“A white paper?”
“I wanted to be ready if we, uh, you, decided to explore the launch idea.”
“What’s the bottom line?”
“NASA confirms feasibility vis-à-vis the launch and protection while in orbit. It would be a collaborative effort, with the Pentagon using a series of satellite laser systems. The real issue is the moral one, but, surprisingly, religious leaders are on board with launching. It does get a little stickier with the possible return.”
“Possible?”
“Assuming we solve the food issues, and I think that buying time will lead to that, and that will also be our point in getting the public on board, that we can bring her back. But there’s bound to be pushback on the when part of it.”
“Maybe I can get it back right before I leave office and go out on top,” Rogers said.
“Sounds good to me. The fact is, Justice is certain you have the legal authority to launch and return whenever you decide.”
Rogers sighed. “I don’t know. It might be the right call, but, boy, I’ll take so much heat I’ll melt.”
“Maybe not, let’s not forget there’s a significant number of people who want to destroy Remedy. We’ll take the high ground—we’re not going to destroy but preserve Remedy’s life-giving powers and bring it back once we figure things out.”
***
Jack stared at the TV as he rummaged for an excuse not to go with his neighbor. Having put Joe in touch with an underground source for water, costing a ransom, had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have done it, and he regretted it, but what really irked him was his offer to go with him to fill a container. It was stupid and risky. He allowed his guilt to mar his judgment, and he vowed never to feel guilty for being better prepared than others.
“Aren’t you supposed to meet Joe at eight? It’s five after.”
“Yeah, I’m going.”
“I don’t know why you’re doing this. We have our own problems.”
Joe was waiting at the parking garage with a large duffel bag. Jack popped the hatchback on the SUV and Joe tossed the water bladder in the trunk space.
“Here, take this.” Jack handed Joe a camera and a light. “Anybody asks, you’re just the cameraman. Let me handle it.”
“What if they ask for my press credentials?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got mine.” Jack tugged at the card hanging from his neck. “We’ll say we left it at the office or something.”
Jack drove his X5 up the FDR Drive as his armpits moistened.
“We’ve got to be careful. We get caught, we’re gonna be made examples of.”
“I know. I really appreciate this, Jack. I couldn’t believe you volunteered to go.”
“Yeah, well. Oh, here’s the exit for the Hutch.”
Jack swung onto the Hutchinson River Parkway and went through New Rochelle and White Plains. After ten minutes they exited onto Route 684 toward Mt. Kisco.
“There’s the sign for Croton Falls, just a mile ahead,” Joe said.
They took the exit and Jack put his brights on. “Geez, don’t they have any street lights around here?”
Jack drove down Main Street and clicked off the high beams as they made their way through town. Jack’s stomach churned as they passed the guarded access road for the reservoir.
Joe said, “Okay, if we take Oak Street, we should see a dirt road about a half mile in.”
Circling to the northern side of the lake, Jack pulled onto a narrow dirt path. He slowed down and shut his lights.
Joe said, “There it is up ahead! I can see the moon reflecting off the surface.”
“Shh. Take it easy.”
Jack pulled the car close to a bone-dry cement ramp that had been used to control overflow.
Jack shut the car off and looked around before popping the hatchback. They climbed out and Joe pulled out the bladder, uncoiled a long clear plastic tube and inserted it into the bladder.
Jack surveyed the area as he walked up the ramp. The reservoir was down at least five feet from capacity, and Jack thought it’d make a good picture.
As Jack positioned himself for a picture, he heard cars approaching and hurried down the ramp.
“Joe, someone’s coming.”
“Shit. It’s the police.”
Chapter Thirty
Jack wrestled with his pride before picking up the phone.
“Pete, I need a favor. It’s a big one.”
Garland smiled. “No promises. What’s going on?”
“This is gonna sound crazy, but my neighbor Joe was arrested last night. Well, we both were, but I was let go after the Times vouched for me. It’s a long story, but let me put it this way, I took him along as a kinda prop. You see, I was doing a piece on what people will do, you know, how creative they’d get to obtain things like water. So we went up to Croton Reservoir with a bladder to get some water. I wanted to stage it, that’s all. I mean, I’m no thief, and he was with me. All I wanted was a shot of someone taking water for my piece. I know it’s stupid and somewhat unethical, but it’s not like this isn’t going on anyway. This guy’s a real good guy, two kids and a wife, lives in my building. It’s all my fault. I feel terrible. I don’t know what to do and . . .”
“Hold on. You’re telling me you were staging photos for an article?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s it.”
“You do that type of thing often? It reeks of unprofessionalism.”
“Come on, Pete, don’t get on your high horse, not after the stuff you fed me.”
“Look, this is a serious offense, if it’s not what you say it is.”
“It’s not, you gotta believe me, Pete.”
“I not making any promises, Jack, but I’ll make a call and see what I can do. Who’s this friend of yours?”
“Joe Miller.”
