Chapter 5

After taking a quick walk to stretch his legs, a bewildered George rejoined the family in the waiting room. He said, “There’s a ton of people out there. I don’t know where they all came from.”

“Is everyone seated?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Maybe we’ll get started. This waiting is getting on my nerves.”

The funeral director knocked on the door softly and then entered the room. Rebecca stood up and squared her shoulders ready to begin the ordeal.

He said, “The Secret Service has arrived.”

“Who?” Patricia asked.

“The Secret Service are here. They say that the Washington contingent is running late and won’t be here for another hour. The Governor’s party is delayed as well.”

“What Washington contingent?”

“I was told that it was the Vice President, the Speaker of the House, the Senate Majority Leader, and several cabinet members.”

Patricia asked, “What’s going on?”

Rebecca said, “Beats me.

Donald said, “I’ve got no idea why the Gov’nor would be coming here. God only knows why the Vice President is coming.”

“Your father knew a lot of people. Still, I’m very surprised that so many of them came,” Rebecca said.

“Are you sure Dad was just the owner of an Internet order store?”

Walking briskly with the black robe swirling around his feet, Peter approached his family wearing a large grin. He was carrying a mortar board hat in his hand. Hung around his neck and falling down his chest were the cords associated with three different honor societies. He wore an honor’s sash. He waved his free hand at them.

“Well, here comes the conquering hero,” his father said.

“I came, I saw, I conquered, and I got the T-shirt.”

His parents laughed. Patricia said, “Good job little brother.”

“Thank you, Patty.”

“Patricia.”

“I stand corrected,” Peter said. He turned to his brother and said, “I see by your presence here that you were able to make it.”

“Yeah. My professor let me take his final early. I flew in this morning. I’m beat,” he said.

“I’m pleased to see you. I know that pre-law is almost as difficult as ... basket weaving.”

George slugged him on the shoulder. Patricia laughed.

His father asked, “Did you get the job?”

“Yes. I’ll be joining Newton in four months.”

“Newton?” his father asked looking disgusted at his choice.

George asked, “Four months? Why not now?”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought. There’s a lot of places to see and now is my chance to see this country. I’m going to drive around for four months seeing how other people live.”

His mother asked, “What are you going to do for money?”

“I know that you got a full scholarship to pay your way through school, but money is tight. We’re paying to put Patty and George through school. They still have years to go because of their majors.”

“Law school is expensive.”

“So is Medical School.’

His father said, “We’d love to pay your way as a graduation present, but I don’t know if we can afford it.”

“That’s not a problem. I applied for a ‘Walk About Grant’ based on my minor in Social Studies. Some one thought it would be a great idea for a businessman who has a degree or a minor in Social Studies to spend a little time getting a feel for what’s going on in the world. I’m to write a report at the end of four months about how business decisions can affect entire communities.”

“I’ve never heard of something like that.”

“It was offered by the Soul Searcher Organization. It seems that they have an anonymous donor who wants high performing business graduates to experience the real world before getting into a soul stealing job,” Peter said with a chuckle.

“How much does it pay?” his father asked.

“Eight thousand a month for four months. The money is to cover food, clothing, hotels, and some experiences with a variety of people. There’s even a list of folks that I’m supposed to visit.”

“That’s good. Maybe you’ll find something that interests you more than going to Newton.”

Two men who wore slightly more ornate robes approached them. One had his hand out to shake. “Congratulations, Peter. The business school is hoping to hear great things from you.”

Shaking hands with the elderly gentleman, he replied, “Thank you, Professor Smith. I’m hoping that great things will happen to me.”

The second professor shook his hand while saying, “I’m sure they will young man. I was told that you were offered a job at Newton. That’s a big company. You can learn a lot there.”

“Thank you Professor Westen. I accepted the job offer from Newton. They’re putting me into the Management Faststream Program.”

“Oh! That’s great. You could end up being a director in five years.”

“I expect the alumni organization has a big circle around your name.”

Peter said, “It seems to be the right company for me at the moment.”

Professor Smith said, “They’re transitioning away from their traditional business model. They are keeping design and sales in-house while outsourcing manufacturing.”

“I know that,” Peter said. “I’m rather interested to see what it is like from the inside, rather than just reading about it in a text book.”

“A lot of people argue that it means job losses inside the country, but it is really a shift in jobs, here.”

“I remember your lecture on that very well,” Peter said with a patient smile.

Standing a bit away, Barbara nudged George and whispered, “He’s got that smile that means he doesn’t agree with a single word they’re saying.”

“His bullshit detector is in overdrive,” George replied quietly. “Does anyone actually believe that sending jobs overseas causes a simple shift in jobs here?”

