Resurrection America

by Jeff Gunhus

  Rick fought down the impulse to scrape the shit-eating grin off the man’s face with a right hook. Even against the three of them, he figured he could hold his own in a fight, but he wouldn’t get away unscathed. The thought of having to explain a black eye and a busted lip tomorrow didn’t sound appealing. Especially when he pictured having to explain it to Bertie who was already suspicious.

  Martell spoke up and broke the silence. “Sir, where do you want the last two devices installed?”

  Estevez smiled at Rick. “See you around, Sheriff. Thank you for your help.”

  Rick watched the man walk back to the truck. He stood there, taking slow breaths to calm himself as the team drove the utility truck to first one light pole and then another, affixing the sniffers with metallic tape. They worked fast and quietly, and it was clear why no one else had noticed them in town.

  Less than five minutes later, the truck drove out of the square, coming right past him as it left. Estevez was in the front passenger seat and as he passed, he held a finger to his lips as if hushing a child.

  Rick didn’t know how everything was going to play out over the next few days, but he had a distinct feeling that he and the man who’d called him a grunt were going to meet again. And the next time wouldn’t be as pleasant.

  Rick headed home, his heart filled with his feelings for Dahlia and Charlie but heavy with the burden of the secret he was keeping from everyone that mattered to him. In the middle of it was Cassie, a confusing wrinkle thrown into the mix that he wasn’t sure how to respond to.

  The world might have been crumbling to its knees, the US might be facing threats from every angle, but somehow Charlie made him think there was still hope for the world. He just hoped the next few days didn’t mess it up. At least he had the festival to look forward to. It was Resurrection’s crowning moment. What could possibly go wrong?

  17

  The crowd was larger than anyone expected. Rick stood on the stage next to Bertie and looked out over a sea of people filling Town Square. The main parking lots had been filled by ten o’clock and the overflows were reaching their limits. Every side street was lined with cars, and more than a few driveways were blocked by out-of-towners eager to park close to the action. The wide path that ran down the center of the square was lined with awnings and tents, most of them flying brightly colored flags that flapped in the breeze. All the storefronts that faced the square had their doors wide open, and sidewalk sales extended out into the streets that were now blocked to traffic, turning it into a huge pedestrian area. Music pumped through the sound system on the stage, an eclectic mix of oldies from the 50s and 60s. Bertie nearly vibrated with excitement at the sight of it all.

  “How many do you think are here?” Bertie asked.

  Rick scratched his head. “I was never good at guessing crowds. Has to be well over a thousand.”

  “Over two thousand, I’d say,” Bertie said.

  “Could be.”

  Bertie pointed to the grilling area. “Look at the line up for the food and it’s not even lunchtime yet. I don’t think old man Roberts has ever had so many people willing to try his cooking.”

  “Is there a first-aid tent for food poisoning?”

  Bertie jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. If there were any hard feelings about the night before, they’d long since faded as the lines of cars entered town. Most of the few hundred permanent residents of Resurrection all had jobs to do, and Bertie acted as their commanding officer. He’d enjoyed seeing her assigning tasks and adjusting to small issues as they came up. It’d been a long time since he’d seen the town look so alive.

  “You did it, Mayor,” he said, holding out a hand to shake hers.

  “We did it, Sheriff,” she replied, pushing the hand away and giving him a hug. “Now, go enjoy yourself. Dahlia and Charlie are over running the pumpkin bowling game.”

  “I’m working. I’ll see them later.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. These are all people from a few towns over. I don’t think we’ve attracted any roving bands of anarchists to our little festival.”

  He was going to remind her that last night she’d thought Jihadis were planting bombs in their little town, but he decided to leave it alone. He checked his watch. Almost eleven thirty. “You have half an hour before you talk to the crowd, so I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go have some fun if you agree to do the same thing.”

  “Deal,” she said. “I might try some of old man Roberts’s pulled pork.”

