The Final Enemy

by Petrosini, Dan

  Johnson brightened. “It’s far from ideal, but I’ll go along, as long as we get it done quickly.”

  His chief of staff offered his support. “Good decision, sir. I’ll get what friends we have left in the press to sprinkle a piece or two before we roll it out.”

  The president said, “What friends? I’m still hearing about that damn banquet.”

  Garland spied Homeland Secretary Rosario raise a finger and nodded.

  Rosario said, “It might be time to address the logistics side of things. I’m really concerned over the unevenness of shortages. The cities are in fair shape overall, nothing super critical, but rural areas are being pinched. If it escalates, it’ll be a classic case of the haves versus the have nots. This could explode, and if folks rebel . . .”

  “Water’s World did a piece last night in Mount Vernon Square interviewing a couple of senators eating in Rasika’s and Corduroy’s. It was amazing how out of touch Durbin was. I was almost embarrassed for him.”

  Johnson slammed a palm on the mahogany table. “Goddamn it!”

  Garland said, “We’ve got to tread carefully here. Any impression there’s a privileged class and we’ll have a crisis of a different color on our hands. The cooperation of the public is absolutely critical in dealing with this. If this becomes every man for himself, I, I—let’s not go there.”

  Rosario said, “America’s food industry is highly complex, and until recently a global collection of diverse businesses. We could never effectively manage the production and distribution as well as the private sector. However, I must note that if we let the markets play out, prices will eventually dictate who eats and who doesn’t.”

  Garland said, “We have quite a few price-gouging laws on the books. If we quickly make an example out of someone, we can probably manage the greed.”

  Johnson said, “And make damn sure there’s a long prison sentence for any violations.”

  “But that does nothing to ensure the rural areas are sufficiently supplied.”

  Garland said, “This is going to sound callous, but I think we should let markets play out. After all, we’ve got to protect the largest number of people we can.”

  Johnson pointed at his chief of staff. “You forgetting the oath I took? I swore to uphold the Constitution, which provides for equal treatment of every citizen.”

  “I understand, sir, but we need a sizable part of the population on our side. The masses scare the hell out of me. If they revolt . . .” Garland’s voice trailed off before continuing, “Anybody have anything else?”

  Rogers spoke, “This may appear outside of the box, but hear me out.” The defense secretary leaned on an arm of his chair and continued, “Never before has man expected to live forever, and, frankly, we shouldn’t, no, we can’t allow it.”

  Johnson said, “Come on, Bill! Are you talking euthanasia again?”

  “I wouldn’t call it euthanasia if it relieves pain and suffering. I’m referring to a movement to create a long—longer than anything man has known—limit to the length of life.”

  “That’s nonsense. We’re not even going to discuss this.”

  “I understand, sir, but all I ask is for us to remember we just can’t afford having limitless life. The planet won’t be able to support it.”

  Johnson pushed back from the table. “We’re done here.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jack was halfway in the door when Laura asked, “Did you speak to your grandmother?”

  Jack grimaced. “I forgot.”

  “She’s in a full panic—said she tried to call you five times.”

  “I know, but I was busy and . . .”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, she’s getting kicked out of her house.”

  “What? That’s crazy. What’s going on?”

  “Eminent domain. Call her. Now!”

  ***

  “Grams, I’m really sorry, I was so tied up at work that . . .”

  “They’re kicking me out of my house, John John.”

  “Who’s kicking you out?”

  “The government. They’re taking the house you grew up in. I’ve been here most of my life. I mean, everyone in the whole neighborhood has to get out, John John. Mrs. Martin and the Jeffersons and Johnny and Carla and . . .”

  “Hold on, Grams. Maybe there’s something we can do.”

  “No, Mary’s son Bob, you remember him, well, he’s a lawyer for the state, said something about Washington and eminent domain.”

  “Oh, I know they were doing it, but I had no idea Providence would be affected.”

  “I tried to call you.”

  “I’m really sorry, it’s just that I’ve been working and . . .”

  “What I am going to do, John John? Where am I gonna live?”

  “Don’t worry, Grams, you can come stay with us.”

  “To New York? Are you sure?”

  “Of course, Grams. It’ll be fun, like old times.”

  “Fun? I lived in this home for over fifty years. It’s a part of me. I, I . . .” Jack’s grandmother started to cry.

  “It’s okay, Grams, everything will be fine.”

  “I’m sorry, John John. It came out of nowhere.”

  “I understand. Of course it’s emotional. I’m gonna miss that house too. The backyard, the neighborhood, geez, we had a lot of good times.”

  “We sure did. It was rough in the beginning when you first got here, but you adapted fast, John John. I was really proud of the way you handled it.”

  “I’ll never forget what you did for me, Grams.”

  “You were a pleasure, John John. We helped each other through a tough time.”

  “You know what? I don’t really remember the bad stuff anymore. I had a great childhood, thanks to you.”

  “I’m so happy you feel that way.”

  “Anyway, it’s time to move on. We don’t have a choice with everything going on. So like you used to tell me, put on a stiff upper lip.”

  His grandmother laughed, “I can see it was easier said than done.”

