Refuge - 6. Chapter 6: Texas? Yes, Texas

Texas? Yes, Texas

Paul

Richard had convinced me that Bryan and I should move to Texas to a place of refuge. In fact, he called it Refuge Ranch. He wouldn’t tell me much more than that, except that it had been Dike who had told him to ask me. I knew who she was, and I understood why Richard wouldn’t say more: the words of the gods could create reality.

It didn’t used to be that way, except perhaps for the top few: Zeus, Athena, Dike, Poseidon, Hades, and Vulcan—maybe a couple of others. But, now, even lesser gods had to watch what they said, and even I could see that the fabric of reality was strained. As reality weakened, the gods got stronger. People and nations were looking for something to rescue them from the chaos that the human race had created. In the West, the soi-disant Christian evangelicals were filling some of the power vacuums, but the only thing they seemed to agree on was that all the wars, riots, anarchy, impotence of the leadership and the forces of law and order, were signs and portents of the end of the world, and no one should stand in its way. I was not surprised to hear that some of them had been executed by the Mossad while trying to foment war in Israel, since that was supposed to be one of the signs. We didn’t hear much about what was happening in the Muslim world, Africa, the Indian subcontinent, nor in the Far East: news was heavily censored by DHS.

I talked to Bryan, and then told Richard that we would move.

After that, it only took two days to pack Bryan’s schoolbooks as well as the clothes he had accumulated, his scuba gear, and some boxes of my things. We were leaving everything else: the furniture and kitchen stuff, even the food in the pantry. My computer was packed carefully in layers and layers of bubble-wrap. I had backup data on the laptop, on an external hard drive that I carried with me, and in the cloud. Still, I was worried.

I had already said goodbye to my old SUV: sold to a neighbor who appreciated its special features. Richard said I wouldn’t need it. Besides, gasoline was getting very scarce. It was already expensive: thirty dollars a gallon with DHS-issued ration stamps, and nearly one hundred dollars a gallon on the black market. At least, that’s what I’d heard.

The diesel-electric van with our stuff pulled away. Aiden had handled the paperwork, and gave me a bill of lading with an address in Abilene, Texas. He also gave me a card with a snailmail address in Alpine, Texas. When I asked about the two towns, he giggled, and said, “Opsec—operational security. They’re the guys who are paid to be paranoid. You’re not going to either of those places. Your stuff and mail will be picked up in Abilene and Alpine and delivered to the ranch. Gary explained it to me. We don’t know if anyone is interested in where you and Bryan are going, but if they are, we don’t want them to know. And, we don’t want anyone to see a lot of traffic going to the ranch.”

He closed his dispatch case. “Gotta go,” he said. “There are a whole bunch of kids out there who need a good lawyer!” He gave each of us a hug, and popped out. Underlying his perky enthusiasm, I heard the sadness in his voice. I think even then he knew he was only a Dutch boy with his finger in the dike. Still, like the others, he did what he could. What is it that Bryan and I will be asked to do? I wondered.

We waited in the lobby until Richard and Zhang appeared. I looked toward the reception desk. As usual, the woman there had not noticed Richard and Zhang’s arrival. Handy, this being-a-god-thing, I thought. Bryan noticed, however, and rushed into Zhang’s hug. Richard looked at them, then looked at me and raised his eyebrow. I took the hint, and returned his hug.

“Ready?” Richard asked.

I looked at Bryan and saw his nod. “Ready,” I said. Richard and Zhang grabbed our hands, and we were in Texas.

Bryan

I knew that my daddy wasn’t okay with what was happening. He was accustomed to being his own person and to arranging his life the way he wanted to. Adopting me had been a big change for him, although I tried to make it easy on him. I looked for his moods, and when he seemed testy, kept out of the way. Even when it came to his TV scripts, he was in control, and determined deadlines. When the networks insisted on his appearances, he scheduled those, too. Richard was something different. Richard was chaos to Paul’s love of order.

When Richard told Paul we had to move to Texas, it didn’t bother me. As long as I was with Paul, it didn’t matter where we were. It was important to Paul, however. It was the evening after Richard had said we needed to move. Paul and I were snuggled tight. I had just exploded into his mouth, and was about to take Paul into mine when he asked me, “Bryan? Do you want to leave Chicago? Because, if you don’t, we will not, no matter what Dike or the others say.”

I thought about this for a long time. Paul waited until I was ready to talk.

