Chapter Four: “Crisis Du Jour”
“Since when is Mr. Reliable so hard to track down?” Jake asked as he approached his brother who stood leaned over the hood of an 80’s model Chevy truck writing on a clipboard.
It was easy to rib Eric; it always had been. Eric took everything in earnest, and Jake often joked he came out of the womb with a solemn expression. Whereas Jake had always been the family’s rebel without a cause, Eric was the family’s conformist with a cause. Well, multiple causes, actually, from his crusade to expand the animal shelter when he’d been in high school, to his attempts to implement mandatory recycling within city limits. If someone had a problem, they’d always go to Eric. Hell, even if people didn’t come to Eric with their problems, he had a solution, whether it was solicited advice or not. To his face they called him Mr. Studious, Mr. Steadfast, and Mr. Reliable. Behind his back, he was sometimes known as Mr. Stick-up-his-Butt.
“You know, I just remembered the one great thing about not having cell phone service anymore,” Eric replied as he looked up from his clipboard. The day was turning out to be a difficult one, and now Eric was beginning to get an inkling as to why Gray Anderson asked him to spearhead this information gathering process—and it wasn’t just in spirit of kindness and unity. The task before them was enormous: rebuilding what had been destroyed and doing so with limited resources.
Just in assessing the property damage alone, Eric found himself growing discouraged. Following the New Bern War, a number of Jericho’s citizens were without homes. Rationally, Eric knew that it was better to be facing the obstacle of finding shelter for nearly two hundred people as opposed to burying two hundred corpses. Still it wasn’t easy watching people attempting to pick up the pieces of their lives.
Those who had family members with homes made arrangements to stay with them. Those who didn’t were staying in the basements of the local churches, in the school gymnasium, and in the homes of citizens willing to shelter them. Still, none of those was a permanent solution. Reconstruction efforts needed to get underway sooner rather than later. And here they were, four weeks after the war, and the problem still went unsolved.
Eric tried to imagine what his father would have done in a similar situation. He found himself wondering all the time, and sometimes when he tuned out the rest of the world, he could almost believe that he heard his father’s voice in his ear, still offering guidance and support. You’ve got to give them hope and then hope to God to back it up with something substantive, he could imagine Johnston Green telling him over a cup of coffee with a shot of bourbon thrown in for good measure.
And then a new reminder would signal that his father was gone forever.
“You’ll be eating those words,” Jake retorted.
Eric cocked his head. Something in the way his brother spoke, his ‘I know something you don’t know’ tone, caught Eric’s attention. “It better be good.”
“It’s better than good. It’s Heather. She’s back.”
“That’s incredible!” Eric beamed and gestured broadly, dropping his clipboard in the process. Jake bent over and picked it up for his brother, knocking him in the bread basket with it. “But how? I’d been told she was dead! What happened to her? Where has she been all this time?”
Jake smiled. Was Eric going to stop long enough to take a breath? “I don’t know yet. We’ve not had the chance to say much more than hello to one another.”
“How did she look?” Eric asked, his tone growing more serious. He owed Heather Lisinski a debt that could never be repaid, and he had worried on more than one occasion that she suffered for it.
“Too thin but otherwise in one piece.” Jake tried to sound nonchalant, but the truth was she was a sight for sore eyes. He had forgotten how blue her eyes were, how her nose crinkled when she smiled, how…Jake pushed the thoughts from his mind. “Beck whisked her away before I could find out much.”
Eric groaned. “What did he want with her?”
“More of his ‘investigation.’”
Eric shook his head in disbelief. “That’s bureaucracy for you. Jake, I can’t believe this! God, I needed this good news.”
“Things not going well for you out here?”
Eric ran his hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. “You ever have so much to do that you don’t even know where to start? How do we begin to get back to normal when we’ve got two hundred people homeless? Jennings and Rall sent around inspectors to survey the damage; too bad they aren’t sending around construction crews.”
“Yeah. I asked about that. Their official story: they’re getting the city infrastructure operating first.”
“Well, I can understand getting the electric grid repaired and the phone lines, but let’s face it. There are greater needs on their hands than renovating office space for the Army,” Eric replied, his voice dripping with bitterness. “Those apartment buildings over on Oak Street were a total loss, along with a portion of the Deer Haven subdivision.”
Jake’s heart dropped. “Did you say Oak Street?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Damn.” He looked around him, unconsciously rubbing his chin. “Dammit.”
“What?”
“Heather. She lived in the Oak Street Apartments.”
Eric squeezed his fists, slamming his clipboard down on the hood of the truck. “Jake, she’s come back to nothing.”
“I’ve got to find her, tell her. I don’t want her to find out by showing up to a burned out shell.”
It had taken Heather Lisinski some time to walk to her apartment. Between the two and a half mile distance and the fact she kept running into people she knew, her progress was slow. When she did finally make it there, she questioned whether she was even in the right place. A green street sign confirmed her location, though.
“I left it right here,” Heather muttered to herself as she stood outside the remnants of a two story apartment building. What had once been a substantial brown brick building was partially gutted. Its outer walls stood against the cool spring breeze, but its roof had collapsed. Numbly, she moved toward the charred remains of what had been her building—her home—and her feet hit pieces of…what was that…a kitchen blender?
