all god's orphans

Millie stood on top of the Wal-Mart looking down into the parking lot below. She had to admit, these guys sure knew how to set up a bivouac in no time at all. They’d only arrived a few hours ago, and already the camp was humming with activity. Civilians were being corralled and documented. Soldiers were setting up guard posts on top of the big box retailers or ransacking the strip mall for supplies. She had seen them pick a Wal-Mart clean in a matter of minutes like piranha devouring a cow. The women were just starting to arrive and make preparations for the evening meal. Lunch had been MREs, as usual. Dinner was typically something better. She could just detect the faint scent of chicken beginning to cook. Millie watched it all happening below her and wondered what it sounded like.

With all of the tractor-trailers and big army tents, the whole scene looked like a demented and sad carnival. As she watched the people below bumbling about like ants, her thoughts drifted back to the last state fair she had seen. It was just before her brother had left to join the Marines and it was the last time she had seen him. He took her up on the Ferris wheel and they could see just how small the fair was. From the ground, it had seemed like the bright lights and candy smells went on forever, but from a mere forty feet up, she could see its edge on all sides and it made it appear even smaller.

She missed her brother. She had no idea if Kevin was still alive or if he was one of these pod people now. She doubted if she would ever know. Power was starting to flicker out all over the place. It had been weeks since this happened and backup systems were finally failing. Communication had been disrupted since day one. Phones didn’t work anymore. There was no internet anymore. Everything stopped, virtually in its tracks.

That was the most disturbing part for her. She had always thought when the end of the world came it would happen in a flash, but she hadn’t really given the next part much thought. One day, her parents just didn’t recognize her anymore and then there was no more television.

She didn’t miss her parents. Wasn’t that strange? She wondered if that made her a bad person. She told herself that there was nothing to miss. They were still alive. Still around. Slightly less annoying. But they weren’t themselves. She had never really liked them, but then, she didn’t believe they ever liked her either. Or each other. Or life in general. All they did was talk about god and sin and all that shit, and how great it would be to get to Heaven. They never talked about how great life was. Just how great things would be after they died.

So many of these people below her were just like her parents. Convinced that the rapture had happened. That Jesus was coming now, or whatever. She’d heard that shit all her life and had always wondered what her grandmother had thought on her deathbed when Jesus still hadn’t shown up. She had told Millie that Jesus was coming any day and that she would never die because they would all be “raptured”. She loved her grandmother, but goddamn was she stupid. Even in the hospital she talked like she wasn’t going to die. For someone who believed she was going straight to paradise, she was in no hurry to get there.

The more Millie thought about it, the angrier she got. Most of these people couldn’t turn a computer on or fix a mousetrap. A life spent in fear had left them with no real ability to deal with life at all. She supposed she should be grateful. Because of that, these Luddites relied on her for everything. Radios not working? Bring it to Millie. GPS on the fritz? Have Millie look at it. They could hardly function without her. There were supposedly other soldiers somewhere whose job it was to look after the electronics, but she had never seen them. It was all up to her most of the time. All she heard were excuses about the rest of the support units being moved around and nobody being available to come and give her a hand. So here she was, a seventeen-year-old girl with more authority than most of the grown men around her.

She knew that most of them would soon be gathering around the radio to listen to that stupid asshole’s show. Fuck Thorsten Gallagher. At least she didn’t have to listen to that arrogant prick spinning lies for these halfwits to make them feel smarter. She looked forward to this every day. Nobody would bother her. They would all be listening to the show and she could get some quiet time.

She took one last look and made her way back down the ladder and into the decrepit carnival. Exhaustion overtook her and she thought now would be a good time to take a nap. Her tent would be empty for at least the next two hours since all the girls would be out for the show. As she made her way through the maze, another girl, Penelope, grabbed her arm. Millie did not like to be grabbed.

“Millie, will you do me a favor?” she implored. Millie just looked at her. “Will you bring the general his dinner?” Millie shook her head and then wrote on the little chalkboard that she hung around her neck.

