by S A Ison
Getting a nod that she was listening, he pressed on. “I think I found something over on Mozingo Lake. One property in particular.” He picked up the glass of water and downed a few gulps. His throat had suddenly gone dry. He didn’t want to cough out his pizza all over her or choke on his words.
She nodded again, smiling her encouragement.
“It’s a cabin, four bed, two baths, on six acres of forested land. It abuts a pretty good-sized forest, and there are very few houses or cabins around about. It sits right by the water and has what looks to be an acre of cleared land around the cabin. But the best thing? It’s off grid. There are solar panels, and even a wind turbine. The listing says it has an underground propane tank.”
He grinned as Margo smiled. It looked like he was winning her over, and he could feel the excitement building. The worry that the POSEIDON article had started was beginning to leave him, and his shoulders began to relax.
“Well? Don’t stop! Tell me more.” She laughed, her cheeks pinking prettily.
“Okay. So, as I said, it is off grid, and even boasts a root cellar, outhouse, small barn, and basement. Look, I don’t know if the crap will ever hit the fan. It may never happen. But I’m terrified that if we don’t do something, we’ll regret it, especially if we had the chance and didn’t do it. Then, if something did happen, we’d be like everyone else. We’d be hurting, and kicking ourselves. I need a place to live, whether I pay rent or mortgage. Why not get somewhere better suited for the SHTF situation?”
“I hear you. I was thinking along the same lines. I checked my pantry earlier, and even though I’ve been putting things away and buying extra, I only have a month or so’s worth of food. And not much water. It hit me like a sledgehammer that I’m woefully lacking, even though I’ve been trying. I just don’t have the room.” She stopped, bit down on her bottom lip with her straight white teeth. “Dare I ask how much?
“It is just over $289,900. Now, I reckon I can negotiate it down a little bit. Once I get a job, I figure we can get a loan together, if you’re willing. Between us, we can afford the mortgage. Once there, we can start getting our ducks in a row in earnest,” he said, smiling, trying not to stare at her beautiful face. He didn’t need to creep her out with a drooling fool vibe.
Margo nodded slowly. “I think that’s very doable. I even have some savings we can use as a down payment,” she offered, a big smile on her face.
“That sounds great. I have money set aside too. I’ve lived somewhat frugally since getting out of high school. I had moved out of my parent’s home. They were leaving Georgia after I graduated. I never wanted to live with my folks when they moved away.” He laughed, blushing a little.
“I know it may never happen too,” Margo said. “We might be acting like idiots. But I can’t help feeling like something’s going to happen. I don’t know why. I’ve never felt this way before. I mean, I see stuff on the news all the time. I know about the threats from North Korea and Iran, all those places. But this thing with POSEIDON has really hit me. I’ve not told anyone, not my friends, not even my parents. I feel bad, but what if we’re wrong and, even worse, what if we’re right?” she said, her face sad.
Pike hated seeing her sad, but she was correct. There were no right answers. He reached over and patted her hand gently. “All we can do is all we can do. For ourselves. I told my folks and they patronized me, but at least I told them. At least they’re in northwestern Tennessee and not on the coast. Maybe you should tell your parents as well. That way, you’ll not feel horrible if something does happen. Like my parents, they are adults and will do what they will. Just send them the information on POSEIDON and at least give them a chance to make up their own minds,” he advised softly.
“Thanks, Pike. I know you’re right. I’ll call them now. I’m heading to bed anyway, as I need to get up early to get to work.” She smiled, and his heart melted. “I’m glad you are here, I don’t feel so alone now with all of this.” She leaned over and gave him a hug, and it was so hard for him to release her.
He got up from the couch, took his plate to the kitchen and washed it in the kitchen sink, then went to his room to unpack. It felt weird to have arrived finally. He still felt a bit twitchy.
He opened his suitcase and took out several shirts and jeans. Then he sat at the end of the bed and looked at his hands. They were trembling. He’d not thought he was so keyed up. He’d made it. He’d been half afraid the world would explode before he got to see Margo. And she looked great, quite beautiful.
