“Now imagine what you could do with trillions of universes and millions of years. Just once, one virus has to figure out how to get to the next universe. Once that happens, the viruses ripple across many universes. The way quantum mechanics works, you’ll have a nearly infinite number of universes in which this has happened, and a nearly infinite number where this has never happened. We just happened to be in the haves.”
“I don’t believe this,” the reverend said. “That all this could happen by chance.”
The doctor bristled. “I’m not going to argue with you about whether this is an act of God.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” the reverend said.
Rhonda rapped the table with the underside of one of her rings. “Ladies. It doesn’t matter whether God did it, or a virus, or quantum Santa Claus.”
“Of course it matters!” the reverend exclaimed.
“Elsa, hear me out. It doesn’t matter what we think, it only matters what the government thinks, and what the public thinks. Because that’s what’s going to decide whether they quarantine us again.” She looked around the table. “You saw what I saw. Doctor, your friend Preisswerk bailed out when he was asked about the quarantine. Obviously they’ve talked about it. And if public opinion turns, then sooner or later they’ll have to isolate us. That’s what I’d do in their shoes.”
The reverend made a disgusted noise. “Of course you would.”
“Yes I would. Elsa, the only reason they dropped the quarantine last time is because it stopped spreading, and because the babies hadn’t started arriving. Now it’s started again, and they know those people will start breeding too. We’re not disease victims anymore, we’re a race—three races—and from another universe, of all things.”
“That’s ridiculous,” the reverend said. “We are not aliens.”
“Of course not,” Rhonda said, and thought, Of course we are. “But think of this from the government’s point of view. Even if a quarantine won’t protect a single citizen, the public will demand that we be locked up. They’re already nervous—did you see that interview with those yahoos in Knoxville? They’ve already started talking about ‘those people’ in Switchcreek. Pretty soon they’ll be running to Wal-Mart for pitchforks and torches.”
“We’ve gone down this road before,” the reverend said. “Putting a fence around us didn’t make any difference last time, and it won’t this time. The government has to make it clear that it’s not contagious. We are not a risk.”
Dr. Fraelich shook her head. “You’re not listening to me. It may not be contagious in the usual sense, but it’s still transmittable. Look, imagine all the universes lined up in parallel lines.” She set out her hands, palms apart. “The virus travels from one universe to the next one. Nothing would stop the virus from crossing back into our universe from a different point. We have to assume that we are infecting nearby universes. The more of those we infect, the more likely that the infection spreads back to us.”
“If this quantum theory is true,” Deke said.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not,” Rhonda said again. “If the government thinks it’s true, or if they feel they have to act like it’s true, then they’re going to try to fence us in. Our job is to figure out how to stop that from happening.”
Neither the reverend nor Deke had an answer for that. After several moments passed in silence, Rhonda stood and addressed Dr. Fraelich. “Well, we’ve got a lot to ponder. Thank you for offering us your opinion, Doctor. If you get any more information out of those CDC folks, of course we’d want to know right away.”
The doctor seemed surprised that she was being pushed out. Surely she didn’t think she was being invited into the Executive Council? For one, she didn’t have the genes for it.
“What are you going to do?” Dr. Fraelich asked.
Take out genocide insurance, Rhonda thought. She smiled and opened the door for the doctor. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
“Your problem,” Rhonda told Deke after the meeting had adjourned and the reverend had left the building, “is that you don’t believe in the future.”
They were walking through the school, shutting doors and turning out lights behind them. Rhonda had asked him to give her a ride home because Everett had the Cadillac.
Deke looked perplexed, not sure if he should laugh. “Of course I do.”
“You don’t, not really. Without children, you’ve got nothing to pin your future to. You’re practically sleepwalking through these meetings. You’re disengaged, Deke, and we can’t afford that. All the clades have to pull together if we’re going to make this work.”
It had taken another half hour after Dr. Fraelich had left the meeting for Rhonda to lay out her plans. She didn’t mention that she’d already starting implementing them. The shell of the website had already been created, though it wasn’t online yet; the toll-free numbers had been ordered; and her lawyer in Knoxville had set the 501(c)(3) paperwork in motion.
As she’d expected, the reverend quibbled with details, even though—no, because—she saw no other choices. She had the most people to consider, Elsa said, and so many of her clade were children. Deke had said very little, but when he finally said, “Okay,” it was like the strike of a gavel. The reverend gave her consent and quickly left.
Rhonda opened her purse and handed him an envelope. He frowned, opened it with his thick fingers, and frowned again at the contents. The check was drawn against the school construction fund and made out to Alpha Furniture Company, for $83,522. Rhonda thought that $22 was a nice touch—specificity made it look less like a payoff.
Deke said, “I don’t think this is the right time to be starting this, do you? The whole point of your plan—”
“Nonsense! We don’t have time not to do it. My only requirement is that you and Donna have to use this money too. After that, start finding other argo couples. Like that boy who works for you, him and his new wife—they have to be thinking of a baby.” They reached the front doors. Rhonda withdrew her big key ring from her purse, inserted the Allen wrench into the side of the door’s push bar. “And by the way? It’s our plan, hon.”
Deke rubbed his thumb across the envelope but still didn’t put it away. “I noticed a few of your people weren’t here tonight,” he said. “Everett, Clete, Travis.”
Rhonda turned the wrench, winching down the bar so that the door would lock behind them when they left. “Everett’s running some errands for me,” she said.
“Really?”
Rhonda looked up, unable to keep a wry smile from her face. “You’ve got your chief face on, Chief.”
“Marla told me what happened at the Home yesterday,” he said. “She got it from Paxton.”
“Don’t you worry, that’s all taken care of now.”
“That,” he said, “is what I’m afraid of.”
She straightened, dropped the key ring back into her purse. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about Clete and Travis. You beat up those two boys yourself just a few weeks ago.”
“Nobody’s seen them for two days. Or Doreen either.”
“Doreen, now that girl’s a piece of work. Doesn’t have the sense that God gave a hamster, and I do believe she was the brains of the outfit.” Rhonda pushed through the door, and the big man stooped to follow.
Deke’s Jeep, parked under a streetlamp, was the only car left in the lot. Not only would she have to somehow climb up into that thing, her hair would be blown to heck. Thank goodness it was the middle of the night.