5 Years After

by Richard Correll

  They lunched on a bench in front of the courthouse. It was one of those days where you wish you could walk around and just feel the breeze, look at the old houses and let life get on without you for a moment.

  “There is still hope,” Gurpreet announced as he eased back with a Styrofoam cup in his hand, “If I can get a sandwich and a tea like that.”

  “You bet.” Maggie had not realized the depth of her hunger until she had begun eating. She abruptly realized what was next and stood up. “I guess I had better get this over with.”

  “Indeed.” He began to rise as well.

  “It’s okay, don’t get up. Try to enjoy some of this.” Maggie picked up her bag and turned toward the man. He had settled back down on the bench. She could see in the sunlight how his brown eyes betrayed the scars of a journey Maggie could barely imagine. “You know, you can talk to me sometimes if you need to, I wouldn’t tell.”

  “Neither will I.” Empathy crept into his voice, “If you need to talk to me.”

  “I feel like I’m going mad.” Maggie said with a slow sigh.

  “Perhaps,” Gurpreet leaned forward slowly. “We are all just living in a mad world.”

  The pristine white hallways gave Maggie a flashback to the control tower at Pearson. There, the walls had turned dark red, in some places they were so thickly coated that it had oozed off the walls like a vertical river. The stains and spatters seemed to magically appear as she walked down the hallway as if by sleight of hand. A chill and rage seemed to pop out of her at the same time. It was like a shock from a light socket. Maggie had the overwhelming emotion to scream obscenities at the top of her lungs. Instead, she stopped and began rubbing her thumb and forefinger together and breathing slowly.

  “I’m good.” She whispered soothingly to herself “I’m okay……alright…….ready?” Yeah, poker face on.

  She knocked precisely on the door of the meeting room and walked in. It couldn’t have been more minimalist. A few chairs that had seen better days and plain table inhabited the room. Four white, bland walls completed the look. Maybe people in here would have more on their minds than design, she guessed as Maggie made eye contact with the only person in the room.

  He was wearing a casual business suit with a shirt and non descript tie,. A laptop was poised on the desk in front of him. He had glasses that framed keen, aware brown eyes. His brown hair was thinning at the top and he had a mouth that seemed to be more at home with listening than talking, the perfect vision of a government worker? That had to mean he wasn’t. Maggie felt a sense of wariness as she entered.

  “Sir, Corporal Maggie Hunter.” She nodded to him while placing her bag under the table.

  “Hi Maggie, I’m Tom Roberts.” He got up and shook her hand while guiding Maggie to the other chair in the room. His affability was disarming. “Can I get you a coffee or something?”

  A shot of tequila would be nice. She decided to keep that thought to herself, “A water would be great, sir.”

  He reached down to a small ice bucket and produced a plastic bottle that was freezing to the touch. Maggie unscrewed the cap and drank deeply as she took her seat opposite Roberts. The water was a frozen shock to her system. It seemed to replenish so many things in the blink of an eye. She had downed half the bottle before coming up for air. Robert eyed Maggie for a second and then placed a second bottle in front of her on the table. She nodded and tried to finish the bottle in her hand slowly.

  “So,” Tom leaned back in his chair and crossed his leg. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “What happened?” She tried to buy some more time.

  “Our loss of Pearson and the almost complete collapse of our containment line,” Tom’s eyes were a different breed of cat from his face. He was calm, relaxed and friendly. The eyes glittered as they prepared to gather information like a sponge.

  “Sir, I’m a Corporal.” She played for time with innocence. “Why would you want my opinion?”

  “I tend to take service records into account.” He slowly leaned forward to make eye contact. His fingers interlaced on the table. “I also form my opinion on what a soldier’s comrades say.”

  “You mean my fellow soldiers, sir.” Maggie took a sip to break eye contact. Where was he going with this?

  “From what I hear,” he gave a half-smile. “You saved a lot of lives and kept this from being a total disaster.”

