Burn District 1 (8 page)

Running up the stairs, Victor went to Lexie’s room first. He gently shook her.

“Lexie, Lexie, wake up,” he said urgently. He put his hand gently over her mouth and whispered, “Shhh.”

“Lexie, Mandy is alive. She is waiting downstairs for us. You mustn’t say a word. Get dressed right away and get down to my office. Do you hear what I’m saying?” He looked at her terrified eyes, and she nodded her head.

“I’m going to wake up your mother now, so I need you to do as I ask.” He moved his hand away and she nodded, understanding after what she’d been through, this seemed like a natural next step. He left without saying anything further, hopeful she’d follow his orders.

Katherine wasn’t going to be as easy. She struggled against his hand. “What are you talking about?”

“Just keep it down, dear. If the neighbors hear anything and call the police, Miranda could really be in trouble. She’s waiting for you, so you need to come now.”

“Miranda’s downstairs?” Victor nodded his head.

“Danny’s waiting out in their car. Hurry,” he whispered. Pulling his jeans on over his damp underpants, he grabbed a shirt and his wallet, wondering if they were leaving for good, if he should take a toothbrush, or tell Katherine to bring her make up bag.

Lexie was already on the stairs, running toward her sister. The reunion was heartbreaking, both girls holding each other, but in minutes when Katherine appeared and had her turn, they were pushed out the door. Miranda had his laptop already.

“The only reason I’m taking this is because of that email,” she said. “The one with the Winston Clarke video.” The unspoken words,
in case your house survives.

“Are we coming back?” Katherine asked.

Miranda shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mom, no.” They got into the back of the van. Victor assumed the man driving or the one in the passenger seat was the same man who’d grabbed him from behind. There was no one else with them. Katherine was hugging Danny and they were whispering as the van pulled out of the driveway with the lights off. Miranda was sitting with Victor and Lexie, apologizing for causing them worry and heartache.

“How did it happen? We got a call saying you were dead,” Katherine said. “It’s in all the papers.”

“I’ll answer all your questions in time. Right now, the less you know about me, the better. No one is looking for me now.” She didn’t
add because they have a body carrying her library card.

“Won’t they begin to wonder if we suddenly disappear?” Miranda shook her head.

“Mom, you just have to trust me. I’m so sorry. You’ll see, okay? It won’t be long.” The words had just left her mouth, suspended in air when a blast rocked the van.

“Fuck!” driver Ed yelled.

“Drive faster,” Alex shouted. Victor and the others twisted around in their seats to see what had happened and it was too much for Katherine who cried out, “Oh god! What was that?” The others demanding an explanation, Miranda shrugged her shoulders. What could she say that would mollify them?

A police car, lights whirling, sped past, ignoring the black van. Victor poked his daughter in the arm. “You told me that our neighborhood wouldn’t be burned.” Miranda looked at her wailing mother, and then back to her father.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Chapter 8

Victor Garrison shifted in his seat, his neck stiff and mouth dry. “Are you sure I can’t help with the driving? I feel like my can is growing to the vinyl.” Alex looked in the rearview mirror and grinned.

“I’ve got it covered for now. This car is not comfortable for long a trip, that’s for sure.” They’d been driving for hours, winding back and forth through detours necessary because of the destruction of the interstate.

“This mess was not expected,” Ed Baker said, taking a break from driving. “Informants be damned, supposedly the road system would remain intact, and we can see that is not what happened.”

“I guess the powers that be want to keep us in our place,” Miranda said. “They hoped we’d burrow in and wait for the bombs to drop. Instead, people are fleeing. The next best thing is to disrupt their journey by fucking up the roads.”

“Miranda, do you mind?” Katherine Garrison said from the backseat.

“Sorry, mother. But I’m afraid fucked up language will be the least of your problems in the future.”

“I wonder why they just don’t drop a bomb on the traffic jams of people fleeing,” Alex said. “Seems like it might be easier.”

“Watch. That’ll be next,” Ed said.

