The Rabid: Fall (11 page)

14

Ronald’s office is just down the hall from where we watched the movie. Two members of his personal guard escort me and place themselves on sentry duty right outside the door. Ronald’s office is, on the whole, a pretty standard affair: basic desk, high-backed, leather chair, two low-backed, leather chairs for guests, a couple of bookshelves, and a potted plant in the back, left corner of the room. There are indulgences to be found as well: the Persian-style rug on the floor, with floral medallions riding out towards the edges, the engravings on the outside of the bookshelves, the crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling—restrained luxury.

“How was breakfast?” Ronald is watching me from behind his desk, hands folded in his lap, while I comb through his library of books on government and law.

“It was fantastic, can’t thank you enough; the bacon especially.”

“My personal favorite food group as well. We’re running low on the stuff, but should be getting more in soon.”

I pull a book off the shelf; black binding, gold lettering
. Life & Love: a Family Tradition
.

“My wife gave me that book on our twentieth wedding anniversary.”

“It’s got character. Love the cover and stuff.”

“I’ve never read it.”

“Really? Why not?” I flip through the first couple of pages.

Ronald turns slightly in his chair and motions towards the window. “Because all of this happened. We lost her right at the beginning. We were living in a subdivision at the time, not too different from this one. We got overwhelmed. I couldn’t save her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve lost my mother and my sister to the Rabid. I lost my father, when I was a boy, to a work accident.”

“That’s a tough haul for anyone. But for a boy your age, I can’t imagine.”

“It’s not easy. I’m lucky to have found Katia and Sonny.”

“Nothing can replace family, though.”

“Replace? Nah, you’re right. But it can help fill in some of the gaps they leave behind; at least that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“It’s what we’re all trying to do, in one way or another.” The chair creaks as he rocks gently. “It’s why we have places like Próta; to try to reconnect.” Ronald turns back to the desk and rolls his chair forward, until the wood is snuggled up against the bottom of his chest and he’s resting his elbows on the surface. “Before all of this, I was never much of a husband or father. I was focused on my career, focused on climbing the ladder. Real estate was my dream. It seems pretty silly, looking back now. I was pretty small potatoes, but I thought I’d become some sort of mogul if I just kept my nose to the grindstone.” He shakes his head and tightens his fists. “The things I sacrificed in the pursuit of money.” There’s a coffee cup holding a collection of writing utensils. Ronald removes a gold pen and begins rolling it across his fingers. “My wife and I, we used to fight about it a lot. It got so bad that we were sharing separate bedrooms at the end. Our twentieth rolled around, and I didn’t think we were going to be celebrating it. In my mind, it was only a matter of time before she served me with divorce papers. But she gave me that book, all wrapped up, with a bow on it.”

“Guess she loved you more than you thought.”

Ronald nods, eyes cast down. “Maybe she did. You know how some things are better when they retain their mystery? You ever heard a song in a language you didn’t understand and it just swept you up? In your head you’re imagining the lyrics as something poetic, something transcendent. And then you look them up and it’s nothing like you imagined. The mystery…the magic…is lost. You know what I mean?”

“I do. Momma used to play songs like that.”

“That’s what that book is for me.” He keeps his eyes turned down, as if he’s ashamed to look at it. “I don’t know what’s in there. I haven’t even read a synopsis. I just know the title. I’d like to think that it’s about the importance of family and love and the affirmation that it lends to life; my wife’s way of telling me, even beyond the grave, that Lydia and I are what made life worth living for her. I think that if I read it and it was anything other than what I’ve built up in my mind, it’d devastate me. Dreaming about the words beneath that cover, molding them to suit my needs, it’s something that has kept me going.”

“I suppose…well, that’s all you can do. Keep molding your thoughts, focus on the good, hold tight to the positive memories and let go of the negative ones. You got to, right? You still got Lydia.”

“You’re a smart kid, Tim. Go ahead, take a seat. Let’s chat for a minute. You’ve got to be curious about why I called on you.”

I sit, gripping the armrests. “Not gonna lie, you got me on the edge of my seat.”

There’s that plastic laugh again. “I assure you, Tim, that wasn’t my intent.” He gestures at me with both hands. “Let’s lay our cards on the table. Up front, to the point, that’s the best way to deal, in my opinion. It’s my understanding that you and your friends want to get to Washington. Why?”

“Uh, well, you know, with everything that’s happened, we still haven’t been able to account for a lot of our friends and family—”

“And you think if they went anywhere, they went there?”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Or perhaps they didn’t.”

“Perhaps not.”

He folds his hands in front of his face, index fingers pressed to his lips. “It’s a lot of time and a lot of resources for what is, essentially, a shot in the dark.”

“Katia has some people that are very important to her, we don’t know if they’re alive or dead. I know that until we exhaust our options, she’s not going to be able to settle down with any sort of peace of mind; I’m doing it for her.”

“So it’s an emotional decision?”

“For her or for me?”

“I’d say for both of you. She’s not willing to step back and look at the situation rationally and accept that these individuals almost certainly did not make it. You’ve got a thing for her, call it love or infatuation, so you’re willing to indulge this fantasy.”

“Hey, I think you’re being a little harsh.” My nervous energy is coiling into a ball of anger. You can prod at me all you want, but when it comes to Katia, the button is a bit bigger.

“Not trying to offend, I’m just trying to get you to think a little.” Ronald turns his chair and stands, going to the bookshelf. “You much of a reader, Tim?”

“Before all of this? Not really. But I’ve been considering taking it up, once things settle down; it’s probably going to be awhile before the next big sitcom hits the airwaves.”

