by Ginger Booth
I tried to cry, I really did. Lying across the bed, I even tried to come up with a list of issues to resolve before I’d be ready to marry Emmett. But it seemed wildly irrelevant, out on this particular limb. If he decided we were incompatible because I wasn’t Christian enough, there was nothing I was willing to do about it. He’d never said that, but I worried anyway. I considered calling friends, or other Rescos, or people who were both, to vent and ask their advice. But that was irrelevant, too. And possibly damaging to his work relationships.
Emmett and I just needed to cool off and talk this through.
Instead I got to surfing Amenac, to check on the fallout from the big reveal on the Hudson Constitution. Along the way, it occurred to me to wonder, just who were these crackpot religions, anyway? What did they believe in? On the general principle of live and let live, I’d turned a blind eye to the apocalyptic religions springing up like evil toadstools.
That afternoon I set the blinders aside and started studying the new adversaries with intent.
13
Interesting fact: According to British historian David Bebbington, the four core beliefs of Evangelical Christians are conversionism, the belief that life needs to change via a ‘born-again’ experience; activism, the expression of the gospel in effort; biblicism, a particular regard for the Bible; and crucicentrism, a stress on the sacrifice of Christ on the cross.
“Missed you at dinner,” I began lamely, as Emmett opened his hotel room door to me. I stopped talking because he had his ear to his phone.
Scowling, he handed it to me. “Momma,” he explained.
“Hey, sweetie!” Emma MacLaren crooned to me. “I hear my son’s been an idiot today. I’m sorry, that must be painful.”
“Um, thanks, Emma,” I said uncertainly. Emmett closed the door and went back to flop to the foot of the bed, head on his arms, glaring at the dresser and mirror a few feet away. I was glad to see that he’d been crying. He mopped his eyes and nose with a handkerchief. No one used tissues anymore.
“Your timing is excellent, Dee,” Emma continued. “I just suggested to Emmett that I could help you two work this out. You know I love you, girl. I want you to marry my boy, sooner or later. This just won’t do.”
“I –” I sputtered. Don’t get me wrong, I love Emmett’s mother. But she was even pushier than him. Visions of mother-in-law danced in my head, not quite advancing Emmett’s cause. The two of them tag-teaming me through the years was a daunting prospect. When we fought, I thought to vent to my friends. OK, our friends. But he talked to his mother?
“Put me on speaker,” Emma directed.
I obeyed, and sank to the chair by the dresser, near Emmett but not crowding him.
“Emmett, back up and tell Dee about Marilou Beaufort,” Emma directed.
“What?” he complained, nasal and twangy. The Ozark accents came on thick and heavy when these two spoke together. “Alright. Dee, I should have told you. Got news from back in Fort Campbell this afternoon. About an hour before we fought. Marilou and the kids died while Dane was away on his last deployment. Flash flood. The younger kids, Dane’s. The older boy, Colin, was away at military school. He’d been acting out. Dane wanted him under some discipline while he was overseas. Haven’t found Colin yet.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said sympathetically. “Did you know Marilou very well?”
“Too well,” Emma commented. “Keep going, baby.”
Emmett glowered at the cell phone, but continued. “Had kind of a thing about Marilou. We didn’t do anything, Momma. Just, back at Leavenworth, my first year, we prayed together. Marilou helped me try to sort through my divorce with Susie. Talked.”
“Baby, if you had to put a stop to it because you had feelings for her,” Emma opined, “then it went too far.”
“Uh-huh,” Emmett admitted. “Still didn’t do anything.” He swallowed uncomfortably.
“What was she like?” I asked, more or less at random. And what does this have to do with me?
“Sweet,” he said. “She used to run around. Sowed her wild oats. Straightened out. Born again. Devoted to her kids, to Dane. It’s not that I wanted…her, exactly. Just wanted what they had. Instead of that emotional wasteland I had with Susie.”
“Uh-huh,” Emma cut in. “And then you’re stressed out,” she led.
“I’m not comfortable with this assignment,” Emmett murmured. He shook his head. “I’m trained to lead soldiers in battle. Lots of paperwork. General Taibbi, the Resco structure of Penn, this religious landscape. The new constitution pushed through in Hudson as soon as I’m out of the way. I’m in over my head. And I shouldn’t have brought you with me to Pittsburgh, Dee. Not with murderers running around. No matter what the brass want.”