“Where’s he being held?”
“Croton on the Hudson.”
***
Jack had come in as Laura hung up the phone.
“Betty is so happy Joe is home. John John, Laura told me you were the one who got him out of trouble. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m proud of you.”
“Well, Grams, we never should’ve went up there in the first place. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have, uh, let him talk me into it.”
“You were just trying to help them.”
“Yeah, some help, getting arrested.”
“Well, it worked out okay, John John. God was watching over you.”
Jack’s cell buzzed.
“Hey Pete, thanks again. You’re a lifesaver. I owe you one.”
“Well, funny you should say that. I’ve got an idea. You have a minute to talk?”
“Sure, give me a second.”
Jack headed into the bedroom and closed the door.
“Okay, what’s up?”
“Well, promise me you’ll keep an open mind on this, Jack, it’s kinda delicate.”
Jack lay on the bed and opened his tablet. “Okay, shoot.”
“There’s no arguing we need more land for grazing and to grow produce. But almost everything farmable is in use already. The United States has tens of thousands of cemeteries . . .”
“Did you say cemeteries?”
“Yes. Cemeteries are uniquely spread throughout every state and county in the nation. In almost every case they occupy arable land that is both flat and wide open.”
“You mean except for all the tombstones and bodies.”
“We can deal with that, Jack.”
“How you gonna deal with the bodies, loved ones’ remains? You said it was delicate? That’s an understatement, Pete. This is a minefield you’re not gonna navigate through.”
“Look, we know we’re going to take some heat, but we’ve picked all the low-hanging fruit. We need to start implementing drastic measures if we’re gonna survive this.”
“Let me ask you, Pete, and I want you to honest with me. Do you think we’re going to get out of this mess?”
“Two, three y
ears ago, I would’ve said yes with full confidence. Now? I gotta be honest, Jack, I just don’t know.”
“I thought so. I don’t want to say anything to the ladies, but I’m starting to believe this is going to look a helluva a lot worse than I could have even imagined a year ago.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.”
“You’re privy to a lot, Pete. Is there anything, even remotely, on the horizon that’s hopeful?”
“I wish I could say so, Jack, but no. At the end of the day, that’s why we’re all up at night thinking of things like this cemetery plan.”
“I can’t believe it, I really can’t. After Remedy hit, it was like nirvana had arrived. Even the sun was shining every day. Now, we’re dealing with a raging shit storm.”
“I know. It’s nasty. So let’s get back to the cemeteries. Since you know the country is up against it, can you help us convince Americans that, as ghastly as it sounds, on the surface, this is a real initiative that will help some?”
“What’s the plan for the, uh, bodies?”
“Well, we’d remove the caskets and take them to cremation centers. That way, families could get their ashes if they wanted.”
“What about the religious community?”
“Fact is, they’re on their heels, but we’re gonna put a full-court press on anyway—White House meetings with the president, and we’re setting up a sizeable fund to help with their financial problems.”
“That’ll help.”
“I know it’s a tough sell, but that’s why explaining this to the people is so important. If they buy in, it’ll work.”
“I don’t know, I’d like to help, but this seems pretty crazy to me.”
“Crazy? You want crazy? How about this morning’s briefing, which reported that half of Singapore’s population is at serious risk of starving to death within five to six months.”
“Singaporeans starving?”
“Yeah, who would have thought it, with all their modern buildings, but guess what? They import eighty-five percent of what they need, and Malaysia’s been cutting them off.”
***
Jack rolled the cemetery idea around that night as he lay in bed. He’d been to plenty of viewings and funeral masses but had avoided burials and cemeteries after his parents were laid to rest. He wasn’t really sure if it was his parents’ deaths that kept him away from cemeteries.
He remembered visiting their fresh graves two or three times with his grandmother but hadn’t been back in over twenty years. He hadn’t felt the need before and Remedy reinforced it. Pushing a lingering guilt aside, he shifted to the issue at hand.
Jack felt the idea would be considered ghoulish, and though he didn’t have a personal problem with it, he tried to envision how most people would react to uprooting the dead. On the one hand, he knew less than ten percent of the population even visited cemeteries. Combining that with the fact that before Remedy cremation rates were over fifty percent seemed to shorten the climb to acceptance. His optimism was weighed down by the knowledge that emotion most often overwhelmed rational arguments, and this was just about as emotional a subject as you could find. He went to sleep thinking most people would side against the plan.
The next morning, Jack bounced the proposal off Laura and his grandmother and was surprised at their supportive reaction. Jack had thought they would be opposed to upsetting people’s final resting places, but they made a convincing argument that it wasn’t the place but the bodies that were sacred, and as long as they were handled properly it made sense to turn the land into productive use.
***
Jack made a mental outline of the article he was going to write as he trudged along the clogged sidewalks to his office. As he entered the lobby he remembered it was a ‘take the stairs day’ and started jogging up the ten flights.
