Hot Zone Page 9

  I wondered if she’d seen the kiss. Probably not or she would have mentioned it. “Hey Pewt,” I said easily. “What’s up?”

  She grinned and sat easily on the couch, moving a pile of clean barf-cloths to the side. “Serious shit now, Lambchop,” she said, and I wondered again what had made us drift apart. I was really enjoying our renewed friendship. “I wanted to say thanks for inviting me to stay here. I think it was an damned good idea.” She pursed her lips, which always reminded me of a kiss waiting to happen. “In fact, it is such a good idea that it gave me an idea that I want to run by you. I think we should have a town meeting.”

  I tried not to gape at her. I had thought of exactly the same thing the night before when I was drifting off to sleep. People had been calling us and rumors were circulating, and I felt like we needed to get together and all pull in the same direction. I hadn’t thought of it again since then, but the idea came flying back now. “That is a great idea.” I said with real appreciation. “We’ll need to think about how to get the word out, and what we want to accomplish while we’re there.”

  Meri had overheard, and in between playing nanny to Sarah Richardson’s sister Mary, she helped organize the meeting agenda. We weren’t anything close to familiar with Robert’s Rules of Order, and didn’t intend to start learning it now. We just wrote down some ideas on a piece of paper, and as far as making sure we got some bodies at the meeting—we decided to bring some food, and Granny came up with the bright idea of a keg of beer. If that didn’t pull in the survivors of the bombs in Catfish, well, nothing would.

  Granny was adamant that she be allowed to help plan the meeting, and we pretended to write down her suggestions, not wanting to go to the trouble of disagreeing with her. Actually, we didn’t plan to discuss the swastika, those terrible pointed things on the top of the hats (I assume she meant German helmets?) and last but not least, trying to find out where that poor Anne Frank was hiding, so we could help her. Sure, we’ll get right on that one, Granny.

  Oddly enough, Granny was the one who finally got Sarah Richardson’s little sister to talk. Mary was a nice little girl but wouldn’t say boo to a goose. She would do as we wanted, so I knew she understood us, but she wouldn’t talk. Mary was often seen in the vicinity of Phil, who seemed equally interested in her in her fey sort of way. They seemed to communicate without speaking, and really, who was I to say that they didn’t? As time went on I was finding my mind forced open wider and wider. In any case, they would usually be near each other, and she mostly watched over her. Granny had been sitting next to Mary and gabbing along about something nonsensical when Mary had asked her how old she was. Granny had answered firmly that she was sure she was at least one hundred and fifty, and Mary had giggled. Go Granny.

  * * *

  Three other friends had turned up in the last few days, and the house was getting rather active. Today someone came who was a friend of a friend, and I started to feel like I was having a party that was getting out of control. I let him in, since at least Meri had met him, but really wanted to yell at him, “What do you think this is, a Holiday Inn?” Now that we had fourteen people including children milling around, it was starting to get that hotel feeling. I was including Tucker in that count and insisted that a room be kept just for him. Well, I tried to insist. It’s not my fault that people moved in anyway.

  Tucker hadn’t returned, and I was getting worried about him. We couldn’t reach his cell phone. Meri was getting worried as well although she hadn’t said anything. No word from Mom and Dad either. I was starting to think maybe they were dead. I retained hope that Tucker was still alive.

  After we had written up the loose agenda for the meeting (minus the suggestions from Granny), Fred and I went out to find a working copier. We found the Copyshop was dark and closed, but the big window was broken and the sleety rain we had received the night before had ruined some of the copiers. We eventually found one that worked, and I felt absurdly guilty for “stealing” our copies, not to mention wandering around an area that was private property. It was happening more and more, however, as any fool could see. Pretty much, if someone wanted something, he or she took it. This included goods and money. There were very few stores that hadn’t been broken into, and while I could understand smashing in a window to get medicine, I couldn’t imagine smashing in the window to get to the pawnshop or the greeting card store. Phil had referred to the break in of the card store as a “greeting card emergency.” When we’d looked at her, enjoying the spark of old Phil, she shrugged and added, “Not that anyone is going to find that special card saying, deepest condolences on the end of life as you know it.” She had a point there.

