Chapter 17
“I think the great tragedy in American politics is what is legal, not what is illegal.” ~ Jack Abramoff
“Reuben!” shouted Lowell Gnomes. “Wake up!”
Reuben Burl sat up on the sleeper sofa and rubbed his eyes. “Dude, what time is it?” he asked, reaching for the digital clock next to the sofa.
“I am not your dude, and it’s half past nine,” Gnomes said, hitting the light switch on the wall and flooding the windowless room with white light.
“Hey, whoa. What did you do that for?” Burl asked.
“I turned on the light because it’s time for you to wake up. Believe it or not, I’ve found you a job. Now, if you don’t mind, would you please go in the bathroom and get yourself cleaned up. We’ve got to meet your new employer in less than an hour.”
Burl was suddenly on his feet, and clad only in his boxers ran across the room and held his hand up in the air to high-five his old friend. Gnomes rolled his eyes and gingerly raised his hand, allowing Burl to lightly slap his hand. “We’re getting out of this pit? Thank God!”
The two men were good friends and had been living together since long before the crisis. Gnomes, was nearly forty years older than his young protégé, and he loved Burl like a son. For many months the pair had been living at the bottom of an abandoned mineshaft that had been renovated into a large, and moderately comfortable bomb shelter. The hole in the ground represented their combined net worth after a fall from grace that was nothing short of spectacular.
Reuben Burl wore his long, sandy hair in a ponytail and was a fitness fanatic, while Lowell Gnomes spent his days reading books and encouraging Burl to do the same. Gnomes, seventy and relatively fit for a man of his years, had been considered a hippy in his younger days and had even attended Woodstock. He had been one of John Lennon’s followers during the Viet Nam years, and he still strongly identified with that distant era. Even though the crisis had seemingly passed, Gnomes was wary of leaving the safety of the mine, which he had purchased at the height of the Cold War and had spent decades preparing in case disaster struck.
Gnomes had prospered in the years leading up to the crisis, and during those years he had grown attached to the peaceful wilderness of northern Minnesota, so much so that after retiring he had dumped his life savings into purchasing a resort a few miles from his bomb shelter. With the economy teetering on the verge of collapse, Gnomes and Burl had worked together to outfit the resort in much the same way he had the bomb shelter. As conditions continued to deteriorate, they began to advertise their comfortable hideaway in the woods to a very select group of people. Gnomes sold memberships by the hundreds and used the cash to haul food in by the truckload. He and Burl, along with longtime friend, Latoya Jones, who had worked for Gnomes in the outside world, continued to run the resort right up until the day the wheels came off the economy.
Although he had been expecting the crash, Lowell Gnomes had been shocked at how quickly the country had fallen into complete chaos. Very few members of his private club ever made it up to the resort to claim their places, while guests who happened to be visiting when the economy tanked had no choice but to stay right where they were and ride out the storm. Gnomes took control of the situation by adopting a late 1960s commune theme and writing a charter that expressly forbid violence of any form. Later, using Burl’s military contacts in the Minnesota National Guard, he secured their safety by offering his resort as a “safe haven” for soldiers away on temporary leave. The marriage seemed like a good fit, and for over a year, there were no problems that they couldn’t solve on their own.
Right up until Jimmy Logan and Ken Dahlgren wandered into their lives.
The Utopia Gnomes had created would self destruct in just a few short months, and Logan and Dahlgren caused Gnomes to reconsider everything he had ever believed about pacifism.
Lowell Gnomes had been eating a bowl of oat bran and watching morning television when Katie Flourish broke in with a special report. Gnomes nearly choked to death trying to catch the attention of Burl, who was pumping iron on the other end of the cavernous living area. “Get over here!” he finally managed, coughing up a lungful of soggy oats. “Hurry up! You aren’t going to believe this!”
If anyone hated Logan and Dahlgren more than Gnomes, it was Reuben Burl. He took one look at the television and screamed like a wild animal. He hopped up and down with his nostrils flared, quietly cursing obscenities as he pounded his right fist into his left hand.
