“It was just a suggestion. You never know, but you gotta eat more than you’ve been eating.”
“I will. I’ll have something as soon as we get into what I sent down.”
“Uh, yeah, well.”
“What’s the matter, John John?”
Jack sighed. “The movers must’ve stolen your food.”
“Oh, my God, that’s terrible. How could they? They seemed like such nice boys.”
“It’s crazy out there, Grams. I mean, look, right now there’s a massive protest about the rationing.”
“I didn’t want to bother you. You’re working so hard. But the police said no taxis could get here, and then I was going to walk it, but I really didn’t know where to go with all the protesting, John John. And then—”
“It’s okay, don’t worry. I know a way. We just got to walk some. I know you’re tired, but are you okay with walking?”
“I’m okay, John John. Let’s get going. Laura must be worried sick.”
Jack rolled her suitcase and led his grandmother to the underground shuttle going to Times Square. When the shuttle pulled in, they stayed underground and took the Blue Line subway one stop to Penn Station. They jostled through the crowd toward the Seventh Avenue escalators as the sound of sirens grew louder.
They surfaced outside of Madison Square Garden onto the crowded sidewalk. There was a depressingly long line at the taxi stand, and not a yellow cab in sight. A squadron of police cars roared down Thirty-Fourth Street as Jack pulled his press credentials out and pointed. “Let’s go over there. I want to talk to that officer.
“Excuse me, officer. I’m with the Times, and my grandmother was stuck at Grand Central, so I’m behind the curve a bit. What’s going on now with the protest?”
“All hell’s breaking loose on Broadway. It’s a moving riot. They’re breaking into stores. A couple of shopkeepers were stabbed trying to defend their stores, and we’re told to stand down. Can you believe it?”
“Oh my God! That’s frightening. This is over the rationing, right?”
The officer nodded. “Looks like it.”
The officer’s radio broadcast a call for more support at the intersection of Thirty-Fourth Street and Broadway.
Jack asked, “What’s going on? More trouble?”
“Containment. The brass wants to keep it limited to Broadway.”
“Will we be all right walking to Twenty-Seventh? My place is just west of Sixth?”
“Yeah, but get moving. You never know, things may spill over.”
***
It had been two months since the Situation Room supplanted the Roosevelt Room as the place to discuss strategies to stem the crisis. The atmosphere of the room in the basement of the West Wing was becoming increasingly drenched in desperation as each week passed, and Garland knew it. The president’s approval numbers slipped into the teens, and there were a string of tough policies yet to be rolled out. As Garland wondered if they could go to zero, he stepped into the conference and intelligence-management center that was lined with video monitors
Garland was a few minutes early and used the time to get updates from the watch teams that monitored events abroad and at home. The chief of staff was pleased there were no major developments, just the continuation of the acid drip that was eating away at the world’s moral and ethical code.
Garland settled into his chair and leafed through the Morning Book as Homeland Security Chief Rosario and Secretary of Health Foster and their aides came in. They chatted as coffee was put on the buffet table. At five minutes after eight, everyone stood as President Johnson lumbered into the room. Looking like he’d been up doggy paddling the entire night, Johnson collapsed into his chair at the head of the table. The rest of the room sat back down.
Garland said, “Good morning. I trust everyone’s read through the Morning Book. Just a couple of updates in the last hour or so. India’s Hindu community is about to approve the trading of about half the country’s cow population to China in exchange for rice and grain. Also, the EU’s meeting in Brussels on their version of an Animal Act. It looks like it is going to be passed.”
Rosario said, “There’s no world leader of Hinduism, so it made it easier for India.”
“It’s not the lack of a leader; it’s the lack of food,” Health Secretary Foster said.
Garland said, “We used to take joy in the saying. That’s a good segue, but we’ve got to firm up our zoological and household pet program. Softballs first, Secretary Rosario.”
The Homeland Security Secretary said, “There’ll be widespread support for closing down the zoos. Any pushback can be easily countered with the fact there just isn’t enough food for them and the country’s livestock. Additionally, the grounds the zoos use will be reclaimed for farms and greenhouses.”
“What’re we going to do with the animals?”
Rosario said, “We’ll have them processed into food.”
“That’s ridiculous. Who’s going to eat a rhino?”
Foster said, “I suspect anyone who’s hungry.”
“The fact is that more than half the world now eats what the Western world calls unconventional animals. Look, this country has five hundred genuine zoos, plus thousands of petting zoos and the like. We’re talking tens of millions of pounds of meat for our citizens. That’ll go a long way toward quelling any feedback.”
Garland said, “And we’ve gotten a commitment from Fish and Wildlife to expand their DNA bank to include each and every species. That way, if we ever dig our way out of this mess, we’ll be able to use the bank to clone and restock the country with animals.”
“Why can’t we just keep alive a couple of each species?”
Rosario replied, “They’d have to be kept in a maximum-security environment. It be a costly distraction to safeguard the required areas.”
“So this is my plan?” Johnson scowled. “What do you have next for me? Tell Americans to eat their pets?”
