The Big One

by Harrison Arnston

  “I’ll tell you what’s left,” Davis snapped. “You can at least try to diffuse it. That’s better than just sitting on our hands.” Again, he ran his hand over the pile of reports on his desk. “There were several suggestions made during some of these discussions, suggestions that were being looked into, according to these reports. Graves alluded to them when I met with him earlier, yet he refused to discuss them with me. What about those?”

  “We’re still looking into them,” Ellis said, his eyes cold and hard.

  “That’s it?”

  “What else can I tell you?”

  “You can tell me why I’m excluded from this information, for one.”

  “You’ll have to ask your superiors.”

  “I intend to,” Davis said.

  Ellis could see the anger building in this man. Clearly, he wasn’t thinking properly. Things that were being explained to him were going in one ear and out the other. It was just as Graves had predicted. Something would have to be done.

  Ellis shrugged and said, “I’d like to be able to say we have a more amenable solution to this, but I can’t. Even if we did, there’s not enough time for its implementation. We’d need years to set it up. Instead, we have days. If there’s anything to be salvaged, it’s the fact that we’ll all learn a great deal from this experience.”

  Davis jumped to his feet, his face flushed with anger. “What is it with you people? Everything is politics! Are you so completely cynical that nothing else matters? Is that it?”

  Slowly, Raymond Ellis rose to his feet. “You’re new at this, Michael,” he said, an edge to his voice. “It’s not a case of cynicism at all. It’s simply understanding the reality of the way things work. In the first place, there’s the money problem, which may seem like a small thing to you, but the fact is, people who perform services have to be paid. Someone has to approve the money and that means telling them why you need it. And that means going public. We can’t go public.

  “I know you’re not familiar with that problem, having come from a privately held business where you answered to no one, but this is public service, Michael. There’s a big difference.

  “Secondly,” he continued, “we have the reports of two men, two individuals, in which they state their opinions. Opinions aren’t facts. Before we make decisions that will impact on the lives of millions of people, at a cost of billions of dollars, we need facts. We have to know that this will not blow up in our faces. Before we start running off in all directions, we need the input of many more people. That’s the way things are done around here, like it or not.”

  Davis’s face reflected the frustration building inside him. “What does it take to convince you?” he asked. “Four earthquake predictions proved accurate and you brush them off as being mere opinions? If those aren’t facts, I don’t know what are.”

  Ellis sighed. “You miss the point, Michael. Even if these men are right, there’s still no way to effect an evacuation. That’s what you don’t seem to understand. I wish you would listen carefully to what we’ve been telling you. This isn’t something that just fell from the sky. We’ve been addressing this problem for years. Don’t you understand?”

  Davis wanted to say more, but realized how futile it would be. Again, he heard the ticking of the big clock. “I guess I’m starting to,” he said, his voice thick, his eyes on fire. He stood up. “Thanks for coming.”

  Ellis wasn’t quite ready to be dismissed. He wanted to make one last effort to get through to this man. Extending an arm, he motioned to the chair, saying, “Sit down and listen to me for a moment, Michael. You’re letting this thing get to you.”

  Davis sucked in some air, let it out slowly, then sat down. “I’m listening,” he said, his eyes still fiery.

  “Good,” Ellis answered, his voice soothing and warm, his manner much like a teacher trying to reach a recalcitrant student. “Let’s assume, for the sake of discussion, that the scientists are one hundred percent right in everything they’ve said. We’ll assume that there will be a monstrous earthquake in three weeks. That’s number one.”

  Davis nodded.

  “Fine,” said Ellis, happy now that he was in control of the conversation. “Now, Graves has outlined the problems with evacuation. Let’s, for the sake of this discussion, put that aside for the moment. Let’s say that there is a way to release the pressure. You know, of course, that the only way to prevent an earthquake is to release the pressure?”

  “Yes.” It was a weak answer, as though the man was beginning to realize he was defeated.