“Then you probably haven’t heard of a book called,
The Common Good
.”

“Probably not.”

He pulls a hefty tome from one of the top shelves and sits on the corner of the desk near my head, opening the book across one thigh. “I’d be lying if I said it’s worth reading in its entirety. Much of it is leftist nonsense; an attempt to stir up public sympathy for the willfully ignorant and the pathologically lazy. But I’ve always believed that there is gold to be found, even in the driest of riverbeds. I had to dig little deeper and I had to sift through a lot of garbage, but there are some nuggets here.” 

“Like a broken clock being right twice a day?”

“A platitude, but an accurate one.” He shuts the book hard, a burst of air ruffles his bangs. “Throughout the book, the author refers to the concept of The Common Good, hence the title. Essentially, the common good is the idea of acting selflessly to benefit the greater whole; the greater whole being the community. If we were using metaphors, we could look at the community as the body and ourselves as the hand…or the foot. The hand doesn’t act with its own agenda in mind, the hand lives to service the body, which in turn benefits the hand; it’s symbiotic. Do you see what I’m trying to get at here?”

“Why don’t you tell me, so there’s no miscommunication.” I cross my arms and sit back, staring up at his deeply lined face.

He hovers like a swollen rain cloud. “You’re the hand, Tim; all of us are.”

I figured as much.

“The body…well, look around you. The electricity that lit your footsteps last night, the warm water you used to wash the grease from under your fingernails, the hot plate you enjoyed this morning; those are all products of hands playing their part and serving the body. Tim, it’s the common good.”

“And don’t think that I’m ungrateful. I lived in a community like this for a short time, so I know the importance of people pulling together for the common good.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, clearly unsatisfied with my response. He walks around his desk to a small circular window and stands, hands folded behind his back, sunlight illuminating one side of his face. “Do you think rushing off to Washington is serving the common good?”

“I don’t know how to answer that.”

“It’s a simple question, yes or no?”

“I’d say there’s more nuance to it than you’re letting on. What if we found our people and we came back? That’s more hands doing the heavy lifting. In that case, I’d say we’re serving the common good.”

“Perhaps, but the chances of you succeeding are slim, as we’ve already discussed. Risk versus reward, it’s an important factor when making these decisions.”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. This is going to give someone I care about peace and that’s important to me.”

“Just listen for a minute.You could be a leader. You’ve got the makings for it. I’ve got a lot of great men around me, loyal men, but none of them have what you have. None of them will ever lead.”

“What about Guy, he seems perfectly—”

Ronald dismisses my suggestion with a flick of his wrist. “Guy? Pease don’t get me started. He’s a hammer, made for one purpose. You’re malleable, able to see things from different perspectives and shape your response accordingly.”

“No offense, but you’ve just met me.”

“That’s of little importance. I’ve heard you speak. I’ve seen the way you carry yourself. What’s more, I’ve heard how my daughter talks about you.” 

“Your daughter?”

“Yes, Lydia,” he smiles fondly as he says her name, “she speaks quite highly of you, of how you conducted yourself with courage out on the road. She has eyes for you, but you know that already, don’t you?”

I suspected as much and so did Katia. “I don’t like to assume anything.”

“You’re modest, another quality I admire.” He faces me, hands still folded behind his back. “How long have you known this Katia girl?”

“Why’s that important?”

“I’ve always been of the opinion that love takes time to nurture and grow. Love at first sight and all that other nonsense, it’s a product of mislabeling, people mistaking lust for something grander. Come on, Tim, you’re old enough to know better. I suspect you met her after everything happened. If that’s the case, then the likelihood of there being any true—”

I jump out of my chair. “I’ve heard enough. You don’t know her and you don’t know me, I’d really appreciate it if you stopped speaking ill of her.” I’m keenly aware of the men standing outside the door, so I’m careful not to raise my voice. I’m not trying to turn this situation up to a boil, but I’m not going to let someone disrespect Katia to my face.

“Alright, calm down, no disrespect was intended. I apologize. Please, take a seat.”

I hitch my thumbs in the front of my blue jeans and remain standing.

“As you wish. What I’m saying to you is that there’s a role for you here, a big role. You could take charge, make a difference, and I think that’s something you want to do…something you’re called to do. I think you’re tired of wandering aimlessly and surviving day-to-day. Your place is here. And you’d have a courageous and intelligent woman—”

I turn and reach for the door.

“Wait! Just let me finish.”

My hand remains on the knob, but I’m listening.

“You’d have a courageous and intelligent woman at your side. Lydia is a woman that wants the exact same things you do. Let me tell you something, kid. Her picking you, that’s a big deal. She’s not easy to please. Once she’s got her mind set on something, that’s it, nothing else will hit the spot. You’re right, I don’t know Katia. But I do know, from what I’ve heard, that she’s allowed the apocalypse to define her. You can’t do that. You’ve got to define it. You’ve got to choose what it all means for you.”

I don’t say anything. I’m just waiting to be dismissed.

“That’s it. That’s my pitch. Sleep on it and get back to me in the morning, I’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” My answer is already there, in my tone. I doubt he heard it. Ronald doesn’t seem like a man that’s used to rejection. That’s fine. I’ll wait till tomorrow, give my temper time to cool, and let him down easy.

Lydia is waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She’s dressed down today: white, cropped pants, brown sandals strapped around the ankles, and a black, strapless tube top. She greets me with a pearlescent smile and a tight hug—she smells like vanilla. “So, what’d you say?” She stands back, hands folded at the waist, positively giddy.

“There are no secrets around here, I see.”

She giggles and tosses her blonde ponytail across a tanned shoulder. “Not when it comes to me and Daddy.”