Sand Storm (Quantum Touch Book 2)

by Michael R. Stern

  Ashley said, “See what I mean? Get it together, buddy.”

  Fritz said, “I can’t believe we’re doing this again. I worried before, but this is crazy. Ash, why would any sane person want to be president?”

  “Chicks.”

  After lunch, Fritz lectured on the role of the Catholic Church, the Papacy, and the Church’s influence on European politics. Then he set them reading. “If we get ahead by Friday, no homework for the weekend.” Subdued cheers rose and died.

  When sixth period ended, Sandy came into Fritz’s class. Uh oh.

  But she just wanted course information. “Hi, Fritz. You’re going to be teaching the Renaissance soon, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Yeah, probably starting next week.”

  “Do you think I could bring my class in? Sixth period is my Shakespeare class. I’d like to give them a feel for the era.”

  “You mean you want an hour off,” said Fritz. She stepped back as though he had slapped her. “Sorry. Okay, when I get to it, we can talk before they come in. I’ll figure out which specific class would work best for them.”

  “That would be good,” she said. She wanted to say something more, Fritz thought, but she left as his next class trickled in.

  When the class started, Fritz began to discuss early labor organizations. He started with the National Labor Union, the first national workers organization in America. “Founded just after the Civil War, and although it only lasted until 1873, the NLU had paved the way for the Knights of Labor and the American Federation of Labor.” Fritz watched the students take notes. Once again, he relished the level of their attention.

  “People then often worked twelve hours a day for six days a week.” He grinned. “I think school should be six days, from seven in the morning to seven at night, all year long. What do you think?” In response, they battered him with boos and raspberries. “Makes you think though, doesn’t it? The Knights’ supported a law mandating an eight-hour work day. They also wanted an end to child and convict labor. What if you could choose to work instead of go to school for twelve hours? Still want to boo me? Anyway, the Knights of Labor opposed the use of immigrant workers, especially the Chinese. We’ll talk more about various discriminatory labor practices and union support for them throughout the course. We’ll also discuss American economic policy. Does anyone want to take a shot at why unions would discriminate?”

  Abigail Hoffman raised her hand. A new student to Fritz, the only kid in the class who hadn’t been to see Robert E. Lee, he called on her.

  “It’s Abigail, right?”

  “Please call me Abby, Mr. Russell.”

  “Abby, how have you avoided all my classes until now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then, Abby, consider this class as your last, best chance to learn from a great teacher.” The students who had been in his class before expected what he did next. He held out his right arm with his index finger out straight, bent his arm at the elbow, and pointed at his face. His slow motion act earned him some applause and a few boos. “So what do you think, Abby?”

  The question yanked her back. “Oh. Okay. Unions discriminated because discrimination was everywhere.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “Women couldn’t vote, so they didn’t have any power.”

  “Good,” said Fritz. “Anything else? What about the Chinese exclusions.”

  Abby hesitated a moment before she answered. “I guess that Americans were mostly from Europe and mostly white, so the unions reflected society.”

  “Good. That’s part of it. The other big piece is workers not wanting competition for jobs.”

  As class ended, Dennis Rogers told Abby, “Mr. R’s a good teacher, but sometimes he’s a goofball. You’ll get used to it.”

  Ashley waited to come in as the classroom emptied.

  “Hi, Mr. Gilbert,” said Rachel Downey and Nicole Ginsberg, as they passed in the hall.

  “Hi, girls,” said Ashley.

  Fritz shook his head. “You better watch out for those two. If you keep giving them donations for their causes, you’ll be eating me out of house and home.”

  “Are you doing better, Fritz?”

  “You were right. It’s easier to teach to get through the day than worry about what’s going to happen later.”

  “Can I come over before we go?”

  “I’ll let Linda know, but we’re probably doing fast food. I still want to check my list and compare it with hers.”

  “Fine. I’ve got one too.” He headed out.

