Provocation Page 7

After they leave the room, Athena and I begin clearing away the meal.

  “I wonder how long we’ll have before we have to register with Records Command,” Billy muses, leaning back in his chair with a muffled burp.

  “Not long, I’m sure,” Jarrod mutters. “Things must really be bad in the cities for people to bend over like this.”

  “It’s not forever,” I say. “Lowell Sutherland himself assured me that these measures are temporary and will be removed when the situation rights itself.” I spoke to him again only two months ago.

  Jarrod cocks an eyebrow at me. “Unless they aren’t.”

  “They will be,” I maintain stubbornly.

  Billy stands and kisses me on the cheek. “My sweet, trusting wife who can’t possibly think the worst of anyone.”

  I realize his compliment is a kind way of telling me I am naive. I frown. “Do you really think this could become permanent?”

  “I believe Representative Poletti has good intentions,” Jarrod says. “But I worry that his Ubercommittee will get rather attached to its new powers.”

  “Little stooges like Gilbert get drunk on them,” Billy adds.

  My frown deepens. Since talking to Lowell, I haven’t even let myself consider the possibility. As the conversation veers toward other subjects, I let my mind linger on what it might be like to raise a family in such a climate. The fear of losing a child as I have lost Ruby, the upheaval and unrest throughout the culture, the strain of simply making ends meet, and the continuing encroachment of the government into our private lives. It’s a bleak picture. The difficult years since the war now seem carefree and utopian by comparison.

  The matter weighs so heavily on me that I call Lowell Sutherland again the next day. I love Billy and his father, but they don’t have the kind of insight into the situation that Lowell has. And I trust my father’s old law buddy implicitly. Lowell doesn’t answer his phone right away, but I get a callback on my tablet early the next morning. I click through and Lowell’s face appears on the screen. I don’t recall ever seeing so many lines carved into it.

  He smiles wearily. “Hi, Opal. It’s not too early, is it?”

  “No, your timing’s perfect. Billy just left for the wharf and I’ve got an hour before I start my shift.”

  “I was hoping that was the case. Sorry I’d didn’t get back to you yesterday. Things have been crazy at work.”

  I can only imagine, the way politics have been moving at the speed of light. “It wasn’t urgent. I just…” My brow furrows and I sigh. “I guess I just wanted some reassurance that eventually things are going to go back to the way they used to be.”

  He smiles sympathetically. “Difficult week?”

  “No worse than any other, I suppose. But my husband and father-in-law have expressed some concerns—a lot of the people in Tidbury have expressed concerns—that we’re being forced to lend so many of our freedoms to the Ubercommittee. I want to hear you say again that this really is just temporary.”

  Lowell nods his understanding. “I appreciate their concerns. But I have full confidence in Michael Poletti and Constance Burghardt. They’re good people, Opal. This isn’t a power grab. They love the Republic, and they genuinely want to help North Americans get their lives back. I assure you, when the disappearances end and the economy gets back on track, they will dismantle the Ubercommittee.”

  The straightjacket that has been binding me since dinner yesterday loosens and falls away. I draw in a free, unrestricted breath. “Thank you, Mr. Sutherland. I really, really needed to hear that.”

  “It’s the honest truth,” Lowell says. Then he hesitates. “Opal?” He meets my eyes, looks away with a frown, and then holds my gaze. “While I’ve got you on the line, there’s something else I want to tell you. Perhaps it’s unwise for me to get your hopes up, but I’ve been privy to some information from the agency investigating President Dempsey.” He pauses again, his frown firmly in place. “There is evidence that the thousands of missing people…”

  My heart misses a beat as I wait for what I think he’s going to say.

  Lowell’s forehead puckers. “I can’t discuss it on an unsecured connection, but there’s a chance—a very small chance—that Ruby could still be alive.”

  SIX

  Billy and I aren’t invited to Georgina’s wedding the following month, and from what I hear around town, we’re practically the only ones in Tidbury who don’t attend. Of course, Hank Penner boycotts, along with a handful of other residents who dislike Gilbert’s politics, but even most of the dissenters attend purely out of respect for Jarrod and Athena. I regret that my relationship with Georgina is still broken, but I am not sad to miss the wedding. To be honest, knowing she still holds me accountable for Ruby’s disappearance aggravates that little kernel of guilt still tucked somewhere deep inside.

