The woman in the front blinked and her features relaxed just a bit.
“We deserve a future—a bright one, full of promise—far better than what these people can expect. And if our species is to remain, we must become more than what we were. And remain what we’ve become—helpful of those in need, understanding of our differences and aware that underneath we are the same.”
At her nod, Jake stepped forward. “As a condition of their banishment, these men and woman have been tagged with GPS chips. If they set foot within a hundred miles of our settlements, they will be executed.”
“What about the bitch who killed Lister?” a man shouted from the back.
“Bonnie Jardin has been sentenced to death for the murder of General Charles Lister and the poisoning deaths of Ralph Pendergast, Julio Constanza and Frances Bernard.” Three of their own; eighteen of the enemy. The message was very clear. She hoped to God no one forgot it during the next seven years of her presidency.
“When does the woman get what she deserves?”
“Some of you may wish to leave the room.” Mavis stepped back from the edge and glanced at the screen.
David and Robertson hauled Bonnie and Dirk toward the woods. Dirk mumbled and sobbed.
“This is a farce!” the chef shouted, stepping on his foot.
David gagged her and tied her to a dead tree.
“Don’t do this!” Dirk struggled against his bonds. “I don’t deserve this. It was the woman, she made me do it.”
Bonnie’s face turned red as Sally Rogers, Robertson, Vegas, Ray and Michaelson took aim.
“Fire.” All five guns emitted smoke but only one would fire a bullet.
Mavis knew which round was live.
Bonnie’s eye disappeared right before her brain splattered the tree. She slumped in her bonds.
Some in the dining hall gasped. More than a few collapsed.
Dirk trembled as the soldiers lined up for the second execution. “You don’t have to—”
“Fire.”
Red blossomed from his forehead and he collapsed at the base of the tree.
The applause thundered in the dining hall.
Dr. Jay confirmed each death. “Sentence has been carried out.”
David and his men cut the bodies loose and tossed the corpses into the back of the bus. Then Rogers, Robertson, Vegas, Ray and Michaelson herded the prisoners onto the bus. Gavin stumbled up the steps. He sat in the driver’s seat. Bloodshot eyes peered out of a haggard face. Blood stained his ripped suit.
“On the map are two locations that should provide you some shelter.” David shoved a map at him. “I suggest you don’t stop until you get there.”
He nodded and closed the door. The bus pulled away. The scoop on the front cleared the snow off road as he drove forward.
“Satellite is tracking them, Aunt Mavis.” Sunnie gave her a thumbs-up.
“Make sure they don’t stop. We’ll monitor them from space once we know where they are.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The connection gave way to static, then Sunnie cut the feed. The screens faded to black.
“I know that all of you don’t agree with my decision. It’s will always be that way in a democracy.” She watched a few people nod. “And so I will quote from another President, one who held tight to the notion of liberty and equality while some fought those ideals with violence when they did not get their way.”
The crowd shifted closer, leaning on each other.
As it should be. As it needed to be. Mavis looked as many people in the eye as she could. “Abraham Lincoln once said, ‘We here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.’ If anyone can keep that vow, it’s us.”
Thirty Years Later
Audra
Audra walked slowly into the conference room. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows. Fresh brewed coffee scented the air. A camera was set up in the corner.
Megan, the anchor was a blond California surfer girl without a tan and had never been outside of their valley. A mask dangled around her neck. Someone had drawn lips and stroked blush on the cheeks.
The girl hadn’t lost her sense of style.
“Professor Buchanan, would you care to take a seat?” Megan’s hands shook when she gestured to the cozy arrangement of molded plastic pink chairs and a glass and chrome knick-knack table.
The girl always had an abundance of energy. Audra stepped in time with her tapping cane. Why was she doing this interview anyway? She’d recorded her time capsule messages thirty years ago when she’d arrived. When she’d been young and had a lifetime with Eddie to look forward to. That’s who she wanted to be remembered as. That’s who she was in her dreams.
But she was a Buchanan.
And this was the afterworld’s thirtieth anniversary.
She wanted to make damn sure they remembered those who could no longer speak for themselves. “How have you been?”
“Great!” Megan plopped down in the seat on the left. She smoothed her blond hair before picking up her electronic pad from the table and tapping it to life. A slight smile tilted her lips. “See, I did pay attention all those years ago. I’ve come prepared with questions.”
Smiling, Audra inclined her head. The girl had outsmarted her common sense on more than one occasion, but she was brilliant and a model student, even if she never settled on one topic very long. “What do you want to know?
“What do you remember of those first days in Dark Hope?”
“The damp and cold.” And Eddie’s arms to keep her warm. To make her smile. To shed light in a world with no sun. Audra’s smile faltered and a hot lump wedged in her throat. Heavens, she knew this would be a bad idea. “It was much different than Tucson.”
Megan nodded encouragingly.
The words backed up behind the lump.
“Thirty years ago, the great civilizations of Earth vanished. Practically overnight, everything was gone. What did you miss the most?”
Nothing. Audra sighed. She’d had Eddie, her mother and close friends. If she had to do this, it was important Megan’s generation understood what was important, what to value.
