Spencerville

  I wonder.

  Yeah, we're fuckups, but we're functional. He thought a moment and said, We pulled ourselves out of this place, Keith, you and I and a few others. We weren't born with money like the Baxters, or into a tradition of education like the Prentis family. Your old man was a farmer, mine was a railroad worker. The sixties didn't fuck us up, they broke us loose from convention and class structure. He added, And we got laid a lot. You know, I once figured out that I probably got laid more than every male and female in my family put together, going back to maybe 1945. I think people got laid a lot during the Second World War, but not before or after.

  Keith smiled. Was that one of your prepared lectures?

  It was, actually.

  Okay, we had some great times. But as you once said, we did some shitty things then. You sent me a shitty letter, for instance. It's okay. I got the same kind of letters from total strangers. But we all talked love, love, love, and we did a lot of hateful things. Me, too. He added, When I got your letter, I wanted to literally kill you. I would have if you were there.

  What can I say? We were young. There were solar storms, and Jupiter and Mars were lined up or something, and the price of grass dropped, and we went totally fucking bonkers. If it hadn't happened, you and I would have been at John's Place last night, bitching about farm prices and railroad wages, and maybe Billy Marlon would have owned the place and been a city councilman if he hadn't gone to Vietnam. Christ, I don't know. He took a bite of muffin and said, Some of who we are is in our genes, some of it is our culture, some of it is in our stars, and a lot of it is our personal history. You, me, Cliff Baxter, Annie Prentis, and Billy Marlon. We were born in the same hospital within a year of one another. I don't have any answers.

  Me, neither. I'd like you to do me another favor. After I'm gone, go see if there's anything you can do for Marlon. He lives out at the Cowley farm on Route 8. See if you can get him into a VA hospital.

  Sure. You're a good guy.

  Don't let it get around.

  Gail said, You must have a lot of mixed feelings right now. You're about to leave home again, and you're embarking on a great and unknown journey into a new life with another person. Are you excited or scared shitless?

  Yes.

  They finished breakfast and Gail asked Keith if he had an extra toothbrush.

  Sure. I'll find it. Come on up.

  They went upstairs and into Keith's room. He opened the wardrobe.

  Gail looked at the uniforms, the saber, the bulletproof vest, and the odds and ends of a career that required many accessories. She asked, What exactly did you do?

  This and that. He took out the M-16 rifle. Basically, I spent twenty-five years fighting commies. They got tired of it about the same time I did.

  Was it fulfilling?

  Toward the end, it was about as fulfilling as your job. Here— this is called the fire control selector. It's on safety now. Move it here, and it's ready to fire. You just keep pulling the trigger. It chambers a new round and cocks itself automatically. This is the magazine. It holds twenty rounds. After you empty the magazine, you push this catch and the magazine pops out, then you push a fresh magazine in and make sure it clicks in place, then you pull this handle back and it will chamber the first round, then it's automatic again. He handed the rifle to her.

  She said, It's so light.

  And it doesn't have much kick.

  She practiced loading a magazine, chambering a round, and aiming. She said, It's pretty simple.

  Right. It was designed for people like a Billy Marlon. It's simple, light, easy to aim, and very deadly. All you need is the will to pull the trigger.

  That I don't know.

  Then you shouldn't take it.

  I'll take it.

  Okay. Here's the carrying case. There are four fully loaded magazines in these side pouches, and in this pouch is a scope, but don't bother with that. It's for long-distance firing. I don't think you'll wind up in a firefight with the Spencerville police, but you'll feel better at night if this is under your bed. Okay?

  Okay.

  She said, I'll go unlock the trunk, then take Jeffrey for a walk. She went downstairs, and a few minutes later, as Keith got dressed, he saw them through the window out by the barn. He went downstairs and out the back door and put the carrying case in their trunk beside the empty food containers. He closed the trunk and went inside and poured another cup of coffee.

  A few minutes later, Gail and Jeffrey returned. Gail said, Really nice place here. They made small talk for a few minutes, then Gail said, Well . . . time to go. She put her arms around him and kissed him. Good luck, Keith. Call or write.

  I'll write. Meanwhile, get a security company down from Toledo to check out your phones, and get a mobile phone.

  Good idea. Jeffrey took his hand. Hey, if you need anything before you take off, don't call—stop by.

  I think it's all set. The house key's under the workbench in the toolshed.

  Okay. We'll keep an eye on things until you get back.

  Thanks for everything. Good luck with the revolution.

  They all embraced again, then the Porters left, and Keith watched them drive off, reasonably certain he'd see them again in better times.

  At about ten A.M., Keith was on a ladder, replacing the rusted hinges on the door of the haymow. Working outdoors had cleared his head, and he felt better.

  He heard the sound of tires on the gravel and turned to see a gray Ford Taurus coming up the long drive, a cloud of dust trailing it.

  Keith couldn't imagine who it was, but it might be Annie. Then again, it might not be. He came down off the ladder in time to pick up his Clock 9mm from atop the toolbox, stick it in his waistband, and throw his shirt on over it. He walked toward the house as the driver's-side door of the car opened.

