by Nancy Widrew
Picking up a stack of papers, he passed it down the table. Although they’d been doing this the same way each year, he felt obliged to go over the procedure, for the benefit of the inductees. “Elections are won by simple majority,” he explained, “and on the sheet before you is the list of candidates. There’s also two columns, one marked yes, the other no. Just check the box of your choice.”
“Excuse me,” said Karen.
Brian frowned. “Is something wrong? Did you forget how to read?”
“Of course not,” she said. “It’s just that you said ‘candidates,’ and there’s only one name on the ballot. Where I come from, we call that a dictatorship.”
Brian dropped the remaining papers on the table. “I just explained. You have a choice of voting yes or no. As for the number of candidates, no one else wants to run.”
“I want to run,” said Jeremy.
“Wha-at?” said Brian, his voice cracking and turning the word into two syllables.
“I said I want to run.”
“But you just became a member.”
Jeremy looked around. “Is that against the rules?”
Rahm rose with a prepared answer. “There’s no rule preventing new members from running for office. In fact, I look forward to competition. Go on,” he said, sizing up Jeremy like a political opponent before a packed house. “Tell us your platform.”
Jeremy licked his lips. “I-I haven’t had time to prepare.”
“Too bad,” said Rahm. “Then you’ll have to wait till next year.”
“Wait a minute,” said Mary, her voice ringing high above the others. “I think we should make an exception and postpone the election. After all, what’s one week? In fact, I suggest we make it two.”
Rahm balled his fists and then raised his voice to match hers. “One week, two weeks. That’s not the point. We all know what Jeremy’s real intensions are.”
Janet, who rarely expressed an opinion, interjected. “How can we be sure without hearing him speak?”
“So who’s stopping him?” said Rahm. “Not me. Come on, Jeremy. Speak up. We’re all waiting.”
Jeremy leaned forward, clearing his throat to gain a few seconds. “I propose,” he began. “I propose. Uhh … dammit … I need more time.”
Like a lawyer defending a client, Mary sprang to her feet. “I move we delay the vote for two weeks.” Then before anyone could stop her, she added, “Do I hear a second?”
“I second the motion,” said Karen.
Helene raised her hand. “I second the second.”
Rahm’s back stiffened, but his demeanor remained calm. “All right,” he said. “I won’t fight any of you on this. Two weeks it is. Meeting adjourned.”
As the members staggered off, Brian stayed behind to address Rahm. Believing himself to be Rahm’s number one supporter, he waited for an explanation.
“I could have vetoed the motion,” said Rahm obligingly, “but I thought it best not to. Better to get this challenge over with soon, destroy it at its inception, rather than let it drag on and fester for the next twelve months. Besides a little excitement might be good for everyone.”
Brian nodded. “I see your point. At least, I think I do. Still, you know you can always count on me.”
#
Jeremy spent the next two weeks attempting to form a valid policy. He took it seriously, jotting down ideas, then moments later crossing them off and replacing them with others. He hoped for something novel, an inspiration, even a miracle to earn him a flat-out victory. Despite the effort he put into the task, he couldn’t come up with anything substantial. He turned to Mary, always faithful and eager to help.
“Remember what Helene wanted?” she suggested. “To stagger the work hours? And I wouldn’t mind having a day off every week either.”
Jeremy wrote down the words but wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more than practical advice. He needed a supercharged brainstorm to inspire the voters, but unable to conjure up that just-right magical lure, he turned “professional,” that is professionally insincere and became a sugar-dripping aspirant, offering promises and being as nice to everyone as possible, excepting Karen, of course.
He helped Janet wash the community towels at the shoreline; he helped Helene when it was her turn with the dinner dishes; and when David pulled a muscle, he brought him breakfast in bed. If there had been a baby around, he would have kissed it too.
But after days of these shenanigans, he decided to stop, afraid others would see it for the pandering it was.
Fighting the specter of loss and despair, he told himself what he really needed was to get his point across. But what point? He had arrived back at the beginning.
