“What?” he mumbled.
“Have you heard anything about…you know?” Patty nodded her head in the approximate direction of Nevada.
Jubal shook his head. There was nothing he could do about Nevada, even though it worried him. For now, his boss, mother and half the town falling ill was his top priority. Besides, the Vegas incident was probably some sort of military mishap, even though the President himself put the blame on terrorists, but then he always did. If the powers-that-be wanted to keep it quiet, there was nothing little ol’ deputy Jubal Slate could do about it. The government, even the county government-his employers-always liked to keep their little secrets.
“I heard you can’t call anywhere up there,” a voice said from down counter.
It was Pops Perez who had spoken, the oldest citizen of Serenity, who always had time to share his opinion with whomever would listen. Today, he wore his fancy straw hat just as he had every day for as long as Jubal could remember. He never removed it: not to eat, not for anything-not that anyone in the diner would care; the town had grown used to his eccentricities. Nothing ever changed with Pops, and that went for his carefully groomed white moustache too; he was a dapper little man and a town?xture who everyone loved and watched out for, just as he had watched out for them when they were children.
Jubal recalled Pops handing out quarters to the kids when Jubal was a boy. Whenever he’d see the old man, he’d run up to him, knowing a shiny quarter would be his reward for a friendly chat. Not that he minded chatting with him; he was a funny guy who knew a lot of jokes, tricks and stories.
Jubal wondered what the old man handed out to the kids these days. Five-dollar bills?
“You mean to the military?” Patty said.
“No, not only the military. I’m talking anywhere in Nevada,” Pops said, lighting one of his thin brown cigars. Hardly anyone smoked these days, but that didn’t stop Pops Perez from lighting up. He was the only person Patty would allow to smoke in her diner.
Jubal had a college buddy who lived up near Vegas, in Pahrump. He made a mental note to call him later. Pops’s statement could be accurate or it could be another of his wild stories. Like the time he’d said a UFO landed in his back yard and he’d spent the whole night teaching the skinny little aliens how to play poker; it seems that aliens love betting games. So sayeth Pops Perez.
“I don’t know no one up that way anyhow,” Patty said, wiping down the counter. “Maybe whatever happened up there-some explosion or something-knocked the phones out of commission.”
Pops picked up his cup of coffee, and a saucer he used as an ashtray, and moved closer to Patty and Jubal. He sat on the stool two down from the deputy.
“Did you see the sky this morning?” the old man said.
“What’s the matter with the sky?” Patty said, her eyes widening.
“It was the wrong color.”
Patty looked toward the front window, that funny look still on her face. Jubal knew she could only see the dry cleaner and hardware stores across the street from her vantage point. And even if she could see the sky, the green had faded…for now. Jubal hoped he’d never see it again.
“Now don’t get Patty all riled up. That could be pollution making the sky green,” Jubal said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
The smile on Pops’s face told Jubal the old man knew he was full of shit.
“Pollution? When was the last time you saw the sky green, my boy?”
Jubal chewed his potatoes for a while, as if taking time to contemplate the question. “Never, but there’s always a?rst time…”
“‘Never’ is correct. We are out in the middle of nowhere here. In all my years living in Serenity, I have never seen a green sky. But today at dawn? Today was very different, si?”
Jubal shrugged.
Patty had moved her bulk from behind the counter and was at the front window now, looking at the sky with her mouth open. A couple of the diner’s patrons did the same. They swiveled their heads back and forth, looking for green.
“See what you did, Pops?”
The old man smiled at Jubal, but the smile did not reach above his cheekbones. The deputy could not bear the emotion caught in Pops’s dark, brown eyes. He looked away. Jubal had never seen fear in Pops’s eyes before, but a trace of it was there now.
“I don’t see no damn green in the sky,” Patty said, walking back to the counter. “I think it’s another one of Pops’s crazy stories.”
“Sure,” Jubal said, standing up. “Pops is pulling a fast one on us.”
Pops swiveled his stool away from them, puf?ng on his cigar.
“So, Patty. How about those dinners for Damon and Ma?”
“Sure thing, hotshot. I’ll be right out with them.”
After Patty left, Pops swiveled his stool back to face Jubal.
“I also heard they’ve closed the roads into Nevada, Jubal,” the old man said in a tiny whisper of a voice that the deputy did not like one bit. Pops Perez scared? He couldn’t fathom it.
Jubal had heard that the roads into Nevada had been closed, but like any rumors these past few days, he couldn’t get con?rmation. The newspapers only guessed at things and so did the talking heads on TV. Everything seemed to be going to shit all at once, but Jubal refused to let it frustrate him. Sheriff Damon Ortega wouldn’t get his feathers ruf?ed in a situation like this, so neither would Jubal. He’d take things a step at a time.
He leaned on the counter, his head close to the old man’s.
“Listen, Pops. Everyone in Serenity is under a lot of stress right now due to the weird rumors?ying around. On top of that, everyone’s getting sick, and poor Doc Mitchell has his hands full trying to keep up. What would really help me would be if you could keep these wild speculations to yourself for a while. Just until everything settles down a bit, which I’m sure will be any time now. Can you do that for me?”
“Wild speculations? So you are saying the sky was not green this morning?”
“No. You and me know it was, but there’s no sense in working folks up about it. Not until we determine there’s a real reason to inform everyone.”
“Sure, Jubal, I’ll keep quiet. I’ll do that for you. I am sorry if I caused any problems.”
“No, you’re?ne. Just keep these things to yourself for now. And try to show a strong face; do it for the town. Do it for Serenity.”
“Okay, okay. It’s no problem for me.”
Jubal laid his hand on Pops’s back. “Good man.”
“Here’s your grub,” Patty called, bursting from between the swinging doors. “Now you tell your mama and the sheriff to get well real soon and that I’ll be keeping them in my prayers.”
Jubal took the dinners from her and winked at Pops. The old man puffed on his cigar, a sad, worried look on his face.
“I’ll tell ’em, Patty.”
Jubal stood outside Conchita’s with the Styrofoam-encased meals cradled in his hands. He looked at the sky, relieved to see endless blue surrounding the blazing sun. There was nothing as beautiful as a New Mexican sky, and he’d hate to see anything ruin it.
“This will all blow over,” he said aloud, then abruptly shut up. He’d been talking to himself a lot this past week, not that there was anyone around to hear him. They were all in bed, waiting for Doc Mitchell to pay a visit. But from what the doc had told Jubal, he wasn’t having much luck determining what ailed everyone. Some sort of virus, he’d said, trying to keep a smile on his red, sweating face but failing miserably. There are lots of viruses going around, he’d said.
So, maybe the sickness would blow over soon, the sky would remain blue and everyone would go back to town business.
Or maybe not. Jubal wanted to be an optimist; they seemed like the happiest people. But with all that life had shown him, he?gured the closest he could get was to be a realist.