Katherine Garrison was finally coming out of
shock,
seething. Slow-burning anger at her daughter replaced the amazement that not only were they fleeing for their lives, but the home she’d built for the past twenty five years had blown up right before her eyes. It was intentional; their house singled out. Victor kept telling her they were lucky to be out, that street by street, the area might be annihilated, the other residents not given fair warning as they had been. Katherine couldn’t help blaming Miranda, who made as much sense with her ridiculous conversation, as if they were living a science fiction nightmare.

The first night
on the run
, as Miranda and her two tough-guy boyfriends kept referring to what they were doing, they only stopped once for twenty minutes at a roadside rest area to use the bathroom. One of the men was always looking around with his gun drawn while the other one drove. The major highways blocked with piles of concrete, or bridges out, or burnout cars; they’d have to back up and turn around and find an alternative route, ending up taking twelve hours to drive what would normally had taken six. As daylight loomed, Katherine was horrified at what she saw around her; mile after mile of devastation. It was just starting to click for Katherine; Miranda might be on to something.

“I don’t understand,” she said repeatedly, crying. “Who did this? Why?” Victor tried to explain it to her the first day, but it was beyond comprehension. She trusted the government; it had provided a profitable living for her husband, an honest, loyal man. He’d never agree to all the destruction, so for him to say the government did it just didn’t make any sense.

“But why?” she asked over again. “What does it accomplish?”

“If we had the time, I’d love to show you the areas that weren’t burned,” Miranda said. “Wherever the wealthy live, the houses stand.”

“But what about our neighborhood?” she cried.

“Except for our house,” Miranda said. “Your punishment for having a rebel for a daughter.”

“Well, thank you so much!” Katherine hollered. “Couldn’t you have gotten a job, or found a husband like the other girls in your class? Why upset the apple cart? For what?”

Miranda turned away. Maybe her mother
didn’t
get it, not yet. They’d zig-zagged for another day before coming to Ed Baker’s mother’s house just outside of Atlanta. Dunwoody was a lovely enclave of homes.

“I guess I’m surprised it’s still standing,” Ed said, pulling into the driveway. “She’ll certainly be shocked to see me. Wait here and I’ll break the news that she’s entertaining tonight.” Ed got out of the car and walked up the path to the front door. He didn’t open it and go in, as Katherine had expected him to, but knocked and waited. Soon, a slender woman with curly salt and pepper hair opened the door. They could hear her cry of delight when she saw her son standing before her, with smiles and laughter, quickly changing to concern when he told her about the six people who were waiting to recover from a trip from hell.

They watched as he jumped off the porch and waved them in. “She’s okay, it took her a minute to understand but we’ll clue her in and it will be fine.”

Victor looked at Katherine and shrugged his shoulders as they got out of the car. Introductions took place, but he couldn’t remember who was who, the conversation swirling around him. He hoped he wasn’t having a stroke. Then it occurred to him that he hadn’t had any alcohol in forty-eight hours; perhaps the reason he was so disconnected.

Feeling like a dishrag, hours before he’d put himself into a state of suspended animation when he realized the situation was completely out of his control, going with the flow, taking the punches as they came. The most difficult thing was seeing death. He’d grabbed Lexie’s head and pulled her into a bear hug so she couldn’t see the first burn they came to outside of D.C. Bodies were piled up everywhere, along the gutter, in the doorways of shops, hanging out of open car doors. Katherine seemed not to notice, as if she were in a trance. The smell was overwhelming, acrid and putrid at the same time. Danny retched and continued to heave until they got outside of town, but the smell lingered in their hair and clothes. Ed’s mother; Mrs. Baker, delicately put a tissue up to her nose.

“Sorry mother, we need clothes and baths. Can you help us out?”

“I have things for the ladies,” she said, her Georgia accent not quite able to cover her repulsion. “For the men, there might be something in Frank’s old room.”

“My brother,” Ed explained. “Let’s go upstairs, shall we? Mother, can we use your bathroom, too?” The Garrisons followed Ed up the steep staircase to the upper floor, and the men went off in one direction while the women followed Mrs. Baker into her room.

The soft colors and old-fashioned floral fabrics reminded Katherine of her mother’s house in Roanoke. The memories and the stress, the bad smells and exhaustion were too much for her, and she gave in, starting to cry. Miranda went to her immediately.