When Katie Flourish remarked that Dahlgren was sounding “an awful lot like a presidential candidate,” Gnomes laughed, bitterly. “What the hell does that fool know about running a country?” he asked the television set.
“I’m going to kill him!” Burl said, rabidly.
“Quiet!” ordered Gnomes, holding his hands up in the air.
Later, after the circus show that was their interview with conservative radio host, Thrill Melbow, Gnomes read the writing on the wall and quickly placed some calls to his contacts. Washington was on fire after the interview which had seemingly cemented Dahlgren’s unwelcome presidential bid. Things were bad enough without allowing an outsider the chance to man the helm. Gnomes argued that he and Burl were the perfect team to track down Logan and Dahlgren. They were familiar with them, and they had a personal stake in seeing them taken out of the game.
And now they were an hour away from realizing their dream and avenging the men that had destroyed everything they had worked so hard to create.
“Pluto!” Mars, a/k/a Reuben Burl, shouted from the bathroom. “Could you bring me a towel?”
“How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?” Gnomes asked, but not meaning a word of it. Secretly, he was happy that Burl had called him by his old adopted name. He had even been thinking that they should go back to using those names, just for old times’ sake. He rather enjoyed being called Pluto again.
And he was looking forward to watching Mars take his revenge.
Chapter 18
"We say in this nation that we are looking for people with honesty, integrity, drive and dedication, and then when we find such people, we take them out and whip them." ~ Anonymous
With Thrill backing them, Jimmy and Ken were flown to Minneapolis on a private plane. They were then picked up on the tarmac by a car and transported to a nearby hotel. The Lexington appeared to have survived the crisis with only superficial damage, and the spacious lobby smelled of fresh paint. The clerk at the front desk stared at the two of them in amazement.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Dahlgren, Mr. Logan,” the clerk said, a thin young man with short hair and Buddy Holly glasses. “Welcome to the Lexington. Mr. Melbow has taken care of everything.”
Jimmy had left the wheelchair at the airport. He stood and exchanged a look with Ken. The clerk had known who they were the moment they had walked in the door. Ken shrugged at Jimmy and nodded to the clerk. “Thanks,” he said. “Do you need me to sign anything?”
The clerk quickly nodded his head and nearly fell over himself as he rummaged around on his desk. “There,” he said, “if it’s not too much trouble.”
Ken took the Lexington Hotel coffee cup and magic-marker from the clerk and stared at them for a moment.
“It’s not for me,” the bespectacled clerk said; it’s for my mom. She’s a huge fan. We just watched you on television this morning.” He smiled and licked his lips.
Ken tried to take it all in stride. He looked at Jimmy and raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never signed a coffee cup before,” he said with a modest grin. He uncapped the marker and slowly signed his name under the hotel logo. He handed Jimmy the marker and held the cup out for him to sign.
“Thanks,” muttered Jimmy. He signed his name for the first time in over twenty months. The moment felt completely surreal.
“I just want to say that everyone here at the hotel is very proud to have you here,” the clerk said, gingerly taking the coffee cup from Ken and examining the signatures with a smi
le. “It sure is a small world,” he added. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Sure is,” said Ken, looking around the lobby. “Say, have you ever heard of the Monroe Institute? My wife is there and I have to go see her as soon as possible.”
The young man thought about it for a minute and shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “But I’ll make some calls. Monroe Institute… Would that be in Minneapolis or Saint Paul?”
Ken shrugged. “I’m not sure. I would appreciate it if you could track it down for us.”
“I sure will. Here are your room keys,” he said, handing each of them a small envelope with their card keys. “I’m afraid we don’t have a bellhop yet. But you have adjoining rooms on the top floor. Just take the elevator all the way up, and your rooms are just down the hall on the left.”
Ken nodded. “No need for a bellhop,” he said. “We don’t have any luggage.”
“I should hope not,” the clerk said, looking surprised. “I don’t know where you’d put it.”