  I don’t tell anyone I’ve been in contact with Lowell. Billy won’t understand the comfort I have taken from the Congressman’s assurances, and I don’t want my husband to think of me as silly and weak. So of course I don’t share the news about Ruby either. Lowell has promised to look into the matter more closely, but it’s a long shot and too soon to get Granddad’s hopes up. It’s too soon to get mine up either, but they’re up. They’re way up.

  It’s not long, however, before I’m cruelly sidetracked.

  Spring begins to thaw out the bay. The months of March and April usher in rain, mud, the hardiest flowers, and wild fluctuations in temperature. And the fog that often rolls in off the ocean dampens everything and brings with it a variety of seasonal respiratory ailments. Granddad comes down with a nasty case of bronchitis.

  Spring also wraps up the trial. President Dempsey looks even worse than Granddad as we gather around the screen in the living room to watch the closing arguments, punctuated frequently by Granddad’s hacking coughs. No one is surprised five days later when the jury declares the president guilty. We are stunned, however, when the judge delivers his sentence—execution by firing squad.

  Dempsey’s negligence has been criminal and intentional. Personal assaults against the nation. Though no one has been able to pin the disappearances on him, it’s clear he never took them seriously. He hindered efforts to crack down on them. He diverted millions of dollars in funding to a massive building project in his own hometown. And information leaked to the press brought to light a number of other scandals within his administration. It’s even been suggested that he was behind efforts to lose evidence and scrub files. The fact that the disappearances began to abate almost immediately following the drastic measures undertaken by Poletti and the Ubercommittee sealed his fate. But while the trial has left me with no doubt of Dempsey’s incompetence and moral ineptitude, I cannot agree with the sentence. I’m not opposed to capital punishment per se, but it’s been outlawed for most of a century. And it terrifies me that somewhere at the highest levels, strings are being pulled to circumvent the law. This is not a sentence. It’s a lynching.

  Dempsey’s execution is scheduled for the last day of May. It will be televised.

  Billy clicks off the tablet and stares at me in shock. “What are we coming to, Opal? If the government won’t honor the law, our freedom means next to nothing.”

  I reach for his hand, mostly because I need the comfort. “It can’t last forever, Billy. The disappearances have all but stopped. We’ll recover. We always have.”

  He shakes his head doubtfully. “In the past, our enemy has always been external.”

  Granddad has grown strangely quiet during our conversation. A glance in his direction shows why. He has slumped against the back of his easy chair, his face red, his eyes fever bright. Hardy coughs have been replaced by wheezy breaths. I spring from my seat. “Granddad!”

  His eyes flicker to me. He smiles and his voice comes weakly. “I’m not feeling so well, child. I wonder if you would help me to my bed.”

  Billy scoops Granddad out of his chair. He looks like a child in my husband’s arms. Before Billy has even tucke
d the blanket around him, I have Dr. Branford on the phone. After I disconnect, I slip outside to wait, pacing the front porch and willing the doctor to drive quickly.

  Billy walks up behind me and drapes a coat over my shoulders. His arms circle my waist. “Go in to your grandfather, Opal.”

  I grip his locked wrists with white fingers. “Is he dying?”

  “I don’t know. If he is, you’ll regret not being there.”

  Granddad celebrated his eighty-eighth birthday last month. How much time can I expect to still have with him?

  Billy nuzzles the hair off my neck and plants a kiss just behind my ear. “Go to him. I’ll meet the doctor.”

  I nod and slip out of his arms.

  Granddad reaches a hand outside his blanket as I enter his room. I grasp it and sink to my knees beside his bed, barely able to hold back my tears at the sight of his frail form. “My dear girl,” he whispers. The effort sends him into a fit of coughing.

  “Don’t talk, Granddad.” I tug a chair beside his bed and hold his hand until he falls asleep. The doctor arrives five minutes later.

