The day after: An apocalyptic morning (51 page)

              The air was damp and chilly and she shivered as she put on a pair of jeans and a couple of heavy flannel shirts. She tied her blonde hair back in a loose ponytail and then strapped on the .45 pistol that she, like all of the other permanent members of the guard force, carried with her everywhere. She slipped on her boots and stepped out of her lonely bedroom, hearing the loud snores of Skip drifting through his own closed door. He was usually awake by now and he usually didn't snore when he was asleep. Looking down the hallway she saw that Jack's door was shut as well. So he had come back at some point during the night.

              Dismissing her roommates from her mind and stifling a yawn, she walked to the living room and pulled on her rain slicker. She buttoned it tightly and then slipped out the door into the pre-dawn blackness, her feet leading her to the community center by feel.

              Stacy gave her a plate of breakfast when she got there - corned beef hash and deep-fried potatoes - and a large cup of steaming coffee. Christine thanked her as politely as she could manage under the circumstances noting that the pregnant woman, though very tired looking, seemed to have a pleasant glow about her nonetheless. It was the glow of someone who had found a partner after a long time without one. Christine envied her. The two women did not talk to each other - Stacy nervous about what her new lover's sister might or might not think, Christine just too damn tired and upset.

              As she sat down at one of the empty tables her eyes found Paula sitting three tables over, picking at her food more than eating it. Paula, like Christine herself, looked a little worse for wear this morning. Christine had no pity for her. When their eyes met for a moment she glared at her until the other woman's eyes dropped in shame. Had she really considered that bitch her friend the day before? Had she really confided in her the story of her previous life and of the nightmares she sometimes had about the shooting on the other side of the bridge? She had trusted her and her trust had been betrayed in the most awful way. According to Skip, Paula had known all along that the two of them were lovers. She had known that and still she had plotted to get Skip into bed with her. And now that she had had him she was offering to share him with her? To share? What kind of woman did she think Christine was? What kind of sicko was she? As far as Christine was concerned, that sick bitch could just have Skip. And good riddance!

              She ate all of her food and drank down her entire cup of coffee, feeling the caffeine take a little of the edge off her fatigue. She gave one last glare at Paula, who refused to look back at her, and then carried her plate over to the cart.

              "Do you want some more coffee, Christine?" Stacy asked her hesitantly. "You look like you could use it this morning."

              Christine looked at her, knowing that Stacy was violating a rationing rule by offering a second cup. But she also knew that Jessica and Dale routinely helped themselves to as much coffee and other items from the kitchen as they pleased. "Sure," she said, grabbing her cup back off the cart and handing it to her. "Thanks."

              "Just be sure to bring the cup back at dinner. And don't rat me out."

              "I will and I won't," she promised, waiting as she waddled around the corner. A moment later she returned with a steaming cup of Starbucks house blend in her hand. She took it, thanked her, and then gave her a small smile of her own. "I heard about you and Jack," she said.

              Stacy gave her a nervous look. "Word travels fast, doesn't it?"

              "It certainly does," Christine said, knowing just by looking at her that Stacy knew about Paula and Skip as well. "Is it serious?"

              "I think so," she said. "I asked him to move in with me. He told me that he would."

              "Good for both of you," she said, extending her hand and giving her a hug. "I guess that kind of makes you my sister-in-law now, doesn't it?"

              "I guess it does," she said, returning the hug. "I'm glad you're not... you know... mad or anything. You know, with me being so much older than him."

              "He's a big boy now," Christine said. "And I'm not his mom. What he does is none of my business."

              She gave a sour look. "I only wish the rest of the town felt that way. I envision some serious shit hitting the fan this morning over this."

              "I wouldn't worry too much," Christine said. "I mean, who gives a damn what people think?"

              "Not me, that's for sure," she said bravely. "I just get a little bummed about how self-righteous they all are, you know? Why should they care about it? What possible difference does it make to them? So he's fourteen. He's a very mature fourteen and I like him a lot. And its not like the rest of the men were beating down my door anyway, were they? This is a bad place and time to be a girl. There isn't much for a pregnant twenty year-old from out of town around here. You need to take what love you're offered and Jack offered."

              Christine looked at her carefully for a moment and then said her good-byes. As she left the community center and headed for her post, Stacy's words were echoing in her mind.

              "This meeting is hereby called to order," Jessica said in her loud, nasal voice. She then rapped the gavel she insisted on utilizing in meetings upon her desk, sending sharp sound waves across the room.

              It was 8:30 AM and Skip was hungover. His head ached dully, pulsating in sickening waves that came and went with the beating of his heart. Despite the two liters of water that he had swallowed down before leaving the house, his mouth was dry as a desert and craving more. His stomach was perhaps the worst. He had drunk all of that tequila the night before on an empty stomach and now his stomach was making him regret it. It rolled and rolled in a sea of nausea, constantly threatening to either rebel upward or downward but never quite following through. For perhaps the hundredth time in the twenty years that he had been drinking, he gave a solemn vow that he would never do it again.

              "Mr. Adams," Jessica intoned sharply, noting that he was looking very intently at a spot upon his desk. "Are you with us this morning?"

              "Yeah," he said, looking up at her with his reddened eyes. "But could you chill with the gavel? Just for this meeting?"

              "It's not my fault you were drinking up all of the stores in our supply room last night," she told him. "Now, can we commence with the topic of the meeting?"

