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Wired Page 12

by Robert L. Wise


  “Is George Peck in here?” Graham asked quietly.

  “No,” the teacher said. “Are we still under attack?”

  “Yes,” Graham said. “Everybody stay down.”

  “George is in the next classroom,” the teacher said. “Down the hall.”

  “Thank you,” Graham answered. “Keep everybody away from the windows.” He slipped past the door and ran for the next room. Graham was only three feet from the door when the terrifying rattle of machine gun fire exploded through the building. Instantly, he hit the floor and covered his head. The gunfire was so loud it sounded like the battle was just behind him. Handguns answered with quick, sharp blasts. Suddenly an overwhelming boom roared through the building, shaking the windows. The walls quivered and white tile fell from the ceiling. An engulfing cloud of dust and smoke rolled up the hall. The echo of the bomb rang in Graham's ears and for a moment he could hear nothing but the rumble. Pieces of crumbling plaster tumbled from the wall and bounced off of his helmet. The moaning and crying of the children increased. Rushing to the door, he jerked it open.

  “Is George Peck in this room?” he shouted.

  “Yes,” a boy's small voice answered.

  “George? George, is that you?”

  “Daddy?”

  “Son, I'm here!”

  George leaped up off the floor and ran for his father.

  “Mr. Peck? Are we okay?” the teacher asked, standing up.

  “I don't know,” Graham answered. “I'd suggest that you don't move until we know what happened in that explosion. I have to find my other son.”

  “Dad!” George grabbed Graham around the waist. “I'm so glad you're here.” He hugged his father fiercely. “Jeff is in the opposite hallway.”

  “Okay.” Graham grabbed his son's hand firmly. “I'm going the other way. You stay here until the authorities lead you out of the building.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Graham looked at the teacher. “You're all right?”

  “I think so,” she said. “If we can get out of here.”

  “Don't worry. It'll be all over soon.” Graham dashed out of the room.

  Running in the direction from where he had come, Graham could see that the explosion filled the hall with ceiling tiles and cracked several of the walls. The smoke was heavier, which meant he had to be getting closer to the fighting. A burst of gunfire filled the air and Graham dived to the floor again. The sound was much louder, which meant he was running into the area where the men were fighting.

  Graham took a deep breath. Jeff had to be closer to the explosion. He couldn't even let himself think about the consequences. At the T in the hallway, he pressed forward and kept walking. Settling into a squatting position, he peered into the rooms, and once satisfied Jeff wasn't in any of them, Graham pressed on until he came to another corner.

  There hadn't been any shooting during the entire time he ran down the hall. Carefully, he looked around the corner. The hall had disappeared in a cloud of dust, but he could hear men walking behind the dust and smoke. His heart nearly stopped as he realized it could be the attackers. Suddenly he heard the voices of children and the noise of small feet coming toward him. Graham cautiously looked around the corner again.

  Out of the cloud of dust a policeman led children toward him and out of the building. Graham stoop up and inched around the corner.

  “Hey, I'm with the police!” Graham yelled. “Do you need help?”

  “Yes,” a voice answered. “We're sending a classroom of preschoolers toward you.”

  Graham stepped into the center of the hallway and suddenly saw Jeff's teacher. Covered with dust, Mrs. McElroy's hair stood out in disarray and covered her eyes. She looked panic-stricken, but was leading her classroom out of the debris. Five children behind her, Jeff was holding a little girl's hand.

  “Jeff!” Graham screamed. “Jeff! It's me! Your dad!”

  Jeff broke ranks and ran for his father. “Daddy!” he screamed. “Help me!”

  Graham dropped to his knee and held his arms out. “Son!”

  “Daddy!” Jeff slipped into Graham's arms and hugged him. “Oh, Daddy! I was so afraid.”

  “It's okay now, son. We're all okay.”

  A policeman hurried up. “Can you take these kids out of here? We shot the attackers, but we've got to get everybody out of the building.”

  “Sure,” Graham said. “I'll take them out.”

