Wired (10 page)

Was such a hit really a possibility? Graham didn't really thing so. Maria simply happened to be standing at the wrong place
at the wrong time. The killer probably only wanted money. He was nothing but another bum trying to scratch out a living by
waving a gun in somebody's face. The nation was filled with these small-time crooks who proved particularly dangerous because
they were usually too frightened to pull a riskier job. This idiot failed to recognize that virtually nothing frightened Maria
Peck.

Mary was the last to speak. She looked sullen and sounded almost insolent. “Funerals are supposed to be religious, but I'm
not a spiritual person,” she began with a critical sound in her voice, “and I don't have any Bible stuff to say.” Mary took
a deep breath. “I can only tell you that I loved my grandmother and…” Abruptly her defiant tone cracked and Mary started
crying. “I—I'm sorry,” she sputtered. “I know we all a-a-re s-sad.” Mary's voice faded and she abruptly slipped behind Matthew
as if trying to disappear from the crowd staring at her. The entire family began crying.

Graham hurried to the mike. “Thank you, family. This time hasn't been easy for any of us, but we wanted to say what was on
our hearts. We're going to close this remembrance by opening the casket and letting each of you who wishes to file by and
say any final farewells to Maria Peck that you might have.” Graham nodded to Cassoday. “We'll start now.”

Cassoday walked forward with more dignity that Graham had previously seen in the man. His employee walked with him and Mrs.
Hutchinson brought up the rear. They opened the lid to the casket and began making the final arrangements.

Graham turned away and the family moved over to the side of the tent. Cassoday and Hutchinson began to send people by the
casket. Some stopped while others avoided the sight, moving on quickly to shake hands with the family. Graham kept his smile
fixed in place. The line shuffled past the family until the endless line of faces became a blur.

As they finished shaking hands, the mourners returned to their cars and quickly drove away. Finally only Graham, the family,
and a few friends were standing by the grave while Cassoday and his man lowered the casket into the ground.

Slowly the metal rigging mechanically lowered the bronze casket into the earth. Cassoday moved quickly back and forth around
the chrome rails with seeming indifference the job. He directed two of the cemetery employees about what to do next and the
men went to work immediately. No one said much, but they moved with a precision born of having done the job a thousand times.

Jackie took George and Jeff's hands and started leading the children back to the funeral home's limousine. Mary walked behind
her, staring at the snow-covered ground and not speaking. Matthew lingered near the last guest's car talking to a friend.
Only Graham was left by the grave.

The dirt began to tumble into the hole, splattering across the top of the metal casket. Each clot hit with a hallow thud and
then broke into a hundred little pieces.

What difference does it make?
Graham thought.
Maybe Mom truly is completely gone? could she have any awareness of this ceremony today
? He shook his head.

Graham started walking away, but stopped and took one last look. All Graham could see was the hole.

T
HE DAY AFTER
Maria Peck's graveside service, a solemn quietness fell over the house. Mary and George went back to their schools and Jeff
to his preschool. Matthew returned to Northwestern while Graham and Jackie began gathering up Maria's effects and putting
them in boxes.

The move alone to Arlington Heights cleaned out tons of Maria's accumulations from over the years, but her bedroom still contained
jewelry pins, broaches, artifacts, remembrances from Graham's father, and old, old clothes. The arduous task of clearing out
the accumulation heaped an emotional drag on both Graham and Jackie.

After an hour, Jackie looked at him with a pained expression. “We need to get the job done before the children come home.”
she looked around at some of the empty drawers. “We don't want them to see us throwing out Maria's possessions.”

“Yeah, but it's becoming impossible for me.”

Jackie nodded and went back to placing some inexpensive costume jewelry into one of the trash bags.

“Where are we going to take Mother's clothes?” Graham asked.

Jackie scratched her head. “Good question. How about the salvation Army?”

“They're still open? I heard they vanished about the same time when all those other people disappeared.” He reached for the
telephone directory. “I'll see if they're interested.”