When David asked him over rehydrated powdered eggs what he could do that Rahm couldn’t, he told him to wait for his speech. Jeremy gave the identical answer to a foursome engaged in a game of pinochle, since all he’d managed so far were worthless ideas scribbled on paper.
Then before he knew it Election Day arrived, spurring last-minute bustling with little to show. Adding to that, the sight of Brian flitting about as if he were passing out campaign fliers caused Jeremy to succumb to a case of nerves. His body felt weighted, shooting pains pierced his chest, and, worst of all, he couldn’t catch his breath. After telling Mary he was having a heart attack, she noted the sweat on his brow. Placing her fingers on his wrist, she felt his pulse, racing and irregular.
“No, you’re not dying,” she assured him as she kissed his mouth and massaged his neck. “It’s a panic attack. You’re hyperventilating. Just breathe in and out to a count of five each.”
After following her advice, he dropped to his knees in a prayerful plea for guidance. To his surprise, the combination helped, and with a final self-directed word of encouragement, he regained his composure; at least, enough to fool the unknowing.
As they walked together down the passageway, Mary squeezed his hand, reminding him that he was smarter than all the dummies in the tribe, present company excepted. Jeremy laughed, releasing the last of his pent-up tension. With his newfound confidence, he thrust out his chest, ready for battle—that is, until he saw the members, sitting around the table, all with eager, anticipatory faces as they waited for his arrival and long, overdue speech.
Brian didn’t attempt to hide his scorn as he resumed his position as chairman. “So, what have you come up with, Jeremy? I hope it’s more than pie-in-the-sky promises.”
Jeremy once again stood before the group. Feeling like a student who didn’t do his homework, he almost began with “My fellow members,” but decided it sounded stale and, worse, phony. He looked at Mary with her thumbs-up sign and made a decision to just begin and forget about introductory statements.
“If I were Leader,” he said, “we’d stagger the work hours.” Encouraged by Helene’s smile he continued to item two. “We’d also have a six-day work week.” More smiles. “I also recommend—umm, I also think.” He stopped and blanked out, the same as he did the previous fortnight. In desperation, he pulled his half-written speech from his pocket. Seeing that item three was crossed off, he dropped his head in defeat. “Shit,” he mumbled, knowing there was no use in pretending. He had nothing to offer, nothing worth saying, and threw the paper to the ground.
Mary fisted both hands, pushing tighter, tighter. He could feel her prodding him on as she met his eyes with a don’t-give-up plea.
Jeremy took a breath. “Listen,” he said. “I can’t pretend to have my opponent’s knowledge of caves or know any of you as well as he does. But there’s one thing I do know. It was obvious to me from the first.”
Lily spoke next, her voice hissing like steam from a radiator. “And what’s that?” she sneered.
Knowing she was still angry from their time in the fertility area, Jeremy tried to be extra polite. “I was just about to explain,” he said. He smiled at Mary, signaling he was ready to give it one final try.
“All of you came here with a vision,” he said. “Freedom from the bull
shit needed to survive in the world above. But you’ve allowed that vision to die. You handed it over—your independence—to Rahm. You say you can choose your jobs, but it’s not true. You ask his permission for everything, from changing your assignments, to resolving quarrels, to even holding a stupid Thanksgiving party.”
He looked at Janet. “Why do you ask him what to cook for dinner? Can’t you decide such a simple thing yourself?”
He looked at Brian. “When Rahm refused your request to join him on one of his trips above, you accepted it without complaint.”
He looked at them all. “You’re not helpless, certainly not simple-minded so this didn’t happen overnight. This process was insidious, took time, but you all got lazy and let it take place. Rahm’s a dictator. He may be a benevolent one, but he’s a dictator nonetheless.”