  “Thanks.” The policeman hurried back into the smoky hallway.

  “Oh, thank God!” Graham gasped. “I'm so relieved.” He hugged Jeff, pulling him as close as possible. “Thank heaven you're all right.”

  “What's happened to us?” the teacher asked.

  “I think we've been struck by an attack of mass insanity, ma'am. People have gone stark raving nuts!” Graham started sliding down the wall toward the floor. “Absolutely crazy.” He pulled Jeff even closer and felt tears sliding down the side of his son's dusty cheek. “The world is falling apart.”

  CHAPTER 26

  MARY RETURNED HOME from school late to find George and Jeff sitting around the kitchen table with her parents. The stillness that had settled over their home following Maria's death remained throughout the house. Mary didn't like the insular feeling and always tried to turn on loud music when she came in. One glance at the kitchen table said tonight wouldn't be a good time for the raucous soundtrack of The Blasters, her favorite.

  “Hey, what gives with the long faces,” Mary said, and placed her palm-sized computer on the kitchen cabinet. “Someone d—” She started to say “die,” and then stopped.

  Graham slowly looked at her in dismay. “You haven't heard?”

  “Heard what?” Mary maintained her usual ton of indifference intended to make anyone arguing with her sound stupid. “What you talkin' about?”

  Graham grimaced. “Only a teenager could say such a thing.”

  “Your father is surprised you haven't heard about what occurred at the boys' school today.”

  Mary looked more carefully at George. That sickly look had returned in his eyes that had appeared after Grandmother's shooting. He seemed detached and distant. “What happened?”

  “There was a terrorist attack on the school. Men got killed and a bomb went off,” her father said. “Got it? Your brothers were square in the middle of the battle!”

  May's negativity, her sense of detachment vanished. Giving her parents a bad time for the sake irritating them melted and she was drawn back into the vortex of the family world.

  “Oh my gosh!” Mary blinked several times. “Good heavens! I went out for basketball practice after school and didn't talk to anyone. No, I didn't know.”

  “Your father rushed into the building and helped bring the children out,” Jackie said. “He helped save people's lives.”

  “No, I didn't,” Graham said quietly. “You're overstating the facts.”

  “My goodness!” Mary looked at her father. “We're proud of you, Dad.”

  “Sit down, Mary,” Graham said. “We need to talk.”

  “Sure.”

  Graham stared out the window. “Our lives have been turned inside out and upside down by attacks, assaults, and wars. Not only was the school hit today, but there's a war raging tonight.”

  “I heard about the war,” May interjected defensively. “We heard some reports over the school's television system.”

  “Whatever you heard is an understatement,” Graham said. “The war is serious and people are getting killed at this moment. We live out here in the suburbs where we should be protected and look at what's happened to us!”

  “I can't even walk out in the backyard anymore without being terrified,” Jackie said.

  “I don't know what we are going to do,” Graham answered, “but we've got to find some alternative.”

  No one answered and the quietness became ominous. Mary kept glancing back and forth between her brothers and her parents.

  “We need help.” Graham finally broke th
e silence.

  Jackie nodded her head. “Graham, we haven't tried any of the Sunday Encounter Times group. Maybe if we…”

  “P-p-lease, Mother!” Mary protested. “If there's one thing we don't need to get into, it's a bunch of religious nonsense. That's the last thing I want to hear about!”

  “Why?” Graham asked. “You got a better idea?”

  “Look,” Mary said confidently, “we studied about religion at school. It's nothing but a superstitious way to hide from your problems. I don't want any goofy spiritual talk around the supper table. None of this ‘talking to the sky' and calling it god or heavenly father of some kind.”

  “Then, what's your alternative?” Graham pressed.

  Mary didn't like her father pushing her in a direction she didn't want to go. “You didn't like going on Sunday either,” she retorted. “How come you've gotten so big on the idea?”

  Graham glowered. “You've certainly got on the smart-mouth side of this argument, Mary. We're not trying to argue with you. We are looking for an alternative.”