“Well actually, sir, you’ve actually hit upon something that needs discussion. Secretary Spencer, can you lead this?”
The color drained out of the president’s face as he silently pushed his reading glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose.
The agriculture secretary said, “This is a difficult topic to talk about, but we’re tasked with the difficult, aren’t we? American’s love their pets, but frankly, they’re a drain on resources. People won’t eat cat food unless they have to, and there were plenty of folks eating some of it before this all started. The point is, some of the products that go into pet food could and frankly should be used to feed the nation.”
Johnson pulled his glasses off. “Are you suggesting we outlaw pets? What the heck, why not? My numbers can’t get any lower.”
Garland said, “What the secretary outlined was not a ban but a choice, sir. We would tie all food, including pet food, into one household ration. After all, is it really fair for those with pets to get a higher ration?”
“So you’d be asking people to make a choice? Feed their kids or their dog?”
“Easy for me to make the choice,” Foster said.
“That’s because you don’t have dogs, Carol. When I lost Betty, my boys were all I had,” Spencer, who had two black Labradors, said.
Rosario said, “I’m with you, Bill. Who says you can’t buy love?”
“Can’t we offer the public a cloning program, like we’re doing with the zoos, so folks could get their pets back when this is all over?” Johnson said.
Garland said, “That would require a huge undertaking. There’s at least a hundred million pets. But I’ll have Fish and Wildlife take a look at it. Secretary Spencer, is the president’s tour schedule settled?”
“Yes, we checked his calendar and adjusted it accordingly. There’s a stop up at MIT Tuesday, where virtually every laboratory is working twenty-four by seven to create a new form of protein. Then he’ll stop off at the Boston Commons Greenhouse project, as you requested. I understand the greenhous
e is about to be harvested.”
“Make sure photos of the greenhouse are distributed to the press. It’s a massive building,” Garland said.
“Then, when the president is on his way to the climate summit in Chicago, we scheduled a visit to the University of Davenport’s Agronomy Campus.”
“Iowa? That’s where this started. I don’t know about that.”
“They’ve been responsible for six out of the last ten major advances in increasing the yield of harvests, not to mention the progress they’ve made making seeds pest and drought resistant.”
“Are you okay with Iowa, sir?”
“No sense avoiding it, Pete. Just make sure we’ve got the proper level of security.”
Garland nodded.
“The two remaining stops are the Waggoner Cattle Ranch outside of Dallas and then, two days later out in California, a stop at Stanford’s research lab, where some interesting work on higher yielding cattle cloning work is being done.”
“That’ll generate some nice press coverage for a change.”
Johnson shrugged. “Maybe I’ll even get my numbers over twenty again.”
***
The Miller family milked the long walk to the Hudson River. Joe Miller held the hand of his wife, Betty, and fought back tears as they watched their children play with their dogs. Ten-year-old Billy had Hershey, a thin, brown Labrador on a leash, while twelve-year-old Lee held Jasmine, a snow-white cockapoo, as she walked ahead of her parents.
Discussing how their kids’ clothes were getting baggier by the month made accepting the fate of their family pets easier for Betty and Joe to accept. Their real fear was how the children would react. As they drew near the West Side Highway, the dogs became agitated.
As they crossed the highway, they heard a gaggle of dogs barking before they saw a long line heading into a refurbished building that stood on Pier 33.
“Oh my God, Mom! You see how many dogs are here?” Lee said.
“I know, honey, but nobody has a choice.”
Billy pleaded, “Can’t we just keep them? I can’t believe we’re gonna let them kill them.”
His father said, “You know we can’t possibly keep them. We need the food.”
“Why can’t we just keep one? Mom? Please? Just for a little longer?”
“If we did, who’s going to make the choice over which one?” the mom said.
The father said, “It’s better if they both go together. They’ve been together since Billy was born, when we got Hershey. They’d be lost without each other.”
Lee pouted. “Yeah, what about us? We’re gonna be lost without them.” She hugged her furry pal.
“I know, honey. Your father and I are going to miss them terribly, but we really have no choice. If we did, you know we’d take it.”
The father wagged a finger at his kids. “Look, you’re both old enough to understand this; it’s either them or us.”
“Joe!” the mother gasped. “That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?”
Joe shook his head. “I wish it were. Come on, let’s hustle. The line’s getting longer.”
The family, dogs in tow, got on one of the dog lines. An older man in front of them had a beagle and he turned around.
“Look, Bailey, it’s a nice family with two dogs. One’s a Labrador and the other a Maltese.”
Lee said, “She’s a Cockapoo. Bailey’s a beagle, right?”
The line moved forward as he said, “No, he’s a Puggle. A cross between a Beagle and a Pug.”
“He’s so cute.”
“Smart as a whip, too.”
“How old is he? Hershey’s ten, and Jasmine is eleven.”
“My guy’s the same age. I got him after my wife passed. We do everything together.”
Billy said, “Us too! We take them everywhere, even on an airplane.”
The old man shuffled forward. “I’m gonna miss him.” A tear trickled out and he dabbed at it as he got up to the check-in counter.
“It’s okay, mister. We feel the same way.”