  “Maybe wait until after your speech,” Rick said. “Just sayin’.”

  “You’re terrible. Get out of here.”

  Rick climbed down the stage and worked his way through the crowd. His uniform helped as people moved aside when they saw it, often giving him a deferential nod as he passed. Even so, it was crowded enough that it took him a while to make his way across the square to where the games were set up. As he approached the area, he saw Cassie right in front of him. Her back was turned and he hesitated, his first instinct to work his way around her without being seen. He’d woken up that morning wanting to see and talk to her. Given that, he thought it was better if he just avoided her completely. He was about to dodge to his right when she turned. His intention must have been obvious because her face fell when she saw him.

  “Hey, Rick,” she said, walking up to him. “Big crowd.”

  “Biggest ever. It’s nice to see.”

  The crowd thinned a bit and Rick looked up just in time to see Dahlia staring in his direction from the games area. He expected a look of jealousy or anger from her because he was standing there with Cassie, but he got neither. Just a confident smile and a wave. He returned her wave just as the crowd closed back in and blocked his view. Cassie caught the exchange.

  “That’s Leila, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Dahlia. She was married to Jerry.”

  “Your friend who died in Syria. I remember the funeral.”

  Rick just nodded and looked past Cassie into the crowd, pretending to scan for suspicious faces. Really he was just searching for a distraction from the memory of Dahlia as the grieving widow, sobbing at her husband’s grave, clutching her infant son’s hand.

  “What time do you want to head up to the mine?” Cassie asked.

  Rick pointed to the crowd around them. “Depends on all these people. Once the crowd clears, I’ll have a better idea.”

  Cassie frowned, not liking the answer. “But we’re going today. No matter what.”

  Rick nodded. “We’re going underground so it’s not like we have to go during the day, right? Once we’re in the mine, it’s dark no matter what time we go.” It looked like she was going to press him on it, so he held up a hand. “I promise, we’ll go up there before the end of the day. All right?”

  That seemed to placate her. “OK,” she said. “In the meantime, I’m going to buy some arts and crafts shit that I don’t need and will never use.”

  “The town of Resurrection thanks you,” he said, happy to shift away from the topic of the mine. He knew that she was going to be livid when he came up with some reason to delay for another day. This impression she was doing of an easygoing person would be gone and she’d be looking for things to chuck at his head. He had no clue how he was going to pull off the extra delay, but he didn’t have time to worry about it now. He checked his watch. Only fifteen minutes until twelve. He’d missed the chance to do anything more than just say hi to Dahlia and Charlie and still make it back in time to introduce Bertie on the stage. But he had an idea. “Catch you later,” he said to Cassie, pushing past her before she had a chance to say anything else.

  He worked his way over to the games area. Dahlia saw him coming and waited for him next to the row of hay bales that formed the pumpkin bowling lane she manned. A little girl rolled an enormous pumpkin at a set of bowling pins, knocking them all down but one. Dahlia edged her foot over and tipped the final pin, sending the girl into screams of delight. Charlie went about setting the pins back up for
the next bowler.

  “Hey you,” he said.

  “Hey yourself,” she replied, leaning over the hay bales and kissing him.

  “Ran into Cassie.”

  “I saw you. She’s still pretty,” she said. Just an observation, not even a hint of jealousy.

  “Not as pretty as you.”

  She laughed. “Is that your attempt at sweet-talking me?”

  “Maybe. How am I doing?”

  She nodded. “Not too bad, actually.”

  The PA system squealed with feedback from a microphone. Rick turned and saw one of the teenage kids, who was helping with the technology, tap the mic. “You think Charlie would want to come on stage with me when I introduce Bertie?”

  “Yes, please, can I, Mom?” Charlie burst in, knocking over the bowling pins he’d just set up.

  “Sure, but behave yourself and do whatever Rick tells you to do, all right?”