  I join Billy at the kitchen table while Dr. Branford makes his examination. Billy slides a cup of hot coffee across the table toward me. The first strong sip lends a little muscle to my emotions. After only a few minutes, Dr. Branford emerges and closes Granddad’s door quietly behind him. “He never woke up,” he says.

  My eyes widen. “Is he—?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but he’s a very sick man. It’s pneumonia.”

  The diagnosis I have feared.

  “Here is a prescription for an antibiotic. Administer it twice a day with a bit of milk or broth, if you can get it down him. Keep him warm and let him sleep as much as possible.”

  “What is his prognosis?” Billy asks.

  “He could go either way. For his age, he’s in excellent shape, but that bronchitis weakened him significantly. Time will tell.”

  I grasp the doctor’s hand. “Thank you for making the trip out.”

  He lays his other hand on my shoulder. “Call me again if you need me.”

  Billy walks him out while I stare numbly into my cup. When he returns, I don’t look up. “If Granddad dies, I will have no family left. In five years’ time, I will have lost them all.”

  “He may pull through.” Billy sits beside me and tugs me onto his lap. “He’s a spry old fella. But if he doesn’t, I will be your family, Opal.” And he kisses me so gently, so tenderly that my eyes well up with tears. I cup his face in my hands, so very, very grateful he is mine.

  After a day of touch and go, Granddad rallies, but he’s still too weak to sit up. I take a leave of absence from work and spend the next week caring for him when he’s awake. When he’s asleep, I watch the aftermath of the trial. A witch hunt has begun in the capital. Anyone sympathetic to or in close alliance with the president is being ousted from office. Cabinet members are relieved first. Most of them leave willingly, afraid President Dempsey’s fate might become their own. Then a swift purge takes place in the House and Senate in the form of a slick coup. The Ubercommittee simply calls a special joint session of Congress, and Representative Poletti’s new majority pass legislation relieving their conservative counterparts of their duties. The unlawful vote is upheld with the support of their Greencoat militia. Within days, it’s over. The old Continental Government is no more.

  The nation is staggered by the speed of the overthrow, but there’s little outcry from the people. With the facts of President Dempsey’s trial so fresh in their minds and the execution looming, the people of the dying North American Republic accept its demise without a murmur. The media even show celebrations breaking out in urban locations, carried out by desperately thin, ragged residents.

  I struggle to hold onto Lowell’s certainty that authority will be restored to its proper place, but this does not appear to be a government interested in relinquishing power. Fear grows like a melon in my gut as I realize that Billy and Jarrod were right and that Lowell’s trust was misplaced.

  On the last day of May, Granddad’s health takes a turn for the worse. Dr. Branford arrives within an hour of my call, but his face looks grave when he emerges from Granddad’s room. “His lungs have filled. His heart is failing. I’m sorry, Opal. It’s only a matter of time.”

  I have expected the pronouncement, but can anyone really prepare for it? I spend the rest of the morning at Granddad’s bedside, just watching him sleep and wishing Billy were here with me. Though my brain is numb, somehow my body still requires food. I carry a sandwich back into the room with me then read a Bible passage aloud when Granddad wakes up.

  When I am finished, he takes my hand. “I have a confession, Opal,” he wheezes in a halting voice. “I know it’s not right for a grandfather to play favorites, but you were the child after my own heart.” He pauses to catch his breath and gives my hand a weak squeeze. “I have loved you so very much, my girl.”

  The effort leaves him exhausted and me a wreck. He drifts back into sleep. I rise, wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt, and stroll out to the porch. What am I going to do without that dear old man?

  I suck in huge draughts of sea air and stretch the kinks out of my back, pacing from one end of the porch to the other. While I am outside, I see Mr. Worthingdale’s car stop at our mailbox and wonder how many days it’s been since I’ve actually brought the mail inside. The poor man has probably been reduced to cramming the envelopes in however they fit.