“Mother, I’m so sorry,” she said softly, putting her arms around her. Mrs. Baker stood by patiently, confused. It was apparent these people had been through something terrible, but she didn’t know what.

“I just can’t believe this is happening to us,” Katherine said. Mrs. Baker stepped closer.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer words of encouragement,” she said. “But I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Let me get Ed,” Miranda said. “Mother, stay here with Mrs. Baker.” Katherine didn’t want to sit on the woman’s pristine bedspread with her dirty clothes, so she stood in the middle of the room while Miranda went to Frank’s room.

“Hey Eddie,” she said. “Your mother is a tad baffled by what’s going on. Maybe you outta have a word with her. It’s just a matter of days, maybe hours before something happens down here.” Ed scratched his beard.

“She’s probably confused by all these white people in her house. If I tell her what’s happening, I’m responsible for her,” he said, frowning.

“Ah, yeah, right! She’s your mother.”

“So what are you saying? We have to bring her along?”

“Probably,” Miranda said. “We can’t leave her here, can we?”

“I doubt if anything will happen in Dunwoody,” Ed said sarcastically. “But maybe further south, down by the airport. That’s a concern.” Looking around the house, at the patterned wallpaper and old-fashioned curtains at the window, he gave in. This was his boyhood home.

“Oh fuck.” Turning to his mother’s room with Miranda following, Katherine Garrison and Mrs. Baker were standing in the same position where Miranda had left them.

“Mother, you understand Mr. Garrison is
Senator
Garrison, correct?”

“No, I didn’t know that. Is that right?” she replied. Ed looked at her carefully, wondering if she was all there.

“You feeling okay, Mom?”

“Yes, I’m just fine. I guess I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“The country is at war,” he said, slightly premature but not for long. “The senator and his family are running for their life. I am, too. Miranda just reminded me that it’s just a matter of time before you may be in danger as well.”

“I know we’re at war in the Middle East,” she said. “But that won’t affect me here.”

“Mom, our country is at war right now, on this soil.” The sound of an airplane, a jet, not a prop crop duster, so close the house shook, flew overhead. Concerned, Miranda and Ed looked at each other and went to the window to see if they could determine what it was.

“That’s ridiculous! Why, I would have heard something on the television if that were true.”

“I’ll turn a computer on now and you can read for yourself…” The words were out of Ed’s mouth when an explosion rocked the house with almost enough impact to knock their feet out from under them. Miranda grabbed her mother’s arm and reached for Mrs. Baker next while Victor and Alex came running. Danny, in the hallway bathroom shower yelled, asking what had happened.

“That was too close,” Miranda said. “We need to get out of here, now.” Mrs. Baker started to protest, but Ed’s tone of voice stopped her.

“Grab your purse and let’s go,” he said firmly. “One of you, get that kid out of the shower.” Katherine, shocked into silence again, allowed Miranda to lead her back down the stairs while the others argued. Ed ran into his mother’s kitchen, grabbed a canvas bag and filled it with anything edible. Alex yelled for him to hurry.

Light grew brighter as they descended the steps, evidence of fire. The screams of injured and frightened people increased in intensity when Alex opened the door, and Mrs. Baker gasped in horror as the flames from a burn rose up over the rooftops just a few blocks away. Danny, hair streaming, ran down the stairs to join them, Victor behind.

“Shit,” Alex yelled. “Is everyone coming?” Car doors opened and the group piled in, Ed driving again and Miranda getting into the far rear seat of the van so there’d be room for his mother, who sputtered and fussed and was generally miserable, crying about leaving her house.

“It’s going to burn to the ground anyway,” Ed yelled. “You should be thrilled you’re alive, with your son.” His words hit her and she started to weep. Katherine Garrison patted her hand, finally pulling out of her own misery to comfort a stranger as Ed put the car into reverse and sped down the driveway. Neighbors stuffed their belongings into cars and rounded up pets, the streets would soon clog with escapees as the fire spread in their direction.

“Step on it, Ed,” Alex urged. Fire trucks coming toward them would block the exits to the neighborhood before long, unintentionally obstructing the path to safety for those who would try to flee, often leading to death, a scene reenacted across the nation that evening as second and third napalm bombs exploded, burning, covering everything in site with molten flames.