The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (43 page)

Sara answered softly,
“
Yes. As unbelievable as it sounds, he smashed the man
’
s head with a huge vase.
”

Silence followed the end of Sara
’
s narration. An explanation had been given, and satisfactorily, to her mind. She was aware that there would be suspicion attached to the man
’
s death, so she had told the story quickly, and to the point.

To Dr. Seevers, the tale had sounded logical and conclusive. His purpose was not to enforce the law, nor did he seem inclined to report this infraction of the law. Nothing could be accomplished by compelling this woman to repeat her tale before authorities.

“
Has he a family in the area?
”
the doctor asked.

“
I really couldn
’
t say. We never talked about anything other than the yards,
”
Sara answered.

He hesitated for a moment. Then finally, he said,
“
We will take him to Washington with us. I
’
ll fill out the proper notice of death and present it to local authorities once they
’
re operative again. Eventually his family will be notified,
”
he said.

“
Thank you, Doctor. Now, give me another minute and I
’
ll be ready.
”
Turning, she walked rapidly back into her bedroom.

Sara was anxious to be gone. The past few days had nearly destroyed her memories of the lovely home overlooking the blue Pacific. Without Ben, the home no longer existed—it served no purpose. With her packing completed, she hesitated before the mirror. God, what a wretch, she thought. A white bone comb lay on the dresser. She snatched it in her hand and sank the teeth into the matted knots of blond hair. A shampoo. If only she could wash it. The teeth had snagged. With growing impatience, Sara yanked at the tangles, and a whole hank of hair fell out of her scalp. It hadn
’
t hurt. Actually she didn
’
t remember tugging particularly hard, but there it was—a long blond skein hanging from her comb. She stared in disbelief. Then, deliberately, she sectioned out several smaller strands, and gently pulled at them. They, too, ripped free of the scalp. With dismay, she realized that she was losing her hair. Something was causing the roots to die and the strands to drop off her head. Very, very carefully she selected one last strand, a strand from near the back of her head. Exerting only the most minimal of effort, she gave a light tug. Again the hair pulled loose from the scalp. Throwing down the comb, she clutched the heavy purse in her arms, and taking a final look around the room where Ben had died, she walked out.

Dr. Seevers was waiting as she stepped into the hail and said,
“
I
’
m ready to go, Doctor.
”

             
             
             
             
Chapter Fifteen

Two Months Later
 

‘
Washington, D.C., in December can be a bleak, dreary city. Frigid air hung over it on this chilly morning leaving a powdery coat of crystalline frost on the ground. By ten o
’
clock puny rays of sunlight had dissolved the frozen moisture on all but the shady sides of buildings, but the chill remained.

Cecil rested in a slightly hunched position on the rear seat of the taxi. As a Californian, he had maintained a wardrobe of light weight suits and summer clothes. Now, the outfit he wore was unsuitable for warding off the cold, and adding the lining to his raincoat had not increased his protection sufficiently. He turned the poplin collar up around his neck.

Washington had changed over the past twenty years. Not the city itself, though it had enormous new buildings, but the towns surrounding it had changed. During his military years, he had served a brief appointment within the huge, brown complex that was the Bureau of Personnel. Directly across Columbia Pike from the Bureau stood the gray compound of Arlington Barracks, one of the several naval outposts within the Washington area, and behind it, Shirley Highway stretched into Virginia. Commercial buildings had sprung up from what used to be broad, well-manicured expanses of lawns and foliage.

He instructed the driver to go slowly around the clover-leaf at the Pentagon so that he could get a better view of the structure that housed the military empire of the country.

Arlington Cemetery was the same impressive, sobering sight as always, with its row upon row of small white markers, geometrically spaced and labeling each plot as the final resting spot of an American soldier. John F. Kennedy was there. Before leaving, he
’
d visit the monument of the assassinated president, and go to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier to witness, once again, the changing of the guard. Was the guard still changed, he wondered, or had that been eliminated? Listening to that lone bugle, hearing the smart slap of rifles in salute, it made him proud to be a citizen of this country.

The taxi crossed Arlington Memorial Bridge, moved slowly around Lincoln Memorial, and continued east on Constitution Avenue. The driver was sensitive to the shivering, pale man who had hailed him from the hotel. From his mirror, he had watched Cecil.
“
You
’
ve been here before, buddy?
”
His passenger was lost in thought and reflection at the scenes. Clearing his throat, the driver tried again.
“
You act like you
’
re seeing D.C. for the second time.
”

“
Huh? Oh, yes. I lived here for a short while—years ago. It has really changed.
”

“
Yeah, I
’
ll bet. Some things stay the same though. You ought to see the cherry blossoms in the spring.
”

“
I hear they
’
re some sight to behold,
”
Cecil remarked.
“
It was summer when I was here before. I used to go to band concerts that were held on a barge sitting on the Potomac, right beside Arlington Memorial Bridge. They were something, too.
”
How vividly he recalled the sway of the barge and the music.

