Shell Shocked (11 page)

“Everybody is fighting in a different way,” I said. “You're doing your part by writing the newspaper and driving up production.”

He smiled. “Speaking of which, I think it's time for me to go out and do my part. I'm going off-site to do an interview. Pull the door closed when you leave the office.”

“Yes, sir. I'm going in a minute myself, to have lunch at the cafeteria. Maybe I can eat with my brother … he's working today.”

He looked at his watch. “It's twenty to twelve.”

“I'd better get going, I lost track of the time.”

“That happens to me when I'm in the middle of a story. You'd better hurry out.”

The cafeteria was in one of the buildings in the middle of the grounds, and our office was on the far side—a good distance away.

“Why don't you take the camera with you?” Mr. Chalmers suggested.

“But … I'm just going to lunch.”

“There's no telling when a story might come your way. Besides, it's not doing any good sitting on the counter in the corner. Go ahead, take it.”

I took the camera and we left the office together. He pulled the door closed, revealing the lettering on the glass: “
THE COMMANDO
: A VOICE FOR DEMOCRACY.”

“I won't be back until tomorrow,” Mr. Chalmers said. “Are you going to be around?”

“Definitely.”

“You know, this isn't supposed to be a full-time job for you.”

“My mother and brother are both working tomorrow,
so I've got nothing else to do, really. What else is there to do on a Sunday?”

“I guess I'll see you, then.”

Mr. Chalmers went off to his car and I headed for the cafeteria. I had just enough time to get there—actually, if I timed things right I might get there early. Since the plant was so large and spread out there was a big, old bus that went from building to building. But there was no one waiting at the bus stop—I must have missed it. I'd have to walk.

Mr. Chalmers was right, I was spending all the time I could around the plant. That was partly because I knew the more I was there, the better the chances of finding out something. It was a pretty fascinating place, and I'd got to know it well over the last two weeks.

The whole grounds took up almost three thousand acres, and there were more than a hundred buildings and outbuildings on it. The plant was deliberately designed so that the buildings were spread out. That way, a fire would be less likely to spread, and any explosion would be more isolated. A lot of the buildings—more than half of them—had banks of earth heaped up around them. That meant that there was something explosive or flammable inside. If there were an explosion, then the barriers would direct the force of the blast up instead of out.

Over the past three months there had been a drive at the plant to increase production by twenty-five percent, so a whole lot of people had been hired—over a thousand new employees. There were now ten thousand workers. Because they worked on three shifts, seven days a week, at any given time almost one-third of them were in the plant. Almost another third weren't working but were still on the grounds. Many of the unmarried employees—people like Daphne—lived right there. There were buildings, Women's Residences, each of which held one hundred women. There were five different buildings like that for women and one for men. And employees stuck around for the social activities, too—movies twice a week, bingo once a week, Saturday evening dances.

One thing I'd been checking out was the procedure at the front gates as people came into the plant. The guards there tried their best, but they really didn't have the manpower to inspect everybody thoroughly. There was also a time factor. They couldn't delay people at the gate or the line wouldn't start on time. They needed to let people through to keep production up. But they could have been letting anybody through, carrying anything. I knew a little bit about plastic explosives. Somebody could bring in a piece the size of a slice of bread—heck, it could be smuggled into the plant in somebody's sandwich—and nobody would ever know. Not until they'd smuggled in
enough to blow up the whole plant. That didn't make me feel very secure.

I made it to the cafeteria and stepped inside. It was a bustle of activity. This was where the people who lived on the grounds ate all their meals, while a lot of shift workers would often come here, even if they'd brought their own food.

Hundreds of people were waiting in line, trays in hand, and it seemed as though every seat at every one of the dozens and dozens of tables was filled. The workers were mainly women. Some were older, my mother's age, and then there were those like Daphne who should have still been in school. Almost all of them had their hair pinned up and held in place by kerchiefs and bandanas.

Jack was spending a lot of time with Daphne—not only breaks and lunch, but most evenings. He'd somehow arranged for the two of them to have the same shift—a different shift from my mother's. This meant that my mother didn't know how much time they were spending together, though I was pretty sure she suspected. I didn't care about that. What bugged me was that Jack was spending too much time looking at Daphne and not enough time looking around. It was hard to see spies when you had stars in your eyes.

I walked through the cafeteria, looking from table to table, from face to face, trying to find him. There were a
few men, but no Jack. He was in the Maintenance Department, so his breaks could be different from everybody else's. I knew he'd want to be here now, though, because Daphne was going to have her lunch break. I didn't see her, either.

Just then Doris and Juliette came strolling in with a bunch of other girls—none of them were Daphne, but they might know where she was. If I found her, I'd probably find Jack.

I went over. “Hello!”

“Hi, Georgie!” Juliette sang out.

“I was wondering if you've seen my brother.”

“He's outside at the picnic table with Daphne.”

“Good, I'm going to—”

“Haven't you heard the expression
two's company, three's a crowd
?” Juliette said. She reached out and took my arm. “Unless you want to make it a double date?”

“Like I told you before, you're not mature enough for me.” I brushed her hand off and walked away.

“Does this mean we're over?” Juliette called out after me.

I didn't turn around. I kept walking. If she wanted to look like a fool that was her business.

Outside, I saw them almost immediately. They were sitting side by side, by themselves, at a picnic table, in the shade cast by one of the buildings. I walked right up to them. They were so absorbed, staring at each other, that
they didn't notice me practically standing right on top of them. So much for Jack keeping his eyes open.

Finally he looked up. He didn't look pleased to see me.

“Hello, George,” Daphne said sweetly. She didn't seem unhappy. “Do you want to join us?” she asked.

“No, he doesn't!” Jack said.