“Paul, my daddy and boyfriend. I will follow you wherever you go. It doesn’t matter to me where we live, as long as we are together. Second, you and I know that these people—Nemesis, Gary, Aiden, Richard and Zhang, the others—are not only good people, but people with special powers. And they say they need our help? Well, then it must be for something good, and something important. We have to go . . . we have to help.”

Paul

We arrived on a knoll that overlooked an old west town. I’d done a lot of television shows, and thought at first it was a set: fake buildings for shooting movies. A second look, and I saw that it was real. There were a whole bunch of anachronisms, though. Like the HUM-V that was following a couple of horses down the street . . . a street paved with concrete and with a white line down the center.

I checked my watch, adjusted for the hour time change, looked at the position of the sun, and figured which way was south. We were north of the town. A quarter of a mile to the east of the town stood a couple of very modern water towers topped with antennae. I didn’t see any electric lines, though. Power must have been underground. A small lake and some townhouses lay to the northeast. Toward the north and west were a bunch of farmhouses: two story, clapboard, with wraparound porches. Something looked funny, and it wasn’t the perspective. My brain finally saw what my eyes were telling it. The houses were a lot bigger than I had thought. Still, they looked like farmhouses, and each was nestled in its own grove of trees. Sunlight glittered off a lake far to the southwest. Beyond the houses, the water towers, and the lake was flat land. Some appeared to be cultivated; other land held dots that were probably cattle.

“I thought you might like an overview, first,” Richard said. “The town is going to be the center of the community. It’s got a lot of things that you’d expect: a general store that is really a department store; a couple of coffee shops; a saloon for the adults; soda shops for the kids; a movie theater, drug store, a library, and some specialty stores. Oh, and a school and a Dave and Busters. When it gets built out, there will be real restaurants, too, and more.

“That building’s the post office; they handle all incoming and outgoing mail and packages. Aiden gave you a mailing address, right?”

I nodded, and Richard kept talking.

“The houses you see over there hold House Parents—sometimes just House Fathers or House Mothers—and the families of the House Parents that have them. As fast as the houses are built, we’re filling them with kids from Erewhon and elsewhere. There are some single-family homes for families who aren’t house parents—mostly the construction crews. And there are town homes for folks who don’t want to do yard work. There are a couple of bunkhouses for the single ranch hands, and they have their own chow hall. There’s no apartment building like you lived in, though.”

He gave us a minute to look at it all, and then asked, “What kind of home would you like?”

I thought for a moment. “Bryan? I would be happy anywhere I can get high-speed internet. What do you want? This is going to be up to you.”

Bryan froze, and then seemed to understand. He giggled.

“Richard, first, it’s got to have a big kitchen with lots of pots and pans, food processor, convection oven, stand mixer, slow cooker, and all sorts of accessories. We left all that behind, you know. Since Paul can’t cook anything that doesn’t fit in the microwave oven, I’ll have to make sure he eats. We’ll need a big kitchen.

“Second, two bedrooms each with one big bed. One bedroom is for Paul and me, and one is for Zhang and me when Zhang comes to visit. Third, a den for Paul where he can set up his computer and work. And, a shower big enough for two. And no yard work!

“I think that’s all.”

Richard had been taking notes on an iPad while Bryan talked. I heard the “whoosh” as he sent an email message, and the “ding” when a reply came in.

“Looks like we have the place for you. Would you mind walking there? It will give you a chance to see more.”

Bryan

Richard led us to one in a row of townhouses. It faced a golf course. A path from the back led to a dock on a small lake. The townhouse had everything I had asked for. The first floor was nothing but a living room and a huge kitchen with a nook that held a table and four chairs, and which overlooked the lake. The second floor had two bedrooms and an office. And two bathrooms, each with a shower big enough for two.

“Where is your home?” I asked Zhang.

“Richard and I are going to stay in Chicago for a while longer,” he said. “There’s work to be done, there and elsewhere.”

He saw that I was disappointed, and worried. He hugged me. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll come visit . . . I want to help you check out that new bed! And Richard and I will come to live here . . . soon, I think.”

# # # # #

Remember, I said Paul liked to be in charge of himself and his time? Well, this move took more out of him than I first had understood. He went into the den, plugged his laptop into power and a dataport, stared at the screen and typed. And stared and typed.

I fixed supper with things I found in the pantry and freezer: a tuna and frozen peas casserole with Bisquick crust. I thawed some strawberries to go on top of vanilla ice cream for dessert. And, I resolved that tomorrow I would find some fresh veges and fruit!

When everything was ready, I went to the den to call Paul to supper. He didn’t hear me the first time.

