When he hit the parking garage no one was on duty so he got out and went to the booth, raising the gate himself. The streets were unusually empty for a Saturday, resulting in one of his quickest rides home. In fifteen minutes he was pulling up in the driveway past a gaggle of neighbors whom he did not know, that were standing out on the sidewalk looking up into the sky.
What’s with them?
He got out of the Porsche and looked up along the line that the neighbors seemed fixated on and saw a small red ball in the sky, far off over the eastern horizon.
He could hear the drying leaves, just getting their autumn color, rustle in the gentle breeze. It wasn’t like Sam to notice that type of thing. The sudden realization that he just now seemed to become tuned into the natural world like some tree-hugger with a green beanie really made him queasy, sending a chill down his spine.
Wow! Jack ought to know about this.
He turned to look into Jack and Louise’s backyard, where they normally enjoyed wine in their gazebo on Saturday afternoon. They were there. The wine was there—three bottles, two being empty, instead of the normally half-full bottle—and Louise was in tears. Jack seemed fearful as he raised his hand in a desultory wave to Sam.
I wonder if somebody died. They look terrible.
The people behind him on the sidewalk ‘ooed’ and ‘ahhed’ and he looked up to see the red ball sprout a tail like a comet. He then looked over to Jack and Louise, who had her face buried in her husband’s chest.
Christ, are we being nuked!
Jack will know!
He began to run, caught himself, and then walked toward his neighbors instead, not wanting to panic Louise.
“Want some company?”
He had said it with the same phony smile he reserved for Mrs. Marsden on Monday, Tuesday and Friday mornings.
Louise smiled with crying eyes, and Jack waved him over with a distant look.
This is not good. Jack knows a lot and knows something that is breaking his heart.
By the time he waltzed through the perfectly manicured Kentucky bluegrass, Jack had poured him a glass of wine and was spiking it with vodka. His voice cracked as he looked up into Sam’s eyes like a boy who has just lost his dog under the wheels of a Lincoln Town Car.
“Sit down, Sam.”
Sam took a seat on the wrought iron loveseat that faced the rattan loveseat that Jack and Louise shared.
“This looks like your kind of event. Why aren’t you down in Annapolis or wherever it is you atomic time-clock geeks hango ut when you count stars for the Navy? You could be making some overtime to pay off the pool.”
Jack had always been vague about what he did for the Navy, an organization whose uniform he did not wear. Sam had fun miffing him by postulating ridiculous James Bond jobs for Jack. Any time he saw Jack in the yard with a new tool he would call him ‘Q.’
This one time though, the light-hearted jibbing seemed to strike a painful chord in Jack’s mind.
Jack and Louise looked at each other.
She forced a smile and wiped her eyes while Jack turned to Sam with a serious, even tone, “I was called in at six. We were dismissed at nine, Sam.”