  “Like most things. Don forget, before you come down to New York, make sure you take a ton of pictures of the house and block.”

  “Of course. But what about Laura? Are you sure she’s okay with all this?”

  “Of course.”

  “But you only have one bedroom, right?”

  “Yeah, but you can take the office. We’ll get it ready for you.”

  “Your office? I can’t take that, John John. Where would you work?”

  “Don’t worry, Grams, most of the time I use the kitchen table anyway.”

  “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “Look, stop worrying. I’ll have the guy at the paper who handles all of our moves get involved. He’s a good guy and he’ll get some people up there to help you pack and then truck it down here. Make sure they take the food provisions you squirreled away. I don’t want you carrying anything but one piece of luggage. They’ll take the rest.”

  “Okay, but I don’t want you spending money on me. It’s not necessary.”

  “He owes me a ton of favors, don’t worry. Let’s plan on two weeks from now. That’ll give you plenty of time. These guys are lightning fast. I’ll send you an Amtrak ticket and meet you at Grand Central. We’ll talk details next week.”

  ***

  “This traffic is crazy,” Jack said.

  The cab driver said, “Some protest thing is going on by Fifty-Seventh Street.”

  They crawled along Fifth Avenue until they came to a dead stop near the Museum of Modern Art. They sat still for ten minutes and Jack said, “Let me out. I’ll walk it to Rockefeller.”

  The sidewalks were thick with people and Jack could hear the strains of chanting grow louder as he made his way down Fifth. Three men crossing the street were wearing NRA jackets and pushed their way in front of Jack as the crowd came to a stop. Jack squeezed his way across the street toward St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

  The sidewalk in front of th
e church wasn’t as crowded, and he ducked into the cathedral. Besides an old couple praying, it was empty, and Jack cut threw it onto Madison Avenue. As he approached Forty-Ninth Street he began seeing placards protesting the violation of the Second Amendment.

  He stood on his toes and could see blue police barriers. He pulled out his press credentials and snaked his way toward a mix of police and the National Guard.

  Jack waved his credentials at the officers and shouted above the crowd, “Officer, I’m with the AP. Can you help me get to Thirty Rock?”

  A guardsman holding an M16 waved him over. Jack thanked him as he slipped under the barrier and followed the guardsman toward Rockefeller Plaza, meanwhile, the crowd chanted, “No Guns, No Peace.”

  ***

  Walking home, Jack was struck by a sign announcing the closing of another church. This time it was a Protestant church that was going to be replaced with an apartment building. Jack instinctively headed for the limestone structure’s doors.

  A service was going on at St. Thomas Church, but there were more statues than parishioners in attendance. Jack took a seat in a pew and watched the bespectacled cleric conduct the service.

  When the service was over, Jack approached the minister.

  “Excuse me, Father. Can I have a word with you?”

  The minister smiled. “Certainly. What’s troubling you?”

  “I was wondering about the closure of the church.”

  “It’s tough to believe that after almost two hundred years this beautiful sanctuary is going to be torn down. It’s sad, but we must be thankful for the time we’ve had here.”

  “I didn’t realize it was here so long.”

  “St. Thomas is one of the oldest in the city.”

  “It’s a beautiful place.”

  “Sure is. Even though we’ve been deferring maintenance. A cash crunch, I’m afraid.”

  “Is that why it’s been sold?”

  “Unfortunately, the parishioner base has shrunk dramatically. You saw it today, there were just a handful of people here.” The minister shook his head. “This used to be such a vibrant parish.”

  “So, it’s a monetary problem?”

  “No, it’s a much larger problem, it’s a crisis of faith.”

  “Could you explain that?”

  “Ever since Remedy arrived, I could sense a change. Some of it was not so easy to see. There were fewer and fewer people attending services, but our fellowship participation dropped rather quickly. These fellowship activities are the heart and soul of the congregation, and it was sad to see them collapse.”

  “That’s a pity. Why do you think that happened?”

  “I don’t want to overstate things, but Remedy seemed to replace God in the hearts and minds of the congregation. It’s a tragic substitution, in my view.”

  “So you regret the arrival of Remedy?”

  “No, no. Don’t misunderstand me. I believe it was sent by God. It’s been wonderful for those who were suffering from painful and debilitating sickness. It’s just that the physical has overwhelmed the soul.”

  “Like younger people who think they’re Superman, can’t imagine being sick or dead.”

  “It reminds me of a lesson while at the seminary about how health and success were impediments to a relationship with God. When you feel good and do well you tend to think less about God. It’s the human condition. But as we age the reality of death begins to sink in and that reality brought most people back to God. But now, with Remedy removing the prospect of death, I fear many will not be prepared to meet their creator.”

  “But if they don’t die that won’t be a problem.”

  “Ah, but you are making a dangerous assumption. Do we want to take the risk and live lives that are godless, violating the covenant we have with our creator? Just as quickly as Remedy came, something else may reverse it.”

  “I don’t think anyone is considering that, myself included.”

  “Perhaps even more relevant, if we continue to turn away from God, is the possibility of a reminder from God.”