  “Good,” Ellis went on. “Now, let us assume that an attempt is made to release the pressure. Let us further suppose that this attempt, however well intentioned, creates the very earthquake it was designed to prevent. What do you suppose would happen then?”

  Davis leaned forward and said, “Are you saying …?”

  Ellis held up his hand. “Please, Michael. Just go along with me for a few moments. What do you suppose would happen then?”

  Davis slapped his hand on the desk. “I’m not a child, Raymond! You don’t have to draw me a picture! I don’t appreciate your condescending attitude.”

  Ellis gritted his teeth. “Michael,” he said, “I’m not being condescending. I’m trying very hard to make you understand something. In fact, I’m sticking my neck out a mile here and you’re being obstinate. Will you at least listen for a few minutes?”

  Davis took a deep breath and said, “Go on.”

  “Good. Now, if the earthquake is a result of actions taken by us, who do you think will be responsible financially?”

  “That’s not the point,” Davis protested.

  Ellis shook his head. “That’s exactly the point,” he said. “The American people are not yet ready to embrace the concept that life is not without certain risks. They’ve been coddled and protected to the point where they expect us to solve all of their problems and answer all of their needs without cost or risk to them. Utopia! That’s what they want.

  “In this case, there are certain measures that can be taken, but they are dangerous measures. There’s not enough time to either inform or educate the public about the ramifications of such measures. The debate would rage on forever. And should we be bold enough to go forward, take the risks and have it backfire on us, there’d be no end to the damage we’d suffer. Therefore, you must trust in those who have the wisdom and the foresight to see the reality of the problems. You must accept their recommendations for the good of the country as a whole and put your personal concerns aside.”

  Davis wiped his lips again. He wanted a drink more than anything else in the world. He couldn’t stand it any more. He turned to his guest and asked, “Would you care for a drink?”

  Ellis looked at him closely and nodded his head.

  Davis rushed to the small cabinet. For a moment, he hesitated, remembering that he had vowed to himself that he wouldn’t have another drink today.

  This morning, he’d had two.

  He’d been told that if he took just one, he wouldn’t be able to stop. But he’d proved them wrong. He’d had two and managed to keep it at that. And then he’d made a deal with himself that he wouldn’t have another for at least a day.

  But … he needed one drink. Just a small one. These meetings always upset him so much. Tomorrow, he’d have none. But today, he’d have just one more. He opened the door and pulled out the bottle.

  Ellis watched as he fumbled with the ice and the water. He also noticed the slight tremor in the hand that handed him the glass. “Michael, I realize how hard it is for you to accept this kind of thinking. It’s new to you. I understand that. But sometimes, we have to be pragmatic, no matter how difficult it is.”

  Davis fought the desire to gulp the drink down. “Raymond, I can understand pragmatism. But I can’t accept letting ten million people sit there when we know there’s a very good chance they’ll be killed. I don’t care how you slice it, I can’t live with that on my conscience.”

  “I
see,” Ellis said quietly.

  “I don’t think you do.”

  Ellis stood up, walked to the door and opened it. To Davis’s complete surprise, two large men walked quickly into the room.

  “You’re an alcoholic, Michael,” Ellis said, in a voice one might use with a child. “You need help. I’m going to see that you get it.”

  Michael Davis’s eyes widened as a large hand covered his nose and mouth. He felt a sharp pain in his neck and for a few moments, the panic rose in him so fast, he feared he was losing his mind. Then, in a rush, the fear diminished. For a moment, he watched, detached and uncomprehending, as Raymond Ellis gathered up copies of the reports and shoved them into his briefcase.

  And then, Davis’s world became dark.

  Five

  * * *

  Mrs. Harold Wilson lived in a small, unpretentious house in a quiet section of San Jose. It was a narrow street, lined with tall pines and contrasting eucalyptus trees. The houses stood so close they seemed to touch each other. Houses that reflected the interest people in the neighborhood took in their immediate surroundings. The small lawns were well manicured and dotted with beds of birds-of-paradise, azaleas and other vibrant flowers. Clumps of bougainvilleas nested against walls or climbed cedar fences.

