There was so much uncertainty in what was going to happen, but despite that Michelle felt okay. She stretched out on the sofa, finally feeling her mind give way to the fatigue that her body was under. “I’m so tired,” she said, not even aware she was crying again, this time from the sheer relief that it was over. It was finally over.
“I love you,” Donald said, sitting up in his sleeping bag. She went to him and they embraced awkwardly, she half on the sofa and he sitting up on the floor wrapped in his sleeping bag. “No matter what happens, I love you.”
They remained that way for a moment and after awhile she lay back down. Donald lay down too and she felt herself drifting to sleep. For the first time in months she felt calm, at peace. She felt comforted with these people, with Rafael and Tomas, and John, Jay, and Rachel. She was worried about Jay’s situation with his wife—she’d caught bits of his conversation with her earlier and it was obvious she was very worried about him and that the police were pressuring her to tell them where he was. Her heart bled for him; she knew more than anything he wanted to see his son again but would probably be unable to after today. She wished she could help him.
She closed her eyes, sinking into sleep. She felt a strange kinship with these people. She knew they would take care of her just as she wanted to take care of them. She fell asleep with the sounds of police sirens racing by outside and when she dreamed, she dreamed about Alanis.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SHE NEVER THOUGHT southwest Montana could be so beautiful.
It was also hard to believe that a year could go by so fast.
She was thinking this as she piloted the Jeep Cherokee down Route 30 near Ryan, Montana, the town they’d settled in. Sixty miles southwest of Butte, the largest city in their area, Ryan had a population of just under two thousand people and drew the majority of its income from the Ghost Town business that catered heavily to tourists. There was also a ski-lodge twenty miles up in the mountains. In the winter the area was pretty much what Michelle Dowling had expected, only the winters here seemed a little harsher than those in Pennsylvania and New York. Here she was on the plains and the snow blew in fiercely, driving stinging pelts of it in your face if you weren’t wearing a scarf. Winter hung around longer too—it was already mid May and the evening temperatures still dipped into the thirties. Today was the first day meteorologists were predicting actual Spring-like weather. That would be nice. Michelle was tired of bundling up in heavy coats and jackets.
She supposed she’d get used to it.
Of course, her name wasn’t Michelle Dowling anymore. It was now Jane Gorman.
Her hair was no longer shoulder-length or blonde. She’d lost twenty pounds, had toned her body up a bit, and now wore her hair short in a stylish cut that accented her face nicely. She’d colored it an off-red. Donald liked her new look. In fact, he was really turned on by it.
Michelle smiled to herself as she headed home. The terrain she drove through was lonely and desolate. In many ways it resembled the American Southwest. Not too far from here there was actual desert. The badlands, it was called. This summer she wanted to go out there with Donald. Maybe they’d find dinosaur bones or something. They could pack up a weekend’s worth of clothes, get in the Jeep and check into a little motel or cabin somewhere. Get away for the weekend. It would be fun.
They were adjusting to their new life quite well.
Donald had set up a small medical practice in town which drew great business since the nearest hospital was in Grass Valley, a larger town twenty miles west. Most of the people who lived in Ryan had been so used to making the drive that they no longer gave it any thought. Major medical emergencies had been handled by a Medivac helicopter. Donald had been able to get a license to practice medicine in the state of Montana easily, and set up shop quickly, converting an old house into a state-of-the-art medical office complete with three examination rooms, a waiting room, and a small lab. Dr. Eric Brown from his old medical practice had lent considerable support, helping arrange financing with a local bank and securing equipment. Michelle and Jay had helped set up the office. Jay had been wonderful with his technical proficiency. He’d programmed all of the computers and developed a patient database that tapped into the State’s pharmaceutical database that gave Donald quick and easy access.
Legally it was easier for Donald to pick up and move. For Michelle, it wasn’t so easy.
Michelle reflected on the past year quickly as she drew closer to home.
It became apparent within the day after the destruction of
Corporate Financial Consulting Group’s Corporate Headquarters that Michelle Dowling would have to be declared legally dead by the authorities. Sam Greenberg and Gary Lawrence were among the first bodies found in the rubble. Alan Perkins was found a few days later and was identified through fingerprints. Likewise, Connie Dowling was among the six hundred and seventy-three people listed on the government’s official list of the deceased.
Her father, Michael Dowling, was on that list too. She wondered if Frank Marstein’s spirit was killed when her father was blown to smithereens.
The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms located evidence that the building was brought down by over twenty highly-contained explosives packed with C4 that had been placed in strategic parts of the building. Fingerprint analysis failed to yield good clues. A high-level investigation was quickly undertaken, one that drove Michelle to paranoia. She’d had to be calmed down by Rafael and Tomas that first week when she thought the feds would pound on their door any minute, but it was apparent as the days passed into weeks, and with the news reports that the feds were chasing their tails, that they’d never pin the crime to her or anybody else in the Coalition. Nobody in the group was questioned; that’s how far underground they were. All the leads dwindled to dead ends: the C4 could not be traced, and the government admitted that they could not lay the blame on any particular group or organization. Several organizations like Weather Report condemned the bombing but also said they could understand the motives behind it. Individuals from Weather Report and other groups were relentlessly grilled, some placed in custody on other charges, but in the end the government could not produce solid ties between the bombing and their activities.
The Corporate Slavery portion of the Labor bill that had been passed by Congress and signed by the President a week before the bombing was reversed after twenty-four hours of open floor debate in the House and Senate. The reversal was hailed by Labor Advocates and denounced by various Business Lobbies and was sure to be introduced in some guise again during the next session, but it was unsure if it would gain support. Polls taken in the weeks following the debacle indicated that Senators and House members who had previously supported the bill were in danger of not being re-elected next term. The President himself was facing the lowest job approval ratings since he’d taken office. Like-wise, local politicians, judges, and lawyers were facing tremendous heat and backlash from their support and enactment of the bill’s policies during the hectic three days that things went hay-wire for many workers in the U.S. In Denver, Colorado, the state, as well as a plastics manufacturer, was being sued for nine hundred million dollars by one Mel Howard for destruction of personal property, assault and battery, false imprisonment and a host of other claims. In Fountain Valley, California, a retired couple named José and Glenda Gonzalez was suing their former employer on similar charges including kidnapping; they were also claiming that the undue stress of their ordeal had contributed to their health problems. In Ephrata, PA, a twenty-six year old factory worker was suing Red Rose Medical Insurance. Likewise, the four Red Rose Insurance Adjusters who’d visited him that day were awaiting trial on various criminal charges. Donald had heard Michael Brennan had just finished a six month round of chemotherapy to fight off the cancer cells that had been reintroduced into his body. Dr. Schellenger believed his prognosis was good, much to Donald’s relief.