  Rick reached over, took hold of the boy’s arms and pulled him over the top of the hay bales to his side. “We’ll come find you after Bertie’s speech.”

  They waded into the crowd. This time Rick reached his hand out and Charlie grabbed onto it. They made short work of the distance and climbed onto the stage right at noon. Bertie gave Charlie a high five and handed Rick the microphone.

  “Let’s get this party started,” she said.

  Rick turned the mic on. “Hello and welcome to the Fall Festival in Resurrection, Colorado,” he said. Heads turned toward the stage and the crowd redirected itself slowly so that it was oriented toward him. “If we could have your attention for just a few minutes, that would be great.” As planned, he saw the vendors stop selling their goods and pointing to the stage, everyone helping herd the cats. Surprisingly, the big crowd arranged itself naturally in front of the stage, filling Town Square. It was a sight to see.

  “Thank you. My name is Rick Johnson. I’m the sheriff of this town.”

  “Yeah Rick!” someone called out from the crowd and there was a roll of applause.

  “I just want to welcome you all and tell you how much we appreciate you coming into town to help us celebrate.” For a crowd that size, it was remarkably quiet. “These are tough times, we all know that. Not only here, but in this whole country. All around the world, really. Sometimes it can feel like we’ve lost something. Like we’ve left the best part of ourselves behind. Like maybe the world is in a downward spiral and there’s no way to fix it.” The square was dead silent. This wasn’t the feel-good chat anyone there had expected. Rick reached a hand out to Charlie and waved him forward. Charlie ran to him, showing no sign of being shy in front of so many people. “This is Charlie. And he doesn’t feel that way, do you, Charlie?”

  Rick put the mic in front of him. “Nope,” he said. “Look at this festival. It’s sweet.”

  The crowd laughed and Charlie flashed them a thumbs-up sign. Rick put a hand on his shoulder. “As long as there are Charlies in the world, then we can have hope. And when we have hope, we can put our heads together and get to work on solving the problems that face us. What this festival shows us, is that our best days are behind us only if we let them be. It just takes effort, and a leader to put that effort to good use. Here in Resurrection, that leadership comes from our mayor, Bertie Wilkens. Give it up for her.”

  The crowd burst into enthusiastic applause. Bertie took the mic and waved to the crowd. Once the crowd calmed down, she said, “Wow, what great words from our sheriff, Rick Johnson. Are you gunning for my job, Rick?” The crowd gave her a polite laugh. “But seriously, Sheriff Johnson has been one of the best things that has––”

  The slow whirr of multiple sirens winding up came from different parts of the square. They slowly cranked up into high-pitched wails, the ubiquitous air raid sirens that had been used for decades. One by one, the sirens reset back into the lower registers only to build again.

  The crowd shifted uneasily, many looking to the sky for threats. It was a perfect, blue sky, so it couldn’t be a tornado. The military vets in the crowd scanned the sky out of a different instinct, but there were no warplanes doing a strafing run.

  Bertie looked at Rick. They both knew it was the sniffer alarms installed the night before. But why?

  Rick took the mic from Bertie.

  “Folks, this is just a malfunction of some new equipment that got installed. There’s nothing to worry about,” he said, speaking loudly to be heard over the sirens. “Just stay where you are until we can get these sirens turned off.”

  The sirens grew louder. It seemed impossible that such a noise could come from the small devices on the light poles. Some of the people in the middle of the square were getting restless, a few pushing their way out of the mass of people. Rick didn’t like the look of that.

  “Please stay put where you are,” he called, his voice echoing through the town. “This is not an emergency. There’s nothing wrong. All we have is a false alarm. Just hold tight where you are. Please.”

  His voice took on more urgency as more people pushed and shoved to get out of the middle of the square. He knew that with a crowd that size, there was a tipping point where the whole place could descend into chaos.

  “How do we turn the sirens off?” Bertie yelled at him.

  Rick shook his head. He had no clue.