As he pushed through the door to his floor a troubling idea had solidified. He grabbed a cup of coffee, closed the door to his office, and made a call.
“Doc? It’s Jack Amato. I’ve been bothered by something. You see, I’m doing a piece on a plan Rogers is rolling out dealing with cemeteries.”
The doctor sighed. “Yeah, I heard something about it.”
“Look, this may sound weird, but when people were dying, remember the good old days, they filled them up with formaldehyde, right?”
“Not exactly, it’s a solution, a combination of chemicals, though there’s some formaldehyde in it.”
“So how long does it last in the body?”
“The original purpose of embalming was to preserve the body for viewing. It all started during the Civil War, when soldiers were dying far from home, to prevent decomposition and to restore the body’s natural color . . .”
“I know why, but how long do you think it lasts?”
“It really varies on the solution used, but I’d say, on average, it delays significant decomposition for about three years.”
“Is the solution used toxic?”
“It’s a mixture of preservatives and disinfects, so I don’t recommend it as a cocktail.”
“But it breaks down over time?”
“Sure, most everything does.”
“I talked to a chemist and he said there was a way to neutralize almost any chemical, including embalming fluids. Is that true?”
“Yes, but what’s your angle here?”
“I’m sure you remember the rumors circulating around about what happened with the bodies of the prisoners who were given the death penalty. Though the powers that be wouldn’t admit it, it’s said the dead were used to feed the other prisoners.”
“You believe that?”
“Damn right. We did a series on it. We tracked down a processing plant, same one the government used for the zoo animals. We even got a receiving clerk to confirm it.”
“Yeah, but that guy was just looking for five minutes of fame. He ended up retracting it.”
“Maybe, but I bet he was pressured to recant. Either way, how do you square the fact prisoners said the food was different for a couple of weeks, and the kitchen staff, in four different prisons, said the meat they received wasn’t the same ground meat they usually got.”
“What they got was probably just stuffed with wood pulp or some other filler. Besides, I don’t see how you could hide something like that.”
“You don’t think people would keep their mouths shut if they got some extra rations?”
“Guess so, but now you’re talking a major-league conspiracy, Jack. It’d leak out.”
“Maybe, but you’ve got to admit it’s a pretty ingenious plan—recycle the prisoners you kill into food for the remaining prisoners. I mean, who’s really going to complain?”
“I guess so. Anyway, so what are you thinking about with these cemeteries?”
“I’m not really sure, but they say they’re going to remove the bodies and have them cremated. But what if they don’t. What if they divert the corpses to a processing plant and turn them into food?”
“Oh, come on, that’s sick!”
“You’d think so, but did you catch that cannibalism episode on A Closer Look?
“Yeah, I saw it, but those are aboriginals down in the Solomon Islands.”
“Yeah, but what about what they’re doing in the Congo and Liberia? Over there, they’re killing anyone with a deformity, along with the oldest in each community, and eating them.”
“So, you think ultimately we’re going to end up eating bodies out of the grave?”
“All’s I’m saying is, it’s certainly possible, don’t you think?”
The doctor sighed. “I suppose so.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Pete, it’s Jack. I’m going to press with the cemetery story, but there’s something I’d like to check.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“The bodies being exhumed, you sure they’re going to be cremated?”
Garland hesitated for a split second. “Yeah, there’s no other place for them.”
; “You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. We kicked around doing burials at sea, but it’d be too large an undertaking.”
“So it’s off to the crematory then?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan.”
“Okay, but I’ve got a source who’s telling me the bodies are going to be used for food.”
“Who the hell leaked that?”
“So, it’s true then?”
“I, I, look, we briefly discussed the possibility but thought the public would frankly recoil at the idea.”
“I’m sure they will. Look, it’s crazy, but if you take a step back, it’s the right move.”
“Wow, Jack. That really caught me off guard. So, you think it’s a good idea?”
“I think it really has merit.”
“Do you think it can be sold to the public?”
“I’m not sure on the public buying it, but let’s just say that if the bodies are processed and mixed in a low percentage into something Spam-like, I mean, who’d know?”
“We’d never keep it hidden. That’s not the way we operate.”
“Oh really?” Jack paused. “You know what? You’re right. You’d leak it out drip by drip.”
“Look, we all know the public can’t handle the truth.”
“You’re probably right, but I think this has to get out there—leak it or tell it like it is. John Q Public better get used to, shall we say, unusual means.”
“We can’t just lay it out. That’s never worked. I’m thinking we put the story out in pieces.”
“We? You helping to write it?”
“You know what I mean, Jack. We’ll do it over stages, and give people a chance to ease into it.”
“Sounds like a plan. How you envision the first piece?”
“A high-profile piece that focuses on the additional farming land, with possible use for housing.”
“What about the, uh, processing of the bodies?”
“Allude to it but don’t get into it. You know, plant a seed. You know how to do that.”
The Final Enemy Page 19