Burn District 1 by Suzanne Jenkins Page A

“Everyone listened to Miranda. People’s lives were saved because they listened to her podcasts and read her comments in the forums she led.” Slowly, the excitement of running away with her family penetrating the wall of despair she’d erected, Lexie was coming back to life.
    “Let me catch up, Lexie,” Katherine begged. “I’m behind the times, I admit that.”
    “It won’t make much difference now,” Danny said. “The internet won’t be around and if it is and we keep using it, they’ll probably drop a napalm bomb on us.”
    “What do your friends at school think about all this?” Miranda asked. She thought it was odd that young people listened to her, yet were staying in school rather than trying to find an alternative or running away.”
    “They’ll hang out until the bomb falls, just like I said.”
    “Who are they ?” Katherine asked.
    “Winston Clarke. Albert Johnson. The president, but he’s history soon.”
    “ The president ? I don’t believe it!”
    “Believe it, Mom. He’s as crooked as the rest of ‘em.”
    Victor shuddered listening, wondering when it would be his turn for interrogation. The horror of it was that he truly didn’t know what they were talking about. It was the same conspiracy garbage he’d heard for the past thirty years except it appeared it was really happening. The tangible things; bombs, hoods terrorizing his daughter, someone else’s daughter losing her life so Miranda would live, he understood those things. But the reasons behind them, or the non-reasons; some crazy rich man wanting to rid the country of its less fortunate, that he couldn’t fathom.
    He’d dined with Winston Clarke! Accepted campaign contributions from him. Surely, Miranda knew of it, it would become a sticking point for her. And then the action he was dreading…a pointy finger, tapping him on the shoulder, hard.
    “Victor, did you know any of this?” He turned his head to look at Katherine. She was not at her best, approaching three days without a bath, hair pulled back in a wild ponytail, with luminous eyes. Something about hearing these shocking facts from her children had revitalized her, pushed her beyond her comfort zone. She was radiant.
    “I swear to you, no. Ask Miranda how I found out. She sent me that video of Winston Clarke.”
    “Dad, you were there everyday,” Danny said. “What did you think of the plan to burn the towns hit by Hurricane Sandy? Didn’t you think the whole virus thing was slightly far-fetched?” Victor watched Katherine’s face as Danny shouted questions his way. She was triumphant!
    “The evidence was presented by scientists who’d gathered the latest data. I had no reason not to believe it, anymore than most of the citizens of the United States had. My question to Miranda is why single out Winston Clarke for your investigation?”
    “Dad, he was the first in line to rebuild the coastline. Didn’t you see the pictures of him at the building site of his house? The plans for his place were an ostentatious disaster, more like a castle than a beach house. The fight with his neighbors over their beach access was historic. No mention of viruses after that. So I was looking for his culpability in manipulating the process, never imagining his next step would be to kill people.”
    “Where does Eastman fit into the picture?” Victor asked. As a decorated General, a man loved and respected by his troops, what Miranda was suggesting was more than anarchy. It was mass murder.
    “Clarke couldn’t execute his plan without puppets and Eastman fit the bill. He was always looking for the limelight; every chance he got he paraded himself before the masses. I remember when I was a kid, seeing him on television, people almost groveling at his feet.
    “Given the opportunity to rise above everyone, dictating what areas would be targeted, he played god. His values espoused Clarke’s, the very worst of backlash conservatism. They don’t like any kind of government