“Giving up the nukes?” Tomas was equally sickened.
“Trading some to regain lost territories. She was after parts of South America. Brazil, Venezuela.”
“The Allahs would move back the second we dumped our weapons.”
The notion of Grandma making a mistake was barely tolerable. Grandma no longer functioning as Grandma was unthinkable. Who’d take over?
Albert acknowledged his hard stare. “Lenora probably wants me gone, too. That could be why she’s raising the profile of Kenuda. But you must obey her, Tomas.” Cheng exhaled very slowly. “No matter what, you’re probably the only one she still trusts, which is good. You can keep me informed.”
Spying on Grandma. Equally unthinkable. Yet what choice did he have. Tomas blinked back tears and Cheng rubbed his shoulder.
“She’s right to be worried, though. Something’s up. Abdullah’s allies have changed codes on their army groups.”
Tomas frowned. “Maybe they’re really gathering strength and expanding the conspiracy.”
“Against who? The Mufti? Or us?”Cheng pursed his lips. “We’re on full military alert. Yes, I know. That order’s only to come from Grandma. But I couldn’t take a chance. Our nukes are locked. If they make a move…I’ll shit on rubble rather than let those Camels march in.” He patted Tomas’ knee. “I know what I’m asking.”
“I’m not betraying her,” Tomas said hoarsely.
“Nor am I, Tomas. We’re not the traitors anymore.”
• • • •
FRECKLIE BASHED HIS right knee into the tip of the mahogany end table. Exhausted after running up and down a ladder outside the stadium all night, Frecklie wondered if he’d mindlessly walked into the wrong house where bedroom furniture was in the hallway.
He edged his way along the couch in the dark, stubbing his toe on a dining room chair and feeling his way to her door. If his mother was going to re-decorate in the middle of the night, she didn’t deserve a knock.
Her room was empty except for a flashlight hanging from the curtain rod.
“Close the door,” Beth snapped, kneeling by the closet.
An American flag covered the entire floor like a rug.
“Shit.”
That all you have to say, she raised an eyebrow.
Yes. They stared at the flag together for a moment. He counted the stars. Should be forty-eight.
Fifty. Beth’s eyes flashed.
Hawaii and Alaska are neutral.
Fifty. She fussed with a stitch, walking sidewise toward him to avoid stepping on the flag. Her eyes shone like when she prayed, Frecklie thought.
Never seen a flag, he gestured.
“I started making this just after your father died.” Beth peered into the stripes as if her dead husband were hiding there. “Then I stopped because I couldn’t risk getting arrested. Who would’ve taken care of you?”
“What do we do with it?”
Beth sighed wearily. “It’s for the game, Ruben. We’re honoring the soldiers. We’re honoring our country. Not the Grandma crap. These are real feelings.”
Frecklie was startled by her vehemence.
“They’ll use this flag when they present the color guard.” She paused, thinking. “After that’s done, it has to wave somewhere.”
“How about by the banners you made?” he asked softly.
“No, we need something more visible. An American flag hasn’t flown since the war ended. It has to be special. Like in center field. Yes. Center field.” Beth’s eyes glittered. “Coordinate that with Dale. I’m sure she’ll have an idea.”
“She always does.” He rolled his eyes.
Beth studied him carefully. “You love her, right?”
“Sure.”
“Answers are so easy at your age.”
“Only some.”
Beth smiled. “You can be a baseball architect now that Grandma’s allowing the game to continue.”
“We thought they’d start with just a few, but they’re rebuilding all the stadiums,” he said wonderingly.
“That makes a bigger splash this way. No favoritism for any city.” She grunted at Grandma’s wisdom. “America’s pastime again. Which stadium are you going to design?”
Frecklie hesitated. “Fenway Park. Puppy said he’d give my drawings to Commissioner Kenuda. There’s going to be a, a, you know…”
“Process.”
“And nothing’s guaranteed. There could be people with better ideas.”
“I kind of doubt it,” she said, laughing. “Show me.”
