a word with her. It’s just a matter of days, maybe hours before something happens down here.” Ed scratched his beard.
“She’s probably confused by all these white people in her house. If I tell her what’s happening, I’m responsible for her,” he said, frowning.
“Ah, yeah, right! She’s your mother.”
“So what are you saying? We have to bring her along?”
“Probably,” Miranda said. “We can’t leave her here, can we?”
“I doubt if anything will happen in Dunwoody,” Ed said sarcastically. “But maybe further south, down by the airport. That’s a concern.” Looking around the house, at the patterned wallpaper and old-fashioned curtains at the window, he gave in. This was his boyhood home.
“Oh fuck.” Turning to his mother’s room with Miranda following, Katherine Garrison and Mrs. Baker were standing in the same position where Miranda had left them.
“Mother, you understand Mr. Garrison is Senator Garrison, correct?”
“No, I didn’t know that. Is that right?” she replied. Ed looked at her carefully, wondering if she was all there.
“You feeling okay, Mom?”
“Yes, I’m just fine. I guess I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“The country is at war,” he said, slightly premature but not for long. “The senator and his family are running for their life. I am, too. Miranda just reminded me that it’s just a matter of time before you may be in danger as well.”
“I know we’re at war in the Middle East,” she said. “But that won’t affect me here.”
“Mom, our country is at war right now, on this soil.” The sound of an airplane, a jet, not a prop crop duster, so close the house shook, flew overhead. Concerned, Miranda and Ed looked at each other and went to the window to see if they could determine what it was.
“That’s ridiculous! Why, I would have heard something on the television if that were true.”
“I’ll turn a computer on now and you can read for yourself…” The words were out of Ed’s mouth when an explosion rocked the house with almost enough impact to knock their feet out from under them. Miranda grabbed her mother’s arm and reached for Mrs. Baker next while Victor and Alex came running. Danny, in the hallway bathroom shower yelled, asking what had happened.
“That was too close,” Miranda said. “We need to get out of here, now.” Mrs. Baker started to protest, but Ed’s tone of voice stopped her.
“Grab your purse and let’s go,” he said firmly. “One of you, get that kid out of the shower.” Katherine, shocked into silence again, allowed Miranda to lead her back down the stairs while the others argued. Ed ran into his mother’s kitchen, grabbed a canvas bag and filled it with anything edible. Alex yelled for him to hurry.
Light grew brighter as they descended the steps, evidence of fire. The screams of injured and frightened people increased in intensity when Alex opened the door, and Mrs. Baker gasped in horror as the flames from a burn rose up over the rooftops just a few blocks away. Danny, hair streaming, ran down the stairs to join them, Victor behind.
“Shit,” Alex yelled. “Is everyone coming?” Car doors opened and the group piled in, Ed driving again and Miranda getting into the far rear seat of the van so there’d be room for his mother, who sputtered and fussed and was generally miserable, crying about leaving her house.
“It’s going to burn to the ground anyway,” Ed yelled. “You should be thrilled you’re alive, with your son.” His words hit her and she started to weep. Katherine Garrison patted her hand, finally pulling out of her own misery to comfort a stranger as Ed put the car into reverse and sped down the driveway. Neighbors stuffed their belongings into cars and rounded up pets, the streets would soon clog with escapees as the fire spread in their direction.
“Step on it, Ed,” Alex urged. Fire trucks coming toward them would block the exits to the neighborhood before long, unintentionally obstructing the path to safety for those who would try to flee, often leading to death, a scene reenacted across the nation that evening as second and third napalm bombs exploded, burning, covering everything in site with molten flames.
“What are you running from?” Mrs. Baker screamed. “What do you have to do with it?”
“Jesus mother, stop screaming, please,” Ed said, hitting the gas. The tires squealed as he turned corners to get out of the neighborhood, first left, then right, running a red light and finally getting onto the county road. Victor Garrison kindly explained to Ed’s mother the little he knew, while Miranda comforted Lexie, who remained in a state of shock.
Katherine Garrison, in a rare display of compassion, put what she hoped would be a comforting arm around Mrs. Baker’s shoulders. Listening to Victor explain that zealots had taken over Washington, the familiar recitation took on new meaning. Her daughter was the leader of something that had seemed counterintuitive when she first heard about it, but now Katherine wasn’t so sure. Maybe she owed Miranda her attention as they drove through chaos toward the unknown, the sun having gone down adding to the abysmal atmosphere. Sliding off the bench seat, she held on to get to the very back where her three children were sitting together. Miranda scooted over to make room for her mother.
“Mandy,” she whispered.
“Yes, Momma,” she whispered back.
“I owe you an apology. I didn’t believe this when Daddy told me about it, and I was angry with you for it. I still don’t completely believe that it could happen in our lifetime.”
“Stupid people inhabit the earth now, just as they did seventy years ago,” Miranda said softly, whispering into Katherine’s ear, “I don’t want to upset Lexie more.” Katherine nodded. Her two beautiful daughters. She wasn’t sure what she really needed to know from her daughter. Facts about military men gone mad and wealthy oil magnates bored her.