The taxi pulled to a stop before the building and the driver said,
“
Here
’
s your address. Luck to you, mister, and enjoy your reunion.
”

Cecil tipped the driver and hesitated before ascending the steps. The government office building was not one of the new ones. Its age was established by the ancient weathering of the stone, and the strange V
’
s that substituted in the place of U
’
s on the overhead lettering. It was a typical structure in the capitol. Checking the buttons on his coat, he started up the stairs. Through the doors and down a hall on his left, referring to the letter once more to make certain he had the right suite, he entered the offices.

The receptionist was courteous as she greeted him.
“
Oh yes, Mr. Yeager. We hope you had a pleasant trip.
”

“
I did, thank you. However, I hoped to do a little sightseeing while here, so I declined your accommodations and selected a hotel in Arlington,
”
he said with politeness.

Her bright cheery smile flashed back at him.
“
Oh, that
’
s perfectly all right. The Senator only wanted to insure that you wouldn
’
t be inconvenienced, that
’
s why he thought all of you people would appreciate having arrangements made for you. When the meetings are finished, I will provide you with a chit to fill out, Mr. Yeager. You can be reimbursed for your food and lodging at that time.
”

“
There are others here, also?
”
he asked.

“
Yes indeed. Although it is early yet, one lady arrived a half hour ago.
”
She nodded toward a mahogany door.
“
Perhaps you
’
d like to meet her,
”
she replied as she pushed back her chair.

“
Don
’
t get up.
”
He smiled.
“
I
’
ll find my way.
”

The large rectangular chamber was designed for informal conferences. One end was filled with plush easy chairs and couches. Toward the opposite end extended a heavy wooden table, its sides flanked by chairs. The motif was harmoniously thought out, with just the proper degree of comfort, but not too much. Semi-transparent drapes admitted only a vestige of exterior light; lamps dimly illuminated the peach colored walls. It was a comfortable room, Cecil thought as he noticed the woman at the far end.

Her lonely figure sat, sunk deep into the cushions. The lamp nearest her had been turned off. On the floor by her side were a pair of crutches.

Cecil peered toward the woman, aware that something about her was vaguely familiar. He moved closer to her
“
Althea?
”
he asked tentatively.
“
Is that you?
”

She raised her head at his voice.
“
Yes. Who...?
”

“
It
’
s me. Cecil. Cecil Yeager.
”

“
Cecil! For heaven
’
s sake. I can
’
t believe it
’
s really you. What a surprise!
”
she said with genuine warmth.

He walked to her and dropped down by her chair.
“
Althea, I had no idea you
’
d be here.
”

She touched him on the shoulder.
“
My, you
’
re looking fit these days, though paler than I remember you.
”

“
It
’
s this cold weather,
”
he answered.
“
I can
’
t take it. My bones rebel when the temperature slips to freezing.
”

She fingered the fabric of his coat.
“
Well, you need heavier clothes. This raincoat won
’
t do at all for this climate, Cecil.
”

He grinned sheepishly, pleased that her concern had shown through.
“
What would you think if I told you that I hated to spend the money on an overcoat that I
’
d wear for less than a week?
”

“
I
’
d think you were a very thrifty, but somewhat cold, man,
”
she answered lightly.

He laid his hand over hers.
“
Althea, why didn
’
t you reply to my email or texts?
”
he asked with sudden seriousness.

She didn
’
t respond to his question.

“
An envelope with a check to cover your parents
’
expenses, and a thank you—well, I
’
d hoped for more than that. Some news about your welfare, your plans, you could have sent me something.
”

“
I, I....I didn
’
t think you
’
d care, Cecil. You did an awful lot for me, and I didn
’
t want to become burdensome to you,
”
she said, dropping her eyes.

He appraised her neatly coiffed hair, and the thin sensitive face.
“
Of course I cared. I had already decided that once these meetings ended, I
’
d go to visit you. Luckily, I don
’
t have to wait that long,
”
he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

“
You
’
ve been very nice...but...
”

Impulsively he continued,
“
Listen, now that you
’
re here, we can make this a pleasure trip. I lived here for a few months once, and I
’
ve always wanted to return. Althea, this is an exciting city! There are such interesting sights—and we
’
ll see them all!
”