Emma pounced, “Darlin’, what do you mean, soon as you’re out of the way?”
“I disagreed with licensed religion, Momma,” Emmett replied. “Not wild about voter testing, either. ‘Channeled’ freedom of speech.” He sighed. “Not crazy about being on the succession. That’s president of a country, Momma. Me? They’re all furious at me, too, for getting a headline and upstaging them, even from Pittsburgh. That constitution announcement was supposed to be Cam and Sean’s big hurrah. And Ash, Sean’s number one. And look who grabbed the headlines again. The Project Reunion lovers.”
“Uh-huh,” Emma said. “So aside from the guilt for bringing her to Pittsburgh, none of that has anything to do with Dee, right? He’s just stressed out, Dee. He really needs you by his side, so instead he pushed you away.”
“Been there, done that, Momma?” Emmett suggested sourly. I could suddenly and vividly picture him as a boy, aged 8 to 12, a captive audience to his mother’s courtships.
“And how,” Emma agreed. “Know where else I been, baby? Surrounded by holier-than-thou yahoos, calling me a harlot. Judging me for leaving your daddy. Taking you with me while I tended bar to make ends meet. Dating before I re-married. Getting pregnant with you in the first place, out of wedlock. We heard a lot from those people, didn’t we? Bet you hated that.”
“Yeah,” he bit out. “I hated that.” He sighed. “You know I don’t blame you, Momma.”
“Oh, but you did, Emmett,” she gainsaid him. “Furious. In tears some days. Clutching your Bible, memorizing your verses to prove you were a good Christian, no matter what they said.”
“I didn’t… Did I?” said Emmett. “Yeah, I guess I did sometimes. Dang, Momma. You shoulda drowned me.”
“Tempting, sometimes,” she admitted. “But no, you’re a keeper. Even if you are a bit of a robot sometimes. Like today. Point is, Emmett. You want to keep that crap? Or keep Dee?”
“Dee,” Emmett agreed promptly. “Darlin’, I’m sorry,” he breathed to me. “This assignment’s pushing some buttons.”
“But you’re really not OK with us living together?” I asked.
“Ah…” he said. “I’d rather we were engaged,” he bit out, lips pursed angrily. “Dee, explain this to me. If we intend to get married – why aren’t we engaged?”
“Shut up, baby,” Emma broke in. “You’re picking a fight again. It’s Dee’s turn.”
“I –” I started, then stopped. “Emmett, would you really rather have someone like Marilou, than me?”
“No,” he breathed. “Wouldn’t rather have anyone than you.” He didn’t meet my eye.
“Well…I’m stressed, too,” I admitted. “It sounds petty, but the salary helps. Gives me some security, money to fall back on. The world keeps shifting under my feet. Three months, I’d just gotten used to Brooklyn, and now here I am in Pittsburgh. I thought we were going to Long Island, but Cam took your territory there. Here, so far we’ve been lied to, shot at, dodged tornados. Harangued by religious fruitcakes. They insulted me and you took their side – stop!” I warned, when he moved to respond to that. “I’m venting. You listen.
“You’re suddenly in line of succession for head of state,” I continued. “And that whole constitution was a real ey
e-popper. Not at all the simple unarguable stuff I was expecting. No idea how long we’re staying here in Pittsburgh. Or where we’re going next. So, no home really. I gave up my farm, my home, to be what, your camp follower? In a world reverting to the medieval?
“And you know what really pisses me off?” I concluded decisively. “We don’t have a single nice anniversary. Every anniversary we’ve got commemorates a horrible day. The day HomeSec nearly killed me, and I met you. And I went home with Zack that night, not you. The day Zack died. The day Angel disappeared. If you want me to marry you, Emmett, could you please pick a happy day to ask? Just one anniversary of a nice day. Is that too much to ask? But no! Instead I get an ultimatum because some nut job calls me a harlot!”
Emma laughed. “OK, you kids. I’ll get off the phone now. Love you, baby. Love you too, Dee!” She didn’t wait for a response, just hung up.
