Chapter 19: Events

The wedding was, by necessity, a very public affair. Only Grandma Kendall could have managed to throw such a grand and elegant affair together in so short a time. We weren't sure how many more days or weeks we had left before the event, but we wanted our marriage to be an established fact in people's minds before it happened.

Reverend Carmichael, our local minister, and minister to most of Cold Lake presided. He was one of the doubting Thomas' amongst our supporters, having seen the same 'evidence' most of the rest of the locals had. His faith was a barrier to this new 'belief' as he described it, but he had too much respect for too many of the people who were involved, so he agreed to 'wait it out', as he put it.

I chose Bennie, Joe and Luther as my groomsmen, with Bennie as my Best Man. He had been my best friend for too many years to be supplanted by Joe or anyone else.

Greta picked Carrie as her maid of honor and her twin sisters were her bridesmaids. Mr. & Mrs. Porter gave her away and Janet played the organ and sang. The service was held outdoors at the Porter Ranch and we had standing room only, as most of Cold Lake was there, and a large contingent from Hermiston as well.

The decision was that a honeymoon was needed, and I managed to insist that it be a short one, and made it stick. We were delivered, via a chauffeured 'limousine' that was really a very nice four door 1965 Chrysler New Yorker, to The Seward Hotel in Portland for two days and nights. Carlos drove us himself and told me confidentially that he was staying in the same hotel, a floor below us while we were there. I had his room number if I needed him.

I had the feeling that his two new 'trainees', Huck and Dwight Scales were somewhere nearby as well. They were the two bodyguards that Carlos had invested me with. The two brothers claimed to be pure-blooded Cayuse, and descended from great chiefs, but there was no way to prove either of those things one way or the other. What the two brothers did have was an utterly unshakable loyalty to Carlos, and by extension, to me. Carlos was training them to keep me safe, and to do it in as unnoticeable a fashion as possible.

I remembered the Seward Hotel from my first life. It had been renovated and renamed in the '90's to the Governor Hotel. In the mid sixties it was still a pretty grand place, and very much in the middle of downtown Portland. I'd attended some pretty fancy get-togethers there with my horse breeding employers - schmoozing some important buyers. This was the first time I remembered actually staying in it though, and the 'bridal suite' was the picture of opulence.

The wedding had been an early afternoon affair and our attendance at the reception had been brief, just long enough for Greta to get in the first dance with me and a special dance with her dad, and then we were in the Chrysler and on the road. It had been a long ride into Portland, even with the big engine the New Yorker had, and we had sipped a little champagne and nibbled on some strawberries and chocolates, but there was no privacy screen, so we mostly kept our hands to ourselves and talked about the wedding and the people. We joked with Carlos about cramping our style, and he joked about changing his plans and not sleeping on the couch in our suite after all.

"Mrs. Kendall?" I asked, as soon as the bellhop was gone and we were alone in our room.

"Yes, Mr. Kendall?" she answered, batting her eyelashes.

"We have dinner reservations in one hour. I believe that will allow just enough time to get out of this wedding finery and get showered and changed."

"Really, time for all that?" she giggled.

"Well, and perhaps time for something in between."

And there was. A slow, sweet, glorious something.

Dinner that night was late, but it was elegant, delicious, and washed down with two bottles of the hotel's finest bubbly. The staff at the Seward didn't seem to care what our actual ages were, we were a bride and groom on their honeymoon, and that meant champagne!

After dinner we went for a quick walk up 10th avenue and back down 11th, just long enough to settle our meal. Later we lay in bed, flushed and feeling pleased with ourselves. Greta lay against my side, glowing with a fresh sheen of perspiration and the athletic yet feminine plane of her tummy moving in time to the rapid in and out of her breathing. We were both breathing a little hard after our recent coupling, and both a little shiny with sweat. Neither of us minded at the moment. We'd earned the sweat!

Greta turned and caught my eye. Her pupils were open wide in the dim light and I could see her nipples were still hard, or maybe hard again. She slid up my torso and buried her face in the nape of my neck. It took a moment, but I realized that she was crying softly on my shoulder.

