Revolution

The sign posted by the side of the road read, “You are now entering Clarksburg, Tennessee, population 12,000.”

“We’re coming up to a town,” Carol said.

“Is it on the map?” her husband asked.

Paper rustled as she unfolded a map across her legs. It was near evening, the light in the car already growing dim. She reached for the overhead light and flicked it on.

“Yes,” she said after a moment’s study. “Clarksburg. I found it.”

“Any chance of a bypass?” he asked, flicking the overhead light off; it was causing reflections in the windshield.

“Nothing that I can see.” She ran a finger, the nail well chewed, across the paper. “The map shows this highway going right through the center of town.”

“So it’s just a country burg, then,” he said.

“Maybe. The sign said the population is twelve thousand.”

“That was before,” he said. “There’s probably no more than three or four thousand now. A lot of people left. And a lot of them…well…”

“You could say they left too. In a manner of speaking. Still…” She sounded doubtful. “It’s not just a burg.”

“Still…” He echoed her doubt, easing up on the accelerator. The car slowed till they were only crawling along. He glanced in the mirror. There was nobody else on the road, no one to find his slow driving annoying and pass or honk at him the way they would have done in the past.

They hadn’t seen anyone the whole day in fact. Not another car, anyway, though there had been people at some of the farms they had passed, people staring at them as they drove past, but no one had waved or called a friendly greeting. Waves and friendly greetings were things of the past, it seemed. Along with cars on the highway.

“There are always roads around these country towns,” she said. “Like that one there.” She pointed at a dirt track that led off to the right.

He slowed as if to turn onto the dirt road, and glanced in the direction of the westerly trees, their tops just now gilded by a setting sun. “It’s going to be dark soon,” he said. “The last thing we want is to be lost on some back country road when night falls. Got to be the worst thing that could happen to us, if you ask me.”

Instead, he speeded up again. “It’ll be okay, going through town. Straight through, right? So long as I take no chances we shouldn’t have any problems. Let’s not go around expecting the worst, okay?”

“Tom,” she said, and hesitated, not quite sure exactly what she wanted to say. He was right, of course, they didn’t want to find themselves stuck on some back country lane after dark. Still, a town, even a small one. Maybe even especially a small one.

“It will be okay,” he said again. “I promise, I will stick to the speed limit, maybe even a little below that. And I’ll run no stop signs. I won’t give them any excuse to pull us over. Most likely they won’t even know we’ve been here.”

“They’ll know,” she said. “They always know. Somehow.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror again, this time at the back seat and not the road behind them. Two pairs of eyes, looking saucer big, regarded the back of his head steadily. “It’s all right, kids,” he told them, giving them what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’ll be in Texas before you know it. Why don’t you guys try taking a nap? By the time you wake up, why, heck, we’ll be practically there. There’s nothing to be afraid of, honest.”

“I’m not afraid,” ten-year-old Dennis said firmly, his voice cracking to show that he was. Patty, a year younger, said nothing, but she clutched her Elmo doll closer to her breast. Her nose had begun to run, unnoticed apparently—never a good sign with her.

The fields alongside the highway were brown and brittle looking. It was nearing the end of a hot and rain-sparse summer. Then, in what seemed no more than seconds, the fields had given way to scattered houses. The houses quickly grew closer together as the highway became a street, and then they were in the town of Clarksburg, population 12,000 (at least, before).

A block or so ahead of them, a traffic light changed from green to amber, and to red. Tom slowed and stopped. On the far corner, a group of young men took note of the car and watched them silently.

“They’ve seen us,” she said. “They are pretending they haven’t, but they have. I can tell, by the way they are acting.”

“Don’t look at them,” he said. “Play it their way, pretend like you don’t see them. Just like they’re doing. Look straight ahead.”

He glanced again in the rearview mirror, at the pair in the back. “Don’t look out the window, kids,” he said. “Sit back, where you won’t be seen if anybody’s looking.” They both of them shrank obediently back into the seat, pointedly looking away from the windows. Patty had begun to sniffle. Dennis put his hand over hers.

