Storm Portal Page 8
“Dinner's ready,” said Linda. Lois's tight lips and finger tapping showed her increasing impatience. Ash followed Linda into the kitchen.
I said, “Lois, Linda is a great cook, and I want you to eat. I'll tell you all what happened, during dinner. Then we can discuss this. Okay?” I called to the kitchen and asked Linda to wait with my plate for now. “Ash, would you open the wine while I help serve.”
“Stay there,” Lois ordered and got up to help. The wine poured, plates delivered, and everyone waiting, I took a deep breath. The mixed aromas of garlic and meat sauce grabbed my nose and whispered to my stomach. I looked at everyone enviously, a variety of cheeses still percolating on their plates.
When Ashley sat down, I raised my glass in a toast, “to answers,” and sipped. “Go ahead and eat,” I said. “I'll talk.” I retold the story of the day's events, adding some details, trying to picture the scenes as they occurred, looking for clues. The one person who had heard none of this before, Lois, listened intently and kept looking at George for corroboration, and he nodded yes when he could.
When I finished, Lois said, “Well, you boys have had a busy day, haven't you?”
“Lois,” I asked, “if you had heard this without the whole story, would you have believed it?”
“I'm not sure I do now,” she answered. “It's just so completely … unbelievable.”
“You should be in my shoes. It was strange enough just to have it happen. But four times, with the kids involved, this isn't just strange, it's scary. And I have no idea what it's all about.”
Ashley said, “What I said earlier. Do you think it had anything to do with the lightning?”
Puzzled, Lois asked, “Lightning?”
“You know Fritz was hit by lightning a couple of weeks ago.” Talking and eating paused. “And we had lightning and thunder all day long today. Fritz felt static each time he opened the door to an adventure.”
Lois said, “George, now I understand why you're upset, and why all those calls came in.” George nodded.
The story told, I sighed and leaned back into the padding, took a sip of wine, and said, “I wonder why we went where we did? Or did they come here? Or did we meet in some middle?”
It was quiet again. With her voice soft but convinced, Lois said, “Just looking at you all, I don't think you're kidding.” She examined me, then Ash. “We DO have a problem and not just about time travel. The students will tell everyone, and we have to deal with the parents, the administration. I think we might hear from the newspapers at some point, probably soon.” George and I looked at her and then at each other. “And clearly, your little trip to the past did some damage. You're going to have a sizeable black eye.”
“I hadn't thought about that,” I said. “And the newspapers could be a problem.”
Linda said, “And don't forget the White House.”
“We're not going to get away with the Hollywood friend story, either,” Ashley said.
Running my hand through my hair, I said, “Then we need to do two things. First, we need a plausible story for everyone outside the government. Second, I've got to figure out how this portal thing works, fast, so I can keep it from happening. I don't want the kids to go through anything like the Triangle Fire again.” Everyone was eating again. “Talking to Robert E. Lee was pretty cool though.”
Lois injected, “But what if you'd met him at Gettysburg instead? That wouldn't have been so 'cool' ”
“No, you're right Lois. Sorry.” But I wasn't really sorry. It was fascinating. But why Appomattox and not Gettysburg?
Lois said, “George, you haven't said anything. What do you think?”
Chapter Nine
GEORGE'S ANSWER never emerged. The doorbell rang, but we weren't expecting anyone. I looked at Linda, who shrugged. Standing on the step, hands behind his back, James Williams waited. He told me the president was in the Suburban at the curb. Tom had come too, and the First Lady was with them. I held the door open in a gesture of invitation. On the front steps, an imitation of composure, I shook hands with the president, the agents, and the First Lady. When Linda saw the procession, she said, “Oh, my God.”
“Mr. President, this is my wife, Linda, and George's wife, Lois. You've met the rest of us.” The president handed a shopping bag to Tom, introduced the First Lady, and shook hands. “I don't believe this,” Lois said.
“Sorry to barge in like this. We tried to call a number of times, but you seem to have turned off your phones.” The half-eaten dinner plates surprised the president. “Oh, we're interrupting your dinner. I'm so sorry.”
“We were just discussing today's events,” I said, taking their coats. “Ash, grab some chairs, will you?” As everyone returned to the dining room, Linda asked, “Can I get you some lasagna? There's plenty.” No one said no.
The president took the package from Tom, handed it to Linda, and smiled. “Some wine. From the White House collection.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. Please everyone, sit. I'll bring the lasagna. Fritz, get the glasses and silver.”
Lois and Ash helped Linda carry plates to the table. “This smells delicious,” said the president.
“It tastes even better, Mr. President,” said Sandy.
“I'm actually glad you're here,” I said. “We've been talking about how to present this thing. George was getting calls from teachers and parents, and Linda just said the White House would be concerned.”
Twisting his fork in his fingers, the president said, “She's right. When we got back, a little stunned I can tell you, we started to talk about what security issues this poses. You saw the crowd in my office, and I'm worried someone might leak it. I hope what happened is so weird that no one would really believe it anyway. My national security advisor is especially troubled.” He frowned. “When I told the First Lady what happened, she was skeptical, but with so many people having seen it, she pointed out that we all need to use the same plausible story. Mr. Russell, would you go over it again, all four occurrences?”
