The War Cloud

33

Air raid sirens blared as Jennifer and her horse Punk rode beneath the frosty canopy of the Piney Woods Preserve. She feared she had only minutes to lose the Green Berets before they and every police unit in Westchester County converged on the area. She had to disappear, go somewhere nobody would ever consider, not even her mother.

There was Union Cemetery ad, or the Bedford Golf Club to her right. Either way, she’d have to emerge from the protection of the preserve to cross Clinton Road.

She dismounted Punk in the preserve and gave him a slap on the rump to make him move away from her. Then in one boot and one cold stocking foot, she ran across the narrow, unplowed road. She clamored over a tall, green chainlink fence on the other side and dropped along the 17th fairway of the very old Bedford Country Club. It dated back to 1892. It was practically Neolithic-era, she thought, as she ran toward the majestic clubhouse beyond the 18^th hole.

She skirted the clubhouse and went around back to the small, decrepit caddyshack, where Robbie had taken her to make out twice. Well, maybe one-and-a-half times. Nobody would expect to find her here, she decided, because it’s the last place she expected herself to be right now.

She crunched through the snow to the freestanding mailbox in front of the caddyshack. She opened it to find dozens of score cards and pencils — and a key taped to the bottom. She pulled it out and looked back to make sure enough snow was falling to cover her tracks, but it would be a good half hour before that would happen. She realized she had no choice and quickly unlocked the door and went inside.

She locked the door behind her and shivered in the darkness. It was almost as cold inside the caddyshack as outside. She waited for her eyes to adjust in the dim light. First she had to find out what was going on in the world. Then she had to decide whether she should use Carla’s cell phone. She wanted to send her mom that picture of the Green Beret, but she didn’t want to risk giving her location away to the goon and die.

She walked over to a broom closet and opened the door. Etched into one wall were the words “R&J 4eVer.” Beneath the etching was an old AM/FM/CD boombox. She took out the boombox and put it on the floor, then wrapped herself with the dusty beach blanket she had stashed on the shelf weeks ago and sat down.

She said a quick prayer and hit the “on” switch. It still worked. Batteries and everything. She turned up the volume and adjusted the dial.

“This is the National Warning Center,” said the voice of God, or so it sounded. “Emergency. This is an attack warning. Repeat. This is an attack warning.”

A bleeping sound started to repeat itself, then her mom’s voice came on. Jennifer leaned closer to the box.

“This is President Sachs with a warning that another attack is imminent.”

Jennifer gasped. “Oh, God.”

“The threat appears aimed at U.S. military targets, not population centers. So there is little to gain in mass evacuations or hysteria. The best thing every American can do at this moment is to simply take cover in basements, schools, offices, churches, synagogues and mosques until the threat passes.”

Jennifer looked around the sorry interior of the caddyshack. It had no basement but was about as good as anywhere else at the moment.

“Local police departments and National Guard units will be patrolling streets to enforce safety and use deadly force against those who would see this crisis as an opportunity to break the law.”

What about those Green Berets chasing me? Jennifer wondered.

“Rest assured that the United States are standing by to unleash the full fury of their wrath upon those states that have financed, equipped or harbored those who have attacked us. Until then, fellow Americans, our prayers are with you and our children. Help them and help your neighbors.”

Jennifer pulled out Carla’s phone. She knew the government could track her even when it was off, but only if they knew what phone she had. As soon as she placed a call, they’d know.

The EAS announcer came back on. “This was a message of the Emergency Alert System. This is not a test. Repeat. This is not a test.”

That was enough to remind her that she could not be selfish in times like this. If there was anything she could report to her mom that would be helpful, she had to do it, even if it gave her away.

She turned the phone on, got a dial tone and punched in her mom’s number. “Mom, pick up,” she breathed.

Even as she heard the ringing on the other end, she saw a flash of light outside and ran to the window. There in the distance was that black Suburban, high beams shooting out its crumbled front end. It was tracing a long path across the vast course, following the buried golf cart paths. It was still a ways off. But the path could only end at the clubhouse, she realized, and then here.

Phone to her ear, Jennifer paced nervously. Light from an outside lamppost streamed through the dirty window, through which she peered with each turn. The Suburban had disappeared from view, and she paused.

“Please identify,” said a woman’s voice in her ear, not her mother’s.

Jennifer jumped in surprise. Her call had gone through. But to whom?

“Jennifer Sachs, is that you?” the woman asked.

Jennifer didn’t know what to say. She was scared.

“My name is Captain Li, Jennifer,” the woman said. “I’m putting you through to your mother now.”

Jennifer heard a click and then her mother’s voice. “Baby, where are you?” She sounded both relieved and frantic.

“I can’t say yet, Mom. This line isn’t secure.”

“It’s OK, I have people who can come and get you.”

“Like the ones who killed Carla and almost killed me?”

There was an audible gasp. “What?!”

Jennifer lost it then. She could feel her eyes tearing up. “They killed Carla, Mom. And if Aunt Dina wasn’t out of town with her boyfriend, they would have killed her too. They’re probably listening to me right now.”

“Jennifer, please, tell me where you are.”

Jennifer paused as she heard a distant wail of the national warning system sirens outside. “Like it matters now, Mom. We’re all going to die. Just like Dad.”

“Jennifer, I won’t let that happen. Tell me where you are. I’ll send help.”

“No, I’ll help you, Mom. I’m sending you a picture of the guy who tried to kill me.” She found the photo in the phone’s SD media card file and then emailed it to her mother. “Just make sure whoever you send isn’t him.”

Suddenly two headlight bes pierced the window and the low hum of a distant vehicle grew louder. “Oh, God!”

Her mother’s voice screamed through the phone. “Jennifer!”

Jennifer ducked and then peered through a corner of the window. The black Suburban with the crushed front end braked to a squeaky halt outside. The two Green Berets stepped out like something out of the War Cloud.

“They found me!” she breathed into the phone and hung up.