“Good.” Jackie opened the closet door. “She kept some nice dresses that I'd think somebody would want.” Jackie pushed several
of the pieces together. “Your mother had good taste. I would think these might sell in a secondhand store.”

Graham kept dialing. “strange. No one answers at any of the numbers listed in the directory.”

“Anymore you can't depend on anything! The world's filled with crazy people.” She rubbed her mouth thought fully. “Call a
nearly-new shop across town and see if they would sell the dresses.”

“Look. Find a place and give them everything.” Graham's voice started getting louder. “I simply want to get this job done.”
Graham abruptly walked out of the room.

“Wait!” Jackie reached out to grab his arm, but Graham hurried through the door like he was fleeing a fire. “Hey!” she called
after him.

Graham didn't turn around, but kept stomping into the kitchen. He rounded a corner and hit the deacon's table hard. Graham
grabbed his shin. The excruciating pain shot up his leg. With a swift blow, he pounded the table and then crumpled into a
chair. Tears he'd pushing back all day exploded. Graham's body shook and he crumpled up with his face in his hands. For several
minutes nothing stopped the cascade of grief plunging from Graham's heart.

From out of nowhere the kitchen started to change, to rearrange itself, and for a few seconds he was a little boy back in
his mother's kitchen, but the scene quickly faded. He suddenly felt Jackie's hand gently lying on his neck.

“I know this time is very difficult for you,” Jackie said.

Graham could only nod.

She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. “Don't worry. We'll get through this struggle together. I know it won't
be easy, but we will.” Jackie sat down next to him. “I think it would be better if you went back to work downtown and let
me finish cleaning up in the bedroom. Don't you think so?”

Graham sighed. “I don't know.”

“Look, Graham. We've been through a horrendous experience. You've taken care of all of us, but now, it's time for you to get
back to a more familiar world, more natural for you. Your office would be good for you. Don't worry, I can finish taking care
of your mother's bedroom.”

Graham drummed on the tabletop with his fingers. “It's so difficult to throw away Mother's precious possessions. They aren't
worth much, but they mattered to her. It's hard to watch.”

“Yes, I know.”

Graham ran his hands through his hair and wiped his eyes. “I also know Bridges's reelection campaign isn't going so hot right
now. Sarah Cates says that the mayor is overplaying his hand in some affluent areas of the city and not paying much attention
to the problems of the poor. It hasn't gone well this past week.”

“I can see the scene. Bridges has his excessive moments.”

Graham wiped his eyes, but didn't speak.

“And that's why I think you need to get back to the office. Whatever is wrong with Bridges, he's better than the opposition.
You need to make sure all the pieces in the puzzle are falling into place so he'll get his job back.”

Graham shook his head. “It's a hard decision, but I think this is an important time in the reelection office.”

Jackie held his hand and looked deeply into Graham's eyes. “Darling, I need to be honest. Your eyes look more troubled than
merely tired and stressed. Your mother's death has left all of us depressed. Don't you feel like a dark cloud has descended
over your head?”

“No, of course not!” Graham snapped.

“Well! I'd say that answer came way, way too fast. Sounds a little defensive to me.”

“Well, aren't you depressed?”

“Of course.”

Graham started to speak, but stopped. “I don't know,” he mumbled.

“I do know. Here's another reason to get you back to the office; hard work might help lighten your depression.”

“Yes, obviously I feel like a truck hit me.”

“That's what I mean. You need to be in your office.”

“You're probably right.”

“One other thing.” Jackie kept squeezing his hand. “I believe it would be good for both of us to join some group that would
help us get beyond ourselves… maybe, a growth group or a grief encounter session.”

“Heavens no! Jackie, you know I'm not an honesty freak; I certainly don't need to air any dirty linen, particularly during
this political campaign.”

“I wasn't thinking about sharing anything negative, but simply being with some good people. They tell me new groups have sprung
up since all the churches closed.” Jackie brightened. “They're calling these meetings Sunday Encounter Times.”

