CHAPTER 6
Susan
“Welcome to another
edition of Under Big Blue, with Susan
Elmsmith. I’m Susan Elmsmith. It’s Day 301, and we’re broadcasting
from the mayor’s office in Winoka City Hall, which is currently
occupied by today’s Under Big Blue
guest, Mr. Hank Blacktooth—”
“Mayor Hank Blacktooth.”
“Mr. Blacktooth, as
you know, yesterday rogue dragons attacked Winoka Hospital. Two
died as a result of that conflict, and the famous and beloved
Jennifer Scales almost died as well. You claim a leadership role in
town—”
“Again, I’m the
mayor.”
“What are you doing
to resolve the crisis?”
“Susan, we’re working
as quickly as we can to eliminate the threat to this town’s
innocent residents—people like yourself whose families came here
for protection. We take our responsibility seriously, and I can
guarantee you that by the end of the upcoming winter, Winoka will
be dragon-free.”
“Dragon-free?” Susan
looked nervously at the camera, balanced on a tripod between two of
Winoka’s peace officers.
Hank leaned forward
and repeated quietly and calmly, “Dragon-free.”
Unsure of how much
this man knew about her personal relationships, Susan returned her
focus to the questions she had prepared. “What is the status of
your peacemaking efforts—”
“Spare me your
mouthpiece questions.”
“Um,
okay.”
“I know the chief of
surgery at Winoka Hospital has written most of them for you. I did
not agree to have you here so I could waste time answering them. I
agreed so I could broadcast a statement, using your web log as a
vehicle.”
“My web
log?”
“Yes. Inexplicably,
it gets regular coverage.”
“Thanks.”
“Gallingly, it is the
only dependable way to get my message to the outside
world.”
“Okay, well. Thanks
again. Prob’ly.”
“Here’s how this will
work. I will momentarily give a statement. My assistants here will
then take temporary possession of your camera and edit our session
using city-hall equipment. They will post the result to your web
log, using log-in information you will give them. They will then
erase all source information from your camera and return it to you.
You will then go back to your friends at the hospital and pretend
however much you like to be in charge of your
destinies.”
Once upon a time,
Susan would have found this vastly intimidating. All right, she
still did. But still: she was a journalist. “And I’ll give you my
log- in information because . . . ?”
One of the peace
officers drew his sword. Hank motioned him to lower
it.
“Susan. This doesn’t
have to be confrontational.”
“Just surreal and
creepy.”
“I know your
father—he serves in the National Guard, right? Commands a cavalry
battalion. He’s a good man. He moved here to protect
you.”
“My mother actually
was the one who moved us.”
“But he agreed.
Surely, he wants what is best for you. He wants you to be safe. And
now, by accident of fate, here you are in this dome. He is outside,
if I’ve heard correctly?”
Another threat? Susan nodded. “He was on shift when
it happened.”
“I’m sure he’s
worried about you.”
“You’re not as subtle
as you think you are, Mr. Blacktooth. If your goons are going to
hurt me, have them get started. I’m not giving you
shit.”
Hank sighed. “May I
please record the statement, and then
you can decide how intransigent you’d like to be?”
Susan
shrugged.
He turned to the
still-running camera and tried to smile. “Good evening. I am Mayor
Hank Blacktooth. I’ve asked Susan Elmsmith, a local reporter for
this town, to come to city hall and transmit this statement in her
web log, and she’s graciously agreed to do so. I have two
announcements.
“First, in two days
this town will have a noon rally on the Mississippi bridge, where
our valiant Mayor Glorianna Seabright died over three hundred days
ago. Our activities should be visible from beyond the dome,
including by press helicopter. I encourage everyone to
attend.
“Second, as some of
you know, I have a son named Edward. When the dome appeared, he was
trapped on the other side. It has been some time since I have heard
from him, and like any father . . . I am worried for him. Here is a
recent photo of him.” He held up a school photo of Eddie. “If
anyone has news of my boy, I’d appreciate hearing it. Susan
regularly posts contact points for the city—it’s been a long time
since anyone used them. We’d love to hear from you.
“I know this crisis
has the town, and the outside world, worried. Please know that we
are doing all we can to keep the good people of Winoka safe. Thank
you all for your prayers and thoughts. Take care.”
Once done, he looked
at the camera for an edit-ready three or four seconds and then
turned to Susan. “Well?”
Susan pursed her
lips. She thought of Eddie, alone in the forests surrounding the
town. “Edit the statement. Put it on my equipment. I’ll go back to
the hospital, log in myself, and broadcast it.” Pause. “So, what’s
going to happen at the rally?”
An infuriating smirk
was the only response.