Apocalypse Before Finals, Julie Steimle [black authors fiction txt] 📗

weather conditions. The land rover was one of the last they passed, showing its flat solar panels and its tag that said USA.  It would have been convenient if they had just placed that satellite alongside the others, giving them a spy camera within the compound, but the Martians really were more cautious than that. As they had surmised, the dark haired soldier had spotted their camera as the satellite was being taken to a room for inspection.

The soldiers had placed the satellite on a table, giving the FBI view of a room full of machinery operated by people dressed in the equivalent of lab coats. All of the people in the room seemed to be working on various technical projects, and all of them glanced over at the satellite when it arrived. The dark haired soldier called for someone to inspect the satellite. An old wrinkly man with hair that had gone white and wispy, walked over with a healthy stride and peered over the machine with a sharp inspecting eye. His skin had liver spots on it that indicated great age, but he certainly didn't act it.

The dark-haired man pointed at the camera lens again. The old man examined it, nodding. Immediately, the dark-haired solider picked up a metal rod and rammed it into the lens.

The picture was gone.

"That's it," the general said.

Agent Sicamore let out a breath and nodded.

That was it. Their satellite was gone. However, they had gotten an inside view of the moon base itself and recorded proof that these Martians had been sabotaging all their satellites all those years. They also got solid proof that the Martians had an enormous military contingency of spacecraft, including stealth planes. It was proof enough that they were ready for war.

"So, what do you think?" the general said, looking to Sicamore. His eyes probed gravely, reading the head agent's looks.

Silently Sicamore nodded to himself, thinking. He had to be careful. His situation still wasn't good. And yet, they had all the proof they needed. "I think we need to prepare ourselves."

"And the two children?" the general asked, meaning Zormna and Jeff. The man had the decency to at least see them as children rather than a complete alien menace as the other generals tended to think.

Agent Sicamore shook his head. "I...I don't think they're involved in that."

The general shook his head knowingly, trying to meet the head agent's eyes. "Sicamore, that girl is very much involved. That is her military. They did mention her, if I am not mistaken. She did use them to steal that unearthed spaceship. And the boy and girl are threatening you, aren't they?"

Agent Sicamore looked up at him, going ashen. He hoped the man didn't know exactly how they were threatening him - what his true fear was.

General Gardner sighed and stared at him plainly. "I know they have been threatening you and your family. Sicamore, I can assure you we will take all measures to protect your parents from any dangerous persons."

"Is that a promise?" Agent Sicamore asked at once, relieved the general still hadn't figured out the whole truth.

The general nodded.

The agent slipped again into his thoughts. He still had time. But they needed to be careful.

"So what about those two?" the general asked again.

Thinking, Agent Sicamore replied hesitantly, "I think we should wait all the same, General."

The general let out a disgruntled sigh and almost retreated with his question. But he changed his mind. "Why?"

Sicamore didn't need to think about this one. He had already decided. "Because, sir, I still think those two, no matter how much they have interfered with our operation, are simply trying to lay low from something on the other side."

"Other side?" the general huffed. "What other side?"

Sicamore wet his lips, choosing his words. "The other side of their political situation."

The general shook his head. "Political situation? You aren't referring to those murderers that stole that satellite and killed our agents are you?"

Agent Sicamore nodded. He had been struggling to explain to the others that they had stumbled on a sticky political 'feud' of which they did not know where they stood themselves.

Shaking his head, the general approached Agent Sicamore with a graver look. "Are you so sure of that? Those two seem unscrupulous enough to blame anyone for something they did."

"They left us the satellite," Sicamore replied, grudgingly.

"Which you can't open." The general frowned at him. "Sicamore, don't you think you're taking an unusual amount of effort to defend someone who has caused you, and the U.S. taxpayers, an immense amount of grief?"

Preparing to defend his actions, Agent Sicamore drew in a breath.

 - but he was stopped from speaking.

"I think, Mr. Sicamore, that perhaps I should remind you that the U.S. government has already decided themselves on the matter. We are just waiting for you to say when we should seize them and shut down their operation." General Gardner folded his arms, waiting.

With a sigh, Sicamore shook his head. "I just think that we need more time."

General Gardner frowned deeper.

"Until I see pure evidence of hostility on their part, I see no need to seize either child," Sicamore explained. Seeing the general's objections, he continued. "And even if we did take them into custody today, I doubt we would be able to seize their operation. That boy, I am positive, controls much beyond our reach - and I dare say his people be on our backs if we touch him while we are still in the dark about them. Besides, there are a few more leads I want to follow, which I believe may prove fruitful."

This, the general sighed at and conceded, though reluctantly. "How long do you need then?"

Sicamore shrugged. "At least a month, two at the most. I think we shouldn't wait as long as the end of May. Those two look like they'll skip the planet as soon as school lets out for summer."