“Heather!” Jake Green’s long legs quickly carried his lean body. Seeing her standing alone in front of the rubble, he felt sick inside. How long had she been standing here like this before he got to her?
“It’s gone, Jake. It’s all gone.”
Her apartment hadn’t been very big, but it had been her haven. In the winter, she used to love to sit on the hearth of the small fireplace and feel the warmth of the fire on her back. In those months without electricity, she’d read by the fire, gorged herself with roasted marshmallows from the remains of a stale package, and worked through various versions of wind turbine designs, as well as plans for making some household necessities.
Her entire history had been contained within the small apartment. Her parents’ wedding album had been on the bookcase. Her father’s Bible sat on the nightstand next to the full-size oak bed he had made for her when she turned fifteen.
No more. It was all gone.
Jake placed his hand on the small of her back as he stood next to her. “I’m sorry. When I realized your building was hit, I tried to get to you before you saw it. I didn’t want you to find out this way.” Though he spoke to her, she stared straight ahead, her face passive. Heather’s lack of expression worried Jake far more than if she’d broken down into histrionics.
“My neighbors…do you know anything about them? If they made it, I mean?” She spoke so calmly, so evenly, it set Jake on edge.
“When the attacks began, it was during the day. Most of the people weren’t home. There were a few minor injuries, but everyone’s safe.”
“Safe,” Heather replied numbly. “That’s good.”
Jake placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her away from the building. He needed to get her away from the site. Yet she turned her head, still intent on surveying the damage. “Please look at me.”
She shook her head slightly, ignoring his request. “We might be able to salvage some of the brick for other projects. I saw there was quite a bit of repair work to be done in town. We should be able to find enough clay and gypsum to make our own version of concrete mortar and…”
“Heather, look at me.”
“…we can get Jericho looking as good as new.”
“Look at me!”
“If I look at you, Jake, I am absolutely going to lose it!” Heather’s voice trembled, her first outward sign of her internal turmoil.
“Look at me,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper.
Tears pooled in her eyes, and at last, she turned and peered up at him. Even six months after meeting him, she still found herself startled by his good looks. His high cheekbones, his expressive brow, the wry, dimpled smile she saw him display more than once. Yet what was most appealing to Heather now was the sincerity she could see exuding from him, so much so, she could almost reach out and grasp it in her hands. His dark eyes focused on her, shining with so much concern, Heather thought she might drown in them.
Jake cradled Heather’s face in his hands, gently wiping the tears that finally spilled down her cheeks. “You are not alone in this. Do you hear me?”
She nodded silently, and he pulled her toward him. The wind kicked up again, but Heather Lisinski was sheltered in Jake Green’s arms. After months of uncertainty, months of looking over her shoulder, she felt safe.
Jake could feel her body quivering, and he held her more tightly, willing her pain to go away. If only willpower were enough. After a few moments, her crying eased into an occasional sniffle.
“What I wouldn’t do for a Kleenex right now,” she moaned feeling mortified over the large wet area she’d left on Jake’s t-shirt.
Jake pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her. “It’s not a Kleenex, but it should do.” She gratefully accepted the hankie. He brushed a stray lock of hair that had fallen across her forehead. “Come home with me. We’ve got an extra room since Eric moved out.”
Heather almost choked, stifling a giggle despite the seriousness of her situation. She wiped her tears and nose. “Jake Green, don’t be ridiculous. You couldn’t even stomach the idea of a road trip with me. How are you going to feel having me in your house?”
Jake stiffened. His regrets kept coming back to haunt him. “I was wrong, Heather, about so many things. I can’t go back and undo them, but I wish you would let me make it up to you.” He’d left more than his share of devastation in his wake, but try as he might, beat himself up as he might, what was done was done. The only thing he could do now was move forward.
“I’ll be fine, Jake. Really. I’m like a cat. I always land on my feet. Wait, scratch the cat part. I’m allergic to them. But if I weren’t allergic to them…” Heather’s face grew warm. Oh, she was rambling again, and the look of amusement on Jake’s face made her feel inordinately self-conscious. “I’ll find someplace else. Maybe Emily…”
“Emily took in some of the airplane survivors that came with Roger, as well as Kenchy Duwalia.”
“Her house is big.”
“My parents’ house is bigger and it has a spare bedroom. This will just be temporary, until we get things rebuilt.”
“Shouldn’t you at least talk to you mom about this?”
Her question made Jake smile. She was starting to cave. “Are you kidding me? She’ll have my hide if I don’t bring you home with me.”
“You are so hard to resist,” Heather replied, smiling despite her turmoil, though she was certain her face was turning a shade of crimson when she saw Jake looked exceedingly pleased with himself. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it. What I meant to say was…”
“I am hard to resist.”
“Will your house be big enough for me and your ego, Jake Green?”
“Only one way to find out. Come on,” he replied extending his hand. She accepted it, and he took her away from the Oak Street ruins.
“What if I were to tell you I have a surprise for you?” he asked as they walked side by side, hand-in-hand.