"Love? What's wrong?" I whispered. Greta pulled her head up a little so we were cheek to cheek.

"I just had a sudden feeling that this was going to be the last normal moment of my life," she said, but then paused and shook her head. "No, Not normal ... The last special moment of my old, normal life. I suddenly felt like this was going to be it."

"Then lets savor it," I said, leaning in to touch my lips to her soft, tear-stained cheek.

And we did, again, until sleep took us at last.

The morning started late. We woke at nine, which was hours past the time either of us would have normally been up. We showered and threw on some casual clothes to explore the streets of Portland. We had this day and another night. Tomorrow morning we would be heading back to Cold Lake.

It was just after our early lunch or late breakfast, walking down Yamhill toward the Willamette River. We were window shopping and enjoying a cool but pleasant day when Greta tugged on my arm

"Sam! The sky!" She whispered.

I looked up, and saw the blue afternoon sky was full of sparkles and light. I felt a sudden breeze that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"OH my God! This is it," I said out loud.

"What is it?" I heard someone nearby say. I looked around and saw the other pedestrians scattered across the sidewalks and streets in the vicinity staring up at the sky as well. I had an urge to rush to the nearest and touch them, but it was too late. Everything moving slowed to a stop. People, cars, bits of paper swirling in the wind. Steam from nearby vents beneath the sidewalk.

The sparkling sky rushed through and past us, and while my body felt it wash through, and my mind and soul felt a hard tug, my eyes watched as every person within my field of vision became a body shaped bundle of sparkling light, which shimmered, then shivered like light reflected in a crystal hanging in a window. A shivering light that slowly faded, the sparkle dimming until Greta and I were alone on Yamhill Street. Suddenly, almost alone in the world, and the net of the Reapers passed, and the world sped up again. A car up the street crashed into another. A car that had been parking behind me didn't stop as it backed up and kept moving in my direction. I jumped out of the way and watched as it slowly crashed into the flower box at the edge of the building, cracking the dry, painted wood and spilling dirt and gravel in a little pile on the back fender of the car.

"Are you okay?" Greta asked into the suddenly still air. I waited for the sound of suddenly empty cars crashing in the distance to die.

"Yeah," I answered, turning to her. "Did you feel it?"

"Like something was tugging at me, for just a second?" I nodded. "Yeah, I did. Strange huh?"

We were interrupted by voices. We turned back up Yamhill and saw Huck and Dwight Scales running in our direction.

"That was it, wasn't it?" Dwight asked. "The Reaping, or whatever you call it. That was it!"

"Yes, I'm certain it was, Dwight," I answered. "How are the both of you feeling?"

"Fine!" Dwight answered. Huck nodded his head in agreement. Huck didn't talk much.

"Listen, we need to get back to the hotel and find Carlos and anyone else in the area who's still around. There are probably going to be a few people I've meet over the years living and working in the area."

We were about four and a half blocks from the hotel, so we grabbed a nearby car and headed back to the hotel. I laid on the horn the entire trip, honking out a staccato beat that would definitely be heard as a signal by anyone left to hear it.

Carlos was in the lobby of the hotel with two other people, one I recognized as our waiter from the late breakfast we'd had that morning and the other the bellhop from the night before. Carlos had given them a brief explanation of what had happened and why they were still there. Their names were Bill and Artie.

"Listen up guys. There are other people who I've met since we arrived. The front desk clerk from yesterday. The Maitre De from dinner last night, the chef who made our meal. The doorman working the door last night. If you can figure out who those people were and call them, we'll try and get them all here as soon as possible.

"I know the doorman," Artie the bellhop offered. "He lives here at the hotel too. I'll go check on him."

"Good, bring him here." I told him. "You can leave the explanations to me if you'd rather." I saw the obvious relief on his face when I told him that.

"Can I offer everyone some coffee?" Bill asked. "I'm feeling kind of useless right now, but I can at least fetch coffee."

"That would be good, thanks Bill," Greta said. "Do you think you could double-check the kitchen too while you're doing that? We don't want anything that was left cooking to burn and start a fire."