When he’d held her in his arms, she’d felt so good and she’d smelled wonderful. He wished he could keep hugging her without being creepy. He was here now, and with her, and that was all that mattered. He just needed to keep out of that friend zone. That would end all his dreams. Where there was time, there was hope.
He went into the small bathroom and smiled. It too was frilly and girly. Margo was a girly girl, for sure. He got into the small shower and let the hot water ease the muscles across his shoulders and back. He tried to let the stress of the last few weeks fall away. He had to keep reminding himself that he was here. There was time. At least, he thought there was time.
Later, he crawled into the daybed, which was soft and comfortable. He propped his head on his arms and stared up at the ceiling. He’d head out tomorrow and check in with the agency, then go find a job in the meantime. He needed to get that cabin as soon as possible. He couldn’t breathe easy until they were moved in. He turned over and closed his eyes, his mind drifting to Margo in the next room. He fell asleep with thoughts of her swirling around in his brain.
҉
Margo lay in bed waiting as the line rang, her feet curling with nervousness.
“Hello?” It was her mom.
“Mom? Hey, it’s me. How are you and Dad?”
“Oh, honey, your dad and me are doing fine. How are you doing, baby?”
“I’m okay, Mom. I’m calling because I saw some disturbing news and wanted to tell you and Dad about it.”
“What is it, honey? I can hear the worry in your voice.”
Margo tried not to cry, though her lips trembled. She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Mom, Russia has made a new weapon. It isn’t really new, but it’s dangerous. I was reading about it online, and it’s a very powerful and deadly nuclear weapon.”
“Oh honey, don’t cry. Just tell me what you need.”
“It may never be used, Mom. But if it is, it’ll obliterate the coastline. There will be nuclear fallout. I think you and Dad will be safe in Murphy. I’m glad you don’t live in Georgia any more. Mom, I don’t know if I’m being paranoid, but I would feel better if you and Dad can maybe put food away, make you house more secure.”
“Honey, I know you wouldn’t worry if there wasn’t something going on. Trust your gut always. I’ll talk to your dad. We live out in the country and there aren’t many folks near us. We should be okay. But I’ll start putting food away.”
Margo choked, tried not to cry. “Thanks Mom. I know it doesn’t make sense, but something about this really scares me. I don’t know if you remember Pike from high school? He just got here, and he and I are going to work together to make sure we are safe as well.”
“I always say trust yourself, that is God breathing on your shoulder. I’m glad you have Pike, I don’t remember him, but I’m glad he’s there with you. Give me a call when you guys come up with a plan, honey, and don’t worry about us. I’ll get your dad started on it first thing in the morning.”
“Thanks Mom, thanks for listening.” She blew out a shaky breath. “And thanks for believing me.”
“You’re my littlest heart, honey. I love you and I know if you are worried, baby, then you should follow what you need to do. Like I said, I’ll get your dad on his toes with this. It’ll give him something to do.” Her mother laughed, and Margo smiled.
“Okay Mom, thanks. I’ll let you go. Talk to you soon. I love you, Mom.
“I love you, heart. Sleep tight and do
n’t worry, baby.”
Her mother hung up and Margo let out a long breath. She sagged in her bed and wiped an errant tear away. She should have known her mother would listen. She smiled. She felt a lot better. Now, with Pike here, they could get started.
Moscow, Russia, 2 August 2018
Alexei Borin looked at the file. It contained info on Dina. He wanted to make sure he knew everything about the beautiful young woman. Her background check had been flawless. She’d gone to ITMO University in St. Petersburg. Looked like she had good grades. Nothing about lovers or boyfriends. He was pleased about that. She wasn’t a whore.
Flipping through a few more pages of her dossier, he saw no red flags. He shook his head. It would seem that she’d been working in research and development for a couple years. He wondered why he’d not noticed her.
Alexei sighed and sat back comfortably in a leather chair behind a massive mahogany desk. Spread over the desk were numerous contracts, diagrams, schematics, everything a shipping mogul needed. Around the spacious office were model ships, his life’s work. He was proud of his accomplishments.
