(Wrath-09)-Spiders From The Shadows (2013) (10 page)

Mary looked at her with intense surprise. “Oh, I’ll be telling everyone,” she said. “Everyone who will listen and even those who won’t. The Lord reached down and saved my daughter, clutched her right from the very hands of death. He saved her sure as He raised Lazarus. It’s a miracle, and I don’t think anyone could stop me from shouting it from the rooftops just like the Bible says. It’s like a burning in my chest that I have to quench by getting out. I’m going to tell everybody. I’m going to tell the whole world.”

Sara had thought for a long moment, her eyes down. It was a very fine line, and who was she to say, but still she had to wonder. “I just—I don’t know, Mary, I just think there may be some things that are particularly sacred.”

“Sacred, yes it is, Sara, but we can’t be quiet on this thing. Miracles like this are the only thing that’s going to save us now. You know that better than anyone. Miracles are all we’ve got now. We’ve got to get everyone to know.” Mary had lowered her voice and shot a quick look toward Sara’s youngest son, Luke. “You’ve got your own miracle over there, baby. You know it. I know it. I think the Lord
wants
us to go and tell.”

Sara had thought for another moment, then smiled apologetically as she reached out to touch Mary’s arm. “You’re absolutely right, Mary. Of course you are. Most people will think we’re crazy, but some of them will listen, and it will help those few who do. All around us now there are people who are searching desperately for any sign of hope, any little thing that they can cling to. We have hope because of miracles. God has blessed us so. Who are we to remain silent? You tell whoever you think you ought to. Heavenly Father would want us to shout it from the housetops. Thanks for helping me to see.”

* * * * * * *

Sara smiled as she thought back on the conversation that had taken place the day before. Where Mary and Kelly Beth were now, she didn’t know. She hadn’t heard from them since they had left for the base hospital. She wondered if she would see them again. Maybe soon. Maybe never. There was no way to know. But there was no doubt in her mind that right now, sweet Mary Dupree was hovering over her little girl, explaining to everyone within earshot how Kelly Beth had been cured. The image in her mind made Sara want to both laugh and cry. It made her sweet and peaceful and reminded her again: “
Yes, I saved this girl. This is my world. You are my children. As the Evil One grows stronger, so also will my Light. I will send more power from the heavens to counter the growing darkness of the world.
”

Sara smiled sadly, wishing Mary was with her now. She missed her dearly, her optimism and simple faith. “
I will send a child to lead them.
” There was a bond between them now that was good and strong, and it hurt Sara to think sheI want to be like younuwlyp might not see Mary and little Kelly Beth again. But something told her that she wouldn’t. Their role in her life was over. Mary and Kelly were on their own.

Azadeh had stood up against the back wall, listening to Sam and Sara talk. Now she moved forward carefully, her eyes on Sara. Her face showed great relief at the woman’s return. Being the only female in the room was extremely uncomfortable for her, her culture and its teachings deep and strong, leaving her off balance and unsure around the three young men.

Sam watched Azadeh move forward to stand at Sara’s side, seeing the look of relief on Azadeh’s face. Sam and his brothers had tried to be careful around her, no man jokes or “dudes” or talk of things she wouldn’t understand, but it was difficult—impossible, really—to put her at ease. There was a world between them, a world that would have been difficult to bridge under the best of circumstances. As things were, with the United States having been turned upside down and smashed on its head by an enemy that was certainly from the Middle East, it was that much more difficult for either party to really be at ease.

Sara looked at Azadeh standing at her side and beckoned her to the window. Having spent twenty-five years as the only woman in the house, being married to a man who was nothing if not a warrior and raising three sons who were as much like their father as any sons could be, Sara immediately understood. She was first and foremost a woman, and she could see more in Azadeh’s anxious eyes than her sons would ever understand. When Azadeh didn’t move, Sara took Azadeh by the hand. Leading her to the window, Sara pulled her down beside her and they sat side by side on the floor.

“Didn’t you learn anything?” Ammon pressed after his mother had sat down.

Sara ignored him for a moment as she studied Azadeh’s face. She was so beautiful, with her enormous eyes and soft, brown skin. She looked—Sara didn’t know; she had to think about it. And then it came: She looked royal. Noble and imperial. “You’re lovely, Azadeh, do you know that?”