The light overhead turned green. Tom eased through the intersection, gradually increasing his speed, but carefully, mindful of the thirty-five mile per hour speed limit posted. This was no time to get a ticket. Two blocks ahead, another traffic light turned green as well.

“I’ll bet that’s the last light in all of Clarksburg,” he said, letting out a breath he had not even realized he had been holding. “Another couple of blocks and we’ll be out of here. Then it’s straight down the road, to Middleton, and the Holiday Inn. One more night to go”

“What if it’s…you know?” Carol said.

“The Holiday Inn?” He looked doubtful. “Hell, that’s a national chain. They have a reputation to think of.”

“It could be,” she said. “They could be there, too. There’s no telling. Not after…not anymore.”

“We can tell. Easy. We can pull up outside first, before we even get out of the car, and look in. Holiday Inns, they’ve always got these big old plate glass windows in front, right? We’ll just look inside before we go in; we ought to be able to tell. I mean, if they’re all wearing those nightgowns, you know…”

“Burqhas,” she corrected him, but absentmindedly, her thoughts still on the young men back at that corner. The young men who had pretended not to see them. Why had they made such a point of that, she wondered? They had been altogether too casual, it seemed to her. Or was she just being paranoid? Considering the events of the last couple of weeks, it was hard not to be nervous. Though she was trying her best to remain calm, serene, if only for the kids’ sakes. And Tom’s too. He would have pooh-poohed that idea, but she knew he was just as nervous as she was.

After a thoughtful moment, he said, “Or, you know, I’ve been thinking, what if we just kept on driving? We’ve still got,” he glanced down at the dash, “we’ve got more than half a tank of gas. If we just kept going, we could be in Texas by tomorrow night. I can drive most of it, if you can spell me for a little. We’ll gas up there, in Texas, and then…San Antone, here we come. After that, we’re home free.”

“What if they’ve taken Texas too?” she asked.

He snorted his derision. “Texas? Those good old boys? If there’s any place in the country that’s held them off, it’s got to be Texas. They’re all like my brother down there, and you know what Chad’s like. Pure redneck. Every one of them.”

“Not all of them, but I do know what you mean. I’ve been thinking, though, what if Chad doesn’t take us in? There’s no guarantee that he will. He doesn’t even know we’re coming.”

“Well, we couldn’t very well call him, now could we?

“No. But you know what he always called us.”

“Bleeding hearts?” He snorted again. “Don’t worry about Chad. He’ll do the right thing when it comes down to the wire. Blood counts with people like Chad.” He thought about what he had said, and added, “Blood counts for more than just about anything. That’s just the kind of person he is. Redneck, sure, but family first of all. Hey, we’re brothers. Don’t forget that. He won’t forget it, I promise you.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said.

“I am,” he said in a definite voice.

They had almost made it to the next light, still green, when a police cruiser came alongside them, red and blue lights flashing on its roof. The driver signaled for them to pull over to the curb, and when Tom did, the cruiser pulled in front of them, stopped so that it had their way blocked.

A tall, sturdily built man in uniform got out of the cruiser and began to stroll with affected nonchalance back toward Tom’s window.

“Don’t panic,” Tom said. “Cops are good guys. Most of them are. This might be the best thing that could happen to us. Maybe this guy will even escort us out of town. Wouldn’t that be something? Maybe I’ll ask him.”

“Tom…”

“I’m just joking. But he might, you know, he just might offer. That old southern hospitality, you know what I’m saying.”

Watching the uniformed man approach the car, Carol did not think he looked at all like “the best thing that could happen” to them. Apart from the fact that he was recognizably Arabic, with swarthy skin and a huge handlebar moustache, he looked like just about any police officer in any town, America.

