Jed Culver stood at the back of the auditorium, stirring a sachet of Sweet ‘N Low into his instant coffee, regarding the deteriorating fiasco of the convention with mute detachment.
Reggie Guertson had the call again. He’d firmed up as the point man for what Culver was calling ‘the Beer Hall Putsch’ – the broad-based faction of neo-con Democrats, national security fetishists, wingnut Republicans and a grab bag of survivalist whackjobs, chancers, urgers and shameless self-aggrandisers who had all come together behind the banner of the so-called Reform Movement. They were his enemies. That’s how he thought of them. His enemies, and the enemies of the old Republic.
And they were winning, at least on the floor of the Constitutional Convention. Their crazy, fear-driven idea of a new Constitution, enshrining military representation at the heart of civilian government, was actually gaining traction. If he didn’t have such a low opinion of human nature he’d have had a hard time believing it. Didn’t these fools understand that the US military couldn’t even sustain itself now, let alone run what remained of the country?
The hard truth didn’t seem to matter to them, though. It was as if they’d all joined hands and stepped through the looking glass.
Up on stage, Mayor Guertson was haranguing a section of the audience that was attempting to shout him down. Spittle was flying from his lips and the public address system distorted every time he banged the podium with his fist. For their part, the hecklers were giving back as good as they got. Screeching and even throwing things at him.
‘This is what we’re fighting against!’ railed Guertson. ‘This sort of anarchy and subversion is what will destroy us all – it has to be stopped!’
‘Sieg heil. Sieg heil,’ chanted his detractors.
‘This is going well then.’
Culver wasn’t surprised to find James Kipper at his elbow. He’d been expecting him here. He knew Kipper often cruised the buffet tables looking for treats to take home to his daughter. In fact, before Jed could speak, the engineer fessed up.
‘Just came up here looking for more army chocolate,’ he admitted sheepishly.
‘Here. For your kid,’ said Culver, producing a carefully hoarded packet of Milk Duds. ‘I traded my cigarette ration for them.’
The city engineer blushed and began to shake his head, but Culver waved off his objection.
‘I don’t smoke, and I’m diabetic. I just thought your little girl might like them.’
‘Well, she would,’ Kip admitted. ‘But it doesn’t feel right. Things are so tight at the moment.’
‘What are you, a Catholic, with all that guilt? Take the fucking Milk Duds, Kip. They’ll kill me if I eat them. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get insulin at the moment?’
The engineer thanked him and pocketed the small treat. ‘Suzie’ll love them.’ He had to raise his voice to be heard over the din.
‘This is a first-class shambles, isn’t it?’ said Culver.
Kipper nodded. He surveyed the scene as if discovering a bedroom left in chaos by a naughty child. The convention chairman was on his feet now, pointing his little wooden hammer at Guertson, demanding he give up the podium. The Sieg heil crew were being pushed around at the edges by a group of men who looked like they’d just come in from a logging mill, and at least two fist fights had broken out on the far side of the hall. Kipper muttered something, excused himself and hurried away. A minute or so later, all power to the room was cut, plunging it into darkness.
The effect was almost instant: a sudden change in tone from angry contention to confusion and surprise. After a short interval, the lights came up again, and when they did, Kipper was standing at the podium, smiling at Mayor Guertson, asking politely for the microphone. He got it and then spoke forcefully to the entire room.
‘Sorry, folks. James Kipper, city engineer. We’ve had some trouble with relays from the power station and this place is a major drain on the grid. The whole building is set to flip off when we get a spike. Perhaps a ten-minute break while my guys sort this out would be a good idea. It won’t take long, I promise.’
He flicked off the PA and waved a hand over at a man in overalls, standing by a junction box at the rear of the hall. His technician dimmed the lights and cut power to the sound system with an audible pop. Kipper hopped down from the stage, holding both hands up, with his fingers splayed. Ten minutes.
The crowd seemed to deflate as the malign energy that had been building up sluiced out of the room. Not entirely, but enough for everyone to retreat from their entrenched positions.
Culver stood to one side as a hundred or more people made straight for the coffee and sandwich tables where he was standing. He pushed through them, like a salmon swimming upstream, intent on catching Kipper before he disappeared again. He found the engineer, loitering by a side exit, watching over the room with a censorious air.
