Resurrection America Page 8

  Dahlia reached across him and turned the TV off.

  “Room for dessert?” she asked.

  “I want some,” came Charlie’s cry from the back room. The single-story rambler meant that no one was ever too far from anyone else.

  “We’ll see how fast you can get your jammies on,” she called back.

  Rick tried to shake the image of DC from his head. He took the roasting pan from her hands and dunked it into the dishwater.

  “You OK?” she asked.

  He nodded. She knew better than anyone that the darkness of the world outside Resurrection was still fighting for position inside his head. He thought of telling her about the flashback episode he’d experienced up at the mine. Hell, he thought about telling her everything about Keefer, the mine, all of it. He didn’t want there to be secrets between them. Not ever. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wanted to be her support, not a source of even more burden.

  “I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile.

  Dahlia wasn’t leaving it there. “Any word from Manny?”

  Rick glanced to the hallway, wishing Charlie would hurry up and save him. He shook his head. “No, not a word.”

  “That’s not like him, is it?”

  Rick scrubbed the bottom of the pan, his agitation with Manny helping to cut through the grease and bits of stuck food. It was a fair question, but he didn’t know how to answer it. Twelve hours earlier, he would never have believed his deputy and friend would take money from a stranger and toss aside all loyalty to him so easily.

  “I don’t know if it’s like him or not, to be honest,” he said. “I thought I knew him. I thought he was a friend …”

  Dahlia took the pan from him to dry it. “He is a friend. And even friends make mistakes. You always say yourself that recovering from the things you guys saw, the things you had to do over there, was two steps forward, one step back.”

  “On a good day.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “This isn’t about you, it’s about him. Getting better. Anchoring back in the real world.”

  Rick grinned. “I should stop telling you what we talk about in group.”

  “No, it helps me too,” she said. “Isn’t that what tonight was? Anchoring?”

  He wiped his hands dry and then pulled her to him, their bodies pressed against each other. “Thank you for a great night,” he said before kissing her.

  “Ewwww,” came Charlie’s voice from the doorway.

  Rick pulled back, knocking a plate off the counter with his hip. He reached for it with his left hand and snatched it out of the air with his artificial hand, catching it easily.

  “Cool,” Charlie said. “How’d you do that with your fake arm?”

  “Charlie,” Dahlia said.

  “No, it’s fine,” he said. “Me and Charlie have talked about my arm before. Want to check it out up close?”

  Charlie shook his head. “Mom says it’s rude.”

  Rick laughed. “No, it’s fine. Want to know how it works?”

  Charlie glanced at his mom, uncertain.

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  “Awesome,” Charlie said, touching Rick’s arm. His eyes were wide. “It feels like a regular arm.”

  “That’s the point.” Rick pulled up his shirt sleeve so that his elbow was exposed. The joint was enlarged and boxy, the only part of the limb that appeared unnatural. “This is where the brains of the arm stay.”

  “You have brains in your elbow?” he said, pulling his hand away. “Gross.”

  Rick laughed. “Not real brains. A microcomputer that processes everything that millions of sensors all over the artificial skin feels.”

  “Just like nerves,” Dahlia said.

  Rick saw she was as interested as Charlie. He realized she’d never asked details about his arm either. “Exactly like nerves. Charlie, let me see your arm.”

  “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” Charlie extended his arm. “Now close your eyes.” Charlie fidgeted but closed them. Rick gave him a small pinch. “Feel that?”

  “Yeah, you pinched me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I felt it.”

  “Did your skin feel it or did your brain?” Dahlia asked, picking up on his line of questioning.

  “My skin,” Charlie said, opening his eyes. “That’s where I felt it.”

  “Yes, but when I pinch you here, the nerves in your skin send a signal to your brain that says hey, something’s pinching us over here.” Charlie giggled at the silly voice Rick used. “And your brain does one of three things. It freaks out and tells your body to move away from what’s pinching you.”

  “Like when something burns you,” Dahlia added.

  “Exactly,” he said. “That’s an involuntary reaction. Or the brain thinks about the information and decides to either do something about it or not. You opened your eyes and decided to leave your arm here because you know I’d never, ever hurt you.”

  “That’s a voluntary reaction,” Dahlia said. “But what’s the third thing?”

  “The brain sometimes just ignores what the nerves are telling it. Charlie, have you ever been playing in the woods with your buddies and, when you got done, realized that you had some cuts or scrapes on your elbows or knees?”

  “Yeah, one time I was just gushing blood and I didn’t even know it until I got home. It was so cool.”

  “I wouldn’t say it was gushing,” Dahlia said. “But you did need a Band-Aid.”

  “There you go. If our brains processed every single thing our bodies felt, it would overload us. Figuring out what’s important, what’s not important, how to react to it or not react, has to be done almost instantly, millions of times a second.”

  Charlie pointed to Rick’s elbow. “All that happens in that little computer in your elbow?”

