When Life Turned Purple (23 page)

He mentioned that to Lia, but she said, “No, that’s part of it. You understand more than you realize.”

“Well, it’s like I need to stop fighting it. Getting angry is just distracting me from my goal. It’s like if a quarterback is running far ahead of everybody to the goalposts, but then stops and slams the ball on the green in kind of hissy-fit because everybody is chasing him. And then he gets tackled. And he misses his chance to win.”

“Right.” Lia nodded.

“But had he just kept going,” said Russ, “he would have scored. And anyway, all those guys were
supposed
to be chasing him. That’s the whole point of the game. It’s no big deal to make a touchdown if you don’t need to dodge anybody to do it.”

Lia gazed at him, then smiled.

“Oh my freakin’ gallstones,” said Russ. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

Lia nodded slowly, still smiling.

“These things—they’re the opposing team, aren’t they?”

“I think they’re more than that,” she said. “They’re the team, the green, the ball, the goal line, and the goalposts—they’re the whole game.”

“And what about the referee?”

“It’s God,” said Lia. “He’s calling the shots. He can tell if you make a foul or a touchdown.”

Absentmindedly, Russ started tapping his lips with his fist as he considered this.

Then they heard a knock on the door.

Lia clutched Russ as they rose to tiptoe toward the door.

“It’s Evan,” came Evan’s muffled voice.

Even as he peered through the peephole just to be sure, Russ unlocked the bolts.

Evan and Edison slipped in.

Evan loped over to the window and looked out. Russ knew he was looking at his car.

“Listen,” he said. “We snagged a place in one of those luxury bunkers.”

“What?” said Russ.

“There were a couple of units left, so we signed on.” Evan shook his head. “These things were always expensive, but now…I mean, holy—”

“Do you need anything?” said Russ.

“Yeah,” said Evan looking straight at Russ. “You. And Lia.”

“We’re set up here,” said Russ.

Evan smirked and Edison pursed her lips and arched her eyebrows as she looked around.

“No, man,” said Evan, glancing down out the window again. “The bunker is a whole complex with levels of units.”

“Yeah,” said Russ. “I’ve seen stuff about those.”

“Well, that’s where we’re going now. We could hunker down there for a good few years and see if we can outlast those things in the sky.” He paused to look at Russ. “We’re including you and Lia too. It’ll be a bit snug, but I figure it’ll be kind of like dorming again.” He paused. “This is it. We can’t tell you where it is. If they find out that we ratted out their location—because you guys come looking for us later for shelter—you won’t get in and things won’t go well for us. It could get us kicked out in the thick of things, sick as that sounds. So you need to come now. There’ll be no chance to come later.”

Russ stared at Evan, then he glanced at Lia, who had the same look on her face that Russ figured he had on his. Slowly, her head turned to meet Russ’s gaze.

As they looked into each other’s eyes, Russ could tell they were both thinking the same thing:
NO
.

Russ turned his head back to look at Evan and Edison. Edison stood there, her hands clasped in front of her, her shoulders hunched, and stared at Russ and Lia, her mouth small and unsmiling, her eyes wide and intense. She hadn’t spoken this entire time and didn’t look like she wanted to.

In fact, she’d looked poised to go since she’d arrived.

And Russ understood her. Anytime you go out in this kind of situation, you feel like a hermit crab between shells. And you just want to duck into some kind of shell as soon as you can—before something hits you just when you’re vulnerable.

“I’m not so sure that bugging out to those bunkers is such a good idea,” said Russ.

Evan’s eyes widened. “You’re not
sure
?” He looked at Lia. “What about you, toots?”

Lia swallowed, then she also shook her head.

“You
freaks
!” Evan shrieked. “I’m handing you the winning lottery card and you’re not
sure
?” He glared at Lia. “You’re saying
no
?”

“We’re just not sure it will really help,” said Russ.

Evan frowned. “There’s no evidence those things have dug into the ground and this bunker is buried fifty feet under. It’s earthquake-proof.”

“The pods have only struck twice—and in places with no deep bunkers,” said Russ. “Maybe there was no need for them to dig down.”

The words popped out of Russ’s mouth without him thinking first. But as he said them, he realized how true they were. And anyway, the thought of being in the ground with no exit....