‘So, mass psychology and creative bullshitting,’ the lawyer said, impressed. ‘I didn’t realise the city engineer had to be so versatile.’
Kipper raised an eyebrow. ‘Multitasking, Jed. It’s all multitasking in today’s go-go world of local government.’
‘Uh-huh, so you’re going to switch off the lights and send them to the naughty corner every time they get out of hand?’
The other man looked at a loss for words. ‘I don’t fucking know. I mean, what the hell is this about?’ He waved a hand around to take in the entire auditorium. ‘I don’t know that we’re gonna get through this, you know. You’d have thought that people would be pulling together, not trying to rip each other down.’
Culver smiled gently. ‘Do you know much history, Mr Kipper? Do you know the Battle of Salamis?’
‘Some Civil War thing?’ Kip replied, looking slightly perplexed.
Culver shook his head. ‘Most important battle in history. Gallant little ancient Greece versus the enormous, evil Persian Empire. If the Greeks had lost that battle, we wouldn’t be standing here today. There would be no such thing as Western civilisation. Anyway, the point is, before the battle the Greeks looked a lot like the people in this room – beating on each other, calling each other dumb fucks and ignorant assholes. The only thing they could agree on was the need to kick Persian ass, but nobody could agree how. In the end, though, they did. And it was partly due to all that aggravating back and forth, as they sorted through their ideas. That and the fact that the Greeks all fought as free men, whereas the Persians were slaves to a God King.’
Kipper sort of squinted and sucked air in through his teeth. ‘I don’t really get it,’ he said. ‘We’re not about to fight a battle. We’re just trying to rebuild a working country.’
Culver leaned in closely now. ‘We are fighting a battle, Kip. And this…’ – he waved his hand at the room – ‘this is just a skirmish.’
Suzie’s squeal of delight was painfully, beautifully loud in the gloomy candle-lit kitchen.
‘Oh thank you, Daddy! Thank you!’ She hugged the bright yellow packet of Milk Duds to her chest. ‘I’m going to have a tea party and share them with Barbie, and Big Teddy, and Daisy the horse, and…’
Barbara Kipper stroked her daughter’s bobbing head and tried to calm her down. ‘That’s lovely, sweetheart, but remember, Daddy may not be able to get any more, so don’t share them all at once. Maybe just one tonight?’
‘Oh I know that, Mommy,’ she insisted. ‘I know that Milk Duds might not come back ever again. Or Oreos or Barney the Dinosaur. So I’ll share mine for real with Sophie and Anna. Because they’re sad.’
‘That’s very generous of you,’ said Kip. ‘That’s very good, darling… You go have a play now, and let Mommy and Daddy talk, okay?’
The little girl flicked on her Scooby Doo flashlight, turned on a dime, and shot away up the darkened hall to set up a tea party with her stuffed toys.
‘Any chance she won’t scoff them all down tonight?’ asked Barb sceptically.
‘Oh, she’s pretty good. She did share that army chocolate with her friends.’
‘And she got in trouble for it, Kip. Remember? That asshole ration Nazi at the school had her wait outside his office for an hour. A fucking hour …!’
‘Okay, honey, calm down,’ he said. ‘It’s a good thing, you know. She gets so little now. And she’s so good about it. It’s nice that we can still get her these little things.’
‘Nice for her, Kip, but you’re not here every day dealing with the neighbours and the school moms.’ Her voice hitched. ‘The th-things they say…’ Tears welled up in Barb’s eyes and her face creased as she leaned forward into his chest, sobbing. She was like this so often now. Brittle and prone to emotional collapse.
They stood like that, in the soft, guttering light of a half-melted candle, for nearly a minute. The house did have power, for the next two hours, but like most people they kept their energy usage to a minimum. Barb had the rice cooker plugged in on the bench, with some vegetables in the steamer basket, but that was it for appliances. They would turn on the battery-operated radio at nine for the Emergency Broadcast update, and then switch it right off again.
His wife was just calming down when three hard knocks rattled the door leading out to the porch and made them both jump. Kip left Barbara to compose herself and peeked through the curtains to see who’d come by. Visitors were a rarity these days, because of the shortages. Everyone stayed close to home. There was no mistaking the mountain-sized moonlit silhouette on the porch, however. It was his friend and former deputy, Barney Tench.