“S
unday Encounter Times
?” Graham grimaced. “
You're serious
?”

“Sure. Apparently many people are floating around out there that once went Sunday services at some church every now and then.
They find the Encounter Times to be helpful.”

“What in the world do they talk about in those places?”

Jackie leaned back in her chair. “Well, I hear they explore timely topics like investing money, taking vacation trips. All
kinds of activities.”

“Sounds bizarre to me.”

“Come on, Graham. We never got into the habit of going to church, but many people did. They met friends.”

“That's what a church was about?” Graham winced. “Good times?”

“I don't know.” Jackie shrugged. “I never went, but I can see how a good atmosphere might provide a nice place to meet people
if you were new in the community.”

“Doesn't sound like me and I'm certainly not new around here.”

“Graham, you're being obstinate. I understand they have motivational speakers and self-help classes. Maybe something of that
order would be good for depression.”

“Jackie, I know you're trying to help me.” Graham leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I appreciate your concern,
but I think you ought to attend by yourself and see if these Encounter Times do anything for you. You can bring back a report
and then I'll think about it.”

“Just be open to a new possibility. Okay? What do you think about that option?”

“I think I need to go back to the office. Getting back in harness would be a far better way to help me start going again.”

Jackie went back to cleaning. Graham walked to his closet and started putting on a tie and his suit. He moved with lackluster
speed, but eventually got himself together. Thirty minutes later, Graham felt ready to leave the house.

“Jackie!” he called from the front door. “I'm going to the office now.”

Jackie came out of the bedroom. “I turned on the television a few minutes ago. I think you ought to look at this before you
leave.”

“Television?” Graham walked over and flipped on the set. “What are you talking about?”

“Watch.”

The gray of the screen faded and an announcer was standing in front of the Museum of Science and Industry Building off Fifty-fifth
Street. Flames shot out of the windows and smoke roared up from the roof into the sky.

“As we reported a few minutes ago, a bomb went off in the basement of the museum while sightseers were packed in the building.
You can see that the damage is extensive and many people have been killed.”

A black limousine drove up a few feet away from the announcer. Frank Bridges and Jake Pemrose jumped out of the car and rushed
toward the burning building.

“Mayor!” the announcer yelled and stuck out his microphone. “Please, can you make a statement.”

Bridges stopped and nodded.

“What can you tell us about this explosion, sir?”

“It's too early for me to make any judgments.” Bridges spoke briskly. “Of course, we are deeply concerned.”

“We have some sources with the fire department saying they believe this is the work of terrorists.”

The mayor shrugged. “I will be listening to their discoveries and have a comment as soon as we have the data. The people of
Chicago can rest in the fact that their elected leaders are on top of this problem and will communicate with them hopefully
by this evening. Thank you.” Bridges hurried toward the burning building.

“There you have it,” the announcer said. “The mayor will possibly have a full statement on our nightly news. We will continue
to follow these developments. Please be calm. There is no reason to panic.”

Graham stared at the television set. “That's a bad sign. Looks like they will definitely need me at the office. Maybe it's
a terrorist attack and then again, maybe not. Call Sarah Cates and tell her I'm coming down.”

Jackie kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful.”

Graham nodded. “Sure.” He hurried toward the door and then stopped. “Oh, yes. Turn on the security system as soon as I walk
out of the door.”

G
RAHAM RUSHED
into the reelection headquarters and walked toward his office. Jackie had already called Sarah Cates from their home, saying
she should be ready for whatever the mayor would have them do in light of the explosion at Museum of Science and Industry.
Without glancing at anyone in particular, Peck closed the glass door behind him and hurried past the secretaries. People normally
straightened up when he walked in, offering warm “hellos”; but this time, no one looked up. It didn't strike him as odd until
he walked about twenty feet; only then did he realize that the secretaries looked away as he passed. He slowed his pace, expecting
to hear something, anything, but no one seemed to notice.