  “I was just doing my job, sir.” She shrugged carefully. He might be trying to flatter you into making a mistake. Her insides warned.

  “You used to be in the US armed forces.” Tom glanced at a folder for a second before looking up and making eye contact for the second part of his question. “You were more than a Corporal down there weren’t you?”

  “That was like another lifetime ago, sir.” Maggie ducked the question. No, it wasn’t. You have nightmares about it.

  “Still,” Roberts knew a lame answer when he heard it. “You held a command position in the states, didn’t you?”

  “Did someone tell you that, sir?” If he knows that, what else does he know? Maggie felt cold, naked.

  “No one has to, Corporal.” His voice was low and his eyes probed her face for reactions. “I’ve read a few things on what happened at Pearson and a few other instances.”

  “Sir, I’m just doing my job.” Maggie persisted.

  “You are not answering my questions, Corporal.” Tom’s face seemed to harden. Mr. affable had gone away for a moment. “What rank did you hold in the US Army?”

  “I was a Lieutenant, sir.” Maggie decided to open up just a little. She could afford to if he wasn’t asking her about Otto Jay.

  “You no doubt have seen a great deal of action in this….war.” He had to search for the word for a second.

  “It’s not a war sir.” Maggie heard herself react to his words.

  “Sorry?” He suddenly raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s not a war, sir.” Maggie repeated and then leaned forward and her intense green eyes forced him to blink. “It’s an extinction event.’

  “An extinction event?” Tom followed along slowly.

  “…..and we’re losing, sir.”

  There was a long pause. He seemed to be adding and subtracting emotional figures as he watched her. His eyes turned away and he slowly nodded his head as if he was replying to an inner voice. Roberts finally looked up and said: “You’re right, we are.”

  Maggie face betrayed no emotion but inside an icicle passed through her. Maggie remembered old people say that a chill was someone walking on your grave somewhere. The point was well made, now. My god, she looked a Tom for a long second. How bad is it really? He knows and he is being honest about it.

  “Look, let me make you a deal.” His face seemed to be affable again as he stood up.

  “A deal, sir?” Maggie didn’t stand up just yet. She just watched him, waiting for a trap to spring.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” He grabbed something from his briefcase. “This is just a notepad with paper and pen. I can’t record your voice.”

  Maggie looked at the notepad and then took them from Robert’s hands. She flipped through it carefully and then examined the pen. She could see Roberts face from the corner of her eyes display curiosity. You might think this is paranoia, Mr. Roberts. Maggie thought as her fingers checked the cardboard base of the paper for a microphone. This is called thoroughness. It keeps people alive.

  “You may have a wire on, sir.” Maggie handed the pen and pad back to him as she stood up.

  “You’re free to check.” Roberts almost laughed as he held his hands out to his sides. He thought she was kidding. There was a pause between them. Maggie, with a dead pan poker face broke the silence.

  “Please turn around and put your hands against the wall, sir.”

  “You’re kidding, right.” Roberts must have realized she wasn’t because he was already turning around to face the wall. His hands made contact with the picture-less painted walls.

  “This
was your idea, sir.” She reminded him as a smile crept over her face. Maggie’s search was thorough. Her fingers carefully searched for anything out of place. To finish up, she checked his package just to be sure.

  “Did you have to do that?” He seemed to feel a little violated.

  “Sorry,” She apologized. “But that would have been the first place I would have hidden a wire.”

  “Let’s go then.” He turned around and placed his cell phone in his briefcase and locked it. “Leave your stuff here, we’re coming back.”

  “Where are we going?” Maggie didn’t really expect an answer. When he replied it was in a low tone halfway down the hallway.

  “We’re getting away from the recording equipment in that room.” Tom was down the fire escape quickly. Maggie tagged along. He held the door as they walked out into the small town sunshine. They headed east on Elizabeth Street for a few minutes without saying a word.

  “You don’t trust me do you?” Tom finally spoke his mind.