  Rick shook his head. “It’d take a supercomputer the size of this room to pull it off, so I use the most powerful computer in the world instead.” He tapped his head. “Wires go from the processor here and up directly to my brain. It may not look like much, but the human brain is capable of an unbelievable amount of computing power. Better than a lot of even the fancy ones the military uses.”

  “Then why are people so stupid sometimes?”

  Rick and Dahlia both laughed. “You figure that out, you let me know.” Charlie’s brow crinkled, showing that he didn’t understand. “People only use a portion of their brains. Maybe as little as ten percent. If we could tap into our brains completely, we’d have the most powerful computer in the world.”

  Charlie poked Rick’s arm with his finger. “But does it do any superpower stuff? Can you crunch rocks or anything?”

  “Nope, but it can scoop ice cream,” he said. “As long as it’s all right with your mom.”

  “Two scoops,” she said. “Normal sized though. I know all the tricks.”

  Charlie ran to the freezer to get the ice cream. Dahlia crossed the room to get him a bowl, sliding her hand across Rick’s shoulder as she did. He shivered at her touch, wishing the house was bigger or Charlie was a heavier sleeper. But neither of those were the case, so it wouldn’t be until Charlie was back in school Monday when he and Dahlia could be alone together. He knew it was for the best; he wanted to be careful with Charlie. Still, he couldn’t make the weekend pass fast enough.

  Dahlia put three bowls on the table and handed him a scooper. “We don’t want the kid eating ice cream alone, do we?” she said.

  Charlie whooped and Dahlia went to the fridge to get Hershey’s chocolate sauce. As Rick scooped the ice cream, he happened to look up and see his friend’s photo on the wall staring back at him. The picture showed Jerry smiling, looking right at the camera. In Rick’s mind, the look was one of approval. And it was the first time he’d ever felt that his buddy would have wanted him to be in his house, taking care of his family for him.

  At that moment, Rick realized that was exactly what he had
decided to do. No matter what, he would protect Dahlia and Charlie. It was a heavy thought, but it felt right and natural. He gave a slight nod to the photo on the wall and scooped out ice cream for the three of them, content for once that he was doing the right thing.

  But the second they sat down to eat, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, half-expecting to see it was a call from Manny, but it wasn’t. He answered it.

  “Hi, Bertie, kind of late, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Sorry,” she said, sounding shaken up, “but I need you to come down to the square.”

  “Can’t this wait until the morning?”

  “No, Rick. Now,” she said. “Right by the stage. It’s about the mine.”

  His mind raced as to what she could have found out. “Bertie, what do you––”

  But the phone was dead. Dinner was over.

  16

  The glow of lights illuminating the facade of city hall extended over the stage set up at the base of the stairs, where Bertie was standing with three men. A utility truck was parked next to the group, the kind with an extendable bucket for accessing telephone and power lines. The men were dressed in work overalls with a logo patch on the chest with the letters CZ. Still, the uniforms didn’t mask the fact that all the men were broad shouldered and fit.

  “Thanks for coming,” Bertie said, not bothering with any formalities. “These men say you know about the instruments they’re installing around town. Is that true?”

  The men stared Rick down as if daring him to contradict them.

  “You guys are a little early, aren’t you?” he said.

  “So you did know about this?” Bertie said, incredulous.

  One of the men stepped forward. Rick noticed a tattoo under the collar of the man’s overalls and that extended to his jawline. He’d seen that same kind of tattoo on some of the younger guys in his group session at the VA, never above the jawline unless they’d had the work added onto after getting out of the service. Regulations had been relaxed with the need for more bodies in the fight, but Uncle Sam still drew the line on face tats. When Rick asked why they’d gotten it, the answer was right out of high school. All the cool guys were doing it. In the military, the cool guys were the bad asses. Rick couldn’t tell for sure whether the man in front of him was one of the bad asses or just another wanna-be, but judging from the man’s steely glare, he had a pretty good idea.

  “I told the mayor that CZ Corp inherited Resurrection Mine in bankruptcy proceedings,” the man said. “We’ve inherited the liability for the air and water quality around here so we’re just putting monitors up. That’s it.”

  Rick nodded. “Yeah, but I thought you guys were coming next week.” He turned to Bertie, his stomach clenched from having to lie right to her face. “They called yesterday, but I thought with the festival and everything, it could wait.”

  Bertie tilted her head as he talked, sizing him up. He hoped that in the low light, her innate talent as a human lie detector would be off.

  “Why are you guys out here in the middle of the night?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” one of the other men grumbled.

  The spokesperson for the three shot him a look. “Our last job went long, then Martell over there got us lost.”

  “All the mountains look the same,” the man who must have been Martell complained. “And the phone reception for navigation is shit… sorry, ma’am,” he quickly added.

  If these guys were playing the part of the blue-collar technicians, they were doing a good job. Still, Rick knew Bertie was a tough customer.