“Of course, Mr. President. Ash, pour the wine please. I'll tell you the entire story while you eat.” So, I described the day one more time. Tom recorded everything.
As I spoke, I surveyed the table. George, to my right, was eating, but he watched me, flounder-like. The president, next to George, leaned toward me, taking forkfuls when I paused. Ashley watched the newcomers. The agents sat across from each other, watching every move. Both seemed to have natural radar leading the food to their mouths. Linda bit her lip. Before I began, I retrieved the book about the United Auto Workers.
“Mr. President, I didn't find this until after you left the school.” I opened to the picture. “When I stepped into my room, I saw what's in this picture. The Ford sign, the group of men. I didn't have time to recognize who they were or where I was.”
“It's a famous shot. That's Walter Reuther and other organizers for the auto workers before he became head of the UAW and later the CIO. No one could ever explain the feet or the rectangle.”
“I think that's me.”
“Why?” asked the secret service agent.
I took off my shoe, and passed him the book. “It's hard to tell in a black and white picture, but you had that same rectangle. What happened when we left the Oval Office?”
“It vanished. Instantly.”
I completed the rest of my story, the rest of the day. When I finished, the president turned to the First Lady and said, “I told you. This is amazing.”
“When you arrived we were talking about the story we'll need and how to prevent whatever happened from happening again. I'm guessing that's why you're here. You obviously weren't home very long.”
The president contemplated his answer. “When we returned, you saw that my office was full. We can't make up a story like your Hollywood one. But the truth is worse. If the news gets out, you could become a target. Anyone who wants to commit a crime, from bank robbery to assassination, might want to use you. It's not just my security.”
Ashley mentioned the lightning again. “Oh yeah. Ashley and I were playing basketball a couple of weeks ago, and I was struck by lightning. I was holding open a metal door when the school was hit.”
Tom said, “You were lucky.”
“True, but is this time-travel business related? Or just a coincidence?”
George finally ended his non-participation. Looking slowly around the table, he said, “I think we need to find an explanation for the school first. There are too many people—students, staff, parents—who are going to hear versions of what happened. We can't swear them to secrecy. We really need to clamp down by Monday, or who knows how widespread this story will be.” Everyone listened. “Fritz, your Hollywood fiction was enough to hold the fort for an afternoon, but it won't hold up if the story gets out. Everyone in Hollywood will want to know who your friend is.”
Quiet thought followed a buzz of agreement. I watched the president scratch gently behind his left ear.
Linda asked, “Mr. President, the government does all sorts of secret stuff. Has there been some kind of study of time travel? At the Defense Department or the CIA, something like that. You know, like Area 51?”
That brought his attention back to the table. He said that one of the first questions he had asked when he was elected was if there was really an Area 51. “I was told there wasn't. Then, a few years ago, the information on Area 51was declassified. No aliens.”
Lois said, “Yeah, plausible deniability!” The president threw her a big smile.
Ash said, “I saw that movie.”
“To the best of my knowledge, we don't have any work on any of this, but,” he hesitated, scratching again, “maybe there should be.” He went from scratching his ear to rubbing his chin. He glanced at me.
“Mr. President, excuse me for chiming in, but even if there isn't,” said Tom, wiping his mouth, “maybe that's the cover story.” Tom said he had been listening to stories for almost twenty years as a secret service agent. “Try this. Mr. Russell agreed to cooperate in our study. Someone would have to come up with a reason why he was chosen. Or maybe the reason could be unstated. He couldn't tell anyone the truth, so he invented the Hollywood connection. No one but us knows about his trip to the Oval Office.”
“And everyone at the White House,” said Lois.
The president turned to Lois, frowning. “The folks at the White House have been told that this is a matter of national security. They all know what that means—no talking to anyone. Or I'll disappear them.” Shocked looks and sharp breaths surrounded him. “I'm just kidding, sorry.” The stunned silence was broken by the nervous clank of forks on plates and an audible rumble from my stomach.
“Excuse me. I forgot. I haven't eaten yet.”
“I'll get you a plate,” said Linda, rising from the table. “I'll help,” said the First Lady.
“Could I have some more?” asked the president. “This is really good.”
Linda smiled. “Sure.”
“I'd love to get your recipe,” the First Lady said. “One of these days I'm going to have to cook again.”
I touched my shirt pocket and said, “You know, I quit smoking six years ago, but I sure could use a cigarette right now.”
The president said, “You should be in my shoes.”
“You know, you're easy to convince this is real, Mr. President. We barged in on you,” I said. “But for anyone else, no simple explanation will work.”
“And looking at your face, we can be assured that whatever happens on the other side can be brought back to the present. That's worrisome.”
Linda returned from the kitchen with two plates of lasagna. “Anyone else? There's plenty.”
Looking around the table, waiting, Ashley finally said, “You know me, I'd love some. I'll get it, though.”