“Well, it’s better than hanging around here,” said Evan, “waiting to get vaporized or slurped up.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Russ.

“It’s not clear that the people who disappear are being hurt or killed,” Lia suddenly piped up. “There’s a theory that maybe they’re being pushed into another dimension.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that,” said Evan. “The question is: What does that mean exactly?” He snorted. “I mean, where are they? What’s happening to them?”

Lia said, “Listen, I know this sounds crazy—or even a little bit scary—but the pods are here for a reason. I don’t think we can really escape them. We need to kind of embrace them.”

A harsh laugh popped out of Evan’s throat and Edison’s mouth drooped at the corners, her eyes filling with tears. But Russ knew it wasn’t really Evan, it was the effect of the pods.

“Do
you
want to hug the giant purple space boogers?” Evan said to Lia.

Lia gave him a wry smile. “I don’t mean like that, of course. I mean, embrace the opportunity they’re presenting—by confronting yourself.”

Evan glared at Lia, then he gave a deep sigh and glanced out the window again.

“Look,” said Evan. “Just get your stuff together and come. We’ve wasted enough time as is.”

“What about earthquakes?” said Russ. “You know—the Pacific Northwest is pretty prone—”

“These bunkers are earthquake proof,” said Evan.

“Not if they’re built into a fault line,” said Lia.

Evan rolled his eyes. “Of
course
they’re not,” he said. “Everything was checked out prior to construction.”

Lia shook her head. “You can’t ever really know these things for sure,” she said.

“Nothing’s sure,” said Evan. “But this is a better bet than cowering here in your DIY panic room.”

Lia cocked her head to one side as she contemplated Evan. “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe not. Anyway, I have my doubts about being sardined underground with a bunch of other people being affected by these pods.”

“We’ll all be taking pills,” said Edison. “I’m telling you, they’ve got this all worked out.”

“There are side effects to even the most tranquilizing sedative,” said Lia. “Even now, people have committed suicide, gone nuts, or become so lethargic that they don’t take care of themselves or their families—”

“No kidding,” said Edison. “But in the bunker, there’ll be constant monitoring.”

“By who?” said Lia. “By other people also on meds? By people who are as much in the dark about what’s going on as you are?”

Russ saw the intensity sparking in Lia’s eyes. Her breaths came harder and her hands were in front of her face, moving in little circles as she spoke.

Russ smiled to himself as he thought,
My own sweet little mad scientist
.

“This isn’t a nuclear strike or a monster storm,” said Lia. “This is something else completely different. It’s—it’s like a last chance. A test of sorts—the final opportunity to get things right…to make right the things you got wrong.”

“Well, maybe for
you
,” said Evan. He turned to Russ. “Are you coming or not?”

Russ would’ve jumped at the chance an hour ago, but now he felt that it just wasn’t the right thing to do—and even then, he wasn’t 100% sure about that either. But he also felt unable to budge from his position.

“Listen, I’ll pay you back, Ev,” said Russ. “The unit you bought for us? I’ll give you that half back. In fact, I can give you all my cash on hand now.”

A sound of disgust burst from Evan’s throat and Edison tightened her lips, shaking her head from side to side.

Evan stomped several steps closer to Russ until his face loomed before Russ’s eyes. He thrust a finger out an inch away from Russ’s chin. “I don’t want your friggin’ money,” Evan said, his lips curled into a snarl while tears pooled in his eyes. “I’m trying to save your friggin’
lives
!”

“I know, Ev,” Russ said, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “But this isn’t the way. I can’t explain why, but it just isn’t the right way.”

Evan spun away from Russ and stretched out his arm to embrace Edison’s shoulders.

“C’mon,” he muttered as they scurried out the door and down the stairs.

Russ went to stand in the doorway to watch them go.

As they pushed open the building door, Russ glanced over his shoulder and saw Lia watching them out the window. Russ bolted the door shut and went to stand next to Lia. He got there in time to see the car as it turned out of the lot and onto the street.

It stopped on the side of the street as Russ and Lia looked down from their window.

The driver’s window slid down.

Evan ducked his head to look up at them while Edison bent her head next to Evan’s in an attempt to also peer out at them.

Evan and Edison made quick beckoning motions with their hands.

Come! Just come on!