“They do.”

They stepped back and watched the conversation for a while. The entire family relaxed when the two professors finally left.

His father said, “I don’t like what you said about Newton. It has the kind of reputation of using its employees and then tossing them out. You could find yourself without a job if you go there.”

“Although it does have that reputation, I can take care of myself. If you plan to be a shark, you have to learn how to swim with sharks. People who do well at Newton are in great demand elsewhere.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” his mother said.

George said, “Your grades are good enough to get into law school. You could always shift into business law.”

“No. I’m doing what I think is right for me. I did have other offers, but I liked that one the best. It gave me more opportunities.”

Patricia said, “Business? You can do much better than becoming a businessman. You could be a world famous scientist with your mind.”

“No. I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing.”

His father interrupted, “Kids, you’ve had that argument so many times it’s getting old. Drop it, already. He’s got a business degree and a job he wants.”

“It’s just that he’s capable of so much more.”

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Bowlings. He was grinning broadly. Rather than extend a hand, he gave Peter a hug. “I feel like I’m sending my own son into the world, Peter. I’m going to miss our discussions.”

“You’ve got Ann Randal to keep you occupied, now.”

“That’s a brilliant young woman.”

Peter turned to his family and said, “Everyone, this is Professor Bowlings. I worked for him as a research assistant throughout my stay here.”

Everyone noticed that he introduce Professor Bowlings and had failed to introduce the other two Professors. They greeted Professor Bowlings warmly.

“I’m expecting great things of Peter. You should be proud of him.”

“We are,” his father said.

“Peter, I know you’re busy with family and getting ready to charge off into the future. I’ll leave you to it. Just keep in touch with me, okay?”

“Of course I’ll keep in touch with you,” Peter said.

“Of course you will,” the man said and then walked off chuckling to himself.

“He seems like a very nice man,” Patricia said.

“He is. He’s going to change the world one of these days,” Peter said.

George started to say something, but his father nudged him and gave him one of those looks.

“Let me turn in the robe and then we can head out. We’ll have to stop by my dorm to pick up my stuff.”

“Sure.”

Once Peter was gone, George said, “Come on, Dad, he’s wasting his life.”

Patricia said, “His IQ is off the charts, and all he wants to do is be a businessman.”

“I know what you’re saying.”

His mother said, “You know, Peter, he’s going to do what he wants to do.”

“Aren’t you disappointed in him?”

“I’m proud of him,” his father said somewhat flatly.

“But ... business! Come on, that’s a waste of a great mind,” Patricia said.

“It’s what he wants. End of discussion.”

A week later Peter parked his new car, a graduation present from his parents, outside a small bar in Flint, Michigan. It had been hard, driving past all of those closed down factories, decayed houses, protest signs, and empty stores. The first thing he’d seen on entry into the town was a hand painted sign: “Don’t drink the water!”

Using a handkerchief, he opened the door of the bar. He tucked the handkerchief in his back pocket while looking around for the person he was there to see. The first thing he noticed on entering the bar, was the plastic five gallon bottle of distilled water sitting on the bar counter. His quarry was seated at a back table.

“What can I get for you?”

“A cola.”

“You wouldn’t want something a little stronger in it, would you?”

“No. I’m fine with just a cola.”

“Sodas are cheaper at the convenience store.”

“That’s all right. I’m here to talk to someone, and it’s crass to come into a drinking establishment carrying your own beverage.”

“Suit yourself. One cola coming up.”

The bartender poured a glass of soda and set it on the counter. He added, “The ice is made from distilled water.”

“That’s good. I’d hate to drink what they are passing off as water around here.”

“You and me, both.”

Peter carried his glass of soda over to a corner table where a man sat staring at his drink. He looked like he was on his last legs ... spiritually, not in terms of sobriety. He watched Peter approach with narrowed eyes. The other men in the bar watched Peter make his way across the room with a sudden tone of hostility.

“I’m not dropping the lawsuit.”

“Of course, you’re not,” Peter said. Holding out a small thumb drive, he said, “Your lawsuit will fail, but what is on here won’t.”

“What is it?”

“There are files documenting collusion between the EPA, the state, the water company, and the company that is the problem. It has copies of their actual water analysis results which are vastly different than what they are releasing to the public. They have also identified the actual source of the contaminants. There’s enough there to take them all down.”

“Don’t take it to your lawyer. He’s a shithead and is seriously thinking of selling you out. Don’t let him know that you know that. One word in the wrong place and you’re a dead man. I’m sure that you suspect that to be the case. That’s not a paranoid delusion, it is a fact.