              "Sure," Skip mumbled, wishing he could go back to bed. "Fire away."

              Dale and Paul, both of whom were at their own desks, also gave their consent to begin.

              "Very well," she said. "The reason I called this emergency meeting has probably already reached everyone's ears by way of the rumor mill. I know that Mr. Adams has heard of it since I personally informed him last night. Of course he chose not to do anything about the Micker and he even threatened me if I tried to put a stop to it. I would like to address that issue as well after we address the main issue."

              "Jess," Paul said. "Could we just get to the point here? Are you talking about Stacy and Jack?"

              "Yes I am," she said, leaning forward. "It came to my attention last night that the two of them were seen leaving the community center after dinner clean up and that they went back to Stacy's assigned house."

              "It came to your attention because you had them followed," Skip said. "And that is an issue that I would like to address later."

              Jessica ignored him and went on. "Now we have no way of knowing exactly what went on behind those closed doors," she said. "But I think we all have a pretty good idea of what it was. Jack did not emerge from that house until nearly 11:30 last night. He..."

              "I thought I told you to call off your spy last night," Skip interrupted.

              "You were in no condition to give such orders," she said. "You were drunk and not using good judgment. I used my own judgment and kept watch."

              "Jessica," Paul said. "I don't think you should be following our citizens around and spying on them. That is very secret police kind of stuff."

              "I was trying to prevent a potential crime," she said.

              "A crime?" Paul said.

              "Having sex with a minor is a crime!" she nearly screamed. "For goodness sake, am I the only one who knows this?"

              "I know it," Dale said. Nobody acknowledged or even looked at him.

              "It is my proposal," Jessica said, "that we bring that hussy in here and that we bring that young man in here and that we interrogate them to find out exactly what went on in that house last night."

              "Interrogate them?" Skip said, looking up at the ceiling pleadingly. "Oh please."

              "How can you not be concerned about this?" she demanded of Skip. "He's living in your house. You're the one that's closest to him!"

              "If you can tell me what kind of harm has come to him as a result of Stacy boffing him, then I'll be glad to be concerned about it."

              "He's a fourteen year old boy," she said. "He needs to be protected from sluts like her."

              "Why?" Skip asked. "Like I told you last night, Jack is old enough to man a guard post and kill intruders when he has to. I see no reason why we should concern ourselves with his sex life."

              "He's not supposed to be having a sex life," Jessica said. "He's not old enough to understand the ramifications and complexities of it."

              "Are you afraid he might knock her up?" Paul, who was smoking a cigarette, asked seriously.

              "Don't downplay the seriousness of this," she told him, pointing an angry finger. "He's not old enough to make the decision of whether or not to have sex. What that woman did is statutory rape!"

              Skip sighed, sipping from the coffee cup in front of him. He set it down. "Perhaps you've noticed Jess, that we don't really live in a perfect world anymore. In a perfect world, or even in an imperfect one similar to the one we had a few months ago, I would tend to agree with you. I would probably find some fault with a twenty-year-old woman seducing a fourteen-year-old boy. But we had civilization then, didn't we? We had police and courts and armies and navies to keep everything civil. Boys Jack's age didn't have to kill people in order to survive. They didn't have to watch their parents murdered right in front of them and then leave them where they lie for the scavengers to eat. They didn't have to learn to be infantry soldiers in a hostile environment in a Micker of two days just so they could keep drawing breath. Am I starting to make a point to you here?"

              "Just because he's been through a lot," she said, "does not make him a man."

              "Actually," Paul said, "I believe that it does. I go to sleep at night and I feel secure because I know that Jack is watching over this town for me. He is one of the best guards we have here. I've seen him work. He is a man and it is my opinion that he is able to make decisions like a man. If he wants to have sex with Stacy or with any other woman in town that offers it to him, than I certainly am not going to try to stop him."

              "Nor will I," Skip said, "take any security measures to prevent him from doing as he pleases in this relationship. It is his choice and his choice alone and frankly, we have no business putting our noses into it."

              Jessica ignored what they were saying, not wanting to hear it. She had made up her mind that something needed to be done and it was going to be done. "There's a motion on the table," she said, pounding her gavel again. "The motion is whether or not Stacy and Jack should be brought in and subjected to interrogation regarding what may have transpired in her assigned house last night, the purpose of which is to determine whether or not a crime has been committed. I vote aye on the motion."

              "As do I," Dale said, as automatically as a computer program.

              "Nay," Paul said in disgust.

              "It's two to one," Jessica said. "The motion passes. Skip, will you bring them in please?"

              He rubbed his temple for a moment, trying to will the headache away. "If we conduct this interrogation," he said, trying a new tack, "what rules are we going to use?"

              "Rules?" she said.

              "What if they don't want to answer any questions?" he asked. "Do they still have Fifth Amendment rights? What if they want a lawyer? Are we going to provide one for them? If we do, what are we using as law? Are we talking about the California State penal code here, or what?"

              "They will answer any questions that are posed of them," Jessica said. "That's how it will work."

              "And suppose they don't? How are you going to force them? Surely you're not suggesting that I torture them, are you?"

              "No, but..."

              "And what if they do confess their sins?" he asked next. "What if they do that? What if they say, yes, we fucked our goddamn brains out all night long. What then? Are you going to try to expel her?"