Russ reached out to the side to flick on the light so that Evan could see him, then he stood as close to the window as he could and held up one finger. He wagged it back and forth while shaking his head as if to say no.

Evan gave him the finger.

And as the window slowly rose, the car sped off.

Russ hit the light switch again to turn it off and stretched out his other arm to bring Lia close to him.

“He sure hates me now,” said Russ.

“It’s a hatred that comes from love,” said Lia. “Evan can’t stand the thought of losing you, of living in a world without you.”

“Yeah,” said Russ. “I know.”

He looked down at Lia. “Do you think we did the right thing?”

“Can we ever really know for sure in this world?” said Lia. “But yeah, I just—I mean, it’s one thing to take cover or keep your head down until a wave passes over, but this is just escapism. If those pods can resist Earth’s gravity, they can certainly get to the bunkers.”

Russ grunted. He sure wouldn’t like to be fifty feet underground when those things came for him.

“But maybe they’ll be okay,” said Lia.

“You think?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what kind of a world they’ll be left in.” She turned to look up at Russ. “We keep thinking there are two options—get pushed into another dimension or be absorbed into a pod. Well, maybe there’s a third option: that the pods will go just away. So maybe people in bunkers or safe rooms will be okay. But is that a good thing? Maybe the other dimension or the pod-ride through the cosmos are better options. Or maybe not.” She turned to gaze out at the window again. The sun was setting and the lavender glow intensified. “The general feeling we’re getting from other people—and it’s my feeling too—is that the pods are the best way to go. But it seems we can’t choose our destiny.” She paused. “It seems that we need to
earn
it. And I just don’t see how hiding fifty feet underground while doping ourselves will earn our ideal destiny.” She caressed her stomach. “Anyway, I have the baby. I wouldn’t risk the meds.”

The baby.

It finally hit Russ. He was going to have a kid. He and Lia. Their own kid.

He’d gotten so caught up in the logistics of everything that he hadn’t allowed himself to be touched by the wonder of it all.

Lia was pregnant. They were going to have a baby.

Russ felt a lightening in his chest. And another thought occurred to him, a thought so subtle it was more like just a feeling:

He was being given a second chance.

He’d unwittingly helped end the tiny life inside Emma.

But God was giving him a second chance with Lia.

After Lia turned in early—something she was doing a lot lately, saying that it had to do with being pregnant—Russ tried talking to God. He was still uncomfortable about the whole thing and didn’t want to share it with Lia—yet. But he tried, using some of the principles she’d learned about and told him, like starting out by thanking or praising God (“Well, God, those purple things are scary little suckers, but at least they’re pretty—I mean, having scary black or blood-red pods all the time would be really sick”) and going over his behavior—either from that day or throughout his life—to see what came up, what he regretted, and how he could make up for it now (“I guess it was really sick of me to pee in that bottle and tell Dylan it was apple juice when we were in second grade—even though at the time, I thought I was so sly. Do I really need to hunt him down on Facebook and apologize? Is there even still Facebook?”) and then, in that state of clean-slated gratitude, start asking God for whatever he wanted (“Please make everything okay with Lia and the baby. And God—wherever Emma is? Make her okay too. All right? And Evan and Edison…and also Steve, who was so awesome about helping me with the door and the closet....”).

And something started opening up in him, but he couldn’t say exactly what.

He also got insights, like how he wasn’t as callous or cool as he always made himself out to be. Deep inside, there was a lot more compassion than he’d ever thought—or wanted—there to be.

But he also realized that so many things he’d thought of as funny or cool or basically harmless (like with Dylan) actually weren’t.

And it was during one of these sessions that Russ was hit with the idea to do something to alleviate the desperation that led to abortion.

He couldn’t bring Emma or their baby back to life. But he could help others in the same situation before they made the same mistake.

Over breakfast the next morning, he discussed it with Lia.

“That’s a really amazing idea,” said Lia after she’d swallowed her mouthful of rice and potatoes.

Russ had wanted beans (they were still trying to save the eggs for as long as possible) because they were eating through a lot of their rice lately, but the smell of simmering beans made Lia nauseous. The potatoes would go bad anyway if they weren’t used up in time, but Russ wondered if with all this rice-eating now, they would have to survive the coming End of the World on beans.