“How much danger are we actually in?” Katherine asked.
“I think we’re running for our lives, Mom,” she answered. “I don’t think they are chasing us, but it seems awfully coincidental that every place we go, including your house ends up in flames.” Alex turned around in his seat.
“One more podcast tonight, Miranda, then your phone is going out the window.” Rolling his down, Alex heaved his phone, the lit-up screen cartwheeling through space until it disappeared behind them.
“Okay, Alex. Our phones have gps, Mom. I can’t believe they’d bother following us, but it’s a possibility we have to examine. If it’s true, you’re all in danger.”
Ed called from the front seat. “I’ll take the risk and stay with you.”
“You should start outlining your podcast now,” Alex said.
“What’s a podcast?” Katherine asked.
“Really, Mom?” Lexie said, exasperated. “Everyone listened to Miranda. People’s lives were saved because they listened to her podcasts and read her comments in the forums she led.” Slowly, the excitement of running away with her family penetrating the wall of despair she’d erected, Lexie was coming back to life.
“Let me catch up, Lexie,” Katherine begged. “I’m behind the times, I admit that.”
“It won’t make much difference now,” Danny said. “The internet won’t be around and if it is and we keep using it, they’ll probably drop a napalm bomb on us.”
“What do your friends at school think about all this?” Miranda asked. She thought it was odd that young people listened to her, yet were staying in school rather than trying to find an alternative or
running away.”
“They’ll hang out until the bomb falls, just like I said.”
“Who are they?” Katherine asked.
“Winston Clarke. Albert Johnson. The president, but he’s history soon.”
“The president? I don’t believe it!”
“Believe it, Mom. He’s as crooked as the rest of ‘em.”
Victor shuddered listening, wondering when it would be his turn for interrogation. The horror of it was that he truly didn’t know what they were talking about. It was the same conspiracy garbage he’d heard for the past thirty years except it appeared it was really happening. The tangible things; bombs, hoods terrorizing his daughter, someone else’s daughter losing her life so Miranda would live, he understood those things. But the reasons behind them, or the non-reasons; some crazy rich man wanting to rid the country of its less fortunate, that he couldn’t fathom.
He’d dined with Winston Clarke! Accepted campaign contributions from him. Surely, Miranda knew of it, it would become a sticking point for her. And then the action he was dreading…a pointy finger, tapping him on the shoulder, hard.
“Victor, did you know any of this?” He turned his head to look at Katherine. She was not at her best, approaching three days without a bath, hair pulled back in a wild ponytail, with luminous eyes. Something about hearing these shocking facts from her children had revitalized her, pushed her beyond her comfort zone. She was radiant.
“I swear to you, no. Ask Miranda how I found out. She sent me that video of Winston Clarke.”
“Dad, you were there everyday,” Danny said. “What did you think of the plan to burn the towns hit by Hurricane Sandy? Didn’t you think the whole virus thing was slightly far-fetched?” Victor watched Katherine’s face as Danny shouted questions his way. She was triumphant!
“The evidence was presented by scientists who’d gathered the latest data. I had no reason not to believe it, anymore than most of the citizens of the United States had. My question to Miranda is why single out Winston Clarke for your investigation?”
“Dad, he was the first in line to rebuild the coastline. Didn’t you see the pictures of him at the building site of his house? The plans for his place were an ostentatious disaster, more like a castle than a beach house. The fight with his neighbors over their beach access was historic. No mention of viruses after that. So I was looking for his culpability in manipulating the process, never imagining his next step would be to kill people.”
“Where does Eastman fit into the picture?” Victor asked. As a decorated General, a man loved and respected by his troops, what Miranda was suggesting was more than anarchy. It was mass murder.
“Clarke couldn’t execute his plan without puppets and Eastman fit the bill. He was always looking for the limelight; every chance he got he paraded himself before the masses. I remember when I was a kid, seeing him on television, people almost groveling at his feet.
“Given the opportunity to rise above everyone, dictating what areas would be targeted, he played god. His values espoused Clarke’s, the very worst of backlash conservatism. They don’t like any kind of government intervention.”
“But killing people on welfare is huge intervention!” Katherine Garrison retorted, shocked.
After a lifetime of privilege and ease, Katherine knew she and Victor were guilty of much of what Miranda stood against. Looking at her daughter, she wondered how someone with so much devotion to helping people, so much so that she’d risked her life, could have come from the environment she and Victor provided for their family.
“I can’t believe they’d purposely burn a house with children occupying it,” Katherine said sadly. Miranda looked out the window. They were on the outskirts of Atlanta, Ed driving southwest trying to get out of town.
“Look out to the left, Mrs. Garrison,” Ed said. The van sped by, fires prominent in the night, eerie bright orange flames over a huge area and spreading.
“That’s Adamstown,” Mrs. Baker said, crying. “Those poor families.”
“Note the absence of fire engine sirens,” Miranda said. “They’re over by your house, putting out the fires of the rich people.” The occupants stretched over the window to watch the horror of a city burning.