Except for the weaponry. That was different. On his right hip, he carried the traditional holstered gun, like they all carried, but on his left hip, a sword flashed in the blinking lights. A huge sword, almost as long as his legs. Like something a Samurai might carry, Carol was thinking. Not something you’d expect to see a police officer wearing. To her way of thinking, that did not bode well for them.

Who carried swords, anyway, she thought? But she already knew the answer to that question, and the one that followed it: why? She did not much care for either answer. There had been so much of that the last week or so. That was why they were traveling, hoping to make it to Texas. And they could, if only…

Tom put the window glass down on his side, carefully not all the way, only a few inches, enough to talk through. He took his wallet, with his driver’s license in it, out of the left rear pocket of his jeans, wrestled a dirty handkerchief from the right pocket and wiped the sweat off his brow with it.

The cloth came away soaked. He had not even realized he had been sweating. He had not realized either how warm the night was, warm and sticky, the way it got in the south in the summer. The air conditioning had been on the whole time they had been on the road. He made a mental note to switch it off, if they kept driving, to save gas. Running the air reduced your mileage, didn’t it? He thought he had read that somewhere.

“Good evening, officer,” he said when the policeman had not quite reached the window. “Hot night, isn’t it?”

He could see globules of sweat on the man’s brow too, above the reflective glasses he wore, and gleaming on his moustache. Tom smiled up at him, hoping to make himself look ingratiating. Kissing backside, he supposed you could call it that. Hell, he didn’t mind, if that was what he had to do. There were more important matters at stake here than his pride. His wife, the kids, they were counting on him. He would do whatever he had to do, period.

The officer had stopped just outside the window, leaning down to the narrow opening. “Can I see your license?” he said, without returning the smile. Tom held his wallet up for inspection, opened to the plastic compartment that held his driver’s license.

“Would you take it out of your wallet, if you don’t mind sir,” the officer said. Tom struggled the license free from the plastic, his fingers feeling all of a sudden like big globs of dough. At one point, he dropped his wallet and had to bend down to retrieve it from the floor. He got it, got the license out, and handed it through the window.

“Did I do something wrong, sir?” he asked, and got no answer. The officer looked long and hard at the license, turned it over to examine the back, and looked at the front again.

“Mr…” He squinted to read the name on the front, “Mr. Stoddard, is it? Is that a cross you’re wearing around your neck there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Tom had completely forgotten the crucifix at the V of his shirt. He fingered it now nervously. “Yes, it is,” he admitted a bit sheepishly.

There was a long pause. Tom felt he ought to say something. Why the hell hadn’t he just taken the damned thing off before the cop walked up? Or even a long time ago, when they had gotten into the car? Why would he be so stupid? A cross? Crap, that was just asking for trouble, wasn’t it?

Say something, he told himself. You’ve got to say something, something about the cross. But say what?

“It’s more of a good luck charm than anything, I guess,” he said, stammering slightly. “An Aunt gave it to me years ago. Aunt Maggie. When I was just a kid. I couldn’t have been more than four or five, I think, when she put it around my neck. Aunt Maggie. She’s long gone, now, of course, probably ten years ago or more. More like fifteen, now that I think of it. A strange woman. Old Aunt Maggie. We used to laugh about her when we were kids. Well, you know how kids are.” He was talking too much, too fast, the cop just standing there staring at him from behind those glasses. Tom paused for a breath and swallowed hard.

“What I meant to say,” he said, forcing himself to speak more slowly, “is, I’ve had it so long, I just sort of, you know, I put it on automatically. I never even think about it, to be honest. I’m not a religious man, is what I’m trying to say. I had forgotten I even had it on, to tell you the truth, forgotten all about it.”

He tangled his fingers in the slim chain, broke it, took the cross from his neck and shoved it into the pocket of his shirt. There now. He hoped the policeman was satisfied to see it gone.

“That your wife?” the officer asked.

“Yes. That’s Carol. Mrs. Stoddard. My wife. Carol.”

“She’s dressed kind of immodestly, isn’t she?”

