PARTY DEFECTIONS read the headline on the newspaper Big Jim dropped on the porch table. “Found that in a trash can when I went into town,” he rumbled.
Jane snatched it up, skimming the headlines and then summarizing, “It says elected officials are changing parties all over in the middle of their terms.” Jill noticed the girl’s accent and dialect faded as she read. Perhaps this was her school persona coming out.
She went on, “It says the new party has gained a bare majority in the House and Senate, and if the President doesn’t switch too, he’ll still be voted out next election. Says the whole country is turning against the infected people.” Jane glanced at her brother and Jill. “It also says that the same thing is starting to happen in Canada and Mexico. There’s a column here where the writer believes there might even be some kind of co-governmental arrangement.”
“Mexico and Canada’d be damn fools to join the US in anything like that,” Jimmy declared. “They have their own ways of doing things.”
“Might be good for Mexico,” Big Jim said. “Might clean up some o’ that corruption.”
“Yes, like the Nazis made the trains run on time,” Jill muttered darkly.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, girl. I’m jus’ sayin’, there’s a little good in most bad, and the other way ’round too. This country is too big and there’s too many ornery people for the crazies to take over for long.”
“Long enough, James,” Sarah said. “You always see the bright side of things; that’s why I married you. This time…things are really getting worse. Them Hastings boys have taken to wearin’ that Unionist uniform all the time, runnin’ around and scarin’ people, makin’ them give ‘political contributions.’ I heard they burnt out some poor black folks on the other side of Shandy that wouldn’t pay.”
“Like to see ’em try that here,” Jimmy growled.
“Rather they didn’t, son,” Big Jim disagreed. “Rather if trouble jes’ passed us by.”
“But Pa, we need to do something!”
Big Jim nodded. “And we will, son, but not with violence, unless we got no choice. No, the best thing we can do is stay out the way, help who we can, keep our eyes open and our mouths shut. That goes for everyone. When Jill gets her feet back, when she’s able to get up and run for the hills, then mebbe we can take a few risks. Y’hear?” He stabbed his pipe stem at Jimmy. “You want this fine young lady to get taken away?”
“No, Pa,” Jimmy said miserably, suddenly looking twelve instead of twenty-two under his father’s stare.
“How are your legs now, Jill?” Jane asked, changing the subject.
Jill had showed her just last night, but she answered, thankful for the diversion. “It looks almost like I have baby feet, and I can’t put my weight on them at all. It’s a good thing that I have this,” she went on, slapping her palms on the wheels of the chair they had built for her. “I figure another two weeks and I may be able to walk, three or four and I may be almost normal.” And then I’ll go, she heard the unspoken subtext.
Klutz stood up and pointed with his nose, his ears cocked, then barked once.
“Pa?” Jimmy stood up, looking out toward the valley below. “Someone comin’ up the road.” Now that he pointed it out, they could all see a plume of dust as a vehicle made its way up the gravel-dirt track that led up to their farm.
“Jill, get in the special hide. Jimmy, run her over there and toss her things in after her. Everybody keep your guns handy. Jane, run and get a coupl’a jars o’ corn squeezins out of the larder, put ’em on the table there, and then go get a whole case from the cellar and put it in the kitchen. Sarah, see what kinda grub you can rustle up quick. Hop to now.” Big Jim stood up, reaching for his shotgun he kept leaning in the corner on the porch.
“Don’t see why I’m getting’ food for some fool flatlanders comin’ up uninvited,” Sarah muttered as she went inside.
“Come on, Jill,” Jimmy said as he wheeled her down the ramp and off the porch, racing for the barn. She held on tight, and assisted as much as she could when he lifted the tractor and helped her down the ladder. A moment later her duffel bag and bedding tumbled down into the hole as Jimmy made sure nothing incriminating remained in the loft. Then the tractor came down, sealing her in, and Jill sat down quietly in the dark.
For the first time since the trucker tried to rape her she felt afraid. She imagined some runaway slave of so long ago doing the same, longing for freedom, relying on the kindness of strangers, fearing a return to hell on Earth. Why couldn’t people let each other have the gift of the Eden Plague, its healing and its promise, if they chose to?
Jill knew the answer already. She’d seen it in the Corps, and in the gangs before that. Power itself, to those who had it, was more important than anything else, or anyone. It didn’t matter whether the wielder was a slave owner, a pigheaded officer or a politician. As soon as they got power, and felt afraid of losing it, then they would abuse it, and to hell with the people that got hurt.
She saw now that the Eden Plague would take away their power by taking away an enormous source of dependency. If no one needed medical care, and everyone had their head screwed on straight, how could they be made to fear? How could they be manipulated? Of course the ones on top right now would resist, by whipping up that fear before it was too late, to drive out the infection, even kill those who had it.
But what could she do here? Obviously she would have to leave. Somehow she had to help fight this thing, this situation. Like she wished people had fought the Nazis when they took over, or the Bolsheviks, or McCarthy, or…she ran out of examples. But where could she go? She’d only read a few obviously censored newspapers, and listened to one radio station, for the last several months. No internet, nobody to talk to except the McConleys. Once she got out, she’d have to find somewhere in the world that Eden Plague people were accepted as normal. Then…then she’d find a new gang, or a new Corps, to join.
Thinking about that drove a dagger through her heart. The Marine Corps was her family…except for the Repeths back in Los Angeles, if they even lived. Except for the McConleys, too. It seemed she was doomed to keep losing her families, and the tears began again.
Some warrior you are, Jill, sitting here sobbing like a little girl. She felt so helpless, with useless feet. It would have almost been better to live with the prosthetics for the rest of her life; to have never gotten the Eden Plague. Then, as during all tough times, she reminded herself that this would be over with soon, and she would come back stronger, faster, better, like she always did.
Someday soon.