One day, Theo and Bill got to talking about other countries (“I guess we’re another country too,” Bill had said) and why nobody from Europe or elsewhere had been able to help any more than the United States. Theo gestured toward the beach as he made a point about Europe. “You know,” said Bill, “we don’t have any reason to think Europe’s still the direction you’re pointing. It could be out here for all you… ah crap!” As his hand stretched out over the ledge that marked the premature end of Atlantic Avenue, his sandwich took leave of his palm and flopped into the ocean.
Theo got down on his stomach and leaned over the edge. The sandwich was floating just out of his reach. As he pulled himself back up he saw something odd: the broken edge of the road seemed to shine. “Did you get it?” asked Bill.
“No, sorry,” said Theo, “but hang on. There’s something weird about the edge of the road.” He bent down toward the water again. Maybe it was just the dampness of the surface reflecting the light? He realized with a shock that the land was not just wet but was actually shiny. The sand that supported the road was fused into glass.
Theo sat back up, astonished. “What did you see?” asked Bill. His curiosity had, momentarily at least, overridden his hunger.
“It’s glass… the whole side going into the water is glass.”
“How can that be? What the hell does it mean?”
“I don’t know.” Theo scratched his head. “I think it means that the sand was, like, superheated or something. Ry would understand this stuff better than me.”
“You mean like if you cut something with a laser?” Bill stood up and wiped his hands on his shorts.
Theo was impressed. “Just like that. I don’t think we broke off from everything else after all; I think we were cut away.”
“How is that possible?”
Theo shook his head. “I really don’t know. I just wonder how much of this the government already knows.”
This thought only had a moment to sit with them before shouting from the distance interrupted their quiet reflection.
“Not again,” said Bill.
There seemed to be many voices chanting, and others shouting over them. Theo and Bill walked in the direction of the sound to get a sense of what was happening.
A group of maybe twenty men and women was standing across Atlantic Avenue. Few buildings remained on either side of the road, and the gang was in a line that bisected the street and led into the dirt lots on either side. It didn’t take long for Theo to realize that these people were angry. In the middle of the group was the man Theo and Bill had witnessed being carried away two weeks earlier. The former Margate homeowner was animated in his protest, and was leading his friends in a call-and-answer routine that brimmed with fury and lacked proper rhythm in its overlapping enthusiasm.
As Theo and Bill watched the dialogue between the man and the construction foremen (they couldn’t hear the foremen, but the man kept shouting “No!” and his colleagues would follow with “We won’t go!”) they saw a contingent of Atlantic Island Security Forces materializing in the distance and moving up behind the protestors.
Theo was relieved that Kylee was not among the arrivals. He assumed that only trained police officers were being called out for this kind of an incident. The protestors gradually became aware of the police presence behind them. They turned so that the two lines of people were face to face. Theo felt goose bumps emerge on his arms as he watched the two groups stand off like a powder keg waiting for a spark to ignite a devastating explosion.
Looking to his side, Theo was concerned to see Bill’s muscles tensed, as if ready to burst into action. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder to steady him, but Bill wasn’t paying any attention. His eyes were laser-focused on the protestors and the Security Forces facing them.
The homeowner at the center of the confrontation was right up in the face of the lead officer. Undoubtedly, Theo thought, the man was being told to back down. He was not listening. With a crack that echoed in the silence fallen over the construction zone, the man slapped the officer across the face. In a flash, the officer had drawn a baton and hit the man across the temple. Blood burst from the wound as the man fell to the ground. The other protestors rushed in. The Security Forces, not expecting such retaliation, were caught off guard. Several were forced to the ground. Before long, they managed to get the upper hand with sheer brutality against the protestors.
Theo was snapped out of his trance-like viewing of the fight by a motion in the corner of his vision. Bill was off and running toward the fray. Theo called after him but to no avail. Bill was absorbed into the fracas and became just one of the pulsing bodies falling and rising over and over. Theo watched in horror as the security officers began to handcuff the protestors who all appeared to have been injured in some way or another.
Bill emerged from the mass of humanity with his hands cuffed behind his back, his face puffy and bloody, and two officers forcing him to one of the vans emblazoned with the Atlantic Island flag that had arrived behind the conflict. When the protestors had been packed away like sardines and the vans had departed, the foremen ordered their workers back to the job sites. Theo reluctantly returned to work but his heart raced and his mind could not stop worrying about Bill.
Chapter 8
Theo returned to the condo that night trying hard not to convey how much his concern over Bill was eating at him. Kylee approached him and threw her arms around him the moment he walked in the door. She was wearing the pants assigned by the Security Force but had shed her uniform top for a long undershirt she had found a while ago in the master closet of the penthouse.
“I’m so sorry about Bill,” she said.
“What? How…” Theo started.
“I was filing papers at the main precinct in the city when they brought him in with the rest of the protestors. I’m told they are going to be kept overnight for processing and he should be back tomorrow. Theo, there’s going to be a trial. Menendez tells me that the leadership wants to make an example.”
“By leadership you mean Tiberius, don’t you?” Theo asked. “What about Mayor Lucas?”
Kylee sighed. “You’re not the only one saying that. Supposedly Lucas put Tiberius in charge of the security on the island and he’s not getting involved.”
“Still,” said Theo, “he seems like such a good guy. Maybe he can be convinced to intervene here. This is pretty high profile.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Kylee. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Try not to let it mess with your sleep tonight. Bill will be back tomorrow and you can agonize over everything then.” She gave him one of her disarming sly smiles and walked into the kitchen to sit with Michelle.
Since beginning work at the “Records Department,” which Theo still didn’t quite understand, Jamie had been making late night visits to the hospital with Bill and arriving late at the condo, where she shared the second bedroom with Michelle. Ryan had tried to be a good sport about exiling himself to the living room with Bill, but Theo knew he was counting the days to the lottery more than anybody.
Theo had mixed feelings about the lottery, which would be taking place at the start of the following week. On the one hand, it served to further restore order to the island, and it was only fair to even the playing field. Theo knew that some of the twelve thousand or so survivors were dealing with living conditions far less pleasant than the penthouse. The teens had been lucky to get their temporary quarters when they did, before the Security Force stepped up to stop quarreling over living spaces.