  The ninth graders waited quietly again. Unaccustomed to such strange behavior, Fritz asked them about it. “Serious teacher question. I’ve been wondering why you all are so quiet. Can anyone explain?”

  “Mr. Russell, aren’t we supposed to be quiet?” Emma Garland asked. The lid came off, and the class started answering his question. All at once.

  “Okay, guys. That’s more like it. Did any of you think about our exercise on Friday?” Almost all hands went up. “Jill, what do you think?”

  “Mr. Russell, I think that we showed that it’s important to learn about all sides of an issue.”

  “Thanks, Jill. And how does that affect governance? Don?”

  “Well, it can be good and bad.”

  “How so?”

  “On the good side, it makes compromise possible. On the bad side, you need to have people who are willing to find common ground.”

  “Good answer.”

  Ron Weatherby said, “I think it means that voting matters, Mr. Russell. If you vote for people who say they won’t compromise, like because of their principles, then the government can’t get anything done. And it’s there to get stuff done, isn’t it?”

  Fritz said, “Thanks, Ron. That’s the basis for what we will cover all year. It’s more than just getting elected.” He saw upturned faces, listening. “When the values and approaches to government are so divided that compromise isn’t possible, then—as Ron said—nothing gets done. Can anyone think of a time when lack of compromise disrupted government?”

  Fritz called on Becky Trainor. “A few years ago, the Republicans said they wouldn’t agree to anything the president suggested. Very little got done, but it affected the way the world saw America’s credit, my mom said. She’s a judge.”

  “Good, Becky. Not what I was thinking of right now, but excellent example.”

  Mr. Russell,” Becky continued, “she also said that both parties have ways to keep things from happening. She said they call them procedures.”

  “That’s right, Becky, and we will talk about that when we cover the legislative process later in the year. Thanks. Anyone else?”

  David Ruiz said, “Mr. Russell, wouldn’t the Civil War be an example?”

  “Would it, David?” asked Fritz.

  “Well, the North and the South disagreed about slavery, so we had a war.”

  “That’s the example I had in mind, Becky. But you gave us a great modern one. Well done. Did you all know that we almost didn’t have a Declaration of Independence because some members of the Continental Congress were reluctant to leave England, and declaring independence would also declare war?” Fritz saw that special look when kids really take something in. The class spent the rest of the period reading and discussing the Preamble to the Constitution. As they finished, Fritz told them, “For Friday, I want a three- to five-hundred word statement of what the Preamble means to you. Think about how that one paragraph affects our lives today. We the people… will discuss it more on Friday.”

  Chapter 8

  AND WITH THAT, Monday ended, at least for his students. As the room emptied, he called Linda. Pleased that Ashley had drafted another list, she said, “Good to have his brain on this, too. We can compare notes.” He grabbed his briefcase and headed out the door. Ashley left his classroom and looked down the hall at Fritz. Then his glance drifted further. George hustled toward them.

  “Wait, Fritz. Wait, Ashley. I want to talk to
you.”

  “Oh, boy,” Ashley muttered. “Trying to get out, George. What do you need?”

  “Let’s go in here,” George said, motioning to an empty classroom. “Lois and I discussed last night’s exercise, and she wondered if we might have wounded and dead coming through. I don’t like that.”

  Fritz put his hand on George’s shoulder and looked straight into his eyes. “George, this is a combat mission. If they succeed, they’re going to blow up nuclear weapons facilities. Those are likely well-guarded places, and the Narians have a well-equipped army. If we’re lucky, if our guys are lucky, and the maps are accurate, no one should get hurt. But George, over a hundred troops are going in. If the school gets a little bloody, so what?”

  “So what? We have classes tomorrow.” George’s whisper echoed.

  “George, stop. If there are injuries or deaths, what will those soldiers have tomorrow?” Fritz paused to let the idea sink in. “George, you’re a team member. How do you suggest we plan for that contingency?”

  George paused to think. “Well, I can have the custodial staff on call.”