Frecklie went down the hall, tripping over knick-knacks on the floor; he grumbled loudly from his room.
“They’re not behind your dresser anymore. I put them back under under your mattress,” Beth called out.
Frecklie returned with his portfolio. Beth flipped through the sketches of ivy on the walls, the scoreboard shaped like a glove.
“I love the asymmetrical height of the fences in the outfield,” she said after a moment.
“It’s not too much?” he asked.
Beth shook her head. “The old Yankee Stadium was like that.”
His eyes widened. “How do you know?”
Beth tapped him on the head. “I’m your mother. I know a lot.” She paused. “So do you. I’m very proud of you, Ruben.
He blushed and mumbled thanks. Beth nibbled on her lower lip.
“You’ll be fine. You’ll become a famous baseball architect, marry Dale and have lots of insane children.”
Frecklie gave her a long look, flipping up his palms questioningly. Beth shrugged and looked away. He tugged on her shoulder, half-turning her face. She stared very deeply.
“I might decide to relocate, honey.”
“What does that mean?”
Beth sighed. “I love someone, too.”
“Puppy?” His wide smile faded in disappointment as she shook her head. He continued, almost angrily, “Who then?”
“Someone else then. You don’t know her.”
“One of your customers?”
“Not really…”
“Dating customers is against the law…”
“Call a Blue Shirt,” she snapped back, softening. “Honey, nothing’s for sure. I’m just saying maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”
“Your maybes always mean for certain.”
“There’s nothing for certain except I love you very much.” Beth rubbed his cheek.
“And now you love someone else.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Does that make you happy?”
“Very much.” Beth left out the part about being scared shitless as she hugged him tightly.
40
After the third wrong turn, Zelda slumped onto a rock, searching for her breath in the humid air.
“Are you sure?” she whispered.
“It’s a maze, but yeah.” Annette squinted. “You okay?”
“Other than four months pregnant, I’m the bahm diggity.”
Zelda begged Diego to take a nap as she struggled to keep pace down the shadowy corridors, vines creeping up the walls. The cave was like one of those old vidmovs where dinosaurs and flying creatures lived, she thought.
Two Miners popped out of a dark hallway; Annette grabbed Zelda’s hand and burst into tender laughter, two lovers out for a midnight stroll, the kids tucked into bed.
The Miners tipped their rifles as they passed. Annette’s face creased, counting and remembering the steps; she dragged Zelda to the left, down a nearly pitch-black path to a cluster of rocks, where they knelt.
Annette pressed her face through a sliver of a hole, gesturing for Zelda to be patient. Finally she moved aside so Zelda could take a look.
The zipper in the cave spread apart and a jeep filled with soldiers rolled inside. The two guards saluted and resumed wandering around in a very bored patrol.
“Every hour,” Annette said, pressing her mouth to Zelda’s ear.
“How many hours have you studied the pattern?”
> Annette held up eight fingers. She hadn’t slept, dragging her garbage bag and broom around this stupid cave, following the trash she figured only adults made; these children were too well behaved to toss a candy wrapper.
“Always vehicles?” Zelda asked, watching the Miners slumping on chairs.
Annette shook her head. “Usually just soldiers.”
“But you’re not positive.”
“As much as I could. We can hide there.” She pointed to a clump of trees. “The door or whatever it is stays open for forty-two seconds. I counted. We slip behind them and out.”
It was a shitty plan, which Annette read in her eyes.
“Got an alternative?”
Zelda shook her head, staring. “Why didn’t you go yourself? It’s a lot easier with one person.”
“I’m afraid,” she murmured. “But once we’re out, you go your way and I go mine.”
Zelda looked at the soldiers again. Will you be at Yankee Stadium, too?
“Okay. I’ll get Clary. Wait here.”
Annette frowned. “We’re going tonight?”
Zelda nodded, remembering Hazel’s look with a shudder.
“I didn’t pack anything.”
Zelda shook her head sadly and, leaving small mounds of pebbles at that archway, leaves by that turn, a footprint there and a torn branch there, cautiously made her way back to the cabin.