‘Holy crap, Barn, what are you doing all the way over on this side of town? How’d you get the gas?’
‘Can I come in?’ asked Barney, with a hint of urgency.
‘Sure, buddy, come in. Hey Barb, look – it’s Barn. Reckon we could break out the emergency bourbon?’
Tench hustled in, keen to be off the street. ‘S’okay, I don’t need a drink, Kip,’ he said. ‘Although a glass of water would be nice.’
Barb wiped the last of her tears away and fetched him a glass from the cupboard. She drew the water from a five-gallon plastic bottle on the bench by the sink. It didn’t matter how many times Kip assured her that the water supply was all right, she refused to drink straight from the tap anymore. She handed the glass to Barney, who was abashed to see that she’d been crying.
‘Oh man, I hope I’m not interrupting anything?’
Barb kissed him on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, Barn. I’m just being silly. Ignore me, I’ll go look after Suzie. She gets lonesome in the dark after a while.’
As his wife disappeared, Kip pulled out a couple of chairs from the kitchen table. ‘You sure I can’t offer you a drink, buddy?’ he asked again. ‘Wouldn’t mind one myself, the day I’ve had. Well, the week, really.’
Barney sat down and said no. ‘I have to keep a clear head, Kip.’ He paused and looked his former boss in the eyes. ‘I’m sort of on the run.’
‘What?’
‘It’s Blackstone, Kip. There’s a warrant for my arrest… Oh man, I hope you don’t mind me coming here. I don’t want to get you in trouble.’
‘Don’t be fucking ridiculous,’ Kipper shot back. ‘You’re always welcome in my house. But what’s going on? Is this another one of his stupid fucking games? I’d have thought he’d learned his lesson after the last time.’
Tench shook his head. ‘The warrant is for sedition and sabotage – for aiding the Resistance. Specifically, for cutting off the power to Fort Lewis last week.’
Kip smacked his open palm down on the scarred oak table that Barb had dragged all the way over from New York. ‘Son of a bitch,’ he swore. ‘Those assholes at Lewis -’
‘Kipper, it’s true,’ said Barney, talking over the top of him. ‘I was part of that. In fact, they couldn’t have done it without my help.’
‘Oh.’
An awkward moment followed, a hot uncomfortable silence broken in the end by Kipper.
‘Well, they’re still assholes… So why’d you do it, buddy? You would’ve known you couldn’t really hurt them – crews had that supply back on within hours. It’s like poking a wild bear with a stick. You’re gonna get your ass bit.’
Barney rubbed his face and leaned forward, elbows on the table, a picture of desolation. ‘I did it because it was the right thing to do, Kip,’ he replied firmly. ‘Even if it seemed pointless and made things even worse for me. And my family. They cut Lorraine and the kids off support – did you know that? After I left the department, Lorraine couldn’t even get the food stamps that everyone else got. We had to live off the neighbours and her family. Church helped too, for a while. Then their stamps got cut off too.’
‘Damn, Barney. I’m sorry… I didn’t know.’
‘You wouldn’t, Kip. You’ve been too busy holding this city together. And I didn’t want to put you in the shit by contacting you. They’ve been watching me pretty closely. I meant what I said when I left: I can’t collaborate with a dictatorship. But I want you to know that I think what you’ve done for the city, for the people, that’s been great.’
‘Oh come on, Barney,’ Kipper said, with a hint of irritation. ‘Don’t piss in my pocket. That was my job. It was yours too. I respect your reasons for going, but I couldn’t agree with them – for myself, you know.’
‘I know. I… Look, I don’t want to sound like a nut, but do you think we could go somewhere I can’t be seen from the door?’
Kipper was nonplussed, but Barney was so agitated and so genuinely concerned that he picked up the candle and led his guest through to the sitting room. He could hear Barb and Suzie playing tea parties upstairs, and thought about calling out that it was almost time for bed. But he kept his mouth shut. Barbara would probably put Suzie down in the next half-hour or so and crawl into bed with her. She’d been doing that most nights since the Disappearance.
The sitting room was dark, and the curtains drawn. A small fire in the hearth threw a flickering glow over the room. Kip blew out the candle he was carrying and placed it on an old plate that was already scummy with melted wax. ‘Welcome to the new frontier,’ he said dryly.