“Is she?” Tom said stupidly, turning to look at Carol. She was wearing a plain cotton blouse and a denim skirt. There was nothing immodest about them, in his opinion. The man should see her some time in her bikini, talk about immodest. He almost smiled, before he quashed that thought. This was no time for levity.

“I have a burqha,” Carol said, leaning across the seat toward them. “It’s on the floor in the back. Just there.”

“On the floor…?” He frowned.

“It was so hot, is all. The air conditioning isn’t working right,” Carol said, speaking quickly and fanning her hand in front of her face. “I just took it off, maybe ten minutes ago. Maybe not even that long. It’s just us in here, the family, I mean. I wouldn’t have gotten out of the car dressed like this, honestly, I wouldn’t have dreamed of it. But like I say, it’s just us in here, just family, I mean. And it’s so hot.” She fanned the air again. “I can put it on again, though, if you think that’s best.”

The officer, however, seemed to be done with her. He grunted and turned his attention back to Tom. He handed the license back through the window. Tom took it, and shoved it into his shirt pocket. He didn’t think his fingers were up to putting it back in his wallet.

“Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come with me,” the officer said.

“What did I do?” Tom asked in a small voice.

“I would appreciate it if you could just step out of the car, please, sir,” the officer repeated, sounding adamant.

“But I can’t just leave my wife and kids sitting here,” Tom said, hating that his voice had turned whiney.

“They’ll be fine, sir.”

“If you could tell me, please, what I did? Or, just lead us to wherever you want us to go. I’ll follow you, I promise. Heck, this old car, I couldn’t out run you even if I wanted to.” He tried a laugh that came out more of a gurgle.

“Sir…” The officer straightened, hitched his thumbs over his gun belt. “If you’ll step out of the car…” The sword on his left hip shimmered in the red light from his cruiser, seeming to blink at them.

“Sure, sure, anything you say,” Tom said, knowing he had lost the argument.

He swung the door open, pausing halfway out of the car to look at his wife. Again he had the feeling there was something he ought to say, but he did not know what it was.

“Wait here,” was the best he could do. “It’s just some misunderstanding, is all it is. I’ll be back shortly.”

He glanced at the rear seat. Patty was openly crying now, but making no noise, tears running down her cheeks, snot running out of her nose. And Dennis, trying hard to be brave, actually looked like he was not far behind her.

“You kids…” Tom started, and couldn’t think what else to say. “You look after your mom, you hear,” he finished lamely, and got out of the car.

Carol watched the officer take hold of Tom’s arm and march him rather quickly toward the waiting police car. Tom stumbled once and would have fallen if the officer hadn’t kept a firm grip on his arm.

When they got to the cruiser, Tom bent down to get into the back seat. He looked back once and his face was ashen in the blue and red glare. Then he was gone from sight, the slamming of the door like an explosion in the nighttime quiet. The officer went around the front of the car, looking like some malevolent giant in the twin beams from the headlights. A moment later, the cruiser drove away from the curb. Carol watched the taillights receding in the distance. They stopped at the next traffic light, red now.

“I know what. We’ll just follow them,” she said suddenly, brightly. “He must be taking him to the police station, and when everything is cleared up, well, we’ll be right there waiting for him. Daddy will be so pleased to see us there. Yes, that’s just what we’ll do.”

She started to open her door, and a movement in the outside mirror gave her pause. Someone—someones, actually, because she could see even in the mirror, in the dim light, that there were several of them—coming along the street, noiselessly, like a cloud of ghosts, drifting toward the car.

She thought it was those young men they had seen a moment or two earlier, on the street corner, but in the dark she couldn’t be sure. And why was it so dark, anyway? Didn’t this town even have any street lights? They ought to be on by now, oughtn’t they? It was after sundown. What was the point in having streetlights, if they weren’t going to come on at night?

She pulled the half-opened door closed instead and locked it, raising the window as well. Hitching her skirt up, she clambered awkwardly over the console to reach the driver’s seat.

