Solutions: A Man's Dilemma by James Gerard (no david read aloud TXT) 📕

“Of course!”

“That is where you are going.”

“The damn army officer told us different.”

“Between me and you I could care less about what he thinks.  You two are going to San Diego.”

“Gladys, what do you think?”

“San Diego is a good place George.”

“Okay then, if it’s okay with my wife then it’s okay with me.”

“Very good.  I already informed the captain of the new destination.  He’ll see that he gets you two there.”

Stephen walked outside to the gray day that all of a sudden did not seem so dreary.  He kept going over and over in his mind that a few people could not disrupt the entire survival plan.  He convinced himself that it was such a ridiculous notion that he would treat any more assignments in the same manner as he had with Carolyn and George and Gladys Pinkerton.

“How am I doing?” asked Stephen contemplating the course of action he had enacted.

In the dead silence offered by the rolled up windows he smiled as the answer came into the mind.  Somewhere along the line he knew he would have to abandon the directions of the center and think of the Lord in all this.

He acknowledged the All Mighty being all power and knowledge, and therefore was well aware of the situation.  It did not matter if the plans of the center’s superiors might be upset by the actions he took; for good needed to be done.  With those thoughts in mind, Stephen took another step that further moved away from the prescribed course of action.

So far he had towed the line in the few years of service.  Always directed to a certain location, to a certain reluctant individual or couple, he felt it was time to call his own shot as to his next designation.  A side trip to Los Angeles and a well timed visit to Carolyn consumed the thoughts and guided the decision.

But he wondered how.  There needed to be an acceptable excuse that his superiors would fall for, but it could neither be too subtle or deemed exceedingly inappropriate.

All of a sudden an idea popped up.  Naturally, he reasoned, once my services are no longer needed then I will have a designated location.  Obviously, I will get to choose a location as a reward for my service.  That idea pleased him well.

“Code name Retriever.  I.D. number two-eight-one-six-two dash eight dash zero dash X dot six-one-nine-one.”

He waited anxiously for a response.

“Yes.  I am requesting a short visit to Los Angeles to relax before next assignment.  I’d also like an opportunity to make living arrangements when the time comes.”

Fingers tapped a rapid beat as the person on the other end once again put him on hold.

“Great.  Two days would be good.  Thanks.  By the way, I’ll need a car while I’m there.”

The captain stood by as the two armed men assisted George and Gladys into the back of the vehicle.

“Captain?”

“Yes sir.”

“You got room for one more?”

“Sir?”

“I’m tagging along on this one.  Is there room?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.  I’ll follow you.”

They made a dash to the airport and scrambled to the transport sitting idle on the tarmac.  There was nothing in the way of luxury on the bloated transport except for blankets and pillows, bag lunches and a container of hot coffee to ease the discomfort of the cold and bumpy ride.

Along the way he devised a course of action based on the readings of the center’s communication site. According to the center’s map of Los Angeles, the location code, one-one-zero-one, was an environmentally controlled condominium high-rise situated in the coastal district of the city.

Red dots covered the grid on the screen representing designated buildings for relocation.  Stephen noticed all the dots represented the buildings housing survivors.  The stated rationale entailed that the self-contained controlled environments could be isolated against the virus if it were to arise in the city.

Further reading did not uncover any details as to who was occupying what building or any specific unit.  The print just spoke in vague terms.

For Stephen, such vagueness enacted the curious and suspicious nature within the mind. After all, any information concerning the survival plan was designated for those called to duty.  He strongly suspected that the lack of detail pointed out deception: For what was not written had more weight to it than the subject matter mentioned in the information itself. 

The airport bustled with vehicles and official personnel as the lumbering giant landed on the long stretch of runway handling the multiple air traffic.  It was so unlike all the other airport locations where planes sat as ghosts.  But he could see no ghostly figures.  It appeared as normal; before the onslaught of the killer virus.

Stephen dashed to the vehicle awaiting his arrival.  Once in the car he quickly typed in the location code and directions popped up on the screen.

He had never asked anyone how each individual was transported to whichever location once they arrived.  It was not mentioned in any file nor was it ever spoken of by the security forces.  But in independent mode he demanded answers.

His imagination stirred as he drove along the freeway.  He thought back to lazy Sunday morning drives with his family amongst those who also sought an escape from the city.  It all seemed like a quiet ride to some spot where worries melted away, but the distinct military gray and green and camouflage vehicles sharing the road jerked his thoughts back to reality.

Stephen longed for normalcy no matter the direction of the dire consequences.  He wanted the day, which looked like any other normal day, to transform back into the routine activity that once was.  But the reality of the virus kept tainting the thoughts and forced the truth back into view.