  Regardless, we printed out a hundred copies and put them up around town, not thinking that they would be noticed much. We also got on the phone, and this is where I think we really reached people. Something had happened to the land lines, and some in town worked and some didn’t, but cell phones worked, and we used them to call whoever we knew was still alive and kicking in town and encouraged them to call anyone they knew as well. The meeting was in three days—it seemed like we could have given more notice, but we were still all so sure that this was going to pass any day now, and in would come the Feds and the disaster funds, and we would go back to life as it used to be. Minus all the dead, that was.

  By the time of the meeting, we had several more agenda items to add. One was roving gangs. Perhaps they had been routed from the Twin Cities with the restoration of order, or they were just people who were angry and had no one but their neighbors to take it out on, or maybe when society breaks down, some people just go bad. No matter the reason, there were gangs. We in Catfish hadn’t been hit yet, but a nearby town had one of these gangs come in and just take what they wanted, whether it had been water, food, other supplies or women. Yes, although Gloria Steinem would deny it, women’s lib was close to dead in the Hot Zone.

  It wasn’t the attitudes—most people retained the values they’d had before the attack, but the reality was that women were vulnerable in a way men mostly weren’t. And apparently some of the men in these gangs felt that now that they could they would go ahead and take what they wanted, or who they wanted.

  Also, the house was even more of a Holiday Inn. We had five more people come to stay with us, and thankfully Meri took over the job of organizing everyone so that jobs were done and the house didn’t fall apart around us. We even had twenty-four hour sentries now. And the scariest part? They were armed. Heavily armed.

  We’d finally heard from Tucker. He had obtained some supplies he thought might come in handy, but that was it for the good news. He’d gone as far as he could—all the way to the cabin, but there was no sign of my parents. He’d also been looking for his brother, but hadn’t found any trace of him either. He did report that he had seen some of the fortifications that the U.S. (oh golly, were we still part of the U.S? Didn’t seem like it) had put up to keep us quarantined. Mostly they had put razor wire along a line that some bunch of yahoos in Washington had decided was the safe line. This wire worked pretty well out in the open, I guess, but where there were forests, it was less useful. We had heard some of this on the news, but one thing that had surprised us all was that some people were crossing the wire to get into the Hot Zone. Apparently some less savory folks had decided that opportunities for riches were here in our hot little zone. I simply let my mouth hang open in shock as I heard this. I couldn’t believe that after witnessing people trying to kill themselves and others that I would be shocked at how awful some people could be, but I was.

  So Tucker was on his way home now, and would hopefully arrive in time for the meeting, which was tonight. I was completely nervous, but Phil of the Fey kept telling me that I had the right light to make this work. The fact that I had no idea what she meant didn’t stop it from settling me, somehow. And I did still believe this was the right thing to do, I just didn’t want to be the one to have to do it. I think a part of me had believed that I would only have to se
t things in motion and someone else, someone more of a natural leader than I was, would come and take over. That hadn’t happened although Fred had been a huge help, and I was afraid my crush on him was back on.

  I waited as long as I could, but Tucker still hadn’t arrived when I drove with several other carloads of people to the meeting site—the high school auditorium. I was surprised to see that there were already some people there, and they greeted me with respect and a little awe. I felt sick. Didn’t these people know that not long ago I was scraping by working at a sandwich shop? I wasn’t anyone, and felt like I was playacting some weird dream or fantasy. Still, we set up and since we still had power (it did go out from time to time, the news said it was a grid problem) we hooked up the microphone set. My secret hope was that we’d only get twenty people or so, and we could just do this without amplification.