“Not my turn.”

“I know. I know.” Penelope’s eyes pleaded with her. “But you’re the only one he’s actually scared of. Please.” Millie sighed and then nodded. Penelope threw her arms around Millie’s neck. “Thank you! Thanks! God bless you, Millie! I owe you one.” She let go of Millie and then went off to find her boyfriend. Millie watched her go with a mixture of pity and revulsion then made her way to the mess tent.

Inside, she found the chef, Marco, standing over his makeshift stovetop. Propane tanks in the corner fed a large Weber grill that was his pride and joy.

“Hey Millie!” he said as soon as he saw her. “I didn’t think it was your turn again so soon.” Millie shrugged. “It’s almost done. Still needs a few more minutes.”

“What is it?” she wrote.

“Chicken chili.” He said, tasting it. “It’s one of his favorites so at least he’ll be in a good mood. I even found Frito’s. Wal-Mart had a sale on!” He laughed. Millie was so tired of that joke. The world is over, but at least everything’s free! Yeah. Great. “Get yourself a Coke, if you want one.” He added. “I don’t know how much longer we’re going have access to ice.” Millie opened the plastic cooler and fished out a bottle of Dr. Pepper. She didn’t have to be told what the general’s drink of choice was. Her parents had never let her have junk food or soda, so she never developed a craving for it. The first time she tried a Coke, her eyes burned and she thought her sinuses had melted. She closed the lid and waited for Marco to be done.

Making her way through the camp carrying the general’s tray was harder than usual. She was going against the flow because everyone was heading into Wal-Mart. Someone had hooked up the radio to a bunch of speakers and tonight’s broadcast was going to be special. They’d been hyping it for weeks. Millie had no idea why, nor did she care. She finally found the general’s trailer and made her way around to the steps that led up into his little office. The two guards there gave her the once over.

“What?” Barked one of them. Annoyed, Millie looked down at the tray and then back at him.

“She can’t talk, dude,” said the other one, “She’s deaf. Go on up, Millie.” As she ascended the stairs, the first guard tried to get a glimpse down her shirt. The second one slapped his shoulder. “Want some advice? Don’t mess with that one. Nothing works without her.” The first guard was confused but let it drop. It wasn’t like she was the only girl around, and there were plenty who would do quite a bit to be the girlfriend of a soldier. Soldiers got the best food, the best housing. He was going to do all right, he reminded himself.

Millie was as unaccustomed to male attention as she was uninterested. Her parents had always kept her away from such things and the few times she had interacted with any boys her age, she found them dull. Most of the other girls here wore simple dresses and Keds, like they were on their way to work at a Christian daycare center or something. Millie, on the other hand, was almost always wearing her brother’s oversized army jacket he had worn since he turned fifteen and began to dream of joining up. Beneath that she wore a simple skirt and most often a black t-shirt. Like the rest of the men here, she wore leather combat boots, better known in the military as “Cadillacs”. Her straight hair was pulled up into a laissez-faire ponytail and the top of her thick glasses just brushed against the hair of her bangs. She looked so different from the women around her that you could spot her in the crowd from across the camp.

She opened the door to the trailer and was relieved to find it empty. The general’s office was a mess as usual and cold. The air conditioner was working overtime despite the fact that it wasn’t even hot outside, but then, fat pigs are probably always hot, thought Millie.

Putting the tray on his desk, she turned to leave, but something caught her eye. Bright colors and the promise of flesh peeked out at her from one of the desk drawers. She glanced back at the door, trying to see if anyone was coming, but of course there was no way of knowing. She slid open the drawer to find a porn mag called “Hustler.” A giggle escaped her chest, both because it was funny that she had busted the sanctimonious general with porn, but also because she just found sex funny. A thrill raced through her as she opened the magazine. She was disappointed to find that it was mostly words. Near the front was a pictorial spread of a beautiful woman with impossible breasts. The model’s pubic hair was completely gone. Millie found that strange. She had looked forward to finally getting hers and then she’d heard that not having it was the fashionable thing.

