Sunday, October 21, 1962
Tallahassee, Florida
He hesitated at the stop sign, then sped through, made the sharp turn onto his street. He had taken a shortcut through side streets, since out on the main highway, the way was blocked by an enormous column of trucks, what seemed to be a never-ending parade. He reached his driveway, turned in, saw Danny, holding a football, the boy with a glance toward him, then staring out toward the highway.
“Hey, Pop! What’s all that? Must be a million trucks. Eddie next door says it’s all army, soldiers and stuff.”
Russo was out of the car now, stood with his hands on his hips, saw neighbors doing the same, all eyes on the vast line of green vehicles. The sound was steady, a hard rumble, huge tires on pavement, engines belching black smoke. He could smell the exhaust now, said, “Yep. It’s army. I heard the news, that there’re some exercises down south, maybe toward the Keys. Seems like a lot of trouble for exercises. I guess our tax dollars are paying for it.”
He looked down the street, saw his neighbor, Jerry, the man’s fallout shelter nearly completed. Jerry saw him, moved closer, never a smile, said, “Well, Professor, what do you think? I’m bettin’ we’re going down to teach those Cuban Commies a lesson. I heard we’re set to invade, toss Castro into the ocean. It’s about damn time.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Around. My oldest boy’s maybe out there, one of those trucks. He’s stationed at Fort Hood and wrote us that things were about to heat up. That’s all he’d say. I guess they have to keep their mouths shut, so their mail doesn’t get censored. He does a lot of secret stuff though. He’s a damn fine soldier. We need a lot like him these days. I told you before, things are going to get nasty.”
“If you say so. I heard it was all for drill, war games or something.”
“Professor, for a smart fellow, you don’t seem to pay much attention to things. I been listening to some of those fellows running for election. There’s a lot of talk how Kennedy isn’t doing the job, that he’s letting Khrushchev walk all over him. Well, maybe Kennedy’s decided to do something about it. I don’t have much faith in that, but, well, there goes the army.”
Russo didn’t want to talk politics, ever, not with this man. He looked toward Jerry’s house, said, “How’s the fallout shelter coming?”
“Near done. Just put in the air pump yesterday. Ingenious. Hand cranks, brings in filtered air. Keeps out all the radioactivity.”
“You sure about that?”
Jerry sniffed, as though talking to an imbecile.
“Read the brochure, Professor. It comes with a guarantee. I’m telling you, you’d be smart to invest in one of these things. But, the way things are looking right now, might not be time enough to install one. The world’s getting hotter, if you know what I mean. All I gotta say is, my rifle’s loaded.”
HE PUSHED ASIDE the dinner plate, half his meat loaf still there.
“You didn’t like it?”
He looked at her, tried to smile.
“No, it was fine. Just not all that hungry. I keep hearing those trucks. They’re still coming. The third convoy today. They’ve got the main roads blocked off downtown, so those fellows can move through pretty quick. If they’re still coming tomorrow, I’ll have to take Duval Street to get to school.”
“Hey Pop, you missed the end of the football game. Green Bay beat up on the 49ers. They’re still undefeated.”
He looked at his son, forced a smile.
“Yep, they’ll probably win the championship, the way they’re going. I’m more happy about FSU. They beat Georgia yesterday. That was a surprise.”
He loved talking football with the boy, but his mind wouldn’t focus, the sound of the trucks in the way.
“I think I’ll go outside. It’s not dark yet. Just for a minute.”
He saw her look, concern, knew he couldn’t hide how he was feeling. He pushed open the screen, went into the backyard, the sound of the trucks louder now. The glow of headlights came from the highway, the steady rumble. He stepped out farther, glanced skyward, Venus to one side, no other stars out yet. She was there now, moving up quietly beside him.
“This is really bothering you, isn’t it?”
He let out a breath, said, “Yep. Not sure why. I want to believe what the news says, that this is all about training exercises down south. Then that idiot Jerry spouts out all his conspiracy nonsense, like he knows big secrets. There’s too much talk. I can’t believe the government is keeping so many secrets. But then, maybe it’s best. Maybe we’re not supposed to know what all’s going on, so we’re not scared to death. I just hope the people who are in charge know what the hell they’re doing.”
She hugged his arm, said nothing. Around them, lightning bugs began to appear, tiny flashes of light. He smiled, said, “When I was young, I used to catch those things, put them in a jar, watch them glow, even when they were captured. But I felt guilty about it, and let them go. I know Danny does that kind of stuff. I guess it’s one of the rules about being a kid. Torture animals. I used to catch butterflies too. At least he doesn’t do that.”
Margaret laughed now.
“No, the only thing I’ve seen him torture is his ant farm. I finally threw that thing out, once he seemed to forget about it. A thousand dead ants. At least they didn’t escape into the house.” She paused, shared his attention on the lightning bugs. After a long moment, she said, “I have to go to Monticello tomorrow. They have some people out sick and need me to look in on some of their clients.”
He thought of the euphemism, clients, the unfortunates who needed her help, the cartons she carried to them, surplus food, clothing provided by the government.
“Just be careful. The highway might be blocked off with more of these trucks.”
“I know the back ways, Joe. I’ll be okay.”
“I know you will. I’ve been thinking about my classes tomorrow. They’ll want to talk about this. They’re sharp kids, and I know they’ll ask all kinds of questions about what this all means. I’m sure the political science fellows will analyze this to death, but hell, I’m just an English teacher. I don’t know any more of what’s going on than my students do. I have no comforting words to offer anybody, not even my own family. I could be like Jerry, go buy a rifle, make like I’m John Wayne. Then maybe build us a concrete fortress in the backyard, pretend that will protect us from anything that goes wrong.”
“You think something’s wrong?”
He stared out through the growing darkness, flickers of headlights from the highway.
“I think something’s happening that we’re not supposed to know. And that’s scary as hell.”