“I don’t think so,” Annette sneered.
“Just shut up for once.”
“See the abuse I’ve received for being nice enough to visit her? I even brought green daisies. Any idea how hard they are to find this time of year?”
Two guards grabbed Annette. Mick and Beth stepped forward, earning rifles in their sides.
“Do you know who she is?” Zelda asked. “Fiance to a Third Cousin.”
“That’s right, thank you. I have very important connections.”
“He’s also Commissioner of Sport.”
“And entertainment,” Annette added. “Soon to be a Second Cousin so get your hands off my expensive blouse.”
“You gain nothing by shooting her. She might have value as a hostage.”
“What?” Annette bleated.
Shut up, Zelda gestured.
The guards conferred, clearly divided between taking Annette and shooting her. Another spirited debate sent the tall guard forward.
“She comes as a prisoner. Not like you and the girl.”
Annette was quickly gagged, blindfolded, handcuffed and dragged towards the black woods. The tall guard gestured impatiently with his rifle. Zelda held up a finger. Mick caught the looks between the two women and took Clary’s hand.
“Come on honey, let’s see who can run faster.” He and Clary raced into the forest, Mick limping noticeably.
Zelda laid her head on Beth’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Thank Puppy. He’s the mastermind.”
“But you risked your life.”
Beth shrugged shyly. “Love and all that.”
Zelda seemed a little unsettled. “You love me?”
“Yes.”
“Love love?”
“Love love.”
“I just got over losing Diego…”
“I understand,” Beth said. “It might take time. Unless there’s really no basis.”
“No, there’s a basis.”
“You’re not just carried away by my heroism?”
The guards muttered for Zelda to hurry.
“A little.” She paused, eyes tearing. “We’re not exactly looking at a great future.”
“That’s what Puppy said.”
“He has a crush on you.”
“I know. Are we going to waste our last moments for a while talking about Puppy’s sexual fantasies?”
Zelda leaned forward. “I’d much rather focus on mine.”
Their kiss was broken by a rifle wedged between their squirming bodies. Zelda insisted on watching until the van crunched back down the path to return the coffins, which Puppy had ordered for the special Basil Hayden Funeral Home commercial display outside Section 227B which would be seen by more than fifty thousand potential customers.
Zelda and Clary sat in the back of the SUV, feeling Annette’s rage through her stuffed mouth and eyes. As they turned onto a narrow path, a large tree loomed ahead. The SUV headed right toward it. Zelda held Clary’s arm and yelled a warning, but the guard was oblivious.
Like a zipper, the tree parted in half, swallowing them into a huge, brightly lit cave. Clarry applauded and shouted “Viva America.”
38
No one really left.
Nearly two million visitors, the Blue Shirts estimated, were still there. The few citizens who’d run screaming into the streets cursing Allahs and wailing about a new attack had fled home. Some drunks, believing that in forty-two minutes of darkness the world was about to end, were arrested for disorderly behavior. There were several scuffles along the Grand Concourse when people ran into the wrong tents and hugged the wrong partners.
But there was no violence. No fear. No hysteria. People gasped, whispered, wondered, but pretty much just sat there patiently in the dark, passing food and drink and blankets besides the glowing stadium lights and the cheers of the lucky fans inside.
Ellen Paille from Burlington, Vermont, thought the blackout was a brilliant part of the show. Allinor Del Strada of Lynchburg, Virginia, who insisted her grandfather had been buried in a Washington Nationals uniform before cremation, was disappointed that the Bronx lights came back so soon. And Papi Torryes from Amarillo, Texas, wondered if there’d be fireworks for the next game.
“Not a single person was hurt,” Grandma said, laying out some freshly baked biscotti on the serving table in her House the next day; she poured Kenuda and Puppy ginger tea. “This is how a Family behaves in a crisis.”
They nodded agreeably.
“How many did you eventually strike out, Mr. Nedick?”
He blushed, trying to think of very simple answers that would keep him from blathering like a fool in Grandma’s Living Room.
“Thirteen, Grandma.”
“That’s good.”
“Nine straight games of double-digits.”
Kenuda patted his knee paternally. “We’re proud of our Puppy.”
“And I’m proud of both of you.” Grandma swirled her spoon. “The blackout was perhaps unnecessary.”
Puppy had prepared for this. “Totally my fault.”
“No, mine,” Kenuda said. “I’m the Commissioner. Everything should’ve been checked.”
Grandma smiled faintly. “The report said a rerouter had been installed.”
“And somehow, uninstalled, ma’am.” Kenuda didn’t back down. “It’s a first time. A lot of chaos. But considering the age of the electrical system…”
She held up her hand. “It was a good air raid alert.” They joined her in a relieved smile. “I think the rest of the season should be all night games.”
Kenuda and Puppy exchanged delighted looks.
“Without blacking out the city.”
“You have my word,” Elias assured her.
“I’m sure someone will lose the use of a hair dryer somewhere, but…” she airily dismissed that. “There are about two million extra people in and around the Bronx. They don’t want to leave. In fact, they’re still coming.”
“They’re called Baseball Buses, Grandma,” Kenuda said.
Highways, country roads, you waited at an official bus stop or under a billboard or by a bridge and the bus stopped and took you along. Everyone chipped in for gas, shared food, water, toilet paper. Thousands of buses, flatbed trucks, pick-ups, vans, station wagons, plain ol’ cars. Gas stations were closing for lack of fuel. Factories went on hiatus. Makeshift first aid stands and portable potties popped up. Physicians and dentists pitched tents with welcome signs. Grills dotted roads from Colorado to Westchester, serving free food.
Everyone had seen what the game was like. Everyone wanted to experience this. There were no tickets left for the final twenty-one games.
“I’d like to take the Forgiveness campaign one step further,” Grandma said. “Puppy, back when, didn’t baseball teams honor special groups during a game?”
“Like?”
“First Cousin Cheng had an interesting idea. What if we honored our veterans?”
He and Kenuda exchanged uneasy looks.
“There