  A man of about his own height and age, with sandy hair and wearing a blue suit, got out and looked around, then the man saw Keith and waved. Howdy! This the Landry farm?

  Keith continued walking toward the man who came to meet him.

  The man said, Fine spread you got here, son. I'm fixin' to buy you out, or run you out. All you sod-busters got to clear out for my cattle.

  Keith came up to the man. This is Ohio, Charlie. We don't talk that way.

  I thought this was Kansas. How the hell are you?

  They shook hands, then embraced briefly and patted each other's backs.

  Charlie Adair, of Washington, D.C., and the National Security Council, had been Keith Landry's immediate civilian superior and Keith's sometimes good friend. Keith wondered what he was doing here and guessed it was some administrative thing, paperwork to be signed, or maybe just a physical check to see that Keith was where he said he was, how he lived, that sort of thing. But somehow, Keith knew this wasn't so.

  Charlie Adair asked, How have you been, Keith?

  Fine until two minutes ago. What's up?

  Oh, I just came by to say hello.

  Hi.

  Charlie looked around. You were born here?

  Yup.

  Was it a good place to grow up?

  It was.

  You get cyclones here?

  At least once a week. You just missed one. There's a tornado later today if you're still around.

  Adair smiled, then asked, So, you settled in?

  I am.

  What's a place like this worth?

  I don't know . . . four hundred acres, house, building, a little equipment . . . maybe four hundred thousand.

  No kidding? That's pretty good. But outside of D.C., in Virginia, those gentlemen's farms go for a million.

  Keith didn't think Charlie Adair came to Spencer County to talk about the price of land. Keith asked him, You just fly in?

  Yeah, took an early morning flight to Columbus and rented a car. Nice drive. I found you without too many problems. Police knew right where you were.

  This is a real small place.

  I see that. Adair observed, You got some good tan. L
ost some weight.

  Lot of outdoor work on a farm.

  I guess. Adair stretched. Hey, can we take a walk? Long flight and long drive.

  Sure. I'll show you around.

  They walked around the farmyard, and Charlie feigned an interest in everything, while Keith feigned an interest in showing it to him. Charlie asked, This all yours?

  No. It belongs to my parents.

  Will you inherit it?

  I have a brother and sister, and we don't have primogeniture in this country, so we'll have to make a decision someday.

  In other words, if one of you wanted to farm the place, that person would buy out the other two.

  That's what sometimes happens. Used to happen. Now the heirs usually sell out to a big concern and take the money and run.

  Too bad. That's what's killing the family farms. Plus estate taxes.

  No estate taxes on farms if you keep it in the family.

  Really? Hey, that's something those assholes in Congress did right.

  Yeah, that's a short list.

  They went into the cornfields and walked between the rows. Charlie said, This is where my cornflakes come from.

  If you're a cow. This is called field corn. You feed it to cattle, they get fat, you kill them, and they become hamburgers.

  You mean I can't eat this?

  People eat sweet corn. The farmers plant a little of that, but it's mostly harvested by hand around August.

  I'm really learning something. You planted all this?

  No, Charlie, it was planted about May. I got here in August. You don't think corn would get this high in two months.

  I don't have a clue. So this isn't yours?

  The land is mine. It's contracted. Rented.

  I got it. They pay you in corn or money?

  Money. Keith made his way to the Indian burial mound, and they climbed atop it.

  Charlie looked out over the fields. This is the heartland, Keith. This is what we defended for all those years.

  From sea to shining sea.

  You miss the job?

  No.

  Charlie took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. Can I smoke here?

  Why not?

  He blew a stream of smoke into the air and pointed off in the distance. What kind of corn is that?

  That's soybean.

  Like in soy sauce?

  Yup. There's a Japanese-owned processing plant not far from here.

  You mean to tell me there are Japanese here?

  Why not? They can't ship a million acres of American farmland to Japan.

  He thought a moment, then said, That's . . . scary.

  Don't be xenophobic.

  Hey, comes with the job. He smoked for a while, then said, Keith, they want you back.

  Keith already knew that. He said, Forget it.

  They sent me to bring you back.

  They told me to leave. So you go back and tell them I'm gone.

  Don't give me a hard time, Keith. I had a bumpy flight. They told me not to come back without you.

  Charlie, they can't just say you're out, then change their minds.

  They can say whatever they want. But they also want to extend an apology for any inconvenience this may have caused you. They acted hastily, without due consideration of the developing situation in the East. You remember where that is. Will you accept their apology?

  Of course. Good-bye. When's your flight?

  They offer a civilian contract for five years. You'll get your thirty in and full retirement pay.

  No.

  And a promotion. A military promotion. One-star general. How's that sound to you, Colonel?

  Your timing's bad.

  This is a White House job, Keith. Very high visibility. You could be the next Alexander Haig. I mean, he thought he was president, but this job has such potential that you could actually run for president like people wanted Haig to do. The country is ready for a general as president again. I just read a secret poll about that. Think about it.

  Okay. Let me think a second. No.

  Everybody wants to be president.

  I want to be a farmer.