He paused for a moment to skim the startled faces, the dropped chins, the raised eyebrows, especially Rahm’s. “If I were Leader,” he said, his palms digging into the table so hard his fingertips turned white, “I’d hold daily meetings, have an anonymous suggestion box so you wouldn’t feel afraid to express your feelings. Yes, I’ve seen the hesitation on your faces, heard the trembling in your voices. If I were Leader,” he repeated, “I’d include you in the details of community life to make sure you knew your opinions are valued. After all, isn’t that why you came here? Above you were nobody. Here, at least, be somebody. Count for something.” Jeremy swallowed hard and took his seat, satisfied that he had gotten his point across. But would it be enough?
He looked over at Rahm, shifting in his chair. Jeremy caught the deflection, a nervous movement, but there was no time to gloat. Using his intellect, he tried getting into Rahm’s head to read his thoughts. Would Rahm feel threatened by the challenge? Of course he would. But more importantly, how would he deal with it? What lengths would he take to neutralize his opponent? Jeremy suspected he’d do anything and everything—whatever it took. Winning was all that mattered and nothing would be off limits.
Rahm was smart. Jeremy knew that. Maybe not book smart, but intrinsically smart, and down here that counted far more than an A plus grade-point average from some Ivy League university. He had heard stories of Rahm’s past as a fighter, both military and street-wise, a warrior with cunning instincts. But now he, Jeremy, had stood up and faced him on his territory, before people who had only known one leader since their arrival. Whatever happened, he had nothing to be ashamed of.
After Brian made the official introduction, Rahm took his place before his comrades. “We’ve been through so much together,” he began. “We’ve seen our wishes, our hopes evolve from fantasy to reality. I don’t think I ever told you how proud I am of you—of all of you. Despite what my opponent says, we live in a place where we shape our own destiny. There are no faceless officials thousands of miles away, telling us what to do. The food we eat—we catch it or grow it ourselves. Our daily tasks, we do them from start to finish. We rely on no one but ourselves. Look around you. Look at the person sitting next to you. Go on! Do it!” Faces turned at the order.
“We’re a family here. How many people cared about you when you lived above? If this isn’t the Promised Land then I don’t know what is. And if we have to sacrifice a little bit of our individuality, what better reason is there than the good of the whole? But what remains paramount is that we’ve done this together. You and me. And to think,” he said, his words and voice transitioning to a warning, as chilly as ice down a back. “Think how it all began—
“You, Mary. Remember how I found you?”
Mary flinched.
“I’ve never brought it up before, never told anyone, but you’ve forced my hand.” With his eyes on her face, he clicked twice. She immediately looked away. “Without me, Mary, you’d be at the bottom of some wretched, forgotten river. A decomposed corpse, buried within a tomb of black, cold, choppy water. No one would have found you, Mary. How could you so easily forget that? I didn’t forget.
“When I saw you at that bridge, leaning over the railing as cars sped by, not one person cared enough to give you a glance or a thought. Except me! I was the only one who cared. I slowed my car, pulled over, and let you cry your heart out. And why, Mary? Because I saw you hurting, felt your pain. I cared. That’s why”
As he had done years before, Rahm once again went to Mary and put his hand on her shoulder. He approached her so quietly that she jerked. Reaching up, Mary automatically grasped the hand—His hand—softly stroking the curve of her neck, exactly as it had that night.
“Lucky for you,” he said, “I happened to be driving by. What could you have possibly been thinking? My poor, poor Mary.” He squeezed her shoulder and turned away.
“And you, Lily. You were also lucky. It’s not every day that someone is snuck out of a hospital ward.” Lily gulped as she crossed both arms, its connecting point pressing against her heart. “Now there’s no need for you to get upset. It’s no secret what ward you were on. That you never worked as an aide.
“And then there’s David and Helene.” Walking over, Rahm looked down at the couple, fidgeting like naughty children. His smile, though generous, appeared pulled back by a vise, making it look more like a grimace. “We all know about the drugs, but should I tell everyone how you two earned a living before Rachel and I took you in?”
“You should be grateful,” yelled Brian, wagging a finger at Helene who took part in delaying the election.
“Thank you, Brian, but that’s not necessary. I’m sure she is grateful. I’m sure they all are.”
“I am,” said Lily. “I haven’t forgotten all you’ve done. You saved my life.”
