Heather’s outing facilitators — usually Lisa, Ginny, or Rachael — had always enjoyed taking her places, even if they could do nothing but sit and watch.
Now they all started to hate the task, and did everything possible to get out of it. The colonel often passed it to the lieutenant, and the lieutenant to the sergeant. Unfortunately, Sergeant Ma-tirol hated it the most.
Heather had taken to spending several hours in a bookstore, two or three times a week. First, she would locate the shelf or display of the book her team was endorsing. Depending on the bookstore, it consisted of ten, twenty, sometimes as much as a hundred copies ready for people to grab. Then she would move three or four feet away, plant herself on the floor, and pretend to very slowly look at other books.
And while thus pretending, she listened.
“Here it is, Honey! We have got to find out what’s ahead for our grandkids. That general on T.V. has grandkids, too.”
“Oh, poppycock! If you think bad things are coming, you’ll just make them more likely.”
“Well, you don’t have to read it.”
“But I suppose I have to pay for it . . .”
“Yes, Honey, you do.”
“Mom, look! It’s that book about the future that everyone’s reading!”
“Do you just read things because everyone else does?”
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 233
“I brought my own money!”
“Which you have to save for your brother’s birthday present.”
“Oh . . . okay . . .”
“I’ll be next door in the beauty parlor for an hour.”
“I’ll look at magazines, I guess.”
Five minutes later, Heather noticed the boy creep back to the book display, grab a copy, and slither toward the cashier while keeping an eagle-eye on the front door of the bookstore.
“Here they are, the abominations,” a man in a black suit declared.
“Only God can know the future!” his female companion in a long dress asserted.
“They have eighteen, and we only have enough from the special collection last Sunday for ten.”
“That will still make a nice bonfire,” she said to encourage him.
The man grabbed ten, the woman slipped religious pamphlets into the other eight, and they made their way proudly to the cashier.
While no one was around, Heather scooted over and took one of the pamphlets. She had a hunch Harold might be interested.
Four older teens gathered around the display. They wore leather, torn denim, and patches with skulls and daggers. The odors of sweat and motor oil mingled, causing Heather to shrivel her nose.
“Here’s what we’ve been looking for — proof that grown-ups are gonna wreck the planet and leave us with shit.”
“This could be the seed of the next revolution!” the only girl in the group declared.
“We’ve
got to have one of these at the hideout, even though it’ll set us back a box of ammo.”
“Let’s do it. We need more than ammo. We need intel.”
They all searched pockets, then huddled on the floor and made a pile of crumpled and wadded money. The girl smoothed the bills and declared it enough, as long as they split something cheap for lunch.
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 234
Sergeant
Ma-tirol
was
so glad Heather wanted to go skating. In the car, Heather sensed Rachael’s joy. “I hate it too.”
“What?”
“Sitting in the bookstores. It’s an emotional roller coaster. One minute I’m happy that someone is going to learn about what’s coming, and I know there’s a thousand more like them all over the world buying the book and reading it with open minds and open hearts. A minute later, I have to listen to someone who hates it, hates us, hates me. And there’s a thousand more like them, too.”
“So why do you do it?”
Heather had to think for a long moment. “I’m pretty sure there will come a day when I’ll have to somehow make them happy. All of them.”
“How in the world could you possibly do that? ”
“I don’t know. Probably just . . . dance.”
Priscilla and Brian shared a tender reunion, skated hand-in-hand to a slow, romantic song, then found a free bench in the game room.
“School year’s almost over,” she commented.
“Yeah. I used to hate school. Now . . . it’s not such a big deal. And I’ll be eighteen next year.” He stopped, suddenly at a loss for words.
She looked at him with loving eyes.
“Would you ever . . .” he tried to continue, but didn’t get far.
She took his hand.
“. . . you know, want to spend your life . . .”
“Yes?”
she
coaxed.
“. . . with a guy like me?”
She suddenly laughed deeply.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just . . . I can’t imagine spending my life with any other boy! And it’s been that way ever since I met you when I was ten.”
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“So . . . are you asking?” she prodded.
He looked at her. “Yeah, I guess I am . . . if you don’t mind my little . . .
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 235
criminal record . . .”
She snickered. “That’s nothing. How many people in the world actually hate you?”
“Um . . . actually, personally hate me, not just doing their jobs . . . two —
the prosecutor and the judge.”
“Is
that all? I’ve actually sat and listened to fourteen people who hate me and would kill me if they could, so that means there are . . . maybe . . .
fourteen thousand of them somewhere.”
“Wow . . . because of the work you do that you can’t tell me about.”
She nodded, smiled, and began kissing him, causing some young teens nearby to snicker and giggle.
“So . . .” she began after they finally parted, “. . . you and me get married, you’ll have a job, I’ll keep house, maybe work a little, maybe have a baby or two . . .”
He nodded. “What do you think? I already have a job lined up for this summer, I think, and it might be full-time after I graduate.”
She snuggled close to him, enjoyed his warmth and sexy male scent, and let herself dream of having a normal life, with a little house and some beautiful children.
He didn’t notice the tears that slowly trickled down her cheeks.
On Monday, the fifteenth of June, 3670, Harold To-kamra arrived at eleven thirty to give his weekly report. Confirmed sales were rapidly climbing toward a million, two of the foreign-language translations were almost done, and the book was now required reading for about half the majors at several universities. One of the derivative works was in print, with two more close behind. More of the scientists on the team were now doing television ads, and the public reaction was good, but those by the two generals were still their greatest assets.
When Harold took his seat, Heather stood, and since noon was at hand, everyone thought she was about to adjourn the meeting. Then they noticed that she held a pamphlet in one hand and an envelope in the other, and was looking at the chief editor.
“Harold, how would you like to send someone with a camera to a book
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 236
burning?”
His eyes lit up. “That’s worth a hundred thousand copies, right there!
Those things always backfire on the religious people because it’s a sign to everyone else that the book contains lots of important stuff.”
“My condition is that you do nothing to disrupt the event,” she said sternly.
“No problem. We’ll just fit right in, only take pictures with permission —
which they’ll gladly give because they crave publicity — and they won’t know what hit them until they see it on T.V. But they will, at that point, be royally pissed off . . .”
“No way to avoid that,” Heather acknowledged. “You might want some extra security at Po Publications . . .”
“Police station’s just down the street.”
“Good. Any other concerns from the team before I give Harold the info?”
After a long moment for everyone to ponder the question, General Ko-fenral’s hand came up. “Keep to the issue. Don’t identify the church or its people in your ads.”
Harold and Heather both nodded.
“Finally,” Heather began even as she glimpsed Maria in the dining room doorway with hands on her hips, “I have another publicity check for Po Publications . . .”
“I don’t need it yet,” Harold To-kamra admitted, although he was a little surprised to hear himself saying those words.
“I know,” Heather said, “but this one’s for something special. Young people, my age and even younger, are taking an interest in the book. I want this check to be dedicated to bringing it to their attention, and even giving them free copies when they can’t afford it.”
“Fascinating angle! I’ll hire students on summer break to hang out at the teen spots with brochures and coupons.”
Heather smiled. “Thank you. I figured you’d know what to do.” She looked around, and could almost hear tummies growling as everyone breathed in the aromas from the kitchen. “Sam?”
“Generals and colonels, the usual time and place . . .”