Stranger

Thirty-seven

Somewhere in the bunker Phoenix operated the big TV on the wall. One second a sitcom I didn’t even know the name of had been playing, the next the canned laughter vanished, to be replaced by a view of a desert with a dust road and hundreds of Joshua trees. The morning sun blazed down from a cloudless sky.

“This,” Phoenix said, “is the scene from a big military bunker complex in Texas. Exactly where I can’t say for security reasons. You’re seeing this live as it happens. Any moment now you’ll see why I’m so optimistic about things working out. Right-o. We’re going to switch to another camera. Here we go.” At the bottom of the screen ran a code that didn’t make much sense at first: TX 03/23. EXT. CAM 3.

When Phoenix said, “Here we go,” the scene shifted. Now we looked from a camera mounted on some high point perhaps thirty feet above the ground and showing the edge of a large concrete structure that had been painted a dappling of browns and dull yellows to camouflage it against the desert. Now part of the code changed. The first part remained the same, TX 03. I figured that was the location, Texas followed by some identification number. The next code had changed to EXT. CAM 5. That was easy enough to figure: Exterior camera number five.

Phoenix’s voice was breathy with excitement. “Do you see what’s happening now? We’re moving out. We’re taking back what’s rightfully ours.”

I looked out across the desert scene. Among the Joshua trees were hundreds of figures. From their ragged clothes and wild hair you could tell they were hornets easily enough.

“There they go!” Phoenix’s voice rose to a shout as from an opening in the bunker rolled tanks, APCs and maybe another dozen armored vehicles. They immediately plunged into the desert, crushing the Joshua trees to pulp. Seconds later they’d reached the hornets, too. Men and women by the dozen went under the caterpillar tracks or fell victim to guns of many different calibers. Tracers spat fiery sparks across the terrain to drop the hornets into the dust by the dozen. Then came the bigger guns, lobbing high explosive shells into clumps of hornets. They vanished in a flash of flame.

“That’s right,” Phoenix panted. “We’re fighting back. It’s like this all over the country.”

We watched the screen as lines of troops appeared to walk toward the surviving hornets. Of course hornets never run. You can’t even make them flinch. They stood there with their God almighty hammers and clubs at the ready, but the GIs simply picked them off one by one with their automatic rifles. At last the bad guys had met their match. We were fighting back. We were winning.

We sat there for maybe an hour, watching the one-sided battle. When the troops had finished with the hornets armored bulldozers moved out to scrape the desert clean of all that butchered flesh. After the corpses were piled into heaps they were soaked in gasoline and burned. By lunchtime funeral pyres shot smoke into clear blue skies.

We watched as if we’d been welded to the seats. This was nothing less than a miracle. We were seeing the rebirth of a nation. Our nation.

“I’ve clearance to show you some more scenes,” Phoenix told us. “Sit tight.”

The banner at the bottom of the screen contained the text: WYMG (Wyoming?) 04/18. EXT. CAM 2. This time helicopter gunships passed overhead to pour down bone-shattering rocket fire on a cluster of hornets running toward the camera. The same pattern followed. Armored bulldozers shoved the corpses into mounds. Then came the gasoline. Burn, baby, burn. I felt the blood roaring through my veins. Yes! We were doing it! We were wiping out the goddam monsters!

“Next scene,” Phoenix said. He sounded pleased. “You might find this a little different. Again I’m not permitted to give you a specific location other than that it’s an island in Hawaii.”

I saw a tract of grass dotted with palm trees, ending with rocks, then sea. In the distance surf rolled in creamy waves across the beach. The midday sun shone down, making the place look like paradise.

“This can’t be live,” Michaela said. “It’ll still be night in Hawaii.”

“You’re right; this was recorded yesterday. And I think this might be the best news yet.”

Not a lot happened in this scene. Half a dozen guys were lazily playing baseball on the grass. Strolling into the picture came a couple of young women in army fatigues.

“What are you showing us, Phoenix?”

“What do you see?”

“People enjoying the sunshine.”

“Exactly. What you don’t see are any hornets. The crew have left the bunker.”

“You’re saying there aren’t any hornets on the island?”

“There aren’t anymore. We destroyed the last one a week ago. Those people are safe to stroll ’round the place unarmed, take in the sun, go for a swim. Looks great, doesn’t it?”

“It does look great,” I agreed with feeling. “What time does the next flight leave?”

Phoenix gave a soft, breathy laugh. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be patient, Greg. But one day… who knows?”

I looked at the text at the bottom of the screen. Along with the camera number were the letters: MKI. That had to be the Hawaiian island of Molokai.

Phoenix spoke: “So you can bring your people here to the bunker. See for yourself; we’ve begun the battle to liberate America.”

I looked at Michaela. There was such a look of enchantment on her face as she watched those happy people in the island sunshine. They were in paradise.

That night everything changed again.