  That's the point. The public will love it. A tall, good-looking, honest man of the soil. You know the story of Cincinnatus?

  I told you the story.

  Right. So your country needs you again. Time to step up to the plate and stop shoveling shit.

  Keith wasn't sure about that mixed metaphor. He replied, You know, if I were president, the first thing I'd do is fire you.

  That's very petty, Keith. Not very statesmanlike.

  Charlie, stop jerking me around. You wear thin.

  I'm not jerking you around. Forget president. After your White House job, you could come back here and run for Congress, then live in Washington. Best of both worlds. You could do something for your country and your community. Adair ground out his cigarette. Come on, let's walk.

  They walked between the rows of corn. Adair said, Look, Keith, the president's got it in his mind that he'd like you to be on his staff. You owe him the courtesy of a personal reply. You got to do face time with this. So, even if you don't want the job, you have to tell him in person to fuck off.

  He told me to fuck off by letter.

  It wasn't him.

  Whoever it was, it doesn't matter. If someone screwed up, it's not my problem. You know I'm right.

  It's dangerous to be right when the government is wrong.

  Keith stopped walking. Is that a threat?

  No. Just good advice, my friend.

  They resumed their walk. Charlie said, Will you like it here this time next year?

  If I don't, I'll move on.

  Look, Keith, maybe you could rusticate out here and maybe be happy, and you could have stayed pissed off at those guys. But now that I brought you sincere apologies and an offer, you're not going to be at peace with yourself. So I fucked up your day and your retirement. Now you have to deal with the new situation.

  This is the new situation. Here. Back there is the old situation. You know, I was pissed off, but I'm not anymore. You guys did me a favor. You can't make me go back, so stop the bullshit.

  Well . . . you know, you're still in the military. You haven't worn a uniform in about fifteen years, but you're still a reserve colonel, and the president is commander in chief.

  Speak to my lawyer.

  The president may call on you from time to time to discharge the duties of your office, and so forth. The time has come, buddy.

  Don't try that with me.

  Okay, let me try this. Save my ass. Come to Washington with me and tell them Adair gave it his best shot, but you're there to tell them personally to fuck off. Okay? I know you want to do it that way. You don't owe them anything except a face-to-face fuck-off. But you owe me a few favors, and all I'm asking to square our account is that you come to D.C. with me. Then I'm off the hook, and you can say what's on your mind. Fair? You bet.

  I . . . I can't go with you . . .

  You owe me, Keith. I'm here to collect, not to beg, threaten, or cajole. To collect.

  Charlie, look—

  Bucharest. Not to mention the messiness in Damascus.

  Look, Charlie . . . there's a woman—

  There's always a woman. That's how you almost got us beheaded in Damascus.

  There's a woman here—

  Here? Christ, buddy, you haven't even been here two months.

  From long ago. You know, high school and college. I may have mentioned her in a maudlin moment.

  Oh . . . yes. Yes, you did. I see. He thought a moment and asked, Husband?

  Keith nodded.

  Well, we can't help you with that. He winked. But we can work something out.

  I've already worked it out, thank you.

  They came back into the farmyard, and Charlie sat on the small garden tractor. Can I smoke on this thing?

  Yeah. It's just a tractor. It doesn't fly.

  Right. He lit another cigarette and seemed
to be thinking. He said, I don't see the complication.

  She's married. How would it look if a presidential aide was living with a married woman?

  We'll get her a divorce.

  That could take years.

  We can pull a few strings.

  No, you can't. You can't do whatever you want to do. You think you can, but you can't. There are laws that govern this.

  Right. Well, did you intend to live with her anytime soon?

  Yeah. Real soon.

  So we get her a separate apartment in Washington. Why are you making such a big deal of this?

  Charlie, this is not what she and I had in mind. I am not that important to global peace. The world will do fine without my advice. The danger has passed. I did my duty. My life is important to me now.

  That's good. It never was, but I hear you. You know, you can have a life and a career. Done all the time.

  Not that career.

  It won't be as crazy this time. Sure, the hours are still long, and you might have to fly here or there now and then, but you don't have to go behind the Iron Curtain anymore. It blew away.

  Yeah, I was there.

  Right. He studied the controls on the tractor and asked, You know how to run this?

  That's how it got out of the barn.

  I thought these things were bigger.

  This is a garden tractor. Sort of a utility vehicle for around the yard.

  No kidding? Where's the big one?

  My father sold it. Keith said, So thanks for stopping by. Say hello to everyone. What time is your flight?

  Charlie looked at his watch. Return from Toledo at two-fifteen. How long will it take me to get to the airport from here?

  Maybe an hour or more with traffic. You may want to leave now to play it safe.

  No. I have time for a beer.

  Come on inside.

  Charlie got off the tractor, and they went into the house through the kitchen door. Keith said, I'm out of beer.

  It's a little early anyway. I'm just thirsty.

  I don't doubt it. You've been blowing steam for the last half hour. Keith opened the refrigerator and got a jug of water. He poured two glasses. This is genuine spring water.

  Charlie drained off half the glass. It's good.