Azadeh kept her face down as tears pooled in her eyes.

Sara pulled her close. “It’s going to be OK,” she said.

Azadeh tried to pull back, but Sara wouldn’t let her. “It’s going to be OK, Azadeh. It’s going to be all right. You’ve got us now. We are your family. You’re not alone.”

Azadeh’s shoulders started shaking. A single teardrop slid from her cheek and fell silently to the floor. No one saw the falling tear but Sara, and she pulled the young woman close once more. Azadeh fell against her shoulder, hiding her face against Sara’s neck. “It’s OK . . . it’s OK,” Sara repeated again and again.

Her sons sat silently by, dumbfounded. Where had these tears come from? They had no idea Azadeh had been feeling . . . what? They didn’t know. One moment she was smiling at them, trying to follow their conversation with her halting English; the next minute she was crying in their mother’s arms. Sam shot a look to Ammon and Luke, who only shrugged their shoulders. They remained silent for a moment until Sam knelt down and touched Azadeh on the arm. She turned to look at him, embarrassed as she pulled away from his mother’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered while drying her eyes. “I’m not bad. I feel not bad. I just—”

Sara put her finger across her lips. “It@ofwlyp’s OK, Azadeh. Frankly, we all feel like crying sometimes.”

“No kidding,” Ammon muttered from behind her. “Every time I smell Sam, I want to cry.”

They were silent for a second; then they started to laugh. What began as mere giggles soon burst into long, deep, tension-releasing roars. Luke was rolling on the floor. Ammon bent over, holding his side. No one said anything for a moment. Sam sniffed his armpits. “Holy cow,” he said.

Azadeh laughed the hardest, though she wasn’t even certain what they were laughing about.

Sam looked at her, embarrassed, then sniffed himself again.

Glancing at Azadeh, he couldn’t help but feel better. It was so good to see her smile.

“What can you tell us, Mom?” Sam asked after they had finally settled down. “Did you learn anything at all?”

Sara wiped her eyes a final time. “No. I really didn’t. I didn’t see or talk to anyone. Honestly, I don’t know anything more than you do.”

“Is Secretary Marino really going to be the next president of the United States?” Ammon asked.

Sara thought carefully. “As I understand the situation, yes, he should be.”

“Are you certain?” Sam pressed her.

Sara nodded in a barely perceptible movement of her head. “Near as I can tell, it’s true. But I don’t know who else is out there. None of us do. Is there someone who should be ahead of him? He tells me they’re all dead.”

Sam took a breath and looked away. “I believe him,” he said.

“So do I,” Sara answered. “I’ve known Brucius Marino for many years. I trust him. More importantly,
way
more importantly, your father trusted him. He told me many times—” She suddenly stopped. The room was quiet for a moment. “Your father and Secretary Marino met frequently over the past year or so,” she continued carefully. “Neil considered him a trusted friend.”

Ammon slid a little closer. “Do you think we’re being listened to in here?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Sam glanced toward the door. Sara looked surprised. “Us? Here? Of course not, Ammon,” she said. “There’s no need for them to do that. What could they possibly learn from us?”

Sam didn’t argue as his eyes swept the room. He wasn’t nearly so sure.

“It’s just too weird,” Ammon offered in a frustrated tone. “A month ago, yeah, sure we had our problems, but we didn’t have anything like this! Nuclear detonations over the Gaza Strip and then Israel. What’s happening over there? We don’t even know. Haven’t heard a thing. Anti-ICBMs pop up everywhere: Iran. Iraq. India. Russia. Most of Europe on hair-trigger nuclear alert. A nuclear explosion over D.C.” He paused, all of them thinking of Neil Brighton, Sara’s husband and the father of the three boys, their hearts as heavy as melted lead. “Then the EMP attack across our country. From coast to coast, it hit us all. Now there’s a struggle to save the government, a death match to see who has power. Think about that. We don’t really have a government, so many of our leaders have been killed. We don’t even know who’s in charge! For the first time in our history, two men have claimed the presidency. The entire federal government has I want to be like youor twcollapsed into shambles. I never would have dreamed it. I never
could
have dreamed it. Not here. Not in
this
country.” Ammon fell silent, exhausted at his words.