  Mary slumped back in her chair and decided she would be better off if she kept her mouth shut. She wasn't going to get anywhere by fighting with them. Mary looked down at the floor.

  Jackie reached out and touched Graham's hand. “What about the Encounter groups?”

  Graham shook his head. “I'd go if thought they would do me any good. The trouble is I don't need a fun and frolic time on Sunday morning. I need someone to tell me the hard truth about why the entire world has gone crazy. Where have all of those people gone? Why has the moon turned blood red and the weather gone berserk? Why did a creep kill my mother and how come the Russians, the Muslims, and the Jews are all blowing each other up? I don't want to know how the skiing is this weekend.”

  Silence fell over the room again. Jeff slipped off of his chair and snuggled next to his mother. She put her arm around him.

  “I was afraid.” Jeff's voice sounded high and tense. “The bad men came, started shooting and I thought they would kill me.”

  Jackie patted his head. “I know, son. We all understand.”

  “We could hear them screaming and shouting,” George added. “And then all the lights went out. Our teacher started to go outside in the hall, but she rushed back in and told us to get on the floor. She looked very afraid.” His voice trailed off into silence.

  “We all could have been killed,” Graham said. “We're just lucky you boys weren't in the other end of the building.”

  Mary didn't know how to respond to what she was hearing. On one hand, it was all true, and yet she didn't want to get religious about what had happened. None of them had been killed so leave it at that.

  “Something has gone terribly wrong with the world,” Jackie concluded. “Never in my life have I seen anything like what we are living with today.”

  Graham nodded his head. “That's what is so hard to put together. Values, morals, hopes, dreams—they've all gone down the drain like yesterday's cold coffee. Everywhere I look people are in a panic. There simply has to be something more to hang on to than what we've experienced.”

  “Get tough!” Mary said almost before she meant to speak. “We've go to buckle down. Watch out for ourselves. What else?”

  “Getting tough won't do it, Mary,” Graham said. “It's like an evil force has been loosed on the world and I can tell you that I'm not up to doing battle with some monster that I can't even see.”

  “Don't talk like that,” Mary protested. “I don't want to hear nonsense about all of this good and bad stuff. Before long you'll be telling me to look for angels and to watch out for devils. Stop it!” she said with more force than she intended.

  “I am your father!” Graham snapped. “Don't talk to me with that disrespectful sound in your voice.”

  Mary crossed her arms over her chest and glared sullenly back at her father.

  “You're right, Graham,” Jackie said. “It seems like what is happening to the world is different from anything I've ever known in my life. I don't know what it means to talk about evil, but I get the feeling whatever that thing is, it is has crawled under our house and made its home in the basement.”

  The telephone rang. Graham picked up his remote control and punched the “on” button. “Hello.”

  “Dad!” Matthew's voice boomed out from the remote speakers attached to the kitchen walls.

  “Yes, son. The entire family is sitting here around the table.”

  “Listen, everyone! I've discovered the most amazing things that I've ever heard.”

  Mary looked at her father. Graham's face had switched from the dismal look of despair to a flash of optimism. What in the world was Matthew talking about? She frowned.

  “I went to a meeting with a girl I knew from high school,” Jeff said. “They call themselves the New Seekers. Wow! You won't believe what I learned. I need to talk to the whole family as soon as possible.”

  Her father leaned forward. “Sure, Matt. We want to hear the complete story. When can you come home?”

  “I've got to study for a test tonight. Is tomorrow night too soon?”

  Graham laughed. “Not for us! We've been sitting here hoping that someone could tell us something to clarify what is going on out there. You heard about what happened at Harding School today?”

  “No. I've been in the library all afternoon and haven't seen a television.”

  “You'll see the news on television tonight. I'll tell you my version tomorrow.”

  “How about seven o'clock tomorrow?” Matt asked.

  “We'll be looking forward to seeing you,” Graham said. “Take care.” He clicked the phone off.