Jimmy and Ken looked at each other and turned and headed across the lobby to the elevator. Jimmy looked around with appreciation. He had rarely stayed in hotels, and the ones that he had were of the chain variety. The Lexington was clean and tastefully decorated, and Jimmy knew the rooms must have cost Thrill Melbow a pretty penny.
“What do you suppose he meant by that?” Ken asked, pressing the call button for the elevators.
Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t know, but I hope it means that I have a change of clothes. These pants keep sliding down, and my shoes are too small.”
The elevator door opened, and a well-dressed older couple emerged. They stared at Jimmy and Ken as if they’d been dipped in gold. Jimmy forced a smile.
“Jerry Lawman,” the man said, sticking his hand in Ken’s chest. “I just want you guys to know that you’ve got our votes. Isn’t that right, Mona?”
“Oh, my,” the elderly woman said, fixing her hair with twisted, arthritic hands. “We were just watching you on television; isn’t that right, Jerry? I am so pleased to meet you.”
Jimmy took her hand and shook it, gingerly. “Thank you,” he said. “Pleased to meet the both of you.” There was an awkward silence as they stepped past the star-struck couple and into the elevator. Jimmy smiled as the couple stood and continued staring until the doors closed between them.
“Okay,” Jimmy said. “That was creepy.”
“You can say that again,” agreed Ken. “I wonder how many people saw those interviews?”
“I don’t know, but you’re going to have to set the record straight. You can’t run for president. Come on, what do you know about running a country?”
Ken’s face fell, and his eyes grew flat. “Our country is a business; it may be the biggest damn business on the planet, but it’s still a business. I’m a businessman, and I can sure as hell do a better job than the guy running it now. Do you know what the biggest problem in America is right now?”
Jimmy regretted bringing it up and shrugged his shoulders.
“People just like you.”
The elevator lurched to a stop and binged, and the doors slid open. Jimmy had a bad taste in his mouth, and he didn’t trust himself to speak. He stepped out first and turned to his left.
“You people assume too much,” continued Ken. “Do you think George Washington knew anything about running a country? This isn’t an election, kid. What we need is a full-fledged revolution. We have to get big money out of our government, and we’ve got one chance to do it.”
Jimmy pulled his card from the envelope and stood at the door and faced Ken. “You make it all sound so simple. I may not be as smart as you, but I do know that presidential candidates have to get out and campaign for votes. How do you expect to do that with Patty in the condition she’s in?” Jimmy slid the card into the slot, and the lock clicked. He twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
“I don’t know yet,” said Ken, dejectedly.
They both stood and stared at the suite with their mouths hanging open. Royal blue carpet, new and plush, led inside to an apartment-sized living quarters. Bright sunshine bathed the freshly refurbished room in yellow light. Shopping bags and department store boxes were piled on the leather furniture. A bottle of wine sat chilling in the center of the room. Ken followed Jimmy inside and watched as Jimmy read the small note affixed to the bottle.
“This is crazy,” said Ken.
“This is from Thrill,” said Jimmy. “He says that the country is depending on us.”
Ken rubbed his cheeks and walked to the open door between the rooms and peered inside. “Holy shit,” he grunted. “I got the same thing in here. Where did they find all of this stuff and how did they get it here so fast?”
Jimmy removed two shirts from a shopping bag and examined the tags. “Just my size,” he said, setting them aside before digging into another bag. He pulled out a pair of jeans and stared at the tag. “This is weird. I didn’t tell anyone what size I wear.”
Ken shrugged and disappeared into his room. He returned a minute later with a perplexed look and a short-sleeved shirt. “Everything is going to fit, and they even found the styles I like. Look at this,” he said, holding up the checkered shirt. “Patty bought me one exactly like this before the crash. How could they know?”
“Credit card receipts; it has to be. How else could they know?”
“That’s kind of scary. I’m not sure I like that.”
Jimmy held up his hands and smiled. “I’m not going to complain. Look at all of this stuff. Julie is going to be so pissed.”