  I’m in no mood to make pleasant conversation, so I wait till he moves down the street. The box isn’t quite as crowded as I imagined, but I do pull out a good handful. Mostly bills and advertisements. As I flip through the pile piece by piece, I pause at a handwritten letter with no return address. The postmark is a town I’ve never heard of before. Curious, I rip it open. The message inside drives my grief from my thoughts and sets my heart to pounding: I have news about your sister. Meet me at the Giant’s Mouth.

  I have not heard anyone speak of the Giant’s Mouth since my father died. It was his name for the shallow cavern near the top of the heights. He used to take me and Ruby up there sometimes when we were children. When the evening shadows hit the rock just right, it really does look as if a huge reclining figure is yawning.

  The note has to be from Lowell. Daddy must have taken him there when they were on a break during law school. But why the subterfuge? Why the anonymity? Why not a telephone call or an invitation to his house?

  My chest suddenly seizes. But of course. Lowell Sutherland is a Congressman.

  I wonder how he has fared in the week’s shakedown. But more importantly, what does he know about Ruby?

  I decide I must meet him despite the irregularity of the request. Despite Granddad’s health and the unease that has not left me since the pronouncement of execution. But Billy isn’t due home for several hours. And I cannot leave Granddad alone.

  I grab a water bottle and dress in jeans, hiking boots, and a light sweatshirt. Then I dodge next door to speak with Annabeth Ransom. She steps onto her porch as soon as I knock. “Opal, dear, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is it your grandfather?”

  “He’s dying, Annabeth. I don’t want to leave him, but something extremely important came up. It should only take an hour. Will you stay with him for me?”

  “Of course, dear. Just let me grab my sweater.”

  I stride into the woods, confident that Granddad is in good hands but apprehensive about whatever news awaits me at the top of the heights.

  It takes twenty minutes to climb to the Giant’s Mouth. Lowell leaps up from his place on the cavern floor when I duck inside. “Opal! Thank God you’ve come!”

  He looks terrible. He’s lost weight. His eyes are deep, dark circles in a drawn face. His hair is matted, several days’ worth of stubble covers his cheeks, and he smells like he hasn’t showered since his last shave. I grip his arm. “Mr. Sutherland, what is it?”

  He drags me deeper into the cave. “I’m sorry for
all the artifice, but this was the only way I could think of to contact you without sucking you in. Opal, I’m afraid I am in grave peril.”

  The fear in my belly moves outward, trembling along my arms and legs. “Tell me.”

  He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. His fingers snag on the knots. “I’ve learned things, Opal. Horrible things. The disappearances aren’t what everyone thinks.”

  I pinch his arm hard. “What has the president done?”

  He shakes his head. “Dempsey was set up. The trial was a sham.”

  “Poletti?” I ask. My head is reeling.

  “Michael Poletti’s dead. Senator Burghardt is in hiding, and so is Representative Macron. They all know too much.”

  I cover my mouth with one hand, stifling my horror. It’s several seconds before I pull my hand away. “Mr. Sutherland, please tell me who is behind this.”

  “First, you must promise me something.”

  “I’ll do anything I can.”

  “It’s not for me. I’m as good as dead.” He pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket. “But my family is hidden at these coordinates. Will you retrieve them? Get them out of the country.”

  I take the paper, alarm wailing like a siren in my head. “Yes, of course.”

  He heaves in a breath that lifts his shoulders and sets them down lower than before. “Thank you.”

  “Mr. Sutherland, who—” I begin again, but I’m interrupted by a noise I’ve never heard before, a hum followed by a gentle whoosh of air.

  Lowell swears, the color draining from his face. “They’ve found me.”

  “Who’s found you?”

  “They must have placed a trace…” he mumbles, half to himself. Then he grips my shoulders and looks me dead in the eye. “My family. Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  At that same moment, I catch sight of a machine outside the cave opening. Like an airplane, but it hovers above the ground. My eyes pop as I suck in air.

  Mr. Sutherland releases me and walks directly toward the mouth of the cave. His back has straightened and his head sits high above rigid shoulders. I realize what he is about to do. I lunge for his arm and stop him before he reaches the opening. “Mr. Sutherland, you can’t go out there!”