“Paul? Supper’s ready!” I said, louder this time.

“I don’t think I want anything,” he said. “I’m not hungry.” He didn’t turn around to look at me, just kept his eyes on the computer screen.

Bullshit, I thought, and then said, “You picked at your breakfast. You didn’t have any lunch.”

I walked across the room, stood behind his chair, and did an over-the-shoulder-kind-of-hug. I pressed my cheek against his, and came up with a couple of tears that would roll onto his face.

“Daddy? What’s wrong?” Yeah, I’m shameless. When I called him daddy, I knew I’d get his attention. Calling him daddy while I was hugging him, and he’d melt.

I’m pretty sure I heard a sob before he answered.

“Bryan? I don’t know if I can afford this!” he said. “I have no salary from the university; income from TV scripts is down. Partly because the anti-science fundamentalists have managed to destroy all but one of the honest science cable networks and partly because Homeland Security is demanding to see all new scripts, and is delaying and blocking anything they don’t like for any reason they can come up with, and there’s no appeal. I don’t know what this place is going to cost, and I don’t know how long I can afford it. I’m so afraid for us . . . for you.”

I didn’t know how to answer that, but I did get him to come to supper, to eat a little, and to cuddle in bed.

This isn’t working, I thought. I’ve got to do something . . . .”

Calvin

Dike told me she wanted a couple named Paul and Bryan to come to Refuge. Aiden, Richard, and Zhang were taking care of the details, so I wasn’t worried until a kid named Bryan showed up at 7:00 AM demanding to talk to whoever was in charge. Since that was me (okay, since that was I), I invited him in and prepared to listen.

“Look,” he said. “I know you own this whole place, including the townhouse Richard said Paul and I would live in. I know that you’re probably a god, like Richard and Zhang. Yeah, I know about the gods, and I really don’t give a flying fuck.

“You people pulled Paul away from his world and he’s not happy. When Paul’s not happy, I’m not happy. When I’m not happy, you’d better be careful, because I’m not impressed by gods: Greek or modern.”

Wow, I thought.

“Bryan, I’m glad you’re on our side,” I said. “I would not ever want you for an enemy and I would like to be your friend.”

What I’d said had disarmed him. Good. That’s what I wanted to do.

“Huh?” he said

“Bryan, will you tell me why Paul isn’t happy?”

Bryan explained about Paul and order, and about Paul and money. “Everything is topsy-turvy,” he said. “And Paul’s worried about where—how we will live. I know it doesn’t matter to him—as long as he can find a WiFi hotspot he’s okay for himself. But he is worried about me. He doesn’t believe that I would live in a cardboard box under a bridge as long as it was with him. He wants something better than that, for me.”

Bryan

Calvin’s eyes seemed to wander everywhere but my face. I didn’t know why. Was he avoiding the question? Was he trying to make sure I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking?

When he did speak, it was like he was someone different. His voice deepened, the pace of his words was measured as if he were reciting Shakespeare and the words had to come out just right. Yeah, Paul had gotten me to read some Shakespeare, and I had learned to like it.

“Bryan, although Casey and I own this ranch, our ownership is secured under the old order. We are experiencing the beginning of a new order. I’m not sure what all that will mean, but I know that Casey and I—through Dike and Richard—invited you to live here. We are therefore responsible for making sure you have food, shelter, the necessities and then some. Neither Paul nor you are expected to pay for any of this.”

Calvin’s eyes darted about, again. I figured it meant he was thinking, maybe even seeing things in his memory. I was right about that.

“Paul isn’t the only one who’s concerned about things being topsy-turvy,” Calvin said. “It wasn’t that long ago that I watched my little brother, Casey, die. In fact, I watched myself kill him. Then, he wasn’t dead, and the man who was hurting him was dead. The things that Paul is experiencing? They are a part of what is happening to all of us. We each have a story that is like his—and yours. And I know for certain that the future he wants for you is as secure at Refuge Ranch as it could possibly be.

“Bryan, I swear on my life and my honor that this is true. Will you help Paul understand? If you want to, bring him here and I’ll talk to him. I’ll get anyone he wants to talk to. I’ll do whatever it takes, as long as you’ll help. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said. “And thank you.”

“And money?” Calvin reached into a desk drawer and pulled out two plastic cards. He ran their magnetic strips through a scanner attached to his computer, and then handed them to me.