They took seats facing each other across a glass-topped coffee table, covered with Barb’s old magazines. Past editions of New Yorker and Vanity Fair, and the February and March issues of Vogue. None of them would ever be published again.
‘Okay,’ said Kip. ‘What have you got yourself caught up in, Barn?’
Before answering, Tench rubbed his palms on the knees of a pair of jeans that looked like they hadn’t been washed in a long time. ‘Like the arrest warrant says, Kip – the Resistance. That’s what they call themselves. Frankly, I think it’s a dumb name, a bit too Secret Squirrel for me, but there’s a hell of a lot of them out there. Normal people, you know? Some, like me, worked for the city, some used to work for the feds, lots of business people too – but normal, Kip. Really normal people who just don’t like the way this thing, this fucking Disappearance, has been used as an excuse to mess around with stuff, to start cutting off people’s freedoms.’
‘But Barney, we’re not free to live as we did. You can surely see that?’
Tench leaned forward. ‘We’re not free to run our plasma TVs twenty-four hours a day, no. We’re not free to gorge ourselves to death on junk food and Vanilla Coke, no. We’re not free to travel anywhere we want. We’re not free to fill up with gas and drive out to Disneyland. We’re not free from hunger or fear or the threat of being eaten alive by that fucking thing out there, whatever it is. You’re right. None of those freedoms are ours to enjoy anymore. But the basic freedom, Kip – the freedom to say what you think, and to act on it, the freedom to control your own life – that is being taken from us, too.’
Kipper was going to protest, but he had been at the convention when that blow-hard mayor had moved for an amendment to reserve thirty per cent of the congressional seats for the military as an emergency measure. To ensure stability. He’d sniggered when he heard – and then been gobsmacked as one speaker after another rose to support it. And the fact was, the city was still locked down. People were living on handouts and doing as they were told. Food stamps were the new currency. The movement of people and goods was closely vetted by the military. ‘Production Committees’ had been set up to allocate labour and resources where they were most needed. And the local media, although able to work again, was heavily constrained by ‘D Notices’, issued by the Acting Governor but countersigned by General Jackson Blackstone.
‘Barney,’ he said, feeling very uncomfortable, ‘I work with these people every day. Some of them, sure, they’re sons a’ bitches. I wouldn’t trust them with three dollars in change. But I can guarantee you, man, they are not doing these things because they’re all little Hitlers in their hearts – they’re doing it because they’re scared. They’re scared we’re not gonna make it.’
‘We’re not. Not like this. We might survive, but as what? And what about you, Kip? Be honest – do you think it’s a good idea to just rope off a third of Congress for the military?’
‘Well, of course not, Barn,’ the chief engineer admitted. ‘It sucks the big one. But if you’d been there today and seen the chaos on the convention floor… Man, I really don’t know whether that’s the way to go. I just -’
A thunderous hammering interrupted him. Tench blanched, visibly so, even in the poor light, and muttered, ‘Oh God.’
‘Open up,’ called out a harsh voice. ‘It’s the police.’
The two men locked eyes and a whole conversation passed between them without a word being spoken.
Kipper placed a finger to his lips and gestured for Tench to follow him, leading his friend into the hallway and pointing to a door under the stairs that led down to the cellar. Barney needed no telling. He hurried over to the door as the pounding began again.
‘Open up, please. Police.’
‘I’m coming,’ Kipper yelled back. ‘But I’m not breaking a leg for you, so you can just fucking wait.’
Barb appeared at the top of the stairs and Kip waved her back, shaking his head emphatically. There was no time to explain to her any of what Barney had just said. He could only hope she wouldn’t give anything away. Kipper moved into the kitchen and deliberately banged his leg on the table, sending a glass crashing to the floor. ‘Son of a bitch!’ he yelled, loud enough to be heard outside.
Then, reefing open the back door, he let his natural foul temper off the leash a little, surprising the two police officers who stood there, blocking his view of a small squad of soldiers. ‘This better be fucking good, and quick,’ he snarled. ‘I have to get up at about three in the morning tomorrow and drive out to Fort Lewis.’
One of the cops actually blinked and said, ‘Oh.’ The other, older one didn’t take a backward step.