Clary slept peacefully, hands in prayer on her side, Yankees cap over her face. Zelda stuffed some of the child’s clothes in a plastic bag and shoved it under her blouse next to Diego. Clary’s half-eaten plate of greens rested on the communal table; Zelda pocketed the knife and fork.
Zelda gently shook Clary awake. The girl held a sharpened stick.
“We go Puppy Beisbol.”
Clary bounded happily off the bed and followed Zelda past the row of sleeping children toward the front door. A little girl with long blonde hair suddenly sat up and said something in a guttural tongue; Zelda froze.
Clary leaned over and whispered, “Balspel.”
Her Dutch friend smiled and went back to sleep.
Well-trained, Clary kept quiet as they hurried through the cave. When they arrived at the meeting place, Annette was gone.
Left without them. Or set a trap.
Clary sensed something was wrong. “Hazel?”
Zelda shushed her, frantically trying to read her watch and calculate when the zipper would open.
“Where Hazel?” Clary insisted.
“Will you tell your child to be quiet?” Annette hissed as she climbed out from behind a tree.
“Where were you?”
“Peeing like a dog. Did you bring me extra underwear?”
“She come?” Clary glared.
“Yes, she come. She idea.” Annette glared back. “Tell me you at least brought a toothbrush.”
“And three changes of shoes.” Zelda snorted. “When does the cave open again?”
“In fifteen minutes.”
They huddled behind the trees as the guards discussed their latest sexual conquests; Clary paid particular attention. The zipper unraveled slowly and they slunk deeper. Chill, Diego. Please chill.
A Miner wandered in lugging unmarked brown boxes on a dolly. They debated a moment about whose responsibility unloading the cartons were. Finally they decided they’d all share in the work, unslinging the rifles from their shoulders and dragging the dolly onto a path.
Annette nudged Zelda, who grabbed Clary’s hand as they hurried toward the six-foot wide opening. Diego stirred and Zelda groaned.
The guards turned, rifles pointing.
“Hey,” one of them called.
“Go,” Zelda rasped over her shoulder at Annette and walked toward the guards with a bright smile. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
Annette clutched Clary’s wrist, stepping uncertainly toward the opening.
Thirty seconds left.
“Isn’t this a lovely day for a walk?”
The guards cocked their rifles.
“Move away from the opening, ma’am,” said one of the guards with shaky courage.
Clary tugged Annette toward Zelda, who glanced back. Twenty seconds; they’d never have another chance.
Zelda stomped on a guard’s foot; he howled. With a feral growl, Clary kicked one of the soldiers in the knee and the other in the groin. Annette punched the third guard in the face. The women barely made it through the closing zipper, which muffled the soldiers’s shouts.
A thick verdant forest with at least ten different shades of green swallowed them. Annette impatiently led them over the path carpeted with leaves and branches. In a few minutes, they were completely lost, half a mile down a desolate road. There was no chirping or animal sounds, not even a rustling breeze. It was if they were nowhere.
Zelda clung to the edge of a stump.
“We can’t stop here,” Annette insisted.
“Stop for el bebe,” Clary said disgustedly.
Zelda groaned; Diego had morphed into fighting triplets. Clary rubbed her shoulder in between scowls at Annette.
“Any idea where we are?” Zelda asked.
“How should I know? Your friends took us here. I was blindfolded, remember?” Annette gestured helplessly at the thick tree cover.
Zelda squinted up at a glimmer of light. “Even in Grandma’s world the sun rises in the east.”
“How does that help if we don’t know where north is?”
“The Bronx is south.”
“Not if we’re south of the Bronx. Then we’d go north.”
Zelda hated Annette for being right.
Annette broke a few twigs in frustration, finally looking at the squirming Zelda with concern. “You look white.”
“Just pale or Caucasian?”
“I can’t carry you. Even with the help of devil child. So rest for a couple seconds.”
Zelda nodded agreement and unwrapped the napkin, handing Clary her leftovers. The girl shook her head and patted Zelda’s stomach.
“For el bebe.”
