The movie’s background music shifted from pleasant piano notes to grim, dark oboe and bass tones. Ruppert reclined against the back wall, next to Madeline, and looked over the herd of kids. They all dressed according to the school’s strict moral code: long skirts and long sleeves for the girls, slacks and collared shirts for the boys. The moral code also required boys’ hair to remain less than an inch long, preferably crew cut, while all girls had to grow theirs out to at least shoulder-length. A few of the kids looked bored, but most watched as if the video would soon show Christ rising from his tomb.
Stark video clips cut into each other. The mushroom cloud rising from Columbus, captured from one angle after another. The neighborhoods blown flat. The twisted black hulk of a school bus.
Then the soundtrack shifted again, to a thundering brass orchestra, as hundreds of military, police and FEMA vehicles swarmed into the city. The video cut to President Winthrop, the edges of his face still hard and sharp at age fifty, his steel-gray hair tousled by the wind as he stood under the White House portico.
“Today, on the birthday of our nation, we have suffered a horrendous and unjustified attack at the very heart of our homeland. The entire country mourns with the good people of Ohio.
“Today, our country has changed forever. For too long, America has allowed her enemies to gather in the shadowy realms of the world. We have been generous. We have been just. We have loved peace; today, we see we have loved peace too much, been too forgiving of our enemies, too kind to those who threaten our interests.
“The American people are a good-hearted people, but after this grievous act of war, perpetrated by foreign terrorists against innocent lives, we must show the world a new face, another side, a different view of what our power can be.
“Americans love peace-but we love justice more.”
A roar of cries and an avalanche of applause poured over the speakers, the recorded enthusiasm of the press corps.
“America has suffered today, but America is strong, and America will grow stronger still. Today, I pronounce a Second American Revolution, one that will purge the corrupting influences from our nation and make us pure and upright once again. As we have grown complacent abroad, we have grown complacent at home-and as we all see now, the enemy is present here among us. Perhaps in our neighborhoods. Perhaps in our schools. Perhaps even at our churches.
“We are not safe, America. We must band together, now, as Americans, to fight the enemy in every corner of the Earth. Including our own. Tomorrow Congress will pass, and I will sign, the Articles for the Continuation of Democracy. These emergency measures will grant the executive branch full authority to find every terrorist, to root out every infiltrator hidden among us, to seek out everyone anywhere in the world who might intend us harm, and to destroy them all. To defend our freedom, to protect our children, to fight for our way of life, and-yes, America, for our God.”
After another wave of cheers, the President continued, “Even in this worst of all tragedies lies opportunity. We will reclaim America for the American people, and we will set our nation right. Citizens of America, the Second Revolution has begun. Together, we will build an America that will stand a thousand years, an America everlasting.”
This time, even the kids in the room joined in the cataclysmic applause. They’d been trained that way.
Madeline touched a black panel in the wall and the fluorescent classroom lights came up, while the giant image of President Winthrop faded into a blank whiteboard. Black words appeared in Madeline’s handwriting:
FOR TONIGHT:
Watch today's lesson again. Journalize your feelings on video. We will evaluate you in class tomorrow.
The bell rang, and sixty kids jumped to their feet. Madeline shouted after them as they surged out of the room.
“Mark, no pushing! Keep your eyes on the ground! Sarah, pull up your sock, no one wants to see your dirty leg!”
When the last kid had left, she turned to Ruppert and her hard glare melted into a smile.
“Hi there,” she said.
“Hi there yourself.” Daniel leaned in to kiss her, but she kept him at arm’s length.
“Not here in the gulag, okay?” she said.
He stepped back from her as she gathered her purse from her desk.
“You must have the easiest job in the world,” he said.
“You try babysitting nine classes of sixty little hell-trolls every day.”
“I thought you taught history.”
“What do you call that?” She gestured toward the whiteboard as they started towards the door.
“A movie.”
“It’s the only way these pagan brats learn anything. Just try to get one to read a book. Half of them are just waiting to go home and shoot up virtual Muslims.”
“That’s what half of them will spend their adult lives doing.”
“Right.” They stepped into the crowded hallway, moving quickly into the center, kid-free lane. “I just hope they carry some respect for history onto the battlefield with them. They should know what they’re sacrificing for. Did you get the cookies?”
“Cookies?”
Madeline froze, and Daniel nearly crashed into her.
“I told you three times. I have to bring cookies for the Ladies’ Antiquing Society fundraiser. Butterscotch. Daniel, I told you three times!” Her voice rose an octave. “Do you have Men’s Meeting tonight?”
“It’s Wednesday, isn’t it?”
“Then we have to be at the church by five! Daniel, I have to get them from the same bakery. Aunt Frizzie’s Bakery. You know that.” She rushed to the teachers’ elevator. Ruppert hurried to keep up.
“Aren't you supposed to make them yourself?” he asked.
“Shut up, Daniel. Now everybody’s going to think I’m not contributing.”
In the parking lot, Daniel’s Bluehawk unlocked as they approached. They would return later to pick up Madeline’s car.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, Daniel.” Madeline’s voice was knotted with fury.
“Doing what? Hey, what’s that on your seat?”
Madeline opened the door and broke into a smile. A plump white bag, with the blue-haired caricature of Aunt Frizzie stamped on the front, occupied the passenger seat. An empty cookie tin, leftover from a previous Christmas, lay beside it.
“Daniel!” Madeline picked up them up and slid into the seat. He sat down beside her. The car doors silently closed themselves.
“What are those, exactly?” Daniel asked.
“You’re so mean. Now I want my kiss.”
As Ruppert pulled out of the parking lot, Madeline began transferring cookies into the tin.
The Golden Tabernacle World Dominion Church occupied a sprawling twenty-acre complex in Pacific Palisades, including a long stripe of beach fenced off from the public. Ruppert drove past the security gate, which recognized his car and opened automatically, and onto the church’s network of brick boulevards lined with palm trees. They rounded a corner, and the church’s immense sanctuarium swelled into view, the great golden dome shimmering in the sunset.
“You’re not going to be late for Men’s, are you?” Madeline asked. She was checking her hair in the mirror. “Oh, I hope Doreathea isn’t there.”
“Which one is that?”
“Doreathea? The founder and president of Ladies’ Antiquing?” She cast an annoyed look at him, as if Ruppert should have memorized the membership lists of all her church groups. “She hates anyone under the age of sixty, I swear.”
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