‘Mr Kipper, eh? My name is Sergeant Banks and this is Officer Curlewis. Sorry to bother you, sir, but we’re looking for agitators who’ve been reported in this area. We need to have a look around your place.’
‘What’s going on, dear?’
Barb had appeared at his elbow. ‘I dunno, some crap,’ he told her. ‘They think we’ve got someone here. Want to search the place.’
‘Oh, that’s ridiculous.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Kipper, ma’am,’ said Banks. T have my orders. Do you mind?’
‘Well, I do, but that’s hardly going to make a damn bit of difference, is it?’
The policeman didn’t bother replying to that, but he at least waited until Kip had opened the door properly, rather than forcing his way in. His partner followed and the soldiers moved up the path, until Barb held up a hand.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t mind the police looking around, but you boys have the filthiest shoes I’ve ever seen. Would you mind awfully just waiting for the officers to do whatever it is they have to do? You’re welcome to stand on the porch to keep out of that drizzle, and I could make you some cocoa if you’d like. It’s powdered milk, though, I’m afraid.’
A corporal raised one eyebrow at the cops, who shrugged it all off. ‘Yeah, whatever,’ agreed Banks. ‘If you don’t mind us poking around, Mrs Kipper?’
Barb smiled sweetly, firing up her long-dormant Homecoming Queen charm. ‘Well, if you could try not to wake my daughter. I’ve just put her down, and her sleep’s been very disturbed since… you know.’
When James Kipper’s wife felt like it, she could be all eyes, tits and teeth. Even the older cop was taken in by the display. ‘We’ll try not to disturb her, ma’am,’ promised Sergeant Banks.
They padded through the kitchen, and Kip watched with a lurching heart as the two of them headed towards the cellar door. Curlewis, the younger one, flicked on the lights as he went, forcing Kip and Barbara to flinch and squint at the fierce glow. They hadn’t had the place lit up in a month.
‘So, would you boys like that cocoa?’ she asked brightly.
Kip’s heart was racing and he felt like his guilt must be writ large on his face, but the army corporal only smiled and nodded enthusiastically at the offer of a hot drink. ‘That’d be awesome, ma’am.’
‘Will you be out all night?’ Barb asked as she set about fixing up their cocoa. ‘It’s going to be terribly cold, I think. It’s been so chilly and awful, hasn’t it, since the Wave came?’
Her husband tried not to look concerned as the police disappeared down into his cellar. He tried to imagine where Barney might have hidden himself away down there at such short notice. The place was a mess, with dozens of packing crates from their original move to Seattle still stored down there. But really, there weren’t many places a grown man could hide himself.
‘Who’d like a marshmallow?’ trilled Barb.
His nuts felt like they were retracting inside his body as he heard the cops shifting boxes and talking to each other down there.
‘Mr Kipper? Sir? Could you come here?’ It was the older policeman, the sergeant.
Giddy and shaking ever so slightly, Kip excused himself and walked down the hallway. He stopped at the head of the staircase. They hadn’t been able to find the light switch and the cellar was lit by two torch beams. ‘Something I can help you with?’ he asked, forcing the fear from his voice.
‘Yes, there is. Could you come down here, sir?’
He trod carefully, descending the steps. ‘Something up?’
‘Yeah,’ said Banks. ‘You know there’s an emergency ordinance against hoarding, don’t you, sir?’
Kipper almost stammered in reply. ‘What?’
‘You’ve got a lot of rations stowed down here, sir. I hope you didn’t stock up recently’
‘I… uh… I… no. No, I didn’t, Sergeant. I’m a hiker. I got those supplies about six months ago, in Spokane, when a camping warehouse closed down.’
‘Got receipts, Mr Kipper?’ Curlewis called out in the semi-darkness.
Completely flummoxed now, Kip could only shake his head at first. ‘Uh. No… No, wait – I paid for them with my Visa. It’ll be on the statement, if you need to see it.’
He felt like he was trapped in some absurdist Eastern European play, one of those fuck-awful theatre-of-pain things he’d seen with Barb when they first started dating. Man, the things you do to get laid.
‘Okay,’ said Banks. ‘That’ll be fine. If you could fax it through to me on this number.’ He handed Kipper a card. ‘I’m afraid I do have to report it, sir. But if you’ve got that statement you’ll be okay.’
