The Cancellation

...It’s okay, no. I got it. I’ll take it from here, thanks, honey.

*clears throat, ignores the color on the paper towel. *

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the committee, let me start with my most sincerest apologies for my part last evening at my birthday/Halloween 31st Potluck. Truly, whether it’s because it was my home or something specific to you, I’m sorry for the lapