Decline and Fall of Alternative Civilization

  ~ ~ ~

  Lights shut, building secured, again in the Jeep, a different route and they were home in thirty minutes. June napped and woke three hours later to the smell of hot food. She was soon wolfing down a plate of rice and vegetables and asking for more. It was the most food she had eaten in a long, long time. In the after-dinner glow of tea she dug through the box of eyeglasses searching for compatible lenses while he scribbled into a notebook.

  "JHH?"

  "Yes?"

  "I know you don't have a telephone out here but is there any way at all I can maybe find out about Dedra? I have no idea what happened to her the day I got?uh, carried away? I'm a little uneasy with this whole situation and I'm worried about her."

  "I'm sorry, June." He set down the notebook and rubbed his brow. "You've asked me about this before but, forgive me. I forgot to tell you. There was something, but I've been so preoccupied with making sure you were OK. When I was in town yesterday there was an old newspaper with a passing mention of the storm. Only one person reported missing-you."

  "Really?"

  "It is Ms. McClunaghan, isn't it?"

  "Uh, yeah, that's me."

  "Aside from some livestock, you seem to be the only real casualty from it. Barring any injuries, I doubt she was in any danger."

  "Is there any way I can get word to her and let her know I'm OK? Any way at all?"

  "That's a lot easier said than done." He leaned back, clasped both hands atop his head. "That's a tough one. I've put myself in a real bind here. Not your fault; it's all mine." For a time, there was no sound other than the buzzing neon clock. "I have means of communication-radio, e-mail, some experimental transmitters-but they're all heavily monitored. The only monitoring they do on me these days, but they're paying attention to that. They have to do that, and, believe me, I'd know if they were doing any more than that. I mean, this whole area is restricted airspace. If I give any indications of contact with unauthorized persons it means an immediate investigation and you could be hauled off to a federal prison."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Have I lied to you so far?"

  "Well, no offense, but you could have and I don't know it."

  "All right, you have a point. I think it's time we find out about each other. You drink coffee?"

  "Yes! Bring it on!"

  He had good coffee. A cup later he had told of his young life in California, voluntary service in the Air Force and active duty in the Vietnam conflict. Distinguished service proffered him the rank of major; now, a colonel. He followed up interests in both defense and aerospace, plugging into top-level weapons research and development that led to a breakthrough in stealth technology. Eventually, Cold War madness got the better of him and he questioned all of it too late. What he had done was done, and any lives he might have shortened would be chalked up to the great annals of duty. He continued his research because, at this point in life, there was no place else he could go. Hot rodding and vintage aircraft gave him a distraction-the restoration of the B-17 and a special automotive project kept him sane. Pouring a second cup, he brought out a large envelope of photos. There he was: smiling and shaking hands with Richard Nixon, George Bush, Neil Armstrong, Wernher von Braun, Mikhail Gorbachev, Robert Kennedy, Muhammed Ali; in a laboratory explaining something to Ronald Reagan; at the controls of an F-15 Eagle; with the crew of Apollo 14 prior to launch; a meeting with a crotchety Jane Fonda.

  "OK, you win." She threw up her hands. "My life can't hold a candle."

  "Try me."

  With her second cup, June spilled on her alcoholic mother, her brother Tom, Uncle Kevin, Daniel; the great baptisms that led to her bitter marriage, flight attendant fiasco, a pauper's life in Seattle; her friendship with Dedra; Bryan, Prez, the band and SXSW adventure; a life of waiting tables, a cockeyed fascination with philosophy, and the prospect of being an invalid.

  "I don't think you'll end up an invalid," he scoffed. "Not by a long shot."

  "I might not be speaking physically; it's my mind, y'know."

  "Well, based on what I've seen and heard from you, I'd say your mind is not something you need to worry about."

  "Bet you tell that to all the girls."

  "If only I could, I would." He ducked into the kitchen and returned with the coffeepot, refreshed both cups and opened a secret package of cookies. "Been a long time since I've done anything like this."

  "Omigod. OREOS!" She twisted one apart, licked the creme center, then made a face. "Uh huh. You are fattening me for the kill."

  "With all you've said"-he stuffed a whole cookie in his mouth-"and pardon me if I get too personal, but the way you speak so glowingly of your friend Dedra. Are you lovers?"

  "I wasn't expecting that." She slowly ate the rest of the cookie. "We are very close."

  "Do you prefer women?"

  "I don't think so." She sipped her coffee.

  "You speak as if you do. I think you love your friend."

  "Of course I do." She blushed. "I love her very much."

  "You said some revealing things in your fever."

  "Oh boy. I was afraid of that." Another sip, another Oreo. "Look, I don't know what I think or feel about anyone when it comes to?sex, love, whatever. I admit that De and I once crossed a line. But just the once. I think I like men more."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

  "But you did."

  "Forgive me? Please?"

  "Only if you keep waiting on me hand and foot."

  "Whew." He pantomimed a brow-mopping. "I was afraid you'd hate me now."

  "I don't hate you. Yet." She grinned and twisted another Oreo apart. "I'm just having a hard time trusting you and this whole?shenanigan."

  "Trust is a very precious thing."

  "I guess I have to trust you but I sure don't like the way that makes me feel."

  "Understandable." He dipped an Oreo into his coffee and quickly ate it. "Healthy skepticism is a good thing."

  "I don't know how healthy mine is," she said, chomping.

  "Yours is healthy enough, believe me."

  "Y'know, you've been very good to me. Especially now." She giggled and grabbed another cookie. "But?are you ever going to let me out of here? Ever?"

  "Absolutely. But it has to be done when it can't be detected. As I told you, I'm being monitored by top-level experts."

  "Yeah, OK." Eating too much dessert is a bad idea. Too easy to get Oreo sickness. "But you know I'll have to ask you again."

  "A man's word is a man's word."

  "And a man's word can be broken as easily as given."

  "I might have a bit more experience with men breaking their word than you do." He sneered. "Trust me on that one at least."

  "I don't know if I want to trust you at all now. No offense."

  "None taken yet."

  "I'm trying though." She pushed her coffee cup away and reclined back on the bed.

  "Give me a break."

  "No. You're too easy. You don't get a break. I could crush you."

  "And so the goddess has spoken?" His eyebrow raised.

  "Houston, the goddess has landed."

  "Hmm. I must admit I'm not sure what you mean by that."

  "You'll figure it out."

  "That's what I'm afraid of."

  "Oooh, now I know what scares you."

  "I assure you, you don't. You've barely scratched the surface."

  "And I have not yet begun to fight, Gridley."

  "Such a wonderful way with words. It's rare. Just don't try any surprise attacks, OK? After all, I do trust you."

  "Do you, warden?"

  "Yes. We absolutely need to trust each other. It's an important law of combat. And it's a long snake- and scorpion-filled walk to any fence you may try to jump."

  "Ha. Out of the frying pan."

  "And into?"

  "Another frying pan?"

  "Glad you see that." He nodded. "You possess a lot more insight
than most soldiers I've served with."

  "Guess I'll take that as a compliment."

  "You should."

  "We'll see."

  "Maybe we'll both see."

  "Aha. Did I offend you, finally?" She succumbed to the temptation of one more Oreo.

  "Y'know, I don't think we'll ever create a foolproof language that doesn't offend someone. So, no, not even close."

  "Darn." She twisted the creme sandwich apart.

  "But you did open one eye a little wider."

  "Which one? Or is that another security issue?"

  "The third eye," he confided with a wink. "Now you're really flying in under the radar."

  "Look out. Cookies, twelve o'clock high."

  XXV

  "It is a very mixed blessing to be brought back from the dead."

  -Kurt Vonnegut

  God????.dammit!

  It was April 1st.

  Had June mutated into an alien being? Pulling into the robe and sneakers, her ankles and legs felt better but were still difficult to move. They had talked well into the night and she was bothered by feeling so comfortable under JHH's auspices. Maybe this captivity was the first vacation from blame and responsibility she'd ever had, and she'd hardly thought of her beloved Jazz Bass and was annoyed she almost didn't miss it. Had he drugged those Oreos, she asked? Absolutely not, he laughed. Her system had defaulted to a low-power mode. It was called healing, he insisted. She was skeptical about everything, lacking the strength to rattle cages, and the morning's eggs and bacon he was fixing sure smelled great. She never had a chance to find out about Doug's kitchen skills. As they ate, JHH said he had envisioned a plan to get some kind of word to Dedra without compromising security. The chance of receiving word back, however, was slim. It was just a kernel of an idea he would need time to work on.

  After breakfast he had another secret to show her.

  Off to the right side of the front porch was a large wood-frame garage she hadn't seen. In the natural light inside were two and a half cars-a sports car, an old classic hot rod and a low-slung, mostly dismantled coupe. Tools, tool chests, work benches, welding rigs and a hydraulic lift completed the automotive picture, and she knew where the smells of gasoline came from. "I built that years ago," he said about the hot rod. "Back before my Air Force days. I've changed it a lot since then, though."

  "How do you mean?"

  "This is the fifth engine, third drivetrain."

  "Oh."

  "Screw the Chevy guys. That's a 390 FE stroker, overbored. It'll get up and move."

  "I?guess it will."

  "Sorry. I'm a gearhead if you haven't noticed."

  "That's OK. My ex-husband thought he was a gearhead. Jerkhead is more like it." She told the story of the Thunderbird.

  "That had the same engine in it. A shame he let that happen to it. I don't blame you for leaving him."

  "Well, that wasn't the main reason but it sure was indicative of his boneheadism."

  "Lemme show you my Holy Grail." Pulling her over to the skeletal coupe and pointing at the roadster, he said, "That's just a standard issue AC Cobra, one of the original 289s. Still, it's rare enough. But this?" He gestured at the coupe-its front body panels were missing and the doors were stacked against the wall. "Everyone thinks only six of these ever existed. Wrong. This is number seven. The seventh Cobra Daytona Coupe."

  "Uh?OK."

  "Yep, this is one of the ultimate classics." Somewhere, a celestial choir of unobtainable virgins was singing Adagio for Strings. "Carroll Shelby himself confirmed it."

  "Carol? A guy?"

  "Carroll with two R's, two L's. A legendary man who built legendary cars that ate Ferraris, Corvettes and Porsches for lunch. Dominated national, then international sports and GT racing in the mid-'60s. There was an extra half-completed frame and body parts, and he fabricated and stockpiled enough spare parts to build a seventh coupe but he never did. I got lucky and found most of the pieces about fifteen, sixteen years ago. Been searching out the rest of 'em since."

  "Wow. That's something."

  "And there's certain mundane bolts, bushings, stuff like that that can come off various production cars. Same part, different application. I know the codes. It's just a matter of finding the donor cars. Or the right materials and refabricating the past." He nodded toward the cockpit and sweepingly said, "Care to have a seat?"

  "No. I mean, yes. Let's sit down."

  He helped her into the passenger seat and sat in the driver position. "June, I know you're not a car gal but this stuff is really important to me."

  "Uh, I've learned a lot from Prez. Course, he's a Chevy man."

  "I'll try not to hold that against him. But he does sound like a decent sort of guy. According to what you've told me, I think I'd like your friends."

  "So, you'll invite them for tea next week?"

  "If it were only that easy."

  "And you need to let me out of here, yes?"

  "Yes, June. You will be set free."

  "When?"

  "When the moon is in the seventh house."

  "Damn you."

  "Why do you have to derail my moment here?"

  "Ha. Ha. It's a tough job." She gave a self-satisfied leer.

  "But someone's gotta do it, eh?"

  "Yes."

  "Trust me, you'll remember sitting in Cobra No. 7."

  "I sure hope so." She threw her head back and slouched down.

  "When we go back inside you'll need to write down all the contact information for your friend." Grabbing the steering wheel, he said, "I really don't know how I'll do it but I'm on the way to figuring something out. But I warn you? she'll probably believe it's a tasteless joke."

  "OK. I appreciate your trying." Her face darkened and she sniffled. "I really miss her. And Bryan. And Prez."

  "I've got no choice but to try. You're an incredibly resilient human being. I'm sure you survived the river because you simply refused to die."

  "I don't know. And how did you happen to be there?"

  "I was on an overnight run, testing a new system."

  "System?"

  "Stealth system. Basically, a glorified 'radar buster.' I stopped to rest for a bit. Clear my head. Then the deluge came so I camped out for a while." He gripped the wheel tighter while drawing in a gallon of air. "After the rain calmed down everything got real quiet. I thought I heard a voice, then I heard the river surge and a prodding in my gut made me walk down and look. And there you were."

  "Oh geeezzz." She shook and tightened the robe around her.

  "I'm in awe of you, June."

  "No. Stop it."

  "Listen." He dropped hands from the wheel and leaned back. "I'm not trying to pull anything on you. It's just that you've demonstrated such a knack for survival."

  "Oh boy. Now you're buttering me up. Is it really enough for you to hold me here and not take advantage of some?aspect of the situation?"

  "Is that what you want me to do?"

  "Well, no."

  "Then shut up about it!"

  "OK, I'm sorry!"

  "You'd better be. Jesus! You strike me as a pretty damned intelligent woman. But you don't have to constantly prove your survival skills."

  "I think you like women."

  "Yes, I do. I'm in complete and utter awe of women and it baffles me why truly intelligent women seem to undercut themselves so."

  An entire horn section could have tuned up before she spoke. "Like you said: survival skills. We simply?refuse?to die."

  He slapped his forehead. "Of course."

  "And you're so in awe. Of what exactly?"

  "It's the sheer beauty of it. Beauty is the most complex thing that can be imagined. But it exists, and in women it's a pure definition of something that is constantly, constantly changing and redefining itself over and over."

  "A factory of confusion, no doubt."

  "You're so right." He broke into a laugh. "Confusi
on is a function of complexity. Complexity is a function of redefinition."

  "And where does beauty come into the equation?"

  "Beauty is the equation." He ceased laughing. "Like pi."

  "I guess we'll never get to the end of this discussion."

  "And a good thing, probably. I don't know if we were meant to get to the end of it."

  "You mean you and me?" She rubbed her bandaged head.

  "No," he said, "I mean everybody. Everyman. Everywoman."

  "Y'know, I don't remember most of the philosophy I learned in college."

  "How did you graduate?"

  "I didn't."

  "No? What happened?"

  "I quit. To get married."

  "Beautiful!"

  "No, it wasn't!"

  "I don't mean the marriage. The motivation."

  "Beautiful motivation doesn't count for much."

  "It can."

  "It usually doesn't." She clenched teeth and growled at the hot rod, at its subtle, shimmering pinstriping.

  "I was married once, too. I have to agree with you."

  "You mentioned that." She turned her head back. "Not a very good one, huh?"

  "No, it was fine. It was very good, in fact."

  "Your voice says otherwise."

  "No, I mean it. It was a very good marriage."

  "So what happened?"

  "What always happens? It ended. Entropy in the space of a heartbeat."

  "Entropy?"

  "Instantaneous combustion."

  "You mean spontaneous combustion."

  "No. Instantaneous. There's a big difference."

  "No long, drawn-out disintegration and suffering?"

  "Oh, lots of suffering but all in a quick flash of"-he gave a failed hand gesture and shook his head- "I don't know what to call it."

  "Entropy."

  "A candle in the shore break. Yes."

  "Wasn't it a song? A candle in the rain?"

  "This was a shore break. But it's over and out."

  "It's never easy, is it?"

  "Sometimes it's too easy." His eyes lifted upward to the rafters.

  "Was it?"

  "Actually, it wasn't combustion at all. More like an extinguishment." This time the hand gesture was successful. Clasping hands behind his head, he said, "A spontaneous flameout."

  "Mine was a combustion. I really flared up about it."

  "Some of us are lucky."

  "Huh? Sounds like you were the lucky one."

  "No, that's you. You're lucky when you care enough to hurt about something."

  "If you say so." She fidgeted at the lapels of the robe. "Didn't you hurt?"

  "Not a bit. I felt bad about it and guilty too, but the only thing about it that hurt was the fact that it didn't hurt at all. And I didn't care. You were the lucky one, believe me."

  "What happened?"

  "I met another woman."

  "Just like that?"

  "Not exactly, but yeah."

  "Did you leave your wife?"

  "Yep."

  "I left mine. My husband, that is. Aside from all his drug crap-ola, it was a simple matter of inability to cope. It really hurt. Still does. I've gotten used to the reality of it, though. What happened in your case?"

  "June," he said, shutting his eyelids, "I don't want to sound unduly evasive but ?I don't have the strength to talk about it right now. It's very complex."

  "I think I understand."

  "Maybe some other time."

  "I'll meet you here whenever you do want to talk about it."

  "Thank you. I'll consider it a date."