“You can use these at any of the stores and restaurants at Refuge. They are associated with a legitimate bank. If Paul wants to transfer money to this account, he may. In fact, if he has money in accounts outside of Refuge, I recommend it. There may be things he wants from outside, that only outside money can purchase. For outside money, these are cash cards. Inside Refuge, they’re purchase cards. There is no limit to what you can spend them on here at Refuge. Their only purpose is to help us track inventory so that we can replenish stores—as long as we are able to.

“If there are things from outside that Paul or you want to spend money on, and there’s not enough in your old accounts, please let me know, and I will arrange it. On the other hand, please caution Paul against ordering things to be delivered. We have drop points for deliveries.”

“Yeah, Aiden gave us an address,” I said.

Calvin looked briefly at his computer screen. “If you have any questions, ask me or Casey, or one of the others … they all know you … at least, who you are … and they will all answer any questions you have.”

Paul

When I woke up, Bryan wasn’t there. The bed and my heart were cold.

Bryan had finally talked me into eating some supper and going to sleep. I couldn’t have sex with him, although I knew he wanted it. I had curled up, and finally gotten to sleep.

I was still groggy when I heard Bryan open the door, and call to me. “Wake up, Sunshine! I have good news.”

I managed to stumble into the kitchen where it as nearly 11:00. Actually, it was nearly 11:00 everywhere in our new time zone; it’s just that I didn’t realize it until I reached the kitchen and saw the clock above the bulletin board. Eleven o’clock.

Bryan handed me a cup of coffee creamed and sugared exactly as I liked it.

“Where’d the coffee come from?” I asked. There hadn’t been any last night.

“I stopped at the general store on the way back from talking to Calvin,” I said. “They had it in whole bean and ground. Since we had a burr grinder, I got the whole bean. Do you like it?”

“Yes. It’s good. Who is Calvin? And where did you get money?”

“Calvin’s the boss around here . . . the whole thing, Refuge Ranch, belongs to him and his brother. There is a bank, too, and Calvin gave me cash cards for you and me. I used one at the general store.”

Bryan

It took a while to explain everything to Paul; and, after it was over, I wasn’t sure it really was everything. There was a lot to think about!

They made it easy, though. The computer came up with a “Welcome to Refuge” screen, that had links to FAQs and presentations that explained what was going on, and where we were.

Gary and Nemesis came to visit that afternoon. They brought fresh bread and some tomatoes. “Mrs. Gordon sent the tomatoes and the bread” Gary said. “You’ll meet her, in time. She’s one of the House Parents.”

“How do you like this place?” Nemesis asked. “Gary and I are living in one of the cabins, with thirty two boys from Erewhon. It’s confusing, sometimes, at meals and on washday, but they’re all gay, they’re all cute, and they all need a couple of cute, gay role models.

“Gary does the gay part, and I’m the cute one.” He giggled. Gary punched him lightly in the shoulder.

“I don’t know how you can deal with something like that,” Paul said. “I’m just getting accustomed to being in Texas and not Chicago.”

Paul

Bryan made me realize that I was being an idiot and that I wasn’t doing something I was supposed to do: taking care of him. I was so wrapped up in myself, I had forgotten that he was not just my lover and boyfriend, he was my son, and I had daddy responsibilities to him.

It was like waking up from a dream. I spent the next week with Bryan, walking around, hiking some pretty tough trails around the ranch, taking pictures that I put on the computer, and picnicking at some impressive places: springs, waterfalls, glades.

On the third day, we hiked to the south, hoping to reach the big lake by lunchtime. We didn’t make it. About 10:00 AM, we crested a hill and saw the solar panel farm.

“Wow!” I said. “I’ve never heard of a private solar farm this big.” Acres and acres of panels spread out on the southern slope. I watched, expecting them to slew to follow the sun. They didn’t.

“Bryan? Do you have something heavy, something I can tie to this string to make a plumb bob?” I asked. I’d pulled some dental floss from my pocket and cut off several feet of it.

Bryan handed me a small pocketknife with a loop attached. I made a plumb bob, and asked Bryan to stand in front of me with his compass.

“What’cha doing?” Bryan asked.

“Something’s wrong, here,” I said “These panels? They’re not positioned for optimum capture; and, they’re not slewing to follow the sun.”

We didn’t make it to the lake, but spend the rest of the day crawling under the panels, unlocking the stops that kept them from slewing, and wiping off years of dust. By 4:00 PM we were filthy, tired, and still less than a tenth done, but I called a halt, and we trekked back to our home. First thing the next morning, it was I and not Bryan who knocked on Calvin’s door.

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