  “No offense sir.” Maggie replied as kindly as she could without betraying herself. “But trust is a dangerous thing.”

  He seemed to take the comment in stride with a slow nod of his head. Still, Maggie felt a little less wary. A few questions on an afternoon walk that she could deny or claim misquotation on later seemed harmless. The air was full of that rural town smell that was an instant relaxant, the strong, mesquite scent of a wood burning fireplace. There were some people who could identify the type of wood burning by the mere aroma. Maggie took a deep breath and let it invade her lungs with calm. They were walking

  so slowly that a group of children were gaining on them as they approached First Street. Their laughter was almost musical as they talked excitedly among one another. But it was there, Maggie could see it. That sudden, fearful look around, the hunted keeping a watchful eye out for the hunters, a few more vigilant armed adults walked ahead, beside and behind the group of 20 children. A matronly woman walked among her flock with a handbag clutched in her left hand. It was just big enough to conceal a handgun.

  The men nodded respectfully to Maggie and her uniform. As she and Tom stepped aside for them to pass a little girl surprised Maggie with a salute. She returned it with a delighted smile. The woman noticed the curiosity in Maggie by her class and her mouth shyly turned upwards at both of them.

  “What do we do when we see the bad ones children?” Her voice was bright with sunshine and childish joy. The little voices responded in unison.

  Run, run as fast as you can,

  Find an adult that’s the plan.

  Don’t let them touch,

  Don’t let them near,

  Just run and shout,

  Someone will hear.

  “So, here’s the deal.” Tom paused to let the little group go ahead of them. His smile for them was warm, but the walk was about being alone to talk.

  “I’m listening.”Maggie gave a friendly wave to the children as they headed for First Street.

  “You start talking straight about what went wrong.” He finally turned to face Maggie. His glasses had shaded over in the sunshine. “And I won’t ask a single question about Otto Jay’s death.”

  Did he know something? Maggie met his eyes for a second but she was trying to feign indifference to the subject. Was he offering immunity? She looked westward and saw another group of children approaching with an armed group of parents. He just said he wouldn’t ask questions. Okay, she could feel her mind coming to a conclusion.

  “Deal….”

  “Okay,” He started from square one again. “What went wrong?”

  “We were completely unprepared.” Maggie turned to face Roberts and decided to look at him head on.

  “How so?” He was getting out his notepad.

  “In Jay’s mission brief, he expected a few thousand hostiles to respond to the noise from Pearson.” Maggie crossed her arms casually while talking. “A few hundred thousand showed up. It was a massacre.”

  Roberts looked down at his paper and made a note while nodding his head. The next group of children passed by, he didn’t look up this time. He was concentrating hard. Maggie nodded to a guy in a baseball cap as he respectfully greeted her. The children treated the two of them like a brief curiosity on a tourist trip. They were interesting for a moment before something new came into their journey. Maggie paused for the collection of ears to be far enough away.

  “While we’re on the subject,” Maggie’s voice had a sudden, challenging edge to it. “What the hell was Jay doing in command?”

  “Sorry?” Roberts looked up quizzically. Maggie had to make a face. Typical Canadians, even when they have to ask a question, they apologize.

  “The plan was a disaster in the making that any fool could see and he was incompetent, he had no fucking experience.” Maggie spelled it out. “How could this be allowed to happen?”

  “It was a military decision.” Tom replied without a blink. She thought she saw a thread of honesty in his eyes. Good to see.

  “No one else was involved in giving him command?” Maggie asked carefully to get the facts straight. When he nodded slowly, she returned the gesture. “Okay, then.” She felt the bits of truth were like Tetris pieces falling into place. Maggie paused and let him ask the questions while she filed away what she had just learned for future reference.

  “Okay, help me out here, Maggie.” Tom looked away and then leaned closer. “How are these numbers possible? How do they always outnumber us like this?”

  “Because there are one fuck of a lot of them.” Maggie replied with a touch of sarcasm. His eyes seemed to harden.