Lia leaned back, a cup of ice water against her lips. “It’s the next best thing when you can’t fix the actual thing you did, to prevent someone else from making the same mistake. And if you took a life out of this world, you can at least save a life.”

“Yeah,” said Russ. “So I figured, you know with everyone staying indoors without much to do, I could go around handing out condoms. Like, prevent the pregnancies in the first place.”

Lia pondered this, then said, “It’s a nice idea, but I don’t think that’s the problem. Condoms have been available at every drug store and supermarket since before we were born. The pregnancy rate has shot up along with the widespread availability, efficiency, and variety of birth control.”

“Okay,” said Russ. “Maybe I could track down unwed mothers and their baby daddies and hold shotgun weddings with my M-4?”

“Now you’re on the right track,” said Lia, smiling as she sipped her ice water.

Russ leaned one arm on the table, his other hand holding his beer.

“Are there still homes for unwed mothers around?” he said. “Or places that deal with this stuff?”

“We could look it up online,” said Lia, tapping her finger on the phone that lay on the table beside her plate.

It took them a while. Not only were there a lot of 404 pages, but there didn’t seem to be a home for unwed mothers, specifically—more like places for homeless women. But they tried. They tried the pro-life organizations—not that there were so many in Seattle, which meant they didn’t need to make so many calls.

But no one picked up the phone anywhere they called.

“They’re probably either busy or gone,” said Lia.

Then Russ had an idea.

The first abortion clinic he called picked up after several rings.

“Hello?” a stressed-out female voice said.

“Hi,” said Russ. “I’m calling because I wanted to know if you have any people demonstrating outside your clinic?”

“Oh,
yes
!” she said. “Thank goodness you’ve called! The police won’t come and the protesters are totally harassing our patients! I mean, we’ve got women in here crying or totally freaking out; there are women outside who are changing their minds and backing out of their appointments—I mean, these people are totally exploiting the situation!”

“I hear,” said Russ.

“Yeah,” she said. “The police have basically skipped out, but we’re still here. We won’t abandon these women, no matter what happens.”

“Right,” said Russ. “And I guess the pro-lifers feel the same.”

Then he hung up and turned to Lia. “What can we give them?”

“Money isn’t worth much right now,” said Russ. “I’m not sure how much they can buy, anyway. Truck drivers and pilots have quit, wanting to stay close to home. Stores are getting cleaned out.”

“We can give them some of our food,” said Lia.

“That’s the last thing I wanted to give,” Russ said. “Food will end up being what we’ll need the most.”

Lia nodded, but remained silent.

Russ thought some more, then said, “But let’s do it anyway. At least a little bit.” He thought some more and said, “I bet they need beds.”

“What?” said Lia.

“Beds. With everyone staying inside and people stuck far away from home staying over the long-term, who has extra beds?” He put his beer down and leaned forward toward Lia. “They’re trying to convince those women that they can help them, but maybe they don’t even have a bed to offer them?”

“Maybe....” said Lia. “But most of them probably aren’t homeless or ashamed to go home pregnant. I mean, this isn’t the Fifties.”

“Yeah, baby, but maybe some of them
are
homeless. You know the reports we saw on people stuck in different cities. Transportation is down, gas is limited, car repair services have gone spotty....”

“Okay,” said Lia. “I’m guessing you’re thinking that we can either give up our bed or this sofa bed.” She patted the back of the sofa.

“I’ll let you decide that,” he said. “You’re pregnant yourself—which do you need more?”

Lia cocked her head to one side, holding her spoon in the air as she thought. Finally, she said, “I really need the sofa to sit on. It’s a drag to open and close it every day, but it’s not like we have anything else to do. Anyway, we got used to that before, with Mrs. King.” She winked at him. “I guess we can spare the main bed.”

Then Russ frowned. “I’m not sure how I can transport it. I’ll be a nice target, driving around with a big old bed on my car.” Then he flapped his hand. “Aw, forget it,” he said. “I’ll just take my M-4 with me and leave you the Glock.”

“Hey, Russ,” Lia said as he rose from his chair. “How did you think of calling the clinic about a pro-life protest?”

“Hard-core religious people tend to bang their religious principles harder in times like this,” said Russ, “whether their religion is centered on God or abortion-on-demand. I just figured that at the End of the World, religious people would try to save themselves—and the nation—by throwing themselves more into doing whatever they believe is God’s Will.”