Emmett was still chuckling, flipped over onto his back. “Point taken, darlin’. You done?”
“Well,” I admitted reluctantly, “there’s practical stuff. Like, we’ve never talked about having kids.”
Emmett said softly, “I trust you on that.” Judging from the speed of the response, he’d thought this through. “I’d like kids. Might not be able to take them with me, where I need to go. But we can make sure they’re safe. And you with them when they’re small, if you want. But if kids don’t come, that’s OK.”
“You’re sure you can make me safe, Colonel MacLaren?” I challenged. “Let alone a baby?”
“Safe as anybody,” Emmett replied. “Look, Dee, neither of us wants to set out to make a baby right now. But if one comes, I’d want it. And we can handle it. You know that.”
A tension released in me, one I didn’t know I was holding. “Yeah, I knew that,” I admitted. “But some things need to be said, Emmett.”
He nodded thoughtfully, and flipped back onto his stomach to face me. “Dee, I feel raw. I cried myself hollow, or half of this would be a fight again. Couldn’t make love to you and make up tonight if I tried. And I still need to call Sean Cullen back. Probably get chewed out again, too.”
I nodded sadly. “OK, I don’t move back in. Tonight, anyway.”
“Probably won’t be here tomorrow night,” he added. “I want to meet the neighboring Rescos on their own turf. Look around. Get to know them, their seconds. Long drives, then take our time talking.”
“Why?” I asked, intrigued.
“Best option for a new Resco for Pittsburgh,” he replied, “is probably one of them. If he’s any good. If his second can step up. Our best backup, too, short of calling out Ohio’s border garrisons. Anyway, I leave before dawn. You stay here. Stay safe.”
“Doesn’t sound so safe,” I said.
“Not as safe as I’d like, no,” he admitted. “But you’ll have most of the guards. Tibbs and the IBIS agents. Don’t underestimate Gianetti and Kalnietis, Dee. They look like mild-mannered suits. But FBI agents are more lethal than regular G.I.’s. Better trained, and a whole lot smarter. All else fails, Captain Johnson can button up in the tornado shelter downstairs, and call in the cavalry. I’ll try to keep in touch, but comms are sketchy.”
“OK,” I said softly, picking at my pants leg. “Anything you want me to do while you’re gone? Aside from stay safe. I started profiling the local religions this afternoon.”
“You be careful doing that,” Emmett said sharply. “Some of these outfits don’t have a positive outlook on women, darlin’.”
“I noticed,” I agreed.
“Oh, there’s one other thing you could do,” he suggested. “Taibbi gave me 90 Penn meal tickets for a budget. See if you can find businesses to seed from a woman’s perspective. Woman-owned. Making women’s lives better. Whatever. Or farming or tech or any enterprise you feel comfortable with. Don’t make promises. Just bring me proposals.”
“Ooh! That sounds fun,” I agreed, with a smile.
“Good,” he said.
The silence stretched between us. “OK, I guess I’ll go,” I murmured. I rose, and squeezed his hand, unsure of whether to kiss him. He pulled me down for a quick peck.
“You be careful,” he said.
“You, too,” I agreed. “When you’re back, Emmett? Let’s try to make a date night. Not out on the town or anything. Just here in the room. You and me.”
14
Interesting fact: Some of the trillions of dollars spent in Middle Eastern wars ended up back in U.S. communities as equipment gifts to local law enforcement. Allegheny County, surrounding Pittsburgh, modestly picked up 26 assault rifles, 10 night vision sets, 1 mine-resistant armored personnel vehicle (MRAP), and 2 other armored vehicles. New Haven County, in Connecticut, received 137 assault rifles, 16 night vision rigs, 14 shotguns, 3 grenade launchers, and 4 MRAPs and other armed vehicles. Los Angeles County took 3,408 assault rifles, 1,696 body armor pieces, 827 night vision sets, 7 armored vehicles, 15 helicopters, and a plane. All for use on their own citizens. Naturally, a large number of officers on these police forces were experienced in such equipment from having served overseas. Martial law under the Calm Act came as more of a linear progression than as a shocking change.