Ken smiled and shook his head. “You’re probably right. Well, we’ll know soon enough. I’m going to take a shower and get changed. Why don’t you do the same and we’ll get out of here. I’ve got to see Patty.”
“How are we going to get there?”
“Walk, if we have to.”
Jimmy nodded. “Can you give me half an hour to close my eyes? I could really use a short nap.”
“Sure thing. I’ll see if I can’t rustle us up a couple of cheeseburgers. How does that sound?”
Jimmy smiled and rubbed his sore ribs. “I could really go for a burger. That sounds great.”
Ken patted Jimmy on the back and returned to his own room, closing the door behind him. Jimmy scratched his head, careful to avoid the lumps, and opened the door to the bedroom. Five minutes later, Jimmy was under the brandy-colored comforter and fast asleep on the gloriously soft king-sized bed.
Chapter 19
“If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader.” ~ John Quincy Adams
“Jimmy,” a familiar voice said, shaking him lightly on the shoulder. “You’ve got to wake up.”
Jimmy opened his eyes and found himself staring at Julie. She was sitting next to him on top of the comforter. He blinked hard and shot up in bed, taking her into his arms. “Oh, my God,” he stammered. “Tell me that I’m not dreaming.”
She smiled sadly and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. “Oh, baby,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “What did they do to you?”
“How did you get here?” Jimmy asked, looking over her shoulder and noticing Bill for the first time. He was sitting in a wing chair with his head in his hands. He also appeared to be crying. “Hey, Bill,” Jimmy said. “God damn, it’s so good to see you guys.”
Jimmy was puzzled when Bill began to sob. He looked at Julie, and the tears were running freely down her cheeks. “Patty’s gone,” she stammered. “So is Cindy. We have no idea where they are. The guys are taking it pretty hard.”
“Oh, shit.”
“You gotta help me find her, Jimmy,” moaned Bill. “I don’t know where to look.”
Jimmy was suddenly wide awake and stared out the window into the blackness. “Son of a bitch,” he said, sliding back the comforter and rising to his feet. “What time is it?”
“It’s after nine,” said Julie. “Ken said that he t
ried to wake you up.”
“What are we gonna do, Jimmy?” asked Bill.
“Don’t worry, man. We’ll find them. Where’s Ken? I’ll bet he has a plan.”
Julie sniffled and wiped her eyes. “He’s in his room, and he wants to see you,” she whispered. “He’s in a bad way, Jimmy. I’ve never seen him like this. He raised holy hell down there. Nobody could tell him what happened to Patty.”
“Or Cindy, either,” corrected Bill. “They’re a bunch of stupid idiots.”
“Okay,” said Jimmy. “Bill, why don’t you stay here for a minute while Julie and I go talk to Ken. Why don’t you get on the phone and order us some room service. Are you hungry, Julie?”
Julie nodded. “I could eat something.”
“Order us some burgers, whatever you want,” Jimmy said, moving to Bill and patting him on the back. “We’ll grab a bite to eat and think about what we should do.”
Bill nodded, plucked a tissue from a box on the bedside table and noisily blew his nose. “Yeah,” he said. “I am pretty hungry. Really, I can order whatever I want?”
“That’s right,” said Jimmy. “Come on, baby. Let’s go and talk to Ken. Bill, we’ll be right back. You probably don’t want to go in there.”
“He already bit my head off,” Bill said, fresh tears running down his cheeks. “I thought he would be happy to see me. Jimmy, you and me gotta have a talk when you’re done, okay?”
“Sure, buddy. I just need to go take care of this. Get us some chow, okay?”
“I’m all over it.”
Jimmy took Julie by the hand and forced a smile.
“You look terrible, honey,” Julie said, brushing his hair with her fingers. “Is anything broken?”
It suddenly hit Jimmy that Julie had lost the baby, and it hit him hard. “I’m so sorry about the baby, sweetie. I know how much you wanted it.”
Julie’s face became as hard and impassive as stone, as suddenly as if a switch had been thrown. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever again. Do you understand me?”
Desperate Times Three - Revolution Page 11