  “Reminder? Do you mean punishment?”

  “The Old Testament contains several examples where God has expressed displeasure with his people. Think of Sodom.”

  “I’m pretty weak on the Old Testament, but I remember Sodom was a very decadent place. Surely, we’re not going to incur the wrath of God like they did.”

  “No one can predict when God will step in, but this will not end well if we continue to turn away from our creator.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Standing behind the gray onyx table, with a hand on the top of a chair, a thinner Billy Willis smiled as the camera went live. He tugged the lapel of his gray linen suit and opened his show as he had for the past sixteen years.

  “Good evening, and welcome to A Closer Look. Tonight we’re fortunate to have an interesting panel of experts to take a closer look at the most controversial policies put in place to address the increasing strain of overpopulation.” Willis’s smile disappeared. “It’s only fair that I warn you, much of the evening’s subject matter is disturbing. Some video may be inappropriate for our younger viewers, though the world we now live in has certainly hardened all of us.”

  Willis came around the table as he spoke. “I’ve got to tell you that it wrenched my heart when I learned about the fallout from these policies. I realize the nation is in crisis mode, but A Closer Look is here to bring you the other side as well. I promise you this is the most emotional episode we’ve ever aired.” Willis extended his arm toward the stage’s left wing. “Let’s give a nice Southern welcome to our guests.”

  Jack and three other guests walked on stage, shook Willis’s hand, and took seats opposite the host.

  The camera panned to each guest as Willis introduced them. “Famed reporter Jack Amato, who broke the Remedy story about ten years ago, is back, setting A Closer Look record with his appearance tonight. Jack is joined by psychologist and obstetrician Wilma Glassman of New York University Medical School, and Health and Human Secretary Carol Foster, who is charged with the difficult task of defending the administration’s policies.”

  Willis settled into his seat and with his left arm on the table opened the discussion.

  “There’s no question the country and world are faced with difficult if not impossible choices as it struggles for a way to feed and shelter, what every expert has declared, is an overpopulated globe. Despite the actions taken, both unilaterally and in concert with other nations, we appear to be quickly slipping toward what some call Armageddon. Tonight, A Closer Look will steer clear of the pressing need for food and water that has dominated the headlines and focus on the mental anguish many are experiencing.”

  Willis swiveled toward Wilma Glassman. “Doctor Glassman, you’re a psychologist and an obstetrician who’s delivered thousands of babies. A Closer Look considers itself fortunate to have someone with your unique experience on the panel tonight. Please share your perspective on the impact of the Purge Program with our audience.”

  The doctor frowned. “The consequences on so many levels are distressing, to say the least.” The doctor glanced at Secretary Foster and continued. “Even calling it a purge has negative connotations. I mean, who was responsible for calling it that? Anyway, let me start with the innocent newborns who are ripped from their mothers’ bosoms and cruelly put to death. Putting the poor, unprotected baby aside, the effect on the mother is devastating and in my opinion nearly unrecoverable.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  “It simply crushes the self-esteem of a woman. Think about it, a woman carries a baby to term, totally consumed with thoughts of her new arrival. Then at the joyous time of birth, it is discovered the child has, what the government terms a defect, and the infant is torn from its mother’s loving arms and killed. Naturally, the mother feels responsibility on a number of levels, such as not being able to protect the infant and for whatever the child’s shortcomings are.”

  Willis nodd
ed. “That’s an understandable reaction and sad, very sad. Jack, you’ve interviewed several mothers who fell victim to the purge law and have some video to share.”

  Jack said, “The doctor is right. We tend to focus on the defenseless child, but these poor women are, well, why don’t we let the audience judge it themselves?”

  The stage darkened as a wall of monitors came to life showing three young women seated across from Jack.

  Jack asked, “I know this is extremely difficult for you, but sharing your story may help to alter this horrific program. Would you please describe what you experienced?”

  A blonde-haired woman in her mid-twenties clutching a ball of tissues said, “Like being in heaven one second and then being shoved down into hell the next. Sally was our only chance at having a family. We were just so excited. We had everything ready. When I went into labor I’d never felt happier, just couldn’t wait to hold my little girl.” The woman sniffled and wiped her nose. “Then there she was, so tiny and cute. The doctor cut her cord, and she cried as he held her up for me to see. She was beautiful. Then suddenly, he whisked her away. And, and I never saw her again. All we have is this.” She held up a pink, ceramic pot. “It’s horrible, I have to live with the picture of her crying, needing me to take care of her, and I couldn’t help her. Do you know what that feels like? What did I do? What did our Sally do?” Crying, she buried her face in her hands as the other girls hugged her.

  The video froze into a still shot, and, as Willis silently shook his head, Doctor Glassman said, “Do you see how clueless this government is? It’s not enough for them to play God, they also deprive the mother of critical contact with the baby. They’ve decided the less time the mother has with her child the better, treating the baby as if it were some sort of tumor to be extracted and discarded.”

  Secretary Foster shook her head. “Simply not true. Doctors have discretion under the law to handle the situation as they see fit.”

  Willis seized the opening. “Do you believe this particular case was properly handled by the doctor?”