“Like a messiah,” added Rachel.
As Rahm’s face flashed in triumph, his eyes became unreadable, darkening like craters, despite the lanterns. “There is one more thing I want to add. You already know the quality of my leadership. Jeremy’s ability remains an unknown. He himself admitted that. And furthermore, don’t ever forget that what’s best for our community is my primary goal. Jeremy’s first priority is himself. He doesn’t care about you despite what he says. We know what he wants.” Rahm pounded a fist on the table to emphasize his next words. “I’d lay my life on the line for you, for each of you, for the continuance, the survival of this community. Ask yourself, would Jeremy do the same?” He resumed his place beside Rachel.
Brian wiped the sweat from his forehead. Flustered by the challenge to the status quo, he quickly passed out the ballots, hesitating to make sure there were no more objections. When none were forthcoming, he said, “Okay. Let’s vote.”
“Wait a minute,” said Helene, waving her hand in the air. “Jeremy’s name isn’t on the ballot.”
Brian glared at her as if she were the most addlebrained thing to ever cross his path. “Just write in his name. Do I have to spell it for you?” He almost added stupid, but stopped himself in time. “These are the same ballots from our last meeting,” he said. “Just place Jeremy’s name below Rahm’s, and check the candidate of your choice.”
When all the ballots were folded over to insure confidentiality, Brian collected them and handed them to Lily who had volunteered to do the counting. The members sat with pinched faces, waiting for the results.
She checked them once and checked again, her mouth twisting into an asymmetrical line, a mixture of puzzlement and dismay.
“What’s wrong?” demanded Brian. “Are you missing a ballot?”
“No, that’s not the problem. The winner is Rahm, just as I expected. But”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“by only one vote. The tally is six to five in his favor.”
A collective gasp spread around the table. That Rahm would win was all but assured, but that he would win by one vote was astounding and an embarrassment to him and his supporters. Nevertheless, Rahm rose to his feet. Only a slight twitch of an eye gave any indication that he felt anything but pleasure in his victory.
“I want to thank you,” he said, “for your faith in once again electing me
to the office of Leader.”
Expecting a speech, all eleven members sat forward in their chairs, eyes wide-open. When instead Rahm walked off without another word, they turned to each other, shrugging, staring, deadly quiet. Brian blanched. Only Jeremy’s demeanor revealed satisfaction as he placed his hands behind his neck, crossed his legs, and leaned back.
He knew he wouldn’t win, didn’t have a chance, not after hearing Rahm’s speech, but by doing so much better than he imagined, his future loomed brighter. He didn’t care about the how or the why. He had witnessed enough elections in his career to know there were always intangibles. All that mattered was the closeness of the vote, that he had broken Rahm’s grip on the leadership, making change inevitable. The only problem he could foresee was the next election being a full year away, and he had no intention of waiting that long. And why should he? He and Mary would figure something out: cause a brouhaha over a minor infraction or spread lies, if necessary. Whatever it took, he would rifle the community necessitating a vote of confidence or, better yet, discover a powerful, ugly secret. He smiled inwardly at the possibilities, but it exploded on his face like a jim-dandy, red-painted clown mouth. From across the table Karen once again tried to catch his attention. Typically, he paid her no mind.
Chapter 18
It was a perfect day for a funeral. Even though thunderclouds threatened, they held in check, but the smudge of gray across the sky added the perfect touch. Of course, it wasn’t really a funeral since no bodies were ever found, but a memorial service proposed by Jeremy’s coworkers and friends. They had organized the outdoor event to take place at the Unitarian Church in Baltimore when the sixth-month anniversary of Karen and Jeremy’s disappearance came and went. Jeff, the newspaper’s publisher, had covered most of the expenses since readership had picked up and he could well afford it. Flower arrangements of roses, azaleas, and lilies, interspersed with fuzzy green lamb’s-ears, lined the brick walkway to the patio where chairs were set up under an umbrella of tree branches just beginning to sprout buds. Understandably, family members had declined the invitation since they still had faith that their loved ones would be found.