“I think I’ve had enough surprises for one day,” she replied. Heather fought to keep her tone light, but Jake could hear the strain in her voice.
“Oh, but this is one you’ll like.”
“Where is it?”
“Back at city hall. It’s definitely worth the detour.”
Heather frowned, remembering her last time at city hall had been for the purpose of a debriefing—a debriefing of events she’d rather not relive. “It’s strange seeing the military there. You’d think I’d be used to them by now, but I’m not.”
Jake realized he’d not had the chance to hear where she’d been, let alone how she managed to escape from New Bern. “Have you been with the military all this time?”
Heather shook her head. “Not all this time. As best as I can piece together, after I escaped from New Bern, I was found by a military convoy. I’d been in an accident, and I was unconscious. This was about four weeks ago. When I awoke, I was in Camp Liberty. I met a man named Colonel Hoffman and begged him to come here because New Bern was planning an attack.”
“It was you!” Jake marveled. “You’re the reason the military interceded in the battle. Do you realize that you’re the reason there even is a Jericho?”
“You’re making me out to be a hero, Jake, and I assure you that I am anything but a hero. The thing is, Colonel Hoffman told me he couldn’t come here. Intervention was not part of his orders.”
Jake furrowed his brows. He’d met Colonel Hoffman once, shortly after the end of the war. “But they did come. So what changed?”
“I don’t know,” Heather replied. “I mean, he seemed very disinterested in what he viewed as a regional skirmish at first, but when I spoke to him later…”
Understanding settled in for Jake, as though a missing puzzle piece were suddenly found. The military presence wasn’t just about securing Jericho and the surrounding towns. That was their guise but not their purpose.
Jake had a very clear idea of what their purpose was. He needed to see Robert Hawkins, who seemed to have dropped off the face of the Earth.
“Are you okay?” Heather asked, noting the look of unease on Jake’s face.
Edward Beck had asked him earlier that day if he was going to be part of the problem or part of the solution. There was no doubt. Jake was definitely part of the problem.
Jake dodged her question. “Your debriefing with Major Beck—how did that go?”
Heather shrugged. “He was polite for the most part. Very businesslike. Though he did ask me about you. Why is that?”
“Let’s just say I’ve made an impression upon him.”
Heather had the distinct feeling that there was more to the story than what Jake offered. When she’d arrived, it had been in the middle of a confrontation between the two men. “Things seemed tense between the two of you earlier today.”
“And they’ll be tense tomorrow,” Jake replied, trying to downplay the conflict. “And the day after that. I don’t want the military here.”
“The argument was about Constantino,” Heather remembered. She suppressed a shudder when she thought of the man. The thought that he was only thirty minutes away by car completely unnerved her. Logically, she knew the likelihood that he would escape from the military guards was slim to none. On the other hand, Heather had witnessed what she had once considered the impossible, starting that day on the school bus when she saw the mushroom cloud.
“Chalk it up to the usual government ‘efficiency.’ New government, same problem.”
“When I go back to speak with Major Beck to finish our interview, maybe what I’ll say will urge him to speed things along.”
Jake stopped in his tracks and turned to his companion. “How did you do it, Heather? How did you make it out?”
Heather cleared her throat. “It’s a long story.”
“Is that code for, ‘Don’t ask me that, Jake’?”
“I will tell you sometime. I promise. I just want to get my head screwed on straight first, you know? I feel like Sam Beckett.”
“The poet?”
Heather laughed lightly as they began to walk again. “You give me way too much credit. I’m not nearly so high brow. No, I was thinking of Sam Beckett from Quantum Leap; it was one of the few shows I was allowed to watch growing up. Do you remember that show?”
“The one where the scientist travels back in time and tries to set right whatever’s gone wrong in the past?”
“Mmhmm. And ‘hoping each time that his next leap will be the leap home.’ That’s the one.”
Mock seriousness filled Jake’s voice. “Heather, are you telling me that you’ve found the secret to the space-time continuum and that you are a time traveler?”
“Smart aleck!” she playfully jabbed at his arm.
Jake chuckled. “I’m getting beat up by a girl.”
“Poor baby. You know, Sam goes back in time, and the episode always starts out with him being in a situation where the world is falling down around his ears, and yet he doesn’t have a clue what’s going on. That’s me right now.”
“But you have to admit that I make a far better sidekick than Al.”
Heather raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “I’m sure you’ve been many things to many people. But a sidekick? I’m doubting that. Frankly, I’m halfway shocked no one has run up to you with a crisis du jour.” She stopped and thought for a moment, realization dawning on her. “Oh, no. I’m your crisis of the day.”
Jake echoed her words. “I’m sure you’ve been many things to many people. But a crisis of the day? I’m doubting that. Maybe a crisis of the week…”
“Watch it, Mister! Remember—I know where you live.”
Jake held his hands up in imaginary surrender.
“Thank you, Jake.”
“What? For the unconditional surrender?”
“For making me laugh even though it’s been a crummy day. I’m glad to be back, and you’re a big part of that.”
They walked in a comfortable silence, falling into step with one another. Jake buried his hands in his pockets, and for the first time in a long time, he felt content.