His brothers looked at him. “Got that right, baby,” Luke said.

Sara listened, thinking. “There’s no doubt who should be the president,” she said.

“Are you certain, Mom?”

“Absolutely, Ammon. Secretary Marino should be the next president, assuming there’s no one else higher in the line of succession that we don’t know about, and I don’t think that there is. Brucius would have no reason to deceive me.” She paused. “I just don’t think he would lie.” She was speaking to herself now, making her evaluation. “If there’s no one ahead of him, the Speaker of the House, the president pro tempore of the Senate, et cetera, then he’s the president. He’s certainly ahead of Fuentes—
that
we know for sure.”

“Who is this Fuentes guy, anyway?” Sam sneered. “Where did
he
come from? Who’s ever even heard of him?”

No one answered.

“Is Secretary Marino—” Sam hesitated. “Is he going to go and claim the office, then? Does he have the guts to do it?”

Sara bit her lip. “He does, and yes, he will.”

“You’re going to help him, aren’t you, Mom?”

Sara looked away.

They were silent for a moment. Outside, they heard birds calling in the nearby trees, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. They were large birds, dark and greasy looking, with black feathers and a constant, hungry cawing that grated on the people’s nerves. They listened, all of them thinking.

Sam looked down at his dirty uniform, still covered with coal dust from the railroad yard back in East Chicago, mud from the ditch he’d waded through after jumping from the Air Force tanker and running through the night, a splatter of blood from when he’d tied up the shooter on the beltway that ran around Washington, D.C. A tinge of smoky scent still lingered from the fires that had been burning through the western quadrant of the city. Sniffing at his clothes, he thought back. All if it, from the first bomb over Gaza to the chaos they found themselves surrounded by now, had taken place in not much longer than a month. But it was all a blur now, the old life—the good life—a faded memory. They didn’t use to drink from dirty water. They didn’t use to worry about where their next meal was coming from. They used to sleep in beds in heated homes, drive cars, talk on cell phones. They didn’t use to panic about infection from every scratch or every upset stomach, knowing there were doctors and medicines around.

They didn’t use to look at every passing stranger and wonder, “Will he try to kill me for my food?”

They didn’t use to look at senior government officials and wonder, “Is this guy on our side?”

They didn’t used to wonder if their government would survive.

But everything was different now.

Another day. Another world. The old one was so far gone it was hard to even remember what it had really been like. So much was different now. None of them would ever be the same.

Sam fingered the nylon laces on his filthy leather boots. “You know@ofwlyp what today is?” he asked.

Sara shrugged. Luke kept his head down. Ammon looked confused. “I have no idea,” he said. “I couldn’t tell you what day, what month, I’m not even sure what year it is anymore. It’s like there
is
no time here; it’s all just one long, never-ending circle of bad things and really weird stuff like,” he nodded to the windows, “strange birds with red eyes that look like mini-vultures waiting to swoop down and claw our eyes out.” He took a breath and laughed. “Nope, don’t know what day it is.”

Luke looked up. “It’s Sunday,” he said.

“Sunday,” Sara breathed. “Oh, that sounds good. I
love
Sundays.” She turned to Azadeh. “Sunday is our holy day,” she explained.

Azadeh nodded, understanding. “I like Sundays, too,” she offered, hoping to please them.

“Sunday comics,” Ammon said. “Dildog or whatever that thing was called. Man, that used to make me laugh.”

“Sunday afternoon meant ice cream. It was the only day your dad would let you eat it, remember?” Sara said.

“Which is why we always hid a couple of spoons in our bedrooms,” Ammon laughed, glancing at his brothers. “We’d slip down to the freezer in the basement, spoons in hand. Go through half a gallon in one night.”

Sara smiled at them. “You know what’s really funny about that?”

They looked at her and waited.

“Your dad used to do the same thing.”

Ammon stood up and pointed to his brothers. “I
knew
it!” he cried. “I
told
you guys I caught him with a spoon once. He looked so guilty standing there with a wet spoon sticking out of his shirt pocket.”

Sara started laughing. “You want to know something else that’s funny? You guys didn’t think we knew, but we could hear you every time you snuck down there. Your voices would carry up through the heat vents. Yeah, we always knewr somewhere el