  Charlie wrapped himself around his leg, terrified.

  “Everyone stay calm,” Rick said into the PA system. “Everything will be––”

  The sirens stopped. Abruptly, like the throw of a switch.

  Rick’s ears were still ringing as he reached down to Charlie and hoisted him onto his hip. He put on a smile that matched the sense of relief he felt.

  “Well, folks, our little town wanted to make an impact on you today, but that wasn’t exactly what we had in mind.”

  Nervous laughter rolled through the crowd. There was even a smattering of applause. Rick felt the rush of working a crowd and decided to push it a little more. He turned to Bertie.

  “Mayor, I told the kids who set up the PA system to have some kind of sound if your speech went a little long. I guess we have some overachievers on our hands.”

  More laughter; even Bertie gave him a chuckle, even though he knew she was seething behind the smile plastered on her face.

  “Here’s the mic back, Mayor. But I’d keep your remarks short, because I don’t … I don’t know if …”

  The crowd murmured and turned restless as the unmistakable sound of helicopter blades echoed off the mountain walls. It grew louder and louder until the aircraft burst out from behind the canyon wall and soared over the town. Some in the crowd screamed as the downdraft pelted Town Square, whipping the flags in the air.

  There were speakers attached to the helo’s landing skids. A man’s voice, calm but authoritative, belted out a message.

  “By order of the federal government, this area is under quarantine. Assistance is on the way. Individuals attempting to leave the area will be subject to the use of force. This quarantine is effective immediately.”

  The message repeated, and all hell broke loose.

  PART II

  18

  “Everyone calm down,” Rick said into the mic. “We’ll find out what’s going on. Just stay calm.”

  But calm wasn’t on anyone’s mind. The outer edges of the crowd took advantage of not being locked into the mass of people and scattered toward the side streets. Rick was grateful all the cars were parked away from the square, many of them in the auxiliary lots outside of town. All he needed was someone panicking and plowing their car through a sidewalk full of people.

  Bertie took the microphone from him. “Please, remain calm. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  The helo banked hard and made another pass over town.

  “… this area is under quarantine …”

  Parents picked up their kids, most of whom were crying now from all the noise and picking up on the fear in the crowd.

  “… Individuals attempting to leave the area �
��”

  The crowd in the center of the square pushed in all directions, everyone with a different idea of the fastest way out of town. Vendor tents collapsed as people pushed through them.

  “… subject to the use of force …”

  Earsplitting screams came from the right side of the stage. Rick saw people stampeding through the open space of old man Roberts’s barbeque area, knocking over smokers filled with hot coals, upturning entire propane grills. The screaming came from a man holding up his arms, blackened and burned.

  “Please. Everyone. Stop!” Bertie cried out.

  Charlie nearly had Rick in a stranglehold, his face burrowed into his shoulder.

  “I’m scared,” Charlie whimpered.

  “You’re going to be all right. I got you.”

  Charlie leaned back and Rick saw the tears streaming down the kid’s cheeks.

  “What about Mom?”

  Rick spun around and searched the crowd for Dahlia. From his position on the stage, he had a good view of the games area. He looked frantically at the people running back and forth. Finally, he spotted her, crouched behind the wall of hay bales, the pumpkin bowling alley effectively making a safe zone from the crush of bodies. Her eyes were wide with fear, but they were fixed on him and Charlie.

  Rick grabbed the microphone from Bertie. “Dahlia. Stay there,” he shouted. “Can you hear me?”

  Dahlia waved her hand in the air, acknowledging that she had.

  Screams erupted around the square. Something new was happening. Each of the four streets that exited the square had a stream of people pushing and shoving to leave. But now, the tide turned and people were running back into the square.

  “What the hell?”

  He saw it at the street at the north end first. From his angle on the stage, he could see up most of the road.

  A massive machine rolled down the street toward the square. Rick knew the equipment and knew people were making the right decision to get out of the way.