There was fighting overnight in the streets, as Paddy Bollai had warned us. Emmett’s room was on the safer back side of the hotel, overlooking the scenic Monongahela River and downtown. My new room faced the bulk of Mount Washington off to the right, with lower slopes and mixed commercial and residential neighborhoods in the middle, and another hill rising to the left. The valley between the hills seemed to be contested territory. Gunshot and muzzle flashes broke the night. Plus an occasional bigger flash and vibrating boom from more powerful weapons.
I watched through the window, and on my meshnet map, for a couple hours. The locals were definitely picking up the knack of marking trouble on the map. Though my focus was riveted by the surrounding neighborhoods I could see, the map showed fighting off to the east between the rivers as well, and north of the Ohio River to the west of downtown. North of downtown, across the Allegheny River, seemed relatively quiet. The immediate neighborhood, close to the hotel, was also quiet. If there was fighting in the suburbs and farmlands, no one was reporting it. But meshnet coverage was thin out there, and connections to us broken by distance as people hunkered down for the night.
Cats, Pocs, Jugs, Gels, Baps, and Prots, explained the markers on the map. Catholics, Apocalyptics, Judgment, Evangelists, Baptists, and mainline mixed Protestants, based on my afternoon’s research. The nearest conflicts seemed to be the Catholics and Apocalyptics of Mount Washington teamed up against the next hill’s allied Evangelists and Baptists, with a smattering of Judgment in the middle.
What they were fighting for was clear as mud.
“Mr. Wiehl, won’t you join us for a moment?” I waylaid the passing hotel proprietor during breakfast with Gianetti and Kalnietis. Once he was seated, I asked as sweetly as I could, “I wanted to ask you about the fighting last night.”
“I’m very sorry about that,” he attempted.
I smiled warmly. “I’m sure it’s not your fault. But what exactly were they fighting about? Do you know?”
Wiehl shook his head sadly. “It was quiet for a while. But then news of Beaufort’s death spread, and they’re at it again. Maybe they think they’re fighting for control of the city.”
“Who are these fighting units?” Kalnietis asked. I’d already briefed him and Gianetti on what I saw and surmised last night. But Kalnietis seemed fond of collecting alternate perspectives without saying anything to prejudice the answers. That seemed wise, to me. He helpfully pushed our tablet toward Wiehl, showing the meshnet map of the disorders.
“Neighborhood militia,” Wiehl replied. “They’re supposed to keep the peace and stop looters in their areas. But sometimes they get to fighting each other.”
“They seem to be labeled by religion,” Kalnietis prompted. “Though we don’t see any here near the hotel.”
“Here we’re protected by the Pitts
burgh PD,” Wiehl quickly assured us. “The militias don’t tangle with the police department. Full SWAT teams, Army surplus armed personnel carriers, practically tanks, armor. Very well trained. The regulars, I suppose. The police are controlled by the city council and the chamber of commerce. But the other neighborhoods are policed by the militias. There were too many fights between different religions within mixed militia units, so they separated the units by sect. But sometimes the units fight each other. It’s a big mess.”
“Was this Major Beaufort’s idea?” I asked. If so, it seemed like a bad one.
“I don’t think so,” Andy Wiehl said. “I think it started, and he couldn’t stop it. I don’t understand the Resco model, really. All alone, what could he do?”
He could call in fire and brimstone the likes of which the local fruitcake sects could hardly dream of, I thought. But I held my peace. Besides, if the Resco chain of command was as fractured in Penn as Emmett seemed to think, maybe Wiehl was right. Maybe Dane Beaufort was all alone here, with no markers to call in for reinforcements. The nearest garrisons belonged to Ohio. His CO, Colonel Schneider in Harrisburg, was far away without a clue, to the point that Beaufort pulled the plug on their communications. Emmett, on the other hand, had an intact command chain and friends galore. I wondered what Emmett would do.
So far, Emmett was off to visit the neighbors.
“But what exactly are they fighting for?” Kalnietis followed up. “Are these religion-specific neighborhoods?”
“No,” Wiehl said. “They’re becoming more so, because of the fighting. But Pittsburgh was a normal American city. Different faiths side by side, except for a few neighborhoods. Like the Muslims. Dane moved them into a suburb for their own protection.”
Kalnietis continued, “So the militias fight to win their own sect more land? More resources?”