I ignored my brother and sat down on the empty side opposite them. Jack went from not pleased to really angry in the blink of an eye. I didn't care. I had the trump card, because I knew things that he didn't want either Daphne or Mom to know.

“My guess is that he misses you,” Daphne said to Jack. “I know
I
would.” She reached over and took his hand and his whole face softened.

“I do miss him,” I agreed, and I wasn't lying about that. Between my school and his shifts I hadn't seen him in days.

“So, how's school going?” Jack asked.

“About the same.”

“And how is my buddy's eye looking these days?”

“A little bit better. It's more purple than black.”

“What's with the camera?” Jack asked.

“Mr. Chalmers wants me to get to know how to use it so I can publish pictures with my column sometimes.”

“Take a picture of us,” Daphne said. She slid in closer to Jack.

I brought the camera up to my eye and tried to focus it. It was a pretty complicated camera and I wasn't really sure how to use it.

“You gonna take that picture or what?” Jack asked.

“I'm trying to get it right,” I said. “After all, Mom will want to at least see what Daphne looks like.”

Jack's face looked like thunder.

“I'd like to meet her, too,” Daphne said. “It's just that we don't ever seem to find a time that works.”

“That was a very good article you wrote,” Jack said.

I knew what he was doing. He was trying to change the subject.

“It was very good,” Daphne agreed. “Everybody on my line was talking about it. I told them it was written about my boyfriend's father by his brother.”

Jack beamed—I think it was the
boyfriend
comment, and not because he was proud of my writing.

A short ways off from where we sat, the big employee bus rumbled up and came to a stop. I looked at it and then did a double take—there was thick black smoke coming from under the hood. It looked like it was overheating or—everybody was rushing off the bus, screaming and yelling! It wasn't overheating. The bus was on fire!

JACK AND I
both jumped up from the bench and ran closer. The driver, who was really old, had scrambled off the bus and was desperately trying to open the hood. The heat and the smoke drove him back, but he tried over and over again. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around one hand to protect him from the heat as he struggled to pop the latch. When the hood opened he was practically thrown backwards by the flames. He started to scream in pain—he must have been burned!

Thick black smoke and bright orange flames soared upward. Despite it all, the engine of the bus was somehow still running. People gathered around to watch, and then I remembered that I still had the camera. I didn't need to just watch, I could take pictures. I pulled the camera up and took a few—

“What are you doing?” Jack demanded.

“I'm trying to—”

“That bus … it can't stay here … it might explode.”

Jack broke through the crowd and ran for the bus. For a split second I stood frozen in place.

“Here, take this,” I said to Daphne, and handed her the camera.

I went after Jack, who ran through the open door of the bus and up the stairs, jumping into the driver's seat. This time I didn't hesitate. I jumped on as he clanked the bus into gear and it started to move!

“Get off!” Jack yelled.

“No!” I screamed.

“It might blow up! I have to get it away from the buildings!”

He inched the bus forward and started to crank the wheel to go left. I reached out and turned it the other way.

“No, no! To the right, the best way is to go right!”

“Are you sure?”

“Left takes you closer to more buildings! Just do what I'm telling you!”

He cranked the wheel to the right and the bus groaned as it made the turn.

Jack craned his neck to try to see forward, around the raised hood and through the smoke and the flames. He could hardly see anything so he couldn't move any faster, but he couldn't afford not to go faster.

I climbed down the steps, grabbed the railing and leaned out through the open door. That way I could see around and in front.

“To the right!” I yelled. “Turn to the right!”

Jack did what I ordered and he curved around a building, but a second one appeared right in front of us.

“Now left … left … left!” I screamed.

He cranked the wheel and the bus jerked and I was flung around, my strong grip on the railing the only thing that stopped me from flying right out the open door. I regained my balance and tried to peer through the smoke and flame.

“Straight, and go faster!” I yelled.

Jack changed gears and there was a loud grinding sound. The bus momentarily slowed and then jumped forward as the engine raced. We were coming up quickly to an embankment and would have to turn fast.

“Get ready to hang another right!” I yelled.

“Just tell me when.”

“Soon … in about five seconds … four … three … two … now! Turn the wheel hard!”

The whole bus tilted as Jack cranked the wheel, and this time the force sent me flying back into the bus. I tried to hang on but we seemed to be up on two wheels and I thought that we were going to tip over! The bus slammed sideways into the embankment and we bounced back,
almost tipping the other way before it regained its balance and we rocketed forward with all four wheels on the ground.

“What now?” Jack yelled.

I scrambled down the stairs again, trying to move fast but afraid of the ground that was passing by even more quickly below the open door. I grabbed the rail and leaned out, but the smoke was thicker and the flames were higher. I couldn't see anything.

“George, what do I do?” Jack yelled. There was desperation in his voice.

I went to the bottom step, still clinging to the rail. I leaned around the open door and I was hit in the face by wind and smoke and heat. I used my free hand to partially block my eyes and then looked forward and—we were coming up quickly to another building!

“Brake! Brake! Brake!” I screamed.

The words had barely escaped my lips when Jack slammed on the brakes. The bus slowed dramatically, but I didn't! My face smashed into the door. Pain shot up into my brain, and I nearly lost my grip on the railing.

I recovered my scrambled senses quickly. “Crank it to the left!” I screamed.

The bus groaned as it swerved and made the turn and—the windshield cracked and then shattered, showering pieces of glass into the bus! There was a surge of heat
and the smoke flowed into the vehicle! I looked over at Jack—he was crouched down in the seat, desperately trying to use the dashboard as protection.

There was no time to think—no time to be cautious. I leaned out and tried to see the next turn. Ahead, through the smoke, I could see only green field. We raced by the last building. We were past the buildings, we were safe … no, we were still in danger … we had to get off the bus!