  “This still doesn’t make any sense to me,” she said. “The mine’s been closed for years and you guys show up in the middle of the night? What’s the rush?”

  “Ma’am, you and me both wouldn’t mind getting the answer to that question. I offered to come up Monday to install, and my boss ripped me a new one. I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.”

  “Can you guys give us a minute?” Rick said.

  “We only have two more to install and we’re done,” the man with the tattoo said. “And we’re going all the way back to Boulder tonight, so …”

  “Just two minutes.”

  The man nodded and waved the others back toward the truck. They groaned, hamming it up a little too much, Rick thought. Once they were out of earshot, he turned to Bertie, his hands in the air.

  “My bad. I should have told you right away.”

  “Hell yes, you should have. I walked out here and saw them installing things on my lampposts in the square. I thought they were Jihadis.”

  Rick tried not to laugh at the idea of Resurrection being a target for Jihadi mercenaries. Not exactly a high-value asset. “You were so busy with the festival. I didn’t think you needed this on your radar right now. If I’d known they were coming tonight, I obviously would have told them to call you first. I’m sorry.”

  Bertie seemed to relax, taking comfort from his explanation. A reaction that made him feel even more terrible because he knew it was based on the trust she had in him.

  “No, you were probably right. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight, that’s why I was out here walking around in the first place. On a normal night, no one would have noticed.” She glanced over to the truck. “CZ Corp. Ever heard of it?”

  “No, you?”

  “No.” She pulled out her phone and typed in a search, poking her phone with her fingers. She didn’t like what she saw. “Dang, reception’s out. Zero bars. Been like that all day.”

  Rick pulled his own phone out and saw the same thing. “I noticed that too. Maybe they’re doing something with the cell tower.”

  Bertie eyed the truck. “Do you believe them, or do you think this CZ Corp is thinking about reopening the mine? God, wouldn’t that be great? Exactly what this town needs to get back on its feet again.” She must have noticed something change in his expression because she took a step closer to look him in the eye.

  “Do you know anything else about this?” she asked. “Anything else you thought could wait until after the festival? If so, I want you to tell me now.” When he didn’t respond immediately, she took him by the forearm. “Are they reopening the mine?”

  Rick shook his head. “I don’t know,” was all he could manage. “I’m sorry,” he added kind of pathetically. He was sorry, but not for the reasons Bertie guessed.

  She pulled away from him, her jaw set and her eyes hard. A look of betrayal. She didn’t believe him, and he felt terrible for it.

  “If you want, I’ll stay with them until they’re done,” Rick said. “Make sure they’re above board.”

  Bertie nodded. “Do that. Something feels off about this whole thing. First Cassie shows up asking about activity at the mine and now this. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Let’s get through the festival and then we’ll worry about it after,” Rick said. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll watch things out here.”

  They said good-bye and Bertie slowly walked the width of the park back to Elm Street and then disappeared down a side street where she owned one of the nicer houses in town. Rick waited until she was gone before heading over to the utility truck. The men stood ready; the pretense of sloping their shoulders and feigning disinterest was gone.

  “Is it handled?” the leader said.

  “Why didn’t Keefer tell me you guys were coming tonight?”

  “Ask him yourself.”

  Rick’s phone rang. He raised it and checked the screen. Five bars and Caller ID showed it was Keefer calling. He answered it.

  “I thought we had an agreement,” Rick said into the phone.

  “Calm down,” Keefer said. “Those air sniffers are for your own protection.”

  “Why’s that? What are you guys really doing up there?”

  A long pause.

  “You were sloppy today. The scientist coming up the mountain. The mayor questioning my men. I hope I can expect better from you tomorrow. There’s a lot rid
ing on this. The man in front of you is Estevez, my second in command. What he says goes, understand?”

  “I don’t like this,” Rick said. “There’s more here going on than … hello … Keefer?”

  The line was dead. No bars.

  “We’re getting back to work,” Estevez said. The other members of his team immediately went into action.

  “Let me see what you’re installing,” Rick said.

  Estevez hesitated, and Rick thought he might just ignore him. Instead, he said, “Martell, bring over one of the sniffers.”

  Martell jogged over, carrying a device not much larger than a cell phone. He gave it to Rick who turned it over in his hand, inspecting the flared end that was an open intake area. The bottom was a speaker. He’d seen this kind of device before.

  “This is a bio/chem early-warning system,” he said. “Why do you need sirens here in town?”

  “I told you that already,” Estevez said. “It’s a sniffer, measuring air quality, particulates, humidity, everything. Keefer told me you know about the mine. That it’s going full auto.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  The man grabbed the device back from Rick and tossed it to Martell. “The autodrive vehicles need environmental data points to adjust their …” Estevez stopped and sneered. He turned to Martell. “Would you listen to me? Trying to explain science to a Marine grunt.” He looked back at Rick. “Just keep doing what we tell you, when we tell you, and you’ll get paid. Got it, grunt?”