‘Great,’ replied Kip.
The cops gave the cellar another once-over but seemed satisfied and picked their way through the clutter back towards the stairs. Kipper moved back and aside to let them up. He could smell the heady aroma of cocoa wafting in from the kitchen and hear the muffled voices of the troops as they thanked his wife. Banks and Curlewis then checked every room on the ground floor before moving towards the staircase up to the bedrooms.
‘My daughter’s room is the first on the right,’ said Kip softly. ‘If you could just, you know, be quiet up there
The three of them stepped lightly up the stairs and carefully pushed Suzie’s door ajar. She was wrapped up in her Barbie quilt, with just a tuft of hair poking out. He could see that her room, normally quite neat, was an utter shambles, with toys all over the floor and clothes strewn everywhere. Banks gestured to his younger, more agile partner to get down and check under the bed, which Curlewis did by shining a light under there.
He shook his head. ‘No bogeymen. No terrorists.’
The room had no cupboards – always a source of frustration to Barb – but every drawer in Suzie’s dresser was open, with items of clothing hanging out. The lid was off her jumbo toybox, which had been crammed full of furry friends, dress-up costumes and an inflatable Barney the Dinosaur.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ Kip whispered. ‘Kids, you know.’
Banks rolled his eyes. ‘I got three.’
The officers searched the other bedrooms and the bathroom, but without success. At last, with Kip’s heart fit to burst out of his rib cage, the sergeant flicked off his torch.
‘Think your wife has any cocoa left?’ he asked.
‘There’s always some to spare,’ said Kipper.
They didn’t stay much longer. Just another five minutes, enough time for them to throw down a hot drink before heading out into the hard chill of the night. Barb smiled and waved them all the way down the drive, keeping her mask in place until she’d come back inside and closed the door. Then her act fell apart, and she rushed to the sink and vomited up a stomachful of warm cocoa.
Kipper quickly flicked off the lights so that they couldn’t be seen from outside. ‘Holy shit,’ he breathed. ‘Where the fuck is Barney?’
‘Toy box, in Suzie’s bedroom. I stashed him in there. Covered in Barbies and fairy wings. God, he’s so fucking big, I didn’t think he was going to fit in… Oh man, I have never been so fucking glad we got the monster-size toy box,’ she grunted before hurling again.
Barb took a few seconds to gather herself. Kipper rubbed the back of her neck. ‘I told Suzie it was a game,’ she said, ‘that she had to pretend to be asleep… Oh my God, Kip, what the hell was that about?’
‘I’d better go get the Scarlet Pimpernel and let him tell you himself,’ he said.
‘Better wait a while first, honey,’ she replied, wiping flecks of brown drool from her chin. ‘In case they come back.’
But they didn’t. Kipper peeked out once and saw them knocking on the door at Mrs Heinemann’s place. They seemed to be working the whole street, which gave him some confidence that he hadn’t been specifically targeted.
He gave it fifteen excruciating minutes before hurrying upstairs to rescue his friend. Suzie had fallen asleep for real while Barney stayed hidden in her toy stash. His legs had cramped painfully and he’d had a lot of trouble breathing in there. He emerged with a flushed purple complexion and a plastic tiara on his head.
‘You see, Kip? You see what we’ve been reduced to?’ he said, after he’d finished gasping for air.
Kip put one finger to his lips to quiet him down. ‘Don’t wake Suzie. Come on, we have to get you out of here.’
‘I’m sorry, Kip, I’m real sorry,’ Tench whispered. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m gonna get you in trouble.’
‘Just shut up, Barn, and come out of Suzie’s room.’
Barb was waiting outside in the hallway, looking terrified but angry with it. ‘What the hell was all that about?’ she said, repeating her earlier question.
‘They were looking for me,’ Barney admitted, shamefacedly.
‘No shit, Sherlock? What the fuck’s going on, Kip? Barney?’
‘Just what I said would happen,’ their visitor replied. He grabbed Kipper by the elbow. ‘I can’t thank you enough for helping me back there, Kip. But more people need help – they need your help, buddy. What d’you think now?’
Kip didn’t answer. He was looking at his wife’s eyes.
Her frightened, haunted eyes.