Photographs of himself and Orlov were also distributed around the room and on the credenza, which held several crystal decanters and cut crystal tumblers. Twenty-year-old Scotch, excellent Vodka and a bottle of Jack Daniels Sinatra Century. The room of a powerful man.
Alexei knew his place in the world, and it was above all men but one. He accepted that, he reveled in it. At a word, men disappeared, and though he knew he was under surveillance himself – who wasn’t these days? – he commanded the highest respect and fear.
Like Alexei Borin’s progenitor, Andrei Sakharov – the designer of thermonuclear weapons, the RDS-37 was at the top of his game. However, Andrei Sakharov had, in due course, become disillusioned and turned into an advocate for civil liberties and human rights.
Alexei had heard, and read via secret documents, that Sakharov had been under surveillance by the KGB. Not surprisingly, he died just before he was to give an important speech. It was said to have been of natural causes, but Alexei knew otherwise. With human rights agitators, it was never natural causes. As with any thorn, they had to be plucked, and so Sakharov was plucked out of existence.
He laughed softly. He knew he was also under surveillance, from both his own country and the U.S. Everyone was spied on. He had his own spies, and his smile grew. How else was he to keep on top of things? How else was he to annihilate his competitors?
He wasn’t sure what he liked better, the fear or the respect. And he now had a beautiful young woman, Dina, in his bed. She was breathtakingly beautiful, fine-boned, and had a luscious body. He couldn’t be happier. Now that he’d seen her dossier, he was content.
Before him stood Goga Volkov, one of his top scientists. Alexei had received word from above to increase production of the POSEIDON torpedo. This was a delicate dance, because the West could not know of the increase. The release of the unintentional leak of POSEIDON was meant to throw the U.S. off. It had done its job. The U.S. knew it was intentional, a propaganda ploy. The U.S. was confident Russia was bluffing.
Alexei smiled to himself. They weren’t bluffing. Orlov had a rigid timetable, and it was Alexei’s job to adhere to it and get the job done. No one ever disappointed Orlov. If they did, they didn’t live long. Alexei knew how to motivate his people; he’d been doing it for years. He was a master manipulator and a puppet master. He’d not got where he was by taking no for an answer.
“Comrade Volkov, it is imperative that you move your project more quickly. We need volume as well as quality, as you know.” He used the vernacular Comrade with the older scientists, for they responded better. Why, he didn’t know. The younger scientists seemed offended by it. Temperamental all. But he knew how to handle them, and they feared him if they were smart. The stupid ones simply disappeared.
“Yes, Comrade Borin. It will be as you say.” Goga’s greedy eyes drifted over to the much-coveted Jack Daniel’s whisky. The man licked his lips ever so slightly.
Borin smiled kindly. “Goga my friend, would you be so kind as to share a glass of the Sinatra Century with me? It would please me very much.” He grinned when Volkov’s eyes grew large behind the thick glasses. His gray caterpillar eyebrows fairly vibrated with pleasure.
“I would be honored, sir. Truly,” he stammered, his face suffusing into a brilliant red.
Alexei got up from his desk and went over to the credenza. He poured them each two fingers and handed the crystal tumbler to the older man. He watched as Volkov first sniffed, then sipped, his old eyes rolling back into his head with pleasure. Alexei liked when a man appreciated a good whisky. It was wasted on the young. They had no taste whatsoever. Cretins all.
He himself had started out very poor, and at an early age he had seen how the world really wagged. In his village, their school was not very progressive. He’d caught several buses each day to another town, to attend a better school. He knew his only way out of poverty was to educate himself.
Many had made the mistake of getting in the way of his pursuit of a better life, to their detriment. Even at a young age, Alexei had been a force to be reckoned with. He’d got into fights and had written his district’s representatives. He’d made such a fuss that he’d drawn the attention of several local politicians, who then took a personal interest in the boy’s education.
From there, he’d risen in all his endeavors, and now he commanded respect from all, even Orlov. He’d accomplished everything he’d ever gone for. He’d never known failure; it wasn’t in his vocabulary. For him, failure meant death. His own. He’d not live with himself should he fail. He’d not ever go back to being poor and worthless.