While Bill was gone Artie returned with the doorman, a tall, older man with mutton chop sideburns. He'd looked very distinguished in the livery he'd been wearing at the door the previous evening, but he looked a little less elegant in a pullover shirt and a pair of casual slacks. His name was Frank Pendown, and he knew how to contact the other people we hoped to find still here. He set out to the office behind the front desk to make the calls, and while he did, I sent Artie, along with Huck and Dwight to make a room by room search, making sure to turn off any showers left running, unplug anything electrical that could cause a fire and otherwise make each room safe and secure.

I put a little crimp in Bill's coffee mission when he returned to find even fewer people waiting than when he'd left. I took my cup gratefully though.

"Bill, why don't we set up a station near the front of the dining room? Move the coffee pot, some crackers, cheese, whatever we can find that would be good casual snacking fare?"

"Sure, that would work until we get a little more settled," Bill agreed. "There are some really nice cold cuts and cheeses back in the kitchen. I also left some of the things in the roasters slow-cooking. Cezyn can check them when he gets here." The two of them took off, leaving Carlos and I alone.

"I'm worried about the folks back home Carlos."

"They'll be fine, Sam. There are plenty of level headed people back there to keep things from getting out of control. Your Dad and Mr. Nileson are both very well respected individuals."

"Sure, and so are Mr. Argus and Mr. Harwell. I'm worried that they'll be worried about us and try sending someone looking for us."

"Got it covered," Carlos answered with a grin. "Soon as things look stable down here I'll be heading over to the Western Union office. "Jimmy Tyndall showed me how to use the Western Union gear to send messages, so I'll fire off a message up the line to Cold Lake that way. Jimmy knows to keep listening for survivors for a while after anything happened."

"Go ahead and take off now," I told him. "The sooner the better as far as I'm concerned, and everything is under control here."

"You got it."

Frank came back out of the office a few minutes later. I'd decided I needed to sit and had plopped down in one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs. Frank plopped down in one facing me.

"I was able to get through to Cezyn Ilyescu, the chef, and Sherman McElhaney, the Maitre De. Cezyn is confused, but is coming in as soon as he can get here. Sherman is very distraught, he had a wife and three daughters. He was going to take a shower. I'll call him again in half an hour to check on him. If we can get him to come to the hotel at all we may need to go get him. He lives out by the Portland Golf Club."

"Do you know how to get there?"

"Sure. I've been there before," Frank said. "Sherm was always inviting people over for picnics and parties."

"Don't wait for him to finish showering, get out there right away. We don't want him to be alone right now if we want him to survive."

"Of course," Frank nodded. Should I go armed?"

"You should be safe. You might be better off not taking one unless you feel you might need one if Mr. McElhaney has gone off the deep end?"

"No, I don't think it'll come to that. I think I'll steal a cab from out front. I've always wanted to drive one of those." And with that, Frank was gone out the front of the Seward and off to find his friend.

The hotel had a fair number of floors and rooms, so by the time Huck and Dwight got back with Artie from securing the rooms, they were ready for a break. Greta took them to where she and Bill had set up their snack station and got them started on building sandwiches. I followed them in, refilling my coffee cup and grabbing an apple from the offerings on the table. Artie filled us all in on what they'd found.

"Good thing we made our check. We found showers running in six of the rooms, and one faucet running in the sink that had filled with water and was overflowing. Huck found that one, cleaned it up too."

"The maid's cart was in the hall nearby, I just grabbed some towels to sop it up," Huck said quietly. "No big deal."

There were no stories of irons or other electrical items abut to play havoc with the building, not even any burning cigars or cigarettes left to burn down. There were some rooms with pets still in them and Artie had made note of them so that they could be cared for, or at least set free. A few cats and small dogs and one bird.

"I walked through the door and heard a voice say 'What's up Jack?" Artie said. "I didn't see anyone so I called out, 'Hello?', and the same voice answered back. 'Hello.' I thought it sounded a little funny, but kept on talking and walking slowly into the room. I just came around the corner to the bathroom door and saw the bird. When it saw me it called out 'What's up jack' again."

"Had ya going for a minute though, eh Artie?" Dwight teased.