General Gardner laughed in irony. "To think that the U.S. defense lays in the hands of two high schoolers. Who'd have thought we'd come to this?"

The FBI agent nodded and laughed too, though hardly with any real amusement.

By this time, the two high schoolers in question were sitting in English, listening to Mr. Humphries talk about the Dust Bowl and relate it to the book they were starting as if it was the most critical thing at that moment. The Grapes of Wrath had to be the most dreaded book of all high school students. No one wanted to read a book about an Oklahoma family of hicks starving to death as migrant farmers in California. It was just too depressing. Mr. Humphries was just finishing his lecture about how life could turn itself on a dime and devastate everyone with a natural disaster.

"Think of it. You are all sitting comfortably in your homes, eating food that many people across the world will never get to eat, living in peace and never seeing fighting. You are the most privileged people on the face of the planet. Now think about what would happen if one day a massive tornado touched down in downtown Pennington Heights, tearing down everything. Your homes gone, your school gone."

One boy hooted at that.

Mr. Humphries scowled but continued. "And added to that, the area has been hit by a drought, the likes of which you have never seen, turning the entire area to a dust bowl - now you are not only homeless but also starving. What then?"

He let that idea sink in.

"We often get too complacent, spoiled by our comforts that we even start to assume we deserve them." Their teacher leaned against the front of his desk and stared out at the crowd of teens. "In the nineteen fifties, the people feared nuclear war. And luckily we did not have one, though we came close several times. We have lived too long under the complacent attitude that nothing can happen to us - despite 9/11 - and we have become unsympathetic to those suffering out there in the world." He then stood up and said to them squarely, "That is why we read Steinbeck - to remind us that people do suffer, even in our own country."

The class didn't dare moan when Mr. Humphries got that serious. The students endured the complete oration, waiting for it to end rather patiently. Immediately after, their teacher handed them study sheets for the novel, listing several essay questions they would have to answer.

Zormna took hers and passed the rest back to Joy, who received them likewise. They all stared at the papers, skimming the questions which were typed in order of the events of the story.

"How does the allegory of the turtle crossing the road foreshadow the future events of the story?" Brian read out the question in a low voice. Most of the class was murmuring over the packets while their teacher finished passing them out.

"Look at this one," Adam interjected in a whisper. "Describe the conditions of the migrant worker camp. How, do you think, did the land owners get away with creating these camps, and why do you think they lasted so long?" He tossed the paper back on the desk. "He's got to be kidding."

Mr. Humphries, however, was sitting at his desk waiting for the murmuring to die down...and looking absolutely serious. But then he always did. It was the sweater vests with his ties and white shirts that usually completed the feeling - though perhaps it was the severe look in his eye. 

Jeff shrugged, peering through the whole stapled packet. "Apparently not. They aren't unreasonable questions."

Both Adam and Brian stared at him.

Seeing their looks, Jeff choked in a disbelieving laugh. "Really you guys, these are easy enough, and the questions are rather good."

Joy grumbled in the back, whispering forwards. "Good? Jeff, Steinbeck is hard to read."

"Even if we faked our way through the essays," Adam said, "Mr. Humphries would be able tell if we actually read the book."

Jeff only smiled and lifted his eyebrows. "Well then, I guess we'll all be reading it, huh?"

Joy and Brian mutually cringed. Adam just stared at him as if Jeff had said something graphically profane about his mother.

"I wonder," Zormna perused the papers herself and sighed at it, "Is the book long?"

Her answer came quickly as the person sitting in front of her dropped the copies of the novel onto her desk. Lifting it up, she shrugged. She took one, placing the rest on Joy's desk behind her. Joy made a face like she wanted to toss the book out the window.

 

All of them were glad once the class was over. Gathering her things into her book bag, Zormna, with Adam Arbor, walked to History class, which was in another wing of the school on an upper floor. Honestly, Zormna had gotten used to the high school routine to the point that she had started to wonder if her old life had been a dream. She had gotten so used to dealing with teenaged things such as the 'popularity' game and 'fitting in', which she was never good at even back Home. But her daily routine mostly included ignoring the snippity remarks frequently shot her way by the girls and the leering looks from the boys. And though she missed the military life she had been raised in, she had learned to enjoy the variety and color that life as an American teenager gave her. American teenagers had fun - something the military hardly ever gave her time for, especially as a legal adult of rank. The only thing she truly didn't like about living in America as a teenager was that she had to humor a number of ridiculous people. And one of them was her History teacher, Miss Bianchi. The others were all her classmates, even the ones she liked.

Arriving in the classroom, Zormna sat in her usual place next to Jennifer McLenna and Jessica Clark. The teacher was busy up front, thankfully. Both girls nodded to her, ignoring the other. For the record,