“Okay. I understand,” Anna said resigned. “I’m sorry.”
She watched them trudge their way to the sidewalk and down to the corner. When she closed the door behind her she wasn’t crying and that fact was the most bothersome of all.
When Charlie opened the door and saw Anna he knew why she had come. He waved her in without a word. She walked into the living room, almost as if in a trance, and sat on Charlie’s plush loveseat. Charlie closed the door and sat down in an adjacent chair.
A silent, electric telepathy seemed to pass through them. Her questions passed to him without a word and his answers were transmitted back to her in like manner.
“Why Charlie?”
There were no denials, no obfuscations. He sat back in the chair, taking in a deep breath of air. He was obviously thinking of how to put it, but her eyes were telling him that it would be dangerous for him to try to lie to her. Finally, he leaned forward and met her gaze. His eyes were intense, but when he spoke, he spoke gently.
“Anna, did you think this was a game?”
She turned away from him, tears stinging at her eyes.
“Remember when I asked if you were ready for this and you said that you were?”
“I didn’t—I,” she said, trying to protest, but he cut her off, clamping down on her forearm.
“That’s a lie and you know it. Either you knew and you’re lying now or you were lying then and you’re a naïve child.”
The words stung her, but she knew they were true. She couldn’t deny it. She tried to pull her arm free, but he gripped it tighter.
“Anna,” he said, still in a soft, gentle voice. “This is not a game. The sacrifice of one family is going to be to the benefit of thousands of people. Is it tragic? Yes, but it’s for the greater good.”
She looked at him and he seemed to be sincere. Still, she was frightened at his intensity. She now realized that Charlie was playing for keeps. Was she ready to do the same? Was she ready to make the same commitment? Finally, Anna nodded.
“Okay,” Charlie said, releasing her arm. She rubbed at it absent-mindedly.
“Well?” she began, not knowing how to ask the next question.
“Yes?” he replied calmly, ever the patrician.
“What’s next?” she asked timidly. She sat up straight in her seat, seeming to gird herself.
Charlie leaned back in his chair again, a far off look in his eyes. After a few moments of reverie, Charlie leaned forward again.
“We spring the trap.”
CHAPTER 10
Patton and Jennifer couldn’t believe how empty the amphitheater looked. The last time they were there was for the kickoff event. There seemed to be a lot of people, mostly bunched together in front of the stage, but the venue looked empty.
“What’s wrong?” Jennifer had asked, noticing that Patton was jittery.
“Nothing,” he replied unconvincingly.
Patton couldn’t put his finger on it. He just had a general feeling of angst about this meeting. There was a commotion on the stage and a group of about ten people walked towards the audience. They all carried chairs with them. Patton realized they intended to remain on the stage above the rest of the crowd.
“What’s this?” he hissed, craning his neck around, trying to get a better view.
“What?”
“I guess these people think they’re some sort of committee.”
Patton struck a defiant pose, his arms crossed, his jaw set. Apparently the meeting was about to begin. A woman was on stage, holding a microphone, tapping it with their index finger.
“Testing… testing,” she said. “Okay. I guess we’re on.”
The mousy looking woman with the librarian’s bun looked back at her colleagues on stage. An older looking gentleman nodded and she turned back to the microphone. Apparently, Patton thought, this old man was the leader of this group. Patton decided to watch him throughout.
“Well hello,” the woman said cheerily. “It’s nice to have such a nice crowd out today. My name is Alice Weyland and I have been asked to conduct this meeting today.”
She looked back at her colleagues again, then back to the crowd.
“As you know, we’re here today to discuss the need for starting a government. We wanted everyone in our town to be involved. I’ve been told that over a thousand folks are logged in and watching and to those of you at home, welcome. Just know that you’re able to post any questions on the chat window and I’ll be sure to include those along with your comments. I apologize that we don’t have the capability to do some voice or video today.”
Patton was squirming already. Jennifer grabbed his hand, hoping that her touch would calm him. The people on stage took turns standing and introducing themselves. When the old man stood and introduced himself, a sense of recognition came over Patton when he heard his voice.
As if reading his mind, Jennifer squeezed his hand and leaned to whisper into his ear. “Hey, you see the older guy over there?” she said, pointing to their right. “And her?” she said, pointing over to their left.
“Yeah. I swear I recognize them from somewhere,” he whispered back.
“They’re that couple we saw at the restaurant in… that Italian restaurant. I remember thinking how weird it was for such an old guy and such a cute young girl to be together.”
The young woman noticed Jennifer pointing and scowled angrily. Jennifer lowered her hand and sheepishly snuggled into Patton.
Patton watched them in turn, looking at one and then at the other. Finally he remembered. It wasn’t the fact they had been such an odd match that had caught his attention, it had been what the old guy was talking to her about—his admiration for Che Guevara.
“Yeah,” Patton said, nodding, “I remember that old bastard.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes but she couldn’t help but laugh.
Each person on the stage took time, discussing their concern about the murders, the fire, and the general increase in crime in the community. To Patton it seemed as if they were having a private committee meeting, basically ignoring the audience. When the emcee said, “There will have to be the authority to tax,” many of her colleagues on stage nodded in agreement. Patton wanted to jump up and interject, but another member of the audience stood and followed up with a question that Patton had wanted to ask.
“Will there be a cap on how much can be taxed? Wouldn’t it be wiser to bond issues rather than to tax the people? At least that way you would have the consent of the people.”
The older man, who had earlier introduced himself as Charlie Henry, stood to respond.
“Bonding is an option of course,” he said, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “The problem with that, though, is that you’re entangling every bit of important business with a vote. It really slows down progress of what needs to get done.”
Not being able to control himself any longer, Patton stood.
“I think that’s the point of bonding, don’t you?”
Shocked by the interruption, the older gentleman turned to meet Patton’s gaze.
“Well, Sir, I take it you have something to say on this issue?”
Patton pushed the button in front of his seat to activate the microphone. When the green light went solid he said, “Yes, among others.”
The man smiled and gestured for Patton to continue.
“Bonding is the only way to ensure that the government, if we end up setting one up—” he said, paused for a few beats, and then finished, saying “—doesn’t overdo it.”