  “Right idea, George. Wrong people. I would suggest that you speak to the major and ask her to make sure there’s a cleanup crew.”

  “That’s a good idea, Fritz. I’ll tell Lois.”

  “And George, don’t forget to tell the major.”

  “Oh, no, no, of course not. I’ll do that.”

  “Can we go now?” asked Ashley.

  “Oh, okay. See you later.” As George left them, Ashley rolled his eyes.

  “Leave him alone, Ash. At least Lois is thinking.”

  Once George slipped out of sight, Fritz said the weather was right, and he wanted to try the portal. He had a question for Robert E. Lee.

  Ashley made a face. “Why now? We’ll be here again later. Let’s get out of here.”

  “The weather’s cooperating, and I want to talk to him. You go. Linda is waiting to talk to us.” Fritz set his coat and briefcase on a student’s desk. “Or you can come with me.”

  “What do you want to ask him?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” With the paper-clipped book positioned on his desk, he started for the door. “Are you coming?”

  The general lifted his head and stood when Fritz and Ashley stepped into his office. Smiling, he greeted his visitors. “Nice to see you again. And so soon.”

  “Sorry to bother you, General.” Fritz hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’ve been asked to use our portal for a military mission. I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing. I’d like your opinion.”

  “Mr. Russell, I’m not sure I can advise you. But I will be happy to try.”

  Fritz explained the situation, the degree of destruction they could be preempting, the president’s request, and that he had agreed without considering all the consequences. Even with a good outcome, he said he feared the portal might become a tool of war. “General, I’m a teacher, not a soldier.”

  Lee listened, twisting his spectacles in his fingers, and nodded as Fritz spoke about his reluctance. “Mr. Russell, I understand. Mr. Lincoln asked me to take command of the U.S. Army. A painful choice to make, but as you know, I declined.” He hesitated, and then sighed. “I have been a soldier for most of my life. I have sent men into battle, knowing they might die. I have not always been happy with the choices, or the decisions I’ve had to make. Some fights are not avoidable, some battles necessary.” He stared sharply at Fritz. “You must choose between the easy decision and the right one. I cannot tell you what that is. But in your heart, you will know.”

  AFTER DINNER, Fritz finished the list for their evening excursion. Satellite view. Medical team. Cleanup crew?

  “Cameras,” said Ashley. “Each team. To record what they see. Maybe helmet-mounted. Saw that in a movie.”

  “Playing soldier?”

  “We’re not playing, Fritz. They haven’t filled you in on all the details even though you asked. I’m just trying to think the way they should.”

  “Well, it’s a good idea.” Fritz made a note. “And we need to remind them about the school cameras. I hope Tom will be back. More, I hope it goes as smoothly as last night.”

  “Fritz, we need to ask how safe the school will be,” Linda said. “We should put that on the list. Ash, did Major Barclay give you her email address? I should send her this list.”

  Before Ashley could answer, Fritz said, “I’ll print a few copies for us to bring.”

  Ashley said, “She didn’t give it to me, but you should put it on the list to ask. Not just hers, but the colonel’s, Tony’s, and anyone else’s. Tom Andrews, James, whoever’s part of overseeing this joyride.”

  THE WEATHER had calmed, and George and Lois were waiting outside when they got to the school. Once again, right on time, the first official vehicles drove into the parking lot. First the convoy of Suburbans, and then school buses, which parked parallel to each other. Fritz commented that someone had had a good idea—no one would question school buses. The previous night’s players, all except the major, joined the civilians. Not questioning, they went in. But the buses didn’t empty.

  Ashley’s classroom became the staging area and command center. “Before we start unloading, I want to discuss our plan,” said Colonel Mitchell. “We’re going back to Bagram. Each team will remain for at least fifteen minutes. Teams three and four will stay at least thirty minutes. We don’t know how long each team will need for real, so it seems wise to stagger the returns. Mr. Almeida, what’s the story with the power sources?”