Tom had left the keys in the ignition. Maybe he had even done it deliberately, intending for her to notice them and not wanting to say anything aloud. She started the engine and put the car in gear, but not fast enough. The crowd of boys—it was the ones from that corner, she was sure of it, though she could not have sworn to it.

“They all look alike,” she thought, and giggled hysterically. Six months ago, she’d have torn into anyone who said such a thing.

The boys, or they weren’t quite that either, they were young men—by this time they had gathered around the car, three or four of them directly in front of it, blocking any forward movement.

One of them came purposefully around to her door. She lowered the window a cautious inch or so, and checked that the door lock was down.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I was about to follow the officer there, the police officer. He took my husband with him. You wouldn’t by any chance happen to know where they were going, would you?” When she looked down the street, the police cruiser had disappeared, around a corner, no doubt. Now, how was she to find them?

The young man made a kind of whooping sound. “She wants to know where Raoul has taken her old man,” he said to the youths in front of the car, and several of them laughed raucously. To Carol, he said, leaning down to the crack in the window, “How about you get out of the car and we’ll talk about it?”

“I…no, please, I want to follow my husband, if you could just tell me…” She was stammering, genuinely frightened now.

“Who’s that?” He took a step to the rear and put his face close to the window there. “Back there?” He pointed at the glass.

“It’s just my children,” she said. “They’re probably asleep.”

“Don’t look asleep to me.” He stared through the glass for a long moment. “Pretty little thing, ain’t she? The girl. She’d make some man a fine wife, I’m thinking.”

“A wife? Oh, no, no.” Carol shook her head violently. “She’s just a child. Nine years old. A little girl.”

“One of Muhamad’s wives was eight when he married her,” someone said out of the darkness, and someone else said, with a laugh in his voice, “Looks like he’d make someone a fine wife too, you ask me.”

Despite the warmth of the evening, Carol shivered. “Look,” she said, her voice tight. “Let’s say I did get out of the car, like you asked, would you let the children stay here? Unmolested, I mean?”

“I think you need to unlock this door, and come with us,” he said, tugging at the handle. Or, if not…” From somewhere he produced a huge rock, made a smashing motion at the window with it. “I can open it for you, if you want.”

“No, I…all right, okay, I’ll do what you say. I’ll come with you, if that’s what you want. Only, please, please, leave the children alone, okay? That’s all I ask. No, I insist. I insist you leave the children alone. That’s my condition for getting out of the car.”

“We don’t take orders from women. Especially women not dressed right,” he said in an angry voice. “Get out.” Again he made a smashing gesture at the window with the rock.

What could she do? The rock would surely make short work of the window glass, and then he’d only be angry with her. Or, angrier, since he already seemed angry for some reason.

“All right, all right,” she said, “I’m coming, see. Look. I’m coming. I’m doing what you said, okay?” She tugged the door lock up, pushed the door slightly open, resisting the urge to strike him with it, which she knew would only make him angrier as well. He took hold of the door and yanked it wide.

She tried to get out as carefully as possible, but before she had gotten more than a foot on the ground they were upon her, grabbing her arms, dragging her out of the car. She attempted to kick the door shut after herself, but it didn’t move. It only stayed stubbornly ajar. In an instant, they were half dragging, half carrying her across the street, toward an alley. Behind her, she heard Patty scream, and Dennis shouted something she couldn’t make out. It sounded like, “Let her alone.”

“Please, please,” she cried, “I’ll do whatever you want, anything, just leave the children…” She was thrown to the ground with such force that the wind was knocked out of her, and whatever she had meant to say was gone.

Someone fell heavily atop her. Over his shoulder, she saw something hanging in a tree just past the end of the alley, spinning slowly in the slight breeze, dripping something onto the ground, something dark….

God in Heaven, that wasn’t…surely it couldn’t be…? In her mind, she had a quick image of the police officer’s sword, gleaming wickedly in the red and blue light.

“Tom,” she tried to scream, but the scream never got past her lips.