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captivity, his ill health, and the sudden death of his wife and daughters was
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more than he could bear: Decker was catatonic, hovering in the twilight of
insanity.
Hank Asher locked his fingers together, forming a step for his young
journalist intern to place her foot in. Suzy Stites took the task in stride as
she climbed through the kitchen window they had just pried open. As she made
her way to open the front door, she spotted Decker's pale motionless form
slumped in a chair in the living room. Hank Asher entered the house to the now
familiar stench of rotting flesh. At first he assumed that Decker had been
among the unlucky ones who had died three days earlier in the "Disaster," but
Suzy soon determined that he was still alive.
"He seems to be in shock," she told Asher, as she tried to get Decker to drink
some water. Decker stared blankly but swallowed eagerly as she put the glass
to his mouth.
Asher surveyed the situation and decided she had things well in hand. "You
stay here with Mr.
Hawthorne. I'll check the house to see if anyone else is alive." Suzy needed
little encouragement to stay among the living. The smell of the house left no
doubt of what Asher would find. Hank had not known Elizabeth or the Hawthorne
children but his heart ached for his friend.
When he returned from the bedrooms a few moments later he directed Suzy to go
around the rest of the house and open up all of the
Disaster 119
windows. "We need to remove the death from this house. I'll see if I can find
a shovel to bury the bodies."
Asher made no effort to try to revive Decker. Even if he could rouse him, it
seemed to Asher the most humane thing to do was to allow his colleague to
'sleep' through the dirty tasks which needed doing. Outside, Asher found a
garden shovel and began digging a large hole for the burial of
Elizabeth, Hope, and Louisa Hawthorne. It was not the grave one would have
expected before the
Disaster, but it was better than the mass graves at the edges of the city.
Here at least Decker might someday place a gravestone.
As he was digging, Hank Asher sensed that he was being watched. Turning, he
found a boy in his early teens staring at him from the next yard.
"You buryin' sumbody?" the boy asked, as he jumped the fence and came over to
where Asher was working. The boy's clothes were new but dirty, as though he
hadn't changed or washed in several days.
"Yeah," Asher replied, as he went back to his work.
"I knew 'em, you know. I used to ride bikes with Louisa. I don't guess she'll
be needin' the bike no more." The boy paused for a second in thought and then
continued. "Too bad it's a girl's bike."
Asher continued digging.
"You want some help?" the boy asked.
Asher had already worked up a sweat and the boy's offer was extremely welcome.
"I'll help you dig for ten dollars," the boy added.
Asher was momentarily disgusted by the boy's profiteering. Instead of offering
to help with the burial out of charity or perhaps friendship for Louisa, he
looked at the deaths as a way to make some money. Asher decided it was better
to forget about motives and simply get some help. He
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grabbed the shovel and started digging.
"There's a pick in the shed over there," the boy said.
Asher found the pick and two pairs of work gloves. "Here, put these on," he
said as he walked back to where the boy was digging.
The boy put on the gloves while he rested a moment. Asher went to work with
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the pick.
"They all dead?" the boy asked, as Asher broke up the ground.
"Everybody but Mr. Hawthorne," Asher replied.
120 In His Image
"I didn't know him very good. I remember him some from when I was a kid, but
then he was a hostage in Lebanon. He only got out about a week ago."
Asher continued digging without responding and then stopped and looked up at
the boy. "Are you going to dig or just hold up that shovel?"
The boy acted as though he appreciated the reminder and went back to work on
the hole.
"My dad says it was probably some kinda germ warfare or sumthin' maybe the
Russians or the
Arabs."
"Yeah, well, that's one of the theories, but the Russians and Arabs say it was
us," Asher answered.
"Yeah, I heard that on the news. That's why I figure it was them. Besides, I
heard that only a few thousand Arabs died."
Hank Asher continued digging and the boy continued talking. Every other
sentence or so the boy would throw out a shovelful of dirt, just to keep his
hand in.
When they were finished, Hank Asher was about to pay the boy his ten dollars
but paused with the bill in his hand as he looked at the boy and then down at
himself. The distribution of dirt and sweat left no doubt that the boy had
done less than his share. Hank checked his wallet again and, as a matter of
principle, decided to pay the boy eight dollars instead often.
"Hey, what about my other two bucks?"
"Eight dollars is more than you deserve, for the little bit of work you did."
"Man, what a ripoff! I'm gonna go get my dad. He'll make you pay me." With
that the boy threw down the shovel and stomped off.
Asher rested for a moment and it suddenly occurred to him that he still had to
carry the bodies out and fill the hole back in. "Aw, shit!" he said, realizing
that he had gotten rid of the boy too soon.
Inside the house, Suzy was trying to talk to Decker, but there was no
indication he could hear her. He just stared blankly into space. When she put
food in his mouth he chewed and swallowed, but still he just stared.
After Asher finished the burial he came in and collapsed on the couch across
the living room from
Decker. "Has he said anything?" Asher asked.
Disaster 121
"Not a word. He just stares," Suzy answered. "What are we going to do with
him?"
"He needs to be cared for, but the hospitals are packed like sardine cans. I
don't suppose you'd take him home with you?"
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Suzy looked at Decker and then back at Asher. The desperate look on her face
made it clear that she did not like the idea at all but was afraid of saying
no to her boss. As she struggled to respond, Hank Asher let her sweat it out.
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