As she thumbed through glossy sex, tittering almost uncontrollably, the guards outside snapped to attention at the general’s approach, which she, of course, could not hear.

She put the magazine down and caught sight of something else, far stranger than sex. It was a square piece of paper with concentric circles of letters and numbers written on it. As she lifted it out of the drawer to examine it, she felt the trailer tremble as the general’s weight hit the small steps leading up to the door. Quickly, she stashed the letter and the porn, slid the drawer shut as carefully as she could and stepped around to the other side of the desk, pretending she had just put the tray down.

The door swung open revealing the general and his two ever present bodyguards. She pretended not to realize he was there and gave a little jump as she turned around. He chuckled.

“Sorry, Millie.” He offered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He glanced at the tray. “What’s for dinner?” She scribbled quickly, anxious to leave.

“Chkn chili.”

“Excellent.” He positioned his large self behind the metal desk and settled into his long-suffering chair, obviously waiting for Millie to hand him his tray, even though it was a mere four feet away from him. Normally, she would have been a smartass about it, but this time, she simply picked up the tray and placed it gingerly on his desk. Millie thought the general looked like the kind of man whose kindergarten graduation photo, high school graduation photo, and community college graduation photo all feature a Boise suit with a bolo tie. It would help explain why he seemed so out of place in a uniform. It just didn’t sit right on him for some spiritual reason unconnected to uneven shoulder seams or hems. Without waiting for more instructions, she made for the door.

The general glanced down at his desk drawer and grabbed her wrist, causing her to jump, for real this time.

“Can you take a look at something for me, Millie?” Her heart froze as he reached into his desk. How could he have known she’d been rummaging around in there? She watched his eyes for any sign of malevolence, but there didn’t seem to be any. “What do you make of this?” he finally said, handing her the square paper.

Now that she could see it more clearly, she realized the concentric rings of letters and numbers were some kind of code.

“What is this?” she wrote on her board.

“I was hoping you might know. Some of the boys found it in a house nearby. They’re bringing the owner in for questioning. What do you make of it?” Millie examined the rings. There were five circles, one within the next, all arrayed around the center of the paper. Each ring had a seemingly random series of letters and numbers. She could see faint marks on the paper, as though it had been folded or crumpled and then laid flat again. She turned it over and briefly caught a few words before the general snatched it away. “Have you ever seen anything like it before?” Millie shook her head. “Could it be alien?” Millie’s face contorted into confusion. She shook her head. Why would aliens use paper and human numbers? The general nodded his head. “Okay,” he sat back down to his meal. “That’ll be all then.” Relieved, she headed for the door but paused for a moment. “Is there something else?” Asked the general.

“My brother?” Millie wrote on her board. She could see the general’s chest move and knew that he was sighing in consternation.

“Nothing so far, sweetie.” He replied. “Communication has been hit pretty hard. I can’t tell you where most of my guys are right now but as soon as we get that fixed, I’ll put the word out and we’ll find your brother. Don’t worry.” He smiled his cheap vinyl siding smile. Millie nodded and shut the door behind her, not really believing him anymore.

She had been asking ever since she joined up with them and no one could tell her anything definitive about what was going on or where her brother might be. First they told her they had no idea where the Marines were. Then they said they would try and find out, but nothing ever came from it. She kept asking and the general kept promising, but that was all.

Outside, she found the least crowded place she could and tried to remember what the paper had said on the front. It was signed by the Sergeant At Arms of the United States Senate. She hadn’t been able to read the whole thing, but she had glimpsed words like “safety”, “communication”, and “government”. She knew enough to understand that this letter was important, possibly even a way to find her brother and have a normal life again. She positioned herself so that she could watch the general’s door and waited. He’d said they were bringing the person in who would know more about that letter. She needed to speak to them. If the general couldn’t help find her brother, maybe this person could.