“You muchacha.”
“Not el bebe.” Clary made a place setting on Zelda’s lap and shoveled the veggies into Zelda’s mouth.
“You hungry?” Zelda asked Annette between chews.
She grudgingly shook her head. “Puppy always said that about you.”
Zelda blinked, convinced she’d dozed and lost a conversation. “Said what?”
“Your humor in the face of shit. I was never good at that.”
“That’s for sure.”
“I can appreciate a joke. Ask my fiancé.” Annette wearily leaned against the tree. “If he’s still my fiancé.”
“You’ve only been gone a few days.”
“Time enough for that whore Dara to move in.”
Zelda nudged Clary, who reluctantly offered a tiny piece of bread which Annette wolfed down.
“You and Puppy were perfect for each other,” Zelda finally said.
“Now you think that?”
“I always did. I was just jealous. He’s still in love with you.”
Annette managed to snort and smile at the same time.
“I’m serious. The guy never dates.”
“He does that to punish me.”
Zelda rolled her eyes. “Like everyone in the world does things just to hurt you?”
Annette slowly shook her head, saying quietly, “No. I do enough to myself.” She cried softly for a moment. When she finished blowing her nose on her sleeve, they heard the dry leaves rustling.
Clary helped Zelda stand and they walked quickly, but carefully toward the south, the thick foliage overhead thinning.
The leaves crackled closer, followed by a whisper and the crunching of heavy boots. Clary suddenly hurried past the adults, pointing at the sounds of rumbling and stomping they could almost see. Music, too. Horns, faint cheers.
A bullet whizzed past, two, then a third thudded into the trees near their heads; Annette screamed. Zelda lifted Clary up, ignoring the
sharp pain in her stomach. The girl twisted free and dashed ahead as a bullet skipped at her heel.
Soldiers marched silently down the dusty road in clean, pressed uniforms. Many limped, but the backs and shoulders remained stiff, stoic. Cheering siblings waved small American flags while impromptu bands serenaded the calm, clear faces never looking left or right. The formation disappeared around a bend several miles away.
Cars respectfully edged past, honking salutes. Some makeshift signs read “Finish the Job” and “Forgive Who?” It was a spirit of grim joy.
Clary squirted between the soldiers, waving her baseball cap, Zelda and Annette apologetically following; the two thin Miners watched behind a tree, looking for an opportunity to take a shot. Hazel’s orders were shoot to kill.
“Puppy Beisbol.” Clary hopped up and down, thrusting out her chest.
A beefy woman in a Detroit Tigers cap behind the wheel of a pick-up truck marked Friedman’s Lumber, Kalamazoo, leaned out the window.
“Going to the game, honey?”
“Si. El bebe.”
The woman frowned at Zelda’s panting expression. She yelled at her pimply-faced son in the back seat of the crowded truck.
Annette and Clary helped Zelda onto the flat bed. Clary gave the two scowling Miners the finger as the truck pulled away. They jostled their rifles and followed along the tree line.
The back of the Ford was crowded with three other women, all wearing Tigers jerseys and hats.
“I’m guessing seven months.” A sallow woman pointed at Zelda’s stomach.
“Four. I’m just fat.”
“Fat’s good. More cushioning for the baby,” the heavy woman said, smiling at Annette. “What’re you naming him?”
“Diego.” Annette managed a smile, licking her lips at the half-eaten sandwiches on a plate.
“That’s a nice strong name. Are you excited to have a little brother?” The woman asked Clary, who helped herself to some food.
“Clary!” Zelda said sharply.
“No problem.” The woman laughed loudly. “You all hungry?”
They devoured the food as the truck rolled past the endless line of soldiers. Clary stood and saluted for a few minutes.
“Lovely sight, ain’t it?” The heavy woman smiled. “We’re marching all over America. Every scene like this.” Her hefty arms flapped at the road, the applause, shouts, music, signs, flags. “Finally getting their due. Respect,” her voice hardened. “Making us proud again. Being part of a family’s a great thing. But being part of a country’s more.”
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