“People died. Animals died. Plants died. The artifacts, the things of those great civilizations remain. Ancient Greek and Roman statues, Egyptian pyramids and gold funerary items. Even the Great Wall of China is still standing. Radiation doesn’t kill things, it kills life. Birds, bees and fish. The things we took for granted are gone and I don’t think we’re going to get them back.”
Death was permanent. She blinked back her tears. So very permanent.
“Ever the teacher.” Megan scrolled through her questions. “Were you a teacher before?”
Audra nodded. “In Tucson.”
The reporter raised an eyebrow as if expecting her to elaborate.
Tough. The questions didn’t begin to explain what had happened, what they’d endured. Together. Pain lanced through Audra. It was so hard to manage alone.
“Did you base the new school system on your experiences in Tucson?” Megan rolled the word on her tongue as if tasting it for the first time.
Maybe she was. The place was now just a name on faded maps and archived data. “Partly, but mostly we winged it. I think it turned out rather well. We have zero percent dropout rate.”
Megan powered down her epad. “Would you please share your story?”
“I was in Tucson when the first wave hit us. It was the flu. A stupid flu killed so many.” Mostly her age. Friends and cousins had dropped off like petals on a withered flower. It made no sense. But one voice had guided them through it. Doctor Spanner had been there in those horrible months telling people how to survive. She was a mercy humanity may not have deserved, but Audra was thankful the Doc had been there.
“That was the Redaction, right?”
“Yes. Our school became a cente
r for the sick and kids who survived but had lost their parents. At one point, there must have been a thousand of us crammed into the cafeteria and gymnasium. That’s where I met my husband. He’s the reason I’m here now.”
“How so?”
“When we needed stuff, Eddie’d find it. He also stood by me when I wanted to leave to join the soldiers in Colorado.”
“Colorado?”
The name was nothing. The world was nothing but voices and videos from people far away. Real, but somehow not.
“Dark Hope.” She opened her arms wide, encompassing the small town in the valley, the railroad tracks carving it in half and up the hill, to the entrance of the mine. “This used to be one of fifty states called Colorado.”
Didn’t she remember any of her schooling? Audra’d have to check the curriculum to make sure their history was remembered.
“Did you ever want to be something else, change who you’d been before the end?”
Audra smiled. The apocalypse didn’t change human nature. Most days she thought that was a good thing. “I like teaching at the school my husband helped build.”
“Edward Buchanan.”
“Eddie, not Edward.” She’d always called him Edward when she wanted him to listen to her. But he was never an Edward, he never needed to be. He was perfect just as he was. “My husband’s an amazing man. He can build anything with just scraps, duct tape and bubble gum.”
And his hands… She shivered.
“Bubble gum?” The reporter checked her notes.
“Sure. Bubble gum.” Let her look it up. Hopefully she wouldn’t try it. She’d break a tooth on the hard rocks left in the museum holding petrified remains of their MREs.
“Tell us about Eddie.”
Lightness filled Audra but the words never materialized. How could you describe someone who made you so much more than you’d ever imagined you could be? “Eddie’s indescribable.”
“Is Eddie with you today?”
The lightness crumbled, hollowing her out. “No. Not anymore.” She cleared her throat but the lump remained.
“Cancer?”
“Not everyone dies of cancer.” She’d had it seven times and recovered. Eddie had beaten it eight times. “There was a collapse when the new school was built. Eddie saved four other construction workers but couldn’t make it out with the fifth.”
She felt him there. Heard him say the most ridiculous things when she’d had a bad day. Could swear his laughter echoed in the classrooms. She’d never give up teaching. Never.
“I’m so sorry.”
Audra swiped at the tears blurring her vision. He was hers to miss and to remember. “He’s not completely gone. We raised two children together—former pupils of mine.” She pointed to the middle-aged adults on the reporter’s tablet. They’d been nearly eighteen by the time she’d become pregnant. It had been so fun practicing. “Oscar Renault and Michaela Jones had become teachers, too. Plus we had four beautiful children. They’re all healthy and happy. Eddie lived long enough to see his grandbabies born.”
“Who’s the other woman and gentleman?”
“My mother, Jacqueline Silvestre and Principal, er, Hubert Dunn.”
“Your stepfather?”
“No, they never married.” Neither had been able to let go of those they loved in the world before. Some folks were like that. The guilt of surviving always undermined the peace they’d managed to cobble together. “But they lived together and loved each other until the end.”
“How did they die?”
“Cancer. Treatment has come a long way in just a few decades.” And her mother and the Principal had volunteered to be guinea pigs in those early painful treatments. Not that either would complain. It wasn’t in their nature. An old picture of Eddie drifted across the reporter’s screen.
“Tell us about the challenges you faced.”
The picture dissolved as if it had never been. She inhaled through the pain. Time to leave. Now. “Life isn’t about the challenges, it’s about the people who stand by you during them.”
“Was it true there was a coup attempt in the early days?”
“Those were the best days and the worst days.” They had been young and strong. Their bodies had bounced back from punishments that would now leave her in bed for weeks. Bed wasn’t any fun now that Eddie was gone. She levered herself out of her chair. “That’s not my quote, by the way. It’s from a book written many, many years ago. Books were written on paper then.”