  Ted Kowalczyk had been on this street before. Several times, in fact. The trees had been smaller then, the houses appearing not so close together, an optical illusion common to new subdivisions built seventeen years ago. Or perhaps it was because he’d been younger then, his powers of observation not so finely tuned. He rang the doorbell of the once familiar house and waited.

  Sally Wilson answered the door, dressed in a pink terrycloth robe that only served to emphasize her considerable bulk. Her hair was wound tight in a forest of metallic curlers and her bulbous eyes peered out over half-frame reading glasses. There was a drink in her hand and a cigarette dangling from her lips.

  “What is it?” she said, as sharply as she could, her voice scarcely above a harsh whisper. And then, almost as soon as she had spoken the words, her face brightened. She pulled the cigarette from her mouth, a big smile forcing her lips away from the false teeth.

  “I know you,” she said, excitedly. “You’re that Polack pal of Tommy’s, ain’t ya! Kowalski or sumtin’. Yeah! Jeez, it’s been a long time! Come in! Come in!”

  “You have a good memory,” Ted said, as he moved past her into the house.

  “I never forget a face,” she said. “Never!”

  They moved into the cramped living room where Ted’s presence sent the parrot into a frenzy of complaint. Two large black cats got up from the couch and took off for parts unknown, leaving a trail of black hairs in their wake. Ted looked around. There was cat hair everywhere, so he mentally closed his eyes and sat on the sofa while Sally Wilson yelled at her bird, finally putting the cover over the cage.

  “Time he went to sleep anyway,” she said, her eyes squinting from the smoke that drifted up from the cigarette, once again positioned, somewhat tenuously, in her mouth. “Pain in the ass, that thing. Drives the children crazy.”

  “The children?”

  She puffed on the cigarette and said, “Yeah. Eennie and Meenie. The cats. Had two others, Miney and Moe, but they took off a few weeks back and I ain’t seen them since. Want a drink?”

  He declined.

  “I guess you’re here about Tommy. You and him was pretty tight in college wasn’t ya?”

  “We were good friends,” Ted said.

  “Yeah. You wuz at that. I remember a few weekends when the four of ya was here. You was quite a group. I still got some pictures somewheres of when you yusta come up here and visit. Tommy didn’t visit much after he got married, thanks to that bitch he got tangled up with. I don’t think she ever wanted him outta her sight.”

  Ted removed some cat hair that had attached itself, almost magnetically, to his trousers. It seemed to be alive.

  He hated cats.

  The inside of the house was in sharp contrast to the outside. It was cluttered and dirty and smelled of stale cat litter. A testament to its owner, a woman who’d lost too much and didn’t really care any more. He wondered what motivated her to keep the outside so fresh looking. Maybe she didn’t want the neighbors to know, a last-gasp attempt to present an image that was pure fantasy. Or maybe someone else did it for her, or rather, for the neighborhood.

  “You must have been very shocked when you heard about the accident,” he said.

  “Shocked? Jeez, that doesn’t begin to cover it, I just couldn’t believe it. The cops came to the door at two in the morning … ya ever notice it’s always in the middle of the night when ya hear about these things? Same with Harold. It was three in the morning when they tol’ me about him, the poor bastard.”

  She refilled her glass, stubbed out the cigarette and promptly lit another. “Yeah,” she continued, “ol’ Harold, he jus’ plain drank himself to death. Passed out in some bar and by the time they got him to the hospital, he was gone. I ’magine he’s laughin’ up a storm now watchin’ his widow drinkin’ like this. Well, screw him!”

  She held her glass up high, as though making a toast.

  “Tommy, now,” she went on, “he was much too young to die. Jus’ like Trudy.”

  “How did it happen?” Ted asked, keeping his voice low and soft. “Tommy, I mean.”

  “You don’t know?” she asked, surprised.