  “Let's hope Matthew has learned something important for us,” Graham said. “Maybe this is the spark we've been looking for.”

  Mary didn't like Matthew's ideas in general and this one didn't sound encouraging to her. Maybe she could find some way to avoid being at home tomorrow night. She had twenty-four hours to work it out and would start immediately looking for the exit door.

  CHAPTER 27

  SINCE MARIA'S DEMISE and the school attack, the possibility of unexpected death had almost become an obsession with the Peck family. Graham awoke at three o'clock in the morning after a painful dream about the entire family getting lost in an endless maze inside an impenetrable forest. The Metro train ride to work seemed little more than an extension of that nightmare. For two hours Graham struggled to write various alternatives for the mayor to present when he spoke at a rally in the ghetto off the Eisenhower Expressway.

  A loud buzz jarred him. Graham glanced at his computer. The red light on top of the small QuickCam video camera flashed that someone wanted a face-to-face conversation. He switched on the Web camera attached to his computer and the screen sprang to the life. Mayor Frank Bridges's face loomed across the monitor.

  “Graham,” Bridges began in his usual demanding tone of voice. “We've got to do something more about these attacks. Your home situation was frighteningly close to what many other people have experienced recently.”

  “Really,” Graham said with a twist of irony in his answer.

  “Graham, I think we need to guard ourselves at all times. Who knows when any of us could get hit next.”

  “You are just now getting concerned?”

  “Come on, Graham. I went with you to the school yesterday, remember? You know I've been worrying about these problems ever since those terrorists' bombs exploded out there in Long Beach harbor.”

  “Okay.” Graham nodded. “What's up today?”

  “I want you to spend some time thinking about new ideas for how we can improve security around our city. Then, you and I are going to have a private conference in my inner office.”

  For a moment Graham didn't answer. Seldom had the mayor held any conferences in his inner sanctum. He always used the big conference room. This issue was different.

  “Something new happened?” Graham asked.

  “No! I think the time has come t
o up the ante. That's all.”

  “Okay, Frank. I'll be there in about thirty minutes.”

  Graham flipped the camera switch off and the screen faded. He had spent too much time with the mayor, and developed a sixty sense about whatever Bridges said. Something was going on and Bridges wasn't being completely candid with him.

  Graham hit the buzzer on his intercom. “Sarah, please bring in my file on the Chicago city security systems.”

  “Yes sir. I'll be right there.”

  Graham booted up his word processing software and got ready to type, but he couldn't. An image of Maria's face emerged from out of nowhere and he could only sit there, blankly envisioning his late mother.

  “Here you are!” Sarah Cates came bounding through the door. “I think everything is here.” She handed him a computer disk. “Hope this helps.” She smiled affectionately.

  “Thank you.” Graham avoided eye contact. He quickly stuck the disk in his computer.

  “Let me know if you need anything else. I'll be here in a flash.”

  “Thank you,” Graham repeated himself without looking up.

  The file opened, laying out various kinds of apparatuses they had used in the past. Graham studied the electronic devices, surveillance equipment, and computer systems for identifying people. Thirty minutes passed quickly. Switching off the computer, Graham got up and walked quickly down the back stairs.

  “Good morning,” Graham said to the secretary. “The mayor is expecting me.”

  “Certainly.” The young woman pushed a button on her desk and a wall panel slid open, revealing a hallway. “Please go on in.”

  Graham walked through the opening and the wooden panel closed behind him. The hallway was covered with a thick-pile carpet and elk horn lamps hung on the walls, but the corridor still left him with a sense of foreboding, as if he were only a piece in some gigantic human puzzle. Ten feet ahead he walked through a large ornate wooden door.

  “Graham!” the mayor said. “Come in, my boy! Sit down.”

  Graham had not been in the mayor's private office many times. The large room had only a few objects, but the office had such lavish furnishings that it felt daunting. Mahogany wallboards from the floor to the ceiling concealed the bookcases behind them. Once punch on the computer panel on Bridges's desk could open up any section of the room.

 

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