The reporter blinked.
“I have to go. Class starts in an hour and I have prep to do.” Audra hobbled out the door but stopped at the collage in the hall. There in the center was a photo of her and Eddie. The soft smirk, the devilish glint in his brown eyes. She touched the picture to brush the lock of hair off his forehead. “I’ll see you tonight, my love.”
She’d settle for being with him in her dreams until she could be with him forever.
Papa Rose
Papa Rose leaned against the doorjamb of the conference room and watched Megan replay her videos on the camera. Had the reporter already gotten what she wanted? He doubted it. She was born a perfectionist and since she excelled at practically everything she’d have to work twice as hard to be satisfied.
The Buchanan boy was certainly helping. Having known his father Eddie, he’d lay good odds the lad would wear her down enough so he could tag along for the ride.
Megan stopped.
Ooops busted. Papa Rose stuck his hands into his pockets and sauntered into the room. “You still need me for your thirtieth anniversary special?”
“Yes.” Megan blanked the screen and named a new file Papa Rose. “But I’m not about to forget that you were spying on me.”
He held up his hands. “I wasn’t spying. I was observing.”
“Yeah, well, your observations got me into a lot of trouble when I was younger.” She pointed to the plastic chair on the right.
He grinned. “Don’t blame me. For as smart as you are, your mother is smarter. As for your dad, he’s wily, cunning and ruthless. Half the men in town and probably around the world fear him.”
Megan flopped down in the chair. “That’s probably why I’ll end up with Buttcanon. He’s too stupid to be afraid of Dad.”
Her hazel eyes twinkled and her lips quirked.
Papa Rose snorted. Obviously stupid wasn’t what she thought about when Buchanan crossed her mind. “Eddie Junior is afraid of your dad; he’s just determined to win you. I did tell you not to double-dog dare him when you were younger.”
Megan rolled her eyes and hit the record button on the remote. “I’m not here to have my head shrunk. This is about the survivors. About you.”
“What do you want to know?”
She frowned at her epad. “Well, I would ask what you did before, but I imagine you were shrinking heads even then. Everyone seems to have stuck to what they knew.”
“Some folks switched, but the truth was we needed them to keep doing what they were doing and more. People stepped up to the challenge. Hairdressers kept everyone looking good while washing clothes. Librarians created book clubs and sorted garbage.”
Megan grunted. “Yeah, but I’m talking about the leaders. The ones that played a pivotal role in Dark Hope’s development.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I received my education from one of the new Americans.” Papa Rose smiled. Folks would be in for quite a shock when this aired. “Before the world ended, I was a tattoo artist.”
She blinked. “A what?”
He rolled up his sleeve. The once vibrant red roses faded and the petals sagged. He flexed his arm. But it wasn’t bad for a man in his sixties. “I inked this onto my skin.”
“Why?” She leaned closer.
“In remembrance of my wife and children, the ones who died in the Redaction.” He set his arm on the armrest while she took a close-up of his memorial. “Toby, Olivia and Jillie are healthy and very much alive. In fact, Toby’s wife is due to deliver today, s
o we may have to cut this short.”
They were hoping for a girl this time. He just hoped it was healthy.
“You never remarried?”
“Nope.” He might have if Sally Rogers hadn’t been so stubborn. If they’d caught her cancer early. “But I was best man when Falcon married Tina Tsao.”
Although up to his neck in grief, he’d wished them happiness. And they’d been happy. Still were. He kinda envied that, but he had his kids and his work. He couldn’t ask for more.
“Falcon and Papa Rose. Does anyone even know your real names?”
“Tina knows Falcon’s. He had to give it up for the marriage ceremony.” Falcon had sweated bullets the entire time. God, Papa Rose had loved to see his friend squirm. “As for me, I sign it to all my artwork.”
To honor those who were no longer there. To help them live again even if no one knew it.
“Yeah, and like all the Doctors that preceded you, no one can read your writing.”
He’d needed that anonymity in the beginning. And now… “Do you want to talk about the monument we’re dedicating tonight?”
She clamped her lips together before sighing and tucking her hair behind her ears. “All right what deep hidden meaning is behind the monument?”
“It’s not hidden. I carved likenesses of everyone there after that first election. The important folks like the Doc, Sergeant-Major, General Lister, Manny and others are larger but everyone’s there. Because everyone mattered. Everyone still does.” His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he stared at the screen. One word from Toby: Hurry! “I have to leave.”
“Congratulations to you, Toby and his wife.” Megan rose and turned off the screen.
Papa Rose stopped on the threshold. If he was going to do this, he needed to do this all the way. No more signing his name so folks couldn’t read it. By acknowledging who he was, he could make peace with who he is. “I’m Mike.”
Her brow wrinkled.
“Mike Tahoma.” The last link in his chain fell away. The past spread before him no longer colored by guilt. For a moment, he heard his late wife’s laughter in his ear.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Mike.”
After a wave, he crossed the bridge into his future.
Redaction: Dark Hope Part III Page 32