  “No, I don’t,” he said. “All I heard was that he’d been killed in an accident, but I never heard … exactly what happened. If you’d rather not talk about it …”

  “No,” she said, holding up a hand. “I don’t mind. They say it’s better if ya talk about it.” She sighed and then said, “They say he musta fell asleep. Car went off the road and down the side of a ravine, right down to the bottom. Caught fire and burned up … with him in it. There wasn’t all that much …”

  She placed the drink on the table and the cigarette in the ash tray and then covered her face with gnarly hands. Almost as if they sensed something was wrong, the cats reappeared and took up positions on her ample lap, stretching their bodies so that they could try to lick away the tears. She stopped, hugged them to her body and then took a tissue and wiped her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Don’t mean to carry on like this.”

  “Don’t apologize, Mrs. Wilson. You have every right in the world to be upset. Perhaps I should come back …”

  She waved him off. “No, no,” she said. “I’m all right.”

  She blew her nose and then continued. “It was awful,” she said. “They made me look … at his remains, you know? I couldn’t even be sure it was Tommy ’cept for the ring. It was the one I gave ’im on graduation. It was engraved and everythin’.”

  “I’m very sorry,” Ted said.

  “He was the last,” she said, staring at the plastic curtains that covered the dirty front window. “First Harold and then Trudy. She died of cancer, you know. And now Tommy. Jeez, I don’t have nobody no more. I’m too old and too ugly to start again. I guess I’ll just live out my years with the cats and that stupid bird. Maybe I’ll get me another Miney and Moe. I think the others miss them, you know?”

  He nodded. “I’m sure they do.”

  She looked directly at him with eyes that seemed suddenly hostile again. “What you doin’ here anyway? I haven’t seen ya in fifteen years.”

  Ted ran a hand through his hair and said, “I came for two reasons. I wanted to express my sympathy to you, of course. Tommy and I were, as you said, pretty tight when we were in college.”

  “And the other reason?”

  “I was curious about a couple of things.”

  “Curious? Why? The FBI send ya?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t been with them for a number of years.”

  The hostility went out of her eyes for a moment. “Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Jeez, I’m sorry. Tommy told me about it when it happened. I guess ya had your own share of shit in th
is life, ain’t ya?”

  That was one way of putting it, he thought.

  “So, what are ya so curious about?”

  “I was wondering …” He stopped and said, “This really isn’t the time. I can see you’re upset. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

  “It’s all right,” she protested, again. “I don’t get that much company. It’s nice to see one of Tommy’s old friends, even if it is because of … go ahead. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well,” he began, “I was surprised when I found out about Tommy, which was this morning, as a matter of fact. I called the police, asking if they knew who to contact about funeral arrangements because, naturally, I wanted to attend. They told me he’d already been cremated. I was pretty shocked.”

  “Ain’t that a corker?” she said, almost as though she didn’t believe it herself. “That really set me back when I found that out. This lawyer showed up the day after the accident and said he was Tommy’s executive or whatever they call themselves.”

  “Executor?” Ted asked.

  “Yeah, that’s it. He worked for the company, he said. Anyway, he had this will and there it was, plain as day, Tommy sayin’ he wanted to be cremated. No funeral, no memorial service. Like he’d never set foot on this earth. The lawyer said he’d take care of everythin’, so I let him. I didn’t know what else to do. He said that’s what Tommy wanted.”

  “I realize,” Ted said, “that this isn’t any of my business, but … was there anything else about the will that you thought unusual?”

  For a moment, she just stared at him. Then, her gaze fell to the two cats she was stroking, one at a time. “Well, I guess ya could say I was surprised about that bitch wife of his. I never liked her, ya know. Even when you wuz all together, the four of ya, I could see she was a real pushy one. I never cared much for Eye-talians anyway. Harold got wounded in the war and it was Eye-talians that did it. Good-for-nothings, far as I’m concerned. Bunch of criminals is all they are.