“There is a file there with the name and address of a lawyer who has an axe to grind. Take it to her. She knows what to do with the material on the drive. She knows that the end result will be better if you can fuck them all at once.”

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

“I’m just a person who is sick of the corruption going on in this country. By the way, don’t trust that guy with the checkered shirt. He works for the water company. Don’t say or do anything to him, or you’ll warn the bad guys. Keep your mouth shut and don’t do anything stupid.”

After wiping the thumb-drive with his handkerchief, he handed it over to man. Peter finished his soda and said, “Good luck.”

Carrying his glass with him, Peter turned and left the bar. He dumped out the ice, tossed the glass into the trunk, got into his car and drove off. The less time spent in that toxic pit the better. He felt sorry for the people who were stuck there. Hopefully, the guy was smart enough to follow directions. If he wasn’t, there were going to be a lot of malformed babies being born.

Texas is normally hot and dry. Dry as in lacking rainfall - as opposed to an absence of humidity - in the summer. However, there are a few days every year when there’s an exception to that general rule. It starts with a clear blue sky, then a slow forbidding looking dark line appears on the northern horizon. Massive clouds, dark, churning, and boiling, move overhead at tremendous speeds. It seems like it only takes minutes for the clouds to move from the far horizon to almost directly overhead.

Bands of green or pale blue can be seen at the edges of individual clouds within the mass. It’s not the blue of sky or green of water, but a color that somehow seems unnatural. It’s the color of ice catching the sun.

Peter was driving through a suburb of Dallas when such a storm appeared. He stopped by the side of the street and looked up at the clouds. A shiver ran down his back. His first thought was that it was a tornado, but it didn’t have any little starters for funnels. These clouds were churning.

He drove on looking for shelter. Then it started to rain. For the first few minute it was a slow rain of huge drops which he could have sworn were the size of grapes. It was like miniature water balloons bursting on the hood of his car. He spotted a huge oak tree along one side of the street. He pulled up onto the lawn and parked under it. The rain started coming down harder and faster.

An elderly man was seated on the front porch of the house whose lot the tree grew on. Peter got out of the car and ran towards the porch. The old man was climbing out of his chair and drawing his pistol. Texas was a concealed carry state and a lot of people carried. Peter came to a quick halt. The wind was kicking up hard enough to pick up a trash can and blow it down the street.

Peter raised his hands and said, “Peace friend, I mean no harm. There’s a bad storm coming.”

“It’s just a Texas hail storm,” the old man said waving the pistol in Peter’s direction. “It’s not a tornado.”

“I know. That’s why I parked under your tree.”

“I didn’t say you could do that. Now get out of here.”

By this time, Peter was getting soaked from the rain. He ran his hands over his hair squeezing out some of the water in a useless gesture. He looked at his car, at the tree, up at the sky, and then over at the old man. The sky was really starting to let loose. He held out a hand, palm up and watched it fill with water.

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to spare a glass of water. I’m getting mighty thirsty standing out here in this Texas sun,” Peter said.

A single stone of hail the size of a marble hit the ground next to him. The old man said, “Get up here on the porch. Sit on that end over there where I can keep you covered.”

Peter made it onto the porch just in time. The hail really started falling. He moved to the far end of the porch, sat down with his back against the house front, and looked out at the hail that was coming down. The hail was getting larger to where it was now the size of eggs.

“I parked under your tree for a reason. I figured if the tree came down, it would total the car and the insurance would pay to replace it. It’s brand new. My parents bought it for me as a graduation present.”

The old man grunted.

“If the tree didn’t fall down, I figured that the branches would slow the hail down enough to keep my car from getting a complexion like a golf ball. If I parked out in the street, that car was going to look like the surface of the moon, and I’d probably lose a window or two. The insurance company would pay me a little for the damage, but I’d be stuck driving a dimpled car.”

“You should have headed home and parked in your garage.”

“That’s a thousand miles away.”

“What are you doing around here?”

A huge hail stone hit the ground and shattered into dust with a loud bang. It was easily the size of a baseball, maybe even the size of a grapefruit.

“Right now I’m watching the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I mean, I’ve seen a hail storm before, but that was stones the size of peas. These are monsters. I swear, they could kill a person.”

“A few folks who keep their dogs outside while they’re at work are liable to lose them in a storm like this.”

“Damn. I hate hearing about things like that.”

“It is a damned shame.”

“How long do these things usually last?” Peter asked.

“Ten minutes or so. A storm like this will drop a bunch of ice and then move on leaving clear blue skies behind them. It’s Texas weather. For years, the only thing between Canada and here was a barb wire fence; and it was down half the time.”