"Sure did," Artie answered. "Didn't take long to feel pretty spooky about things."

"Those are the feelings you're going to have to fight," I told them. "Remember, you're not alone. There are a lot of people left back home in Hermiston and Cold Lake. There's another big batch of them in Pullman, and there'll be smaller groups of people in smaller towns all over Washington and Oregon."

There was a sound at the door, and I saw Carlos pointing a finger at me, like it was a gun.

"Mission accomplished, but you're forgetting that not everyone who made it through is going to feel happy to be owing it to you. You still need to keep a guard up."

"You're right," I told him, upset with myself for forgetting. "What did you hear from home?"

"Jimmy had messages for you from your Dad and Bennie Argus," Carlos explained. "Your Dad says everyone's doing well and they're sending teams to check on Hermiston and Pullman. Joe Porter and Carrie Ralston are leading the Pullman team and Mr. Nileson and Mr. Harwell are leading the team to Hermiston. He tells you to get home as soon as you can do it safely."

I nodded my head at that. The plans for Hermiston and Pullman had been in place for quite a while. Of course dad was going to want me to exercise caution. No problem, I planned to.

"What does Bennie have to say?" I asked.

"He wants to remind you that they should have the big transmitter in Hood River up and running by the end of the day and to keep your radios tuned to 1230 on the AM dial."

"Great, it sounds like everything is going according to plan so far. Hopefully the radio broadcasts will get picked up by the remaining folks up and down the valley and across the Palouse. That's the plan anyway."

Cezyn Ilyescu, the chef came in shortly after that, and we reintroduced ourselves.

"You are the newlyweds from last night, yes?" he asked in heavily accented English.

"Yes, you remember us then?" Greta asked.

"Of course! To forget a beautiful young woman like you? Is impossible I think, eh?"

Cezyn, who asked us to call him 'Zin', asked if we had thought ahead to dinner, and of course we hadn't. It was late afternoon by this time.

"Well, I was not scheduled to cook tonight, but what is dinner for such a small group?" Which made him stop and think for a moment. "There are some not here, I think, but how many will there be?"

"Two more besides us, unless some stragglers show up," I answered.

We were not disappointed by Zin's offering. Several items intended for that night's dinner menu had already been cooking, including a truly outstanding prime rib roast, which was the main course of choice for most of us later that evening.

When Frank returned, we met Sherman McElhaney, and the poor man was a real basket case, and who could blame him? We comforted him as best we could and he got the explanation of why he had survived and his family had not. When he learned that shaking my hand the previous evening had been the difference, he looked at me with hollow eyes and a sad, haunted face. "How long have you known?"

"Almost five years," I answered, having trouble returning his gaze.

"How many do you think you've saved?"

"Thousands, I hope."

"You weren't counting?"

"No," I answered, and as I did, I began to cry. "It would never be enough, there would always be people who deserved to live that I couldn't save. I couldn't save Kennedy back in '63, and I knew it was going to happen. I knew! But what would have been the point, if I couldn't also save him from the Reaping? Who was going to let a teenager touch the President? Instead, I touched as many people as I could, but I couldn't focus on the numbers, because then I'd have to think about the number I didn't save."

We cried together over those immutable facts, and over numbers. That actually seemed to help him in some way, the knowledge that it wasn't something he did, or didn't do. Not some flaw in him or his little girls. Just numbers. By the time dinner was done, his mood had improved considerably and he no longer had that haunted look that had so bothered me earlier.

We gathered in the front lobby area again, using the large sitting area, as we had all day to sit and talk.

"There are two options I can think of here," I began, once we'd all found a seat and had our coffee cups. Tea, in Zin's case.

"Option one?" Frank asked.

"You all come back with us to Cold Lake as we begin to take stock and get moving on the rest of our plans for making sure we can survive this."

"Then option two is to stay here?" Zin asked.

"Yes, if enough of you are willing, you stay here and we make the Seward our headquarters in Portland. Take in stragglers, if there are any who make it here, and provide a safe place to stay and eat whenever someone needs to come here. At least while the food and power situation hold out."

That began a large babble of questions and panicky alarm from the new folks, who had no idea of our preparations.