  Finally it was time to start. I actually felt so sick and dizzy from nerves that I had to put my head between my knees. I was shaking so bad that I didn’t think I was going to be able to even walk out there. Then suddenly Fred had come back where I was and made everyone else leave. I was staring at him, only a little curious, my brain too frozen to notice much. He came up to me slowly and gave me his sexy grin. My eyes widened as he said softly, “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but then again, crazy is in these days.” He laughed and pulled my hands until I stood in front of him. He stepped closer and I thought for sure he was going to kiss me. I appreciated the effort at distraction, but really! Was this the time or place for that? He didn’t kiss me though. He simply put his hands on either side of my face and tipped up my head so I was looking at him. Then he … this sounds impossible, but I swear it’s true … He erased my nervousness.

  I still knew that my nerves were doing their thing, but I couldn’t feel it. It was as if he had separated the part of me that needed to function from my nerves and adrenalin that went with them. He pivoted away from me and nearly ran from the room, gasping. I went after him, concerned, but as I left the room, Meri and Phil took my hands and we walked out on the stage.

  I gaped at the crowd. I didn’t know that Catfish had this many people still alive in it. There must have been two hundred people in the auditorium. Whatever Fred had done to me didn’t waver, and I went to the microphone. “Hello, everyone,” I said casually, and a few people who knew me, or more likely, my dad, called out hellos. I took a deep breath, and started to talk.

  I told them our idea to get everyone together to talk about the problems and challenges facing us now. I started at the top of the agenda and we worked our way through. It took a long time—there were many people who wanted to talk and share their opinion. But no one left. Not much was actually decided, but we were discussing how to protect ourselves from gangs when there was a commotion at the back of the auditorium. Then three men in black t-shirts were walking down the aisle. I noticed that each t-shirt had the name ‘Gabriel’ in plain white letters across it. It reminded me of how men at concerts had worn ‘security’ across their t-shirts to identify themselves.

  “We’re from Gabriel,” one of them called.

  Gabriel.

  Chapter 8: Enter Gabriel, Stage North

  I was usually giggling with my friends during Sunday school, so I don’t really know who Gabriel was in the Bible. I’m thinking that he blew a trumpet or something. I do know he was famous. I wonder if the famous angel Gabriel was unhappy that he was about to be pushed aside as the most famous Gabriel, at least in the quarantine zone.

  I want to back up a little and make sure you understand the very real devastation of the Twin Cities. They were ruined. Buildings were toppled from several huge gas line explosions (at least that is what we were told—gas lines). Fires had burned merrily until they put themselves out. Power had failed early on, and no men in white Minnesota Power trucks had come to restore it. The Cities had been the single largest story in the Zone.

  In a way, I wasn’t that interested in what had happened in the Cities. In Minnesota there is one major metro area—the Twin Cities. The rest of the state, and we’re not a small state, is smaller cities, towns, farms, lakes, forests. Sometimes we’re called outstate Minnesota. So there is kind of this divide between the people in the Cities and the rest of us. We probably feel a little left out as they talk about light rail and traffic congestion. For whatever reason, I had tuned out of a lot of the talk about the Cities after I realized it was trashed. If I hadn’t, I would have heard about Gabriel much sooner.

  The cities were wasted, as I’ve said. No real services, and no government left. It was simply a ruin. People who hadn’t liked living within the rules of society before suddenly were there to take advantage of the chaos. As if the disaster had pulled them out of the ground where they had slumbered, there were now gangs and thugs galore. Anyone who could leave, left the area, and those who stayed protected themselves. No laws—none that were being upheld, anyway.

  Into this boiling chaos entered Gabriel. I don’t remember when I first heard his name. Maybe it was mentioned by some reporter as someone in the Cities. Maybe it was mentioned by someone else around me. I remember having heard the name several times before I realized I had missed something important.