Those are not moving trucks, he thought, as canvassed covered trucks occupied much of the highway. There was not much activity with the exception of those trucks obviously heading into the direction of the downtown area to deliver the survivors to their appointed sanctuary.  In fact, he noticed, he stuck out driving about in the civilian sedan amongst the military units that were out and about both the freeway and the frontage roads.

Driving along the wide avenues separating the towering condominium to either side, Stephen noticed the posted guards walking the perimeters of the buildings.  At each entrance were armed men standing and sitting behind a makeshift shack blocking the front entrances.

The navigation device beepedm thus alerting him to the arrival at the desired location.

“I am looking for Carolyn Baxter, her daughter Deborah Thurmond, and her granddaughter Cathy.”

One guard, his rifle dangling off a shoulder, asked for and was given credential information.  A thorough search verified Stephen’s position but a puzzled look signified bad news.

“Cathy Thurmond is the only one listed here sir.”

“I’m sorry.  Repeat that.”

“I said Cathy is the only one listed here.”

“Where’s her mother Deborah Thurmond?”

“There is no Deborah Thurmond here sir.”

“What about her grandmother Carolyn Baxter?”

“Sir, I’m telling you what I show here on the list.  Cathy Thurmond is the only one listed from that family.”

Stephen thought about it for a moment and wondered if it were just a mistake.  Maybe the young man was working off an old list before the changes were enacted.  But again the guard repeated the same thing.

“I guess if Cathy is the only one listed then I will talk with her.”

The guard handed Stephen a temporary identity card and gave him the directions to the apartment unit.

On the way to the elevator the hallway was abuzz with activity as small groups of young women sat just outside doorways in the long corridor.  Nurses and doctors walked in and out of view, carrying charts and whispering to each other.  Stephen peaked into the open doors as he strolled by and noticed what he would describe as physical examinations.  However, he could not be quite sure if they were being checked for signs of the virus or just being probed for explanations as to how they survived.

The elevator took him to the twentieth floor.  The doors opened.  Two armed guards greeted him.  Stephen flashed the indentity card and they parted the way to let him through.

He rang the door bell and waited for a response.

“Yes?” a voice responded from behind the door.

“Cathy?  Cathy Thurmond?”

“Wait a minute.”

Stephen waited.

“Who is it?”

“Are you Cathy Thurmond?”

“Yes.”

“Can you open the door please?  I need to talk to you.”

“You have to open it.”

Stephen turned the door handle but it did not budge.

“Cathy, the door is locked.”

“Use the card.”

Stephen looked at the temporary identity card and tapped it to a metal panel just to the side of the door.

“Cathy?”

“Yes.”

He looked around at the spacious unit and noticed no one else but Cathy.  The room was rather sterile.  It was void of anything that gave it a warm and personable feel. 

“My name is Stephen.  I sent your grandmother here.  Where is she?”

“I don’t know?”

“You mean you don’t know where she is at the moment or you don’t know where she is at all?”

“I don’t know where she is at all.”

Stephen was perplexed.  Not having heard anything from his superiors in regards to his decision, he had believed his authority had gone unchallenged and even approved.  But in light of the absence of both Carolyn and Deborah, they had obviously protested vehemently and countermanded his decision.

“Was your grandmother here at all?  Was your mother ever here?  I mean where they here then taken away?”

“They took me here by myself.  The last time I saw my mom was before they put her on the plane.  I can’t remember the last time I saw my grandma.”

Just then a cough interrupted the silence.  Stephen took a couple of steps forward and espied about a dozen or so young girls in a room down the hallway, each with a face that spoke of innocence.

“Can we sit down Cathy to talk?”

Cathy stepped to the side and followed Stephen over to one of three big sofas crowding the room. The sofas in the living room were the only pieces of furniture.  He expected to see other furniture and electronics since whomever the owners were who had once dwelled here certainly had wealth, but only the sofas remained. He could smell food, the odor wafting about the unit, but the odor was not appetizing.

“Are there any adults here?”

“Not in the apartment but just the doctors and the nurses and the soldiers downstairs.”

“How long have all of you been here?”

“I’m not sure,” Cathy answered.

“Why can’t you open the door from the inside?”

“We just can’t.”

“Do you ever get to go out?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Downstairs to see the doctors.”

“What do they do?  Are they checking to see if any of you are sick or not?”

Cathy lowered her head.

Stephen looked to the other girls who had now assembled themselves in the hallway.  A few of them were quietly shedding tears as the others hid their faces.

“Cathy, what’s wrong?”

“We can’t talk about it.”

“Talk about what?”

“Can you go please.”

“Cathy, if something is going on here you girls don’t like tell me.  I can help you.”

“Just please go.”

Stephen reluctantly left based on the discomfort in the room.  His experience shouted at him that the girls were under great distress and that they hid their pain inside.           

Stephen confronted one the nurses.   He asked for an explanation as