“We’re hardly rich,” Mrs. Baker said, indignantly.
“I don’t think it makes any difference now. Eastman has a taste for the power it’s giving him and he can’t control himself. It will only escalate,” Ed said.
“I’m going to record the podcast now,” Miranda said. “It’ll be short one.” She turned her phone on again, aware of the danger she was putting all of them in with a click of a switch.
Closing her eyes, she started to talk into the phone. “This is Miranda Garrison. This is first chance I’ve had to talk to you. I’m sorry for the silence.
“A young woman, Maryann Caldwell was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The bullets that took her life were meant for me. I am so sorry. We took advantage of her murder to protect me a while longer, and that is why her death was mistaken as mine. I hope you can forgive me. If you knew Maryann, please tell her parents I’m sorry. I have heard the mistake was uncovered soon after the authorities removed her body from the scene. It afforded me the time to run for my life. We are appalled at the extent of the devastation we are seeing as we travel.” Miranda stopped for a moment to compose herself, self-conscious with all ears in the car tuned in.
“I won’t have time to edit this before we send it to you. I don’t know what information you are getting, but I want you to know that as soon as we are able, we will begin broadcasting again. For now, the key is to avoid urban and congested areas, prepare to leave your home in case you receive warning, and above all, share your wisdom. Please keep the rumor forum going. Goodbye for now and we will be together online soon.” She took a deep breath and tried to keep her emotions in check.
Katherine Garrison reached over the seat and embraced Miranda. “I am so proud of you. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
“Mother, thank you,” Miranda said, passing her phone to Alex. “That means so much to me.”
“Miranda, it sounds good,” Alex said, moved.
“I’ll pull over,” Ed said. Alex had his computer ready to download the recording and send it out. In minutes, the podcast was live. Ed pulled away from the curb.
“Okay, so say goodbye to your phone,” Alex said as he broke it in half and gave it a toss out the window.
“I’m glad I didn’t get the latest model,” she said, sighing. “That phone was expensive enough.”
Alex and Ed talked in low tones through the night, leaving the frenzied Atlanta traffic behind. Soon, traffic died down. Fires were visible in the distance and occasionally, at the side of the road so that soon the travelers didn’t notice, numbness setting in fast.
By sunrise, the group was hungry and in need of a bathroom. The box of crackers and jar of peanut butter grabbed from Mrs. Baker’s house was almost gone. Alex turned to look back at her, finally quiet after hours of sniffling. Victor and Katherine soothing voices trying to comfort her had become part of the road noise; tires hitting pavement, the sound of the heater running. Mrs. Baker made eye contact.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
“West. There are rumors of opposition groups growing in Arizona and Miranda wants to check it out.” He paused, smiling at her. “Can I call you something else besides Mrs. Baker?”
“I even call her that,” Ed said watching the road.
“Grace. My name is Grace,” she answered, chuckling. “Ed calls me mom. I’m sorry I’m acting like such a dope. I should be thrilled my son rescued me. A dream I’ve had of being close to my sons is coming true.”
“Well, Grace, it’s not easy to be swept up in this nightmare. Even old Ed here had a freak out, didn’t you Eddie?”
“I sure did. Stamped my feet and had a temper tantrum.” He confessed.
“The first place we see that’s open we’ll stop for food. You ca
n’t really see much in the dark but we’ve been driving through towns that look untouched the past hour or so.
“Why didn’t you tell me what was happening?” Grace Baker asked. “I took it personally that you weren’t calling me and now I find out you and your friends were trying to save the world.”
“Ha! We didn’t do a very good job now, did we?” Alex said softly.
“We tried to warn it, though. I bet we saved a lot of lives, warning people,” Ed said proudly. “But now the damage is done, we need to find out where and if we can keep working.”
Miranda was listening to them, wondering the same thing. She crept up to the front of the van, squatting behind Alex’s seat. “Yuma’s the place,” she whispered. “I listened all night to the podcasts you downloaded for me.” She had an ear bud dangling from her neck, but the other was still in place.
“What’s special about it?”
“It’s close to the border, and it sounds like Mexico wants to help. There’s a citadel going up around the city.”
“I wish we’d gotten an earlier start. Like last week,” Alex said.
“Our chances of getting there alive are better now,” she replied. Going back to her seat, Miranda hoped what she had just said was true.
Chapter 9
Mike
My wife is never going to forgive me. But I’m trying not to dwell on her anger right now; this pilot, this kid, and what we can learn from him is what’s important. The information that he has for us might help save our lives.
I left Laura on the deck and went inside to talk to him. I was glad Elise spread a sheet over the couch before they had Chris lie down. He reeked. My daughter took charge, urging the others to move away from Chris so he had some air, summoning me to come and do the questioning. If Steve was annoyed she wanted me there, he didn’t show it. I think he was more concerned that he may have led us to our death by having us come to Arizona.
“I’ll get something to wash him up with,” Elise said when I moved in. “I can’t see what his injuries are with all that soot over his skin.”
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