The old man looked at the parents. “You know, the saddest thing is Bailey knows the end is near. See how sad Bailey looks?”
Everyone in the Miller family cried except the father, who took a deep breath as they were called to the counter by a clerk.
“What do we have here? Ah, two dogs. Name?”
“Jasmine and Hershey.”
The clerk sighed. “Not the dogs, your name. We’ll need it if you want your ration coupons.”
Joe answered all the clerk’s questions. When the man handed back his driver’s license, Joe asked, “So where’s our coupons?”
“You’ll get ’em soon as the dogs are taken in. We’ve had too many people back out once they had the coupons.”
Joe nodded and the clerk swung open a door leading to a cage.
The kids burst out in tears. “No, no! We can’t do this to them.”
The father took the leash from his son and the mother wrestled to pull Jasmine from her daughter’s arms as the sobbing intensified.
Joe’s eyes welled up. “I told you they shouldn’t have come. Take them the hell out of here.”
Betty joined a handful of other parents dragging their crying kids out as Joe knelt and kissed his pals goodbye. The dogs were put in a cage and wheeled away. Joe swallowed as he stood, grabbed his coupons, and left with his head down.
***
Laura and Jack’s grandmother passed a contingent of the National Guard stationed on their street as they made their way home. They pushed through their building’s door and ran into the Miller family in the lobby.
“Hey, how’s everybody doing?” Laura asked.
Joe Miller shrugged.
“This is Jack’s grandmother. She staying with us.”
“Hi, I’m Betty. This is Joe and Billy and Lee.”
“Nice to meet you all. I’m Ellen. Is everything all right?”
Betty said to her husband, “Why don’t you go up? I wanna catch up with Laura.”
“Okay, nice to meet you, Ellen. See you around, Laura.”
Betty said, “Sorry about that. It’s been a really tough day for the kids, well, for everybody.” She teared up. “We had to give up the dogs.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.”
“Poor kids.”
“We didn’t want to, but we had to.”
“I know. It’s difficult, but you did the right thing. I didn’t want to say anything, and it’s none of my business, but the kids do look too thin.”
“I know. Joe and I’ve been cutting back to give them more, but, I mean, they’re growing like crazy and eating like mad.”
“I remember John John when he was about that age. He could eat a horse.”
Betty said, “From what I’m hearing, we may all be. But anyway, I’m sure they’ll get over it in due time.” She lowered her voice a notch. “And we’ve got some extra rations for a week out of it.”
“Just a week?”
“Yeah, they cut it back already. The first ones got a month. Damn it. Wish we would’ve done it then.”
“It’s something, anyway. Might be a good idea to squirrel a bit away.”
“Joe keeps saying that. We’ll see. Just want the kids to be healthy.”
Laura frowned. “I can’t believe they’re gonna turn the pets into food. Is that really true?”
Betty lowered her head and nodded. “Anyway, enough of the Millers. What’re you doing?”
“We just came back from registering Jack’s grandmother, again. She lost her house up in Providence to the multi-family rule, and everything was okay. But then her ration account stopped being credited. We waited a week, but nothing happened. It took us three hours to straighten it out.”
“I saw a report on TV about the problems with the program.”
“It’s a mess, I can tell you.”
Betty frowned. “Sorry you had to go through all that.”
“Yeah, well. Easier than what you had to do today.” She
pointed to some furniture and boxes waiting to be moved into the freight elevator. “This place is jammed. There’s all kinds of stuff in our hallway.”
“Ours too.”
“How’s your water been? Ours is disgusting at times. We have to boil it.”
Laura nodded. “Us too, and the pressure’s been terrible.”
“It’s not too bad, Laura. I don’t mind boiling it for you. You see, I boil pots most of the day, and when it cools off I put it in this big bladder thing John John got. I mean, it’s the least I can do. After all, they took me in when they took my house.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Johnson stood at the presidential podium, surrounded by ten scientists in white lab coats. He pulled back his shoulders and said, “Good afternoon. The American people should be proud that we have fellow citizens like these here today,” Johnson turned to the scientists before continuing, “and places like Stanford University, where they conduct some of the most innovate research in the world. The things these brilliant scientists have shown me during my visit have both astounded me and provided an optimistic certainty that they will make significant contributions to solving the current predicament. Americans of all ages should take comfort, as they go about their daily business, that hundreds, thousands of others, are working on their behalf. I want to assure those who work tirelessly on behalf of the American people that they can count on the unlimited support of my administration. No request for assistance, no matter the cost, will be denied.”
A smattering of applause broke out and the president caressed the podium.
“The visits across this great nation that I’ve made over the last week or so, from MIT, to Indiana, down to the cattle ranches of Texas, and now here at Stanford, are simply soul strengthening.” Johnson pointed a finger in the air. “I can tell you, the can-do American spirit is alive and well.”
The crowd applauded politely, and when it settled, Johnson said, “We’ll take a few questions, then I’ll let these good folks get back to their important work.” He pointed. “Ed.”
Ed Heron, CNN’s White House correspondent, got out of his folding chair.
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