  Gabriel was taming the Twin Cities. Somehow this man who hadn’t even been known before the bombings was rising as the defender and law of the Twin Cities. He seemed to have his own gang of men, and had apparently thrown the previous government and whatever constitution Minnesota had into the garbage and started anew. In other words, Gabriel didn’t rise into power as governor; he rose to power as possibly the heart, but definitely the fist of the Cities.

  Order was restored, but a new order. Gabriel was in charge. He didn’t have to force this, for most of the people welcomed his order, however he got it. The ones who didn’t welcome him? I don’t know what happened to them, but they melted away or disappeared or went back underground. The Cities were news again, but the news was controlled by Gabriel now.

  This sounds so ominous as I write it, but it didn’t feel that way, not really. All who met him universally loved Gabriel. People couldn’t sign up to help him fast enough. When he went out he was feted like a rock star. The rock star image was even helped along by his bodyguards who went with him whenever he went out. They were part muscle, and part aides, I guess. He would point to something, and one of them would direct someone else and soon, whatever it was that Gabriel wanted would be done.

  Okay, yeah. I was a little amazed and nervous about the way he had rocketed to popular stardom. But I suppose I thought that it would take a strong man to get the Cities back on its feet again, so if Gabriel wanted to do it, then good for him. The thing that bothered me, and I couldn’t figure out why this bothered me, was that everyone loved him. There wasn’t a negative word heard from anyone who had met him. Not one. That seemed off to me somehow, but maybe he was really that great of a person. The other thing that bothered me was that he had come from nowhere. The reporters who seemed to want to find out more about who he was would dig and find nothing. Of course the records had been destroyed, and Internet was spotty at best, but no one seemed to wonder. From a country that usually knew whether its political leaders wore boxers or briefs, I thought this attitude of general acceptance was a little odd.

  Gabriel’s physical appearance was enough to probably earn him star status. He had skin that looked healthy and tanned, but I suspected it was as much of his natural skin color as any kind of tanning booth. His hair was dark, nearly black in his TV appearances, and cut longer than most men wore it, curling around his ears in a healthy shiny mane. Often a curly lock would fall into his face, and he would toss it away in a move that I wagered had most of the female watchers sighing. His face was strong, but also there was sensitivity there in his chiseled features as well. His cheekbones were high, and his eyes were dark—maybe brown or blue. He wore glasses that were barely there—the frameless kind. The total effect was of someone who was strong, intelligent and caring.

>   The strangest thing of all was the speed in which this all occurred. From the first time I heard of him as an important person in the Twin Cities to the day I realized he was in complete control there was only a matter of weeks. It just didn’t seem possible. What I hadn’t realized is that apparently Gabriel wasn’t content with just the Cities.

  Chapter 9: The Meeting, Continued

  While I had heard of Gabriel, I hadn’t ever even considered that his men might make an appearance in our little town. I didn’t know what to do, but whatever Fred had done was still in effect, and I felt calm and controlled. I waited for them to come closer to me before addressing them.

  “Hello men-from-Gabriel,” I said, smiling. “To what do we owe this honor?” These didn’t seem like words I would ever say. I wondered if I was channeling Abraham Lincoln. Perhaps I would recite the Gettysburg Address for an encore.

  The men stopped at the bottom of the steps, then two went to one side of the stage to go up the stairs there, and the other one stayed where he was, looking like he was at parade rest.

  The man who was the oldest of the three and looked to be the leader smiled at me and leaned over the microphone to speak. “We are here to offer you the chance to join with Gabriel.”

  A muttering broke out in the audience as people spoke to each other about this unexpected turn of events. The man waited until it was quiet. I waited as well. As long as these people were polite, I wasn’t going to do anything that might upset their boss. After all, we weren’t that far from the Twin Cities.

  Once it was quiet, the man spoke again. “Joining with Gabriel means that you will have some protection from the gangs that are roaming about the countryside. It means you will be part of our supply chain of goods. It means that, through Gabriel, you will have a voice to the rest of the world.”