Returning back to his desk, he looked at his computer, which was triple encrypted. Then he looked back at Volkov. “This is important, Comrade Goga. This must be done very quietly. Do not let the right hand know what the left hand is doing. It is imperative, for all our lives,” Alexei said softly. He knew the man understood perfectly by the widening of his old eyes.
This was a delicate and dangerous time. Should word get out, both men would be dead an hour after the information was known. Very few mistakes were tolerated in Russia. No mistakes were tolerated in his line of work.
St. Marys, GA, 2 August 2018
Johnny and Beverly were in the office, working late. They each had several contracts to finish before the next day. Both were dedicated realtors and knew that if you wanted to get the money, you put in the time. Beverly didn’t mind. She didn’t have anyone waiting at home for her except her cat, Rusty. Rusty was a lazy boy and he’d not care if she were there or not. As long as the food bowl was filled and plenty of water near at hand, all was good.
“Can you believe how Pike just lit out of here like that?” Beverly said, drinking a Frappuccino that had gone lukewarm. There was a half-eaten burrito on her desk as well, among the crumbs of decimated doughnuts. Sometimes she had to eat on the fly, and she never enjoyed that. She liked to sit and enjoy a meal. She’d grown up very poor and, with six other siblings, food was hard to come by. When she’d gotten older, she’d horded food. She had stopped the hording, but she knew the value of a good meal.
“Sure. He sucked at his job. Why would he think he’d do any better in Montana? He’s undisciplined and a slacker. He can’t close a sale, for Christ sake, I’m not even sure if he ever closed a sale. Maybe a couple, but those were few and far between. If he keeps the same job wherever he goes, he’ll always suck.” Johnny laughed, head thrown back, the back of his head turning red.
“He went to Missouri. And do you think it might have had something to do with that fish thing, you know, the Russian thing?” Beverly said, worry in her voice. She’d been thinking about what Pike had said. She’d been thinking about it a lot. Right after Pike had shown her the article, she’d looked it up for herself. There were quite a few sites, and there’d been really scary information on it. It was real. That many different places, having the same information…
it couldn’t be fake news, could it?
It had given her nightmares and she was constantly thinking about it now. She was angry with Pike for putting it in her head. She liked her life simple and uncomplicated. Damn Pike anyway.
“Hell no. That’s some propaganda Billy Bob bullshit Russia is always spewing. Besides, do you think they would have let him into this country if it was real, or if he was planning to bomb us? We’d have just killed him then and there. I think it’s fake news. A bunch of horsecrap,” Johnny said, and turned back to his contracts, the back of his head bright purple now. She watched his broad shoulders hunch forward, and she could hear his scribbling something.
Johnny talked a good talk, but Beverly noticed that a lot of the bravado had gone out of his voice. Maybe he was full of shit himself. That frightened her more than Pike’s rantings. Johnny was one of the most confident people she knew. He wasn’t all that bright, but he was confident. That was why he did so well at selling properties: he was a natural born salesman.
But he couldn’t sell this. She wasn’t buying it. She didn’t think he was buying it either. She stared at the back of his head as it went from the purple to the glowing red that usually meant he was excited or upset. Perhaps this whole thing upset him as much as it did her, but he was such a blustering chump she couldn’t be sure.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to leave and go eat an extravagant meal. It if was true, there was nothing she could do to stop it. If it wasn’t Russia that was going to get them, then it would be the North Koreans, the Iranians or the Iraqis. Someone was always threatening the U.S. because it was a powerful nation. She supposed that, if she worried about all the threats that came their way, she’d live in perpetual fear.
She didn’t like the way she was feeling with all the talk Pike had done. It bothered her constantly. And That really made her angry. She liked her life with Rusty. It was comfortable, enjoyable. Now all she could do was think about that Russian weapon. There wasn’t anything Pike could do, and there was definitely nothing she could do. She had a big choice to make: she could live in perpetual fear, or she could go on, living her life as she pleased.