Lia arched her eyebrows and nodded as if impressed. “That’s a pretty snazzy deduction for a guy who learned to drive a tractor before he learned to drive a car.”

“And that’s quite a compliment coming from an ivory tower space geek.”

Lia smiled. “Yes,” she said, “it is.”

It was crazy, what he was doing. He was using up his limited gasoline supplies and risking his life by doing this. But if the criminals were taking risks to mug old ladies in cemeteries, and if pro-lifers were doing the same to slow down abortions, then he figured that he didn’t have much of an excuse in the Eyes of God—if God really was running the whole show. Lia seemed convinced and Russ almost was, but he still had his doubts.

It took some time and some wrestling, but Russ finally got the bed and mattress strapped to the car and threw a few cans of food into the back seat.

As Russ sped through the near-empty streets, he enjoyed having his M-4 between the seat and the gear shift. He could never have done that before.

Thanks, God, for making fully automatic open-carry a reality. You’re Awesome.

Fortunately, Russ didn’t see any people on the street, not on the sidewalk and not driving in the street. He kept speeding along until he saw tables and people lined along both sides of the clinic.

He saw signs and posters with slogans and pictures of babies in the womb. He didn’t see those gory posters of mauled aborted babies or enlarged images of tiny ripped-off arms with their perfectly formed little hands resting against a quarter.

Except for those who were guys, of course, it was hard for Russ to tell the difference between the protesters and the women who had stopped to listen.

Russ looked around in all directions as he got out of the car. He stayed near it with his door open. He didn’t want to take out his gun in case some of the protesters had guns too, and could misunderstand his intentions. But he didn’t want to leave it out of reach either.

One woman was walking backward in front of two women heading toward the clinic. She held a small poster up against her chest with the photo of a tiny baby in-utereo. She was crying and pleading with the duo, but they kept walking forward, their chins up and their jaws tight.

Russ caught the eye of a man with a megaphone and he raised his hand in greeting. “Hey!” Russ called. “Do you guys need a bed?”

He gestured toward the bed on his car roof.

The guy blinked and his head jerked back. Then he broke into a grin and came jogging over to Russ.

“Hey!” he said, holding out his hand. After a pause, Russ clasped it. The man gave Russ’s hand a firm shake, then said, “Did you just say—”

“Yeah,” said Russ. “I wanted to help you guys out and thought you might need a bed.”

The man gave a short laugh of surprise and said, “Boy, do we!” He shook his head again. “Some women got stuck here and barely able to fend for themselves, they felt like aborting their babies was the only way out. I don’t judge them—that’s a pretty harsh situation to be in. And while we’ve got people willing to host them, everyone’s running out of beds.” He paused. “And some are running low on food too.” He looked at Russ.

“Gotchya,” said Russ. “There’s a couple of cans in the back.”

The man clapped Russ on the shoulder and turned to stare at the bed with a big grin, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Is there someone who can take it?” said Russ. He didn’t want to be cruising around town trying to find a stranger’s address. Going out with the bed was risky enough; he had Lia and their unborn child to think about too.

“Why, yes, I think we can manage that end of things.”

The man made a cheerful phone call, then told Russ that someone would be coming soon.

Then the man jogged to the middle of the street and starting crowing about Russ’s “good deed” and his “angel-like mercy” while gesturing expansively toward Russ.

As the people behind the tables applauded and called out things like, “God bless you, sir!” and started pumping their signs up and down with greater enthusiasm, Russ decided to wait in his car.

Despite not seeing anything potentially threatening, Russ maintained his high level of wariness, glancing around him and into his rearview mirror the whole time.

He called Lia to let her know what was going on.

Thankfully, she had nothing to report on her end.

Finally, a supersized van pulled up and Russ stayed in the car while the other driver, the man with the megaphone, and several protesters came to undo the bed and mattress from Russ’s roof and wrestle it into the van while people cheered from the sidewalk. Russ made sure they didn’t forget the canned food.

The man came over to Russ’s window, which Russ lowered all the way for him.

“It’s times like this that try us,” said the man.

“That’s for sure,” said Russ.

“You’ve proved yourself worthy.”

“Well,” said Russ. “That still remains to be seen.”