  “Okay, sorry about that,” She quickly apologized. “I can be a real bitch sometimes.”

  “No problem,” he let it slide. “What I am trying to say is we only lost fifty five per cent of our population. Yet, everywhere we turn we get grossly outnumbered. How is this happening?”

  “Infrastructure, sir,” Maggie explained as she began to walk again.

  “How so?”

  “To defend ourselves from this threat we need people working in factories making weapons, we need farmers producing food. We need teachers and parents looking after the kids.” She gestured to another group approaching. They seemed to be evenly spaced out from one another. “These things don’t need anything like that.”

  “I see.” The notepad re-appeared, a scribble and then thoughtful pause. “Tell me more.”

  “We have a army of about 400 thousand in this country, not counting militia.” As Maggie spoke he seemed to be calculating the numbers in his head. “All told, only about fourteen per cent of our population is fighting them.”

  He nodded as the hand with the pen in it found a place to rest underneath his chin. Okay, he’s thinking about this.

  “One hundred per cent of their population is fighting us.” She uncrossed her hands to make a point with her right forefinger. “We had better get used to being outnumbered in this war.”

  “But we have tanks, automatic weapons…..” Roberts interjected.

  “As long as the factories turn those things out, we do. “ Maggie countered. “We have ammunition shortages all the time.”

  He seemed to have forgotten about the notepad as he listened.

  “Sir, a tank is a very fussy piece of equipment.” Maggie explained carefully. “The amount of times the engine has to be rebuilt is insane.”

  “You don’t have any spare parts?” Roberts asked pointedly.

  “Hell, we ran out years ago.” Maggie replied. She then cocked her head and asked. “You guys don’t know this?”

  “We have heard the comment before, Maggie.” Roberts explained. “We have just had a windfall of disasters. It’s hard to be calm when you’ve fallen off a building.”

  Maggie blinked at him. Boom, You now know how bad things are.

  “I see.” She whispered and made eye contact with a nod of her head.

  “I also see what you’re saying.” Roberts replied and then added off ha
ndedly; “I didn’t think I would be discussing economics with an army person.”

  “War is economics, sir.” Maggie kept the eye contact to drive home her point. “You can’t have a powerful military without a strong economy.”

  “Point taken,” He nodded again. “So, how do you think we do this?”

  “For the time being,” Maggie kept up the pressure. “We need to stay out of their way.”

  “You mean, stop fighting?” He found the idea strange.

  “No sir, we never stop fighting.” Maggie shook her head. “We just need to stop wasting our resources on things like opening up Pearson.”

  “Okay,” it was an invitation to continue.

  “We need to protect our factories and feed our people.” Maggie continued and leaned a little closer. “We need to stay as far away from those things as we can and try and get back on our feet.”

  “Do you favor the containment policy?” Roberts asked. Maggie paused before answering. Was this a political question or a tactical one? Shit, no wonder we’re losing. Our side always seems to divide and complicate things.

  “I favor it,” Maggie answered carefully. “I just don’t believe it.”

  “Explain,” It was a single pointblank word as they began to walk back to the court house.

  “The containment policy as I understand it is we protect our small towns while leaving the cities alone.” Maggie felt herself walking on dangerous ground. This was a politician or a man who worked for politicians. A few words in the wrong place would cut off communication. Is this how things got this bad? The right information lost between the battle lines of bi-partisans? It was a nagging reality on such a sunny day.

  “Yes, that is partially it.” Roberts offered. “We try to contain the bulk of these things in the cities with containment lines while waiting for them to weaken and starve to death.”

  “Okay, how is that working for us?” Maggie asked as boldly as she felt she could. “Did the hostiles who attacked Pearson seem weak or starving?”

  “No, they didn’t.” He paused in his walk to face her. “How is that possible?”

  “They are either living on a food source we are unaware of,” Maggie stopped walking and put her hands in her pockets. It was a gesture to try and be casual, non-aggressive. “Or this whole containment thing might take one hell of a lot longer than we think.”