Linda turned to Tom and James, “Gentlemen?”
“Yes please, ma'am,” said Tom.
“Me too, ma'am” said James. “This is delicious.”
“Thank you.” She scanned the table. “George?”
“Why not,” he said.
Linda called to the kitchen, where water was running and dishes were clanking. “Four more plates, Ash and Lois.” More clatter in the kitchen was followed by the scraping of a spatula, and the First Lady and Ashley returned with the lasagna, the First Lady sporting an apron, and Ash with a dish towel draped over his shoulder. Linda said, “Ash, wine.” It wasn't a suggestion.
I passed my glass to Ashley while I thought about my options. The secret service agents declined. Wine splashed in the rest of our glasses.
“Do you guys want some soda or water?” asked Linda.
“Yes please, ma'am,” said James.
“Which? We have Diet Coke.”
“That would be fine, ma'am,” said James. “Yes, please,” said Tom.
“James, you need to stop calling me ma'am. My name is Linda.”
James said, “Yes ma'am. Sorry, ma'am.” Grins surfaced around the table. “Sorry, uh, Linda, it's a habit. Part of training.”
We were getting closer, but the story needed editing. Linda said, “I think that George is right. The truth needs to be bundled and wrapped up so tightly that it's fully believable if it does get out. We need a story by Monday, and George, you will probably need to talk to the teachers first thing and have some kind of meeting with the students and probably the parents, too.”
George swallowed, and with another forkful in his hand, said, “I'm afraid if we publicize it, the story will grow even bigger. Maybe we should only talk with Fritz's classes. Maybe, Mr. President, we should get someone to come from Washington?”
“If we do that, then we have the White House connection and the government involved,” Sandy said. Sandy had been almost invisible. “Don't we want to avoid that? It seems to me we can't use Hollywood and shouldn't use the White House. I think we need something in between.”
The First Lady said, “I think Sandy is right. We're talking about new technology. Why not invent an inventor?”
The president put down his fork and looked at his watch. 7:45. “How about I call the Secretary of Energy and get her here. She may have a thought on how to create an inventor.”
The First Lady asked, “Does she need to know?”
Wiping his mouth, the president said, “You're right about that, but it would add someone who has dealt with this stuff, inventors, ideas, pretty often.”
“You could brief her tomorrow rather than getting her here now,” said the First Lady.
Plate scraping slowed, and forks were lowered. Mouths wiped with napkins signaled surrender from the meal. Our guests leaned forward, ready for the next course of conversation.
Lois asked, “Fritz, the kids all love you; do you think an inventor would be enough for them? George, you could have a meeting with the teachers on Monday and tell them the same thing. Some parents are still going to be upset, but you can tell them that Fritz didn't know which of his lessons the guy would pick. Or when. And you can say that Fritz has called him and told him off for surprising the teacher and traumatizing a high school class.”
The First Lady agreed. “I think that will work. The story is limited and the outcome is controlled.”
Linda said, “I think it would be helpful to have someone check out the room, but I think any mention of the government could expand this out of control. I think the Hollywood guy works. You know they are working on hologames now, and there was a holodeck on Star Trek, so it's not new.”
“But maybe better?” I questioned. “New technology. Next generation.”
“I agree with Linda and Fritz,” said Lois. “If we're dealing with a fantasy, we should keep it in
that realm.”
Linda added, “Fritz, if you apologize to the teachers for the disturbance, they should leave it at that. Ash, Sandy?”
Ashley looked at Sandy, a little longer than I would have expected. “If you don't give them too much to think about…” He turned his focus back to Sandy.
With Monday resolved, we still had a problem. I didn't know how the portal opened or if it would happen again. I said I was trying to grasp that time travel was real. And I was simultaneously figuring out how to prevent what had happened and wanting to visit the past again.
“Mr. Russell, your first concern has to be the security of the country,” said Tom Andrews.
“Hold on a second, Tom. He's a history teacher.” The president told me he could appreciate my dilemma. That this discovery could be dangerous had already been shown. But there could also be benefits. “I'll have to think about that,” he said, rubbing behind his left ear.
“Well, I could suspend you until you figure it out,” suggested George.
Lois said, “Honestly, George! Don't be silly! If the classroom is the portal entrance, someone else might stumble through it and not handle it as well as Fritz has. And he needs to be there to figure it out. If he just disappears, the story will look suspicious.”
“Good point, Lois,” said Linda. “If that happens, people are going to come to me to find out what happened to Fritz. I can see a trail of news cameras on the sidewalk. That doesn't keep things quiet.”
“So what do we do?” asked George.
Ashley, who had been unusually close-mouthed, almost distracted, said, “I hate to keep harping on it, but we have two electrical events that I think are connected. Lightning and static on the doorknob. Today's weather was thunder and lightning. I think that's what we need to explore. Maybe the Energy Secretary would have some helpful suggestions.”
“But not tonight!' said Lois.
With that, the conversation lulled.
Ashley said, “Wine, anyone?” He held a bottle in each hand. I handed him my glass, but the others merely shook their heads no.