  Tony replied, “We’ve planned to keep planes nearby to keep the turbulence in effect, and I have two generators and a backup to juice the current if we need it. I don’t know how it will work until we try it, Colonel.”

  “How many are going in, Colonel?” asked Lois.

  “A hundred and twelve total. Seven sites.”

  “And your backups?” she asked.

  “Ma’am? Sorry, we don’t have any planned.”

  “What about support on this end?” Lois continued.

  “Other than the drivers and the medical team, none, ma’am.”

  “Well that’s not a plan!” Lois was getting up to speed. “Colonel, haven’t you considered what you’ll need when they come back?”

  “We’ll load up and leave, and it will be like we’d never been here.”

  “Colonel,” said Lois, now raising her voice, “this is a public high school. Children and teachers come here every day. We had to clean up and straighten up last night with just twenty of you having been here. You need a cleanup crew to set this place right.” Just short of yelling, she made the colonel step backward. “You’re bringing weapons and explosives in here. You’re going to have stuff to bring out, right?” The colonel nodded. “Where are you going to put it? In the hallway?” And what happens if something goes wrong? Will you have ambulances waiting?”

  The colonel said, “We’ll have a medical team.”

  “Lois, let me take it from here,” said Fritz. “Colonel, we’ve prepared a check list of what we think you’ll need.” He handed it to Colonel Mitchell. “We’ve been working on this since last night. We’ve tried to consider it from your end and ours. But I think you’ll see that everything we’ve noted is necessary.”

  The colonel read the list and handed it to Tony, as Linda handed a copy to Tom Andrews. At that point, a soldier walked in. They looked toward the door. Dressed in camouflage and face paint, a young major carrying the newest assault weapon approached them. “Is there a problem, Colonel?” The voice exposed the disguise. They stared for a moment, and then she said, “Hi.”

  Ashley said, “Holy mackerel,” which wasn’t what he wanted to say.

  “Major,” the colonel said, “Ms. McAllister has kindly pointed out some of what we seem to have missed. And Ms. Russell has prepared a list of what we need.” She skimmed the sheet he handed her.

  “Thank you all. We’ve been busy getting everything here. We haven’t planned
for some of this, but we’re on it. We’ll have a medical team here when we go live.” She folded the sheet and put it in her pocket.

  Ashley asked her, “You’re going in?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Let’s get started. Mr. Russell, we’ll bring each group in as the previous one goes through the portal, rather than have them all in here. How quickly can you get the maps reset?”

  “Once the last man, or woman, goes through and the door closes, it will take ten to fifteen seconds. We shouldn’t take the time to bring them inside one group at a time. They should all wait in the hall. No delays and no traffic outside.”

  “Okay, let’s try it and see,” said the colonel. “We’re going to do two runs. One for five minutes so they can get the feel, and then the planned one.”

  “Thanks, you all,” said Major Barclay. “You’ve done some serious work on this. I really appreciate it. Everybody set?” Fritz recognized that you all, the same accent as he had heard from Robert E. Lee. “I’ll go set up,” Fritz answered. “Do you have the maps?”

  She tapped a leather satchel hung over the same shoulder as her rifle. She leaned the rifle against the wall and handed the maps to him. He walked to his classroom, put his key in the desk lock, took out a paperclip, and put it on the first map. He laid the first map on the left side of his desk and placed the paperclips on the pencil marks from the previous night. Fritz glanced up when two cars drove by. He lowered the blinds.

  When he left his classroom, the hall had already lost its quiet. The first of the insertion teams began entering the school, boots scraping the terrazzo floor, rifles slung. Tony Almeida and a soldier headed toward him, each carrying a generator, which they placed on the floor next to the door. The colonel lined up his men. It reminded Fritz of the old movies where paratroopers got ready to jump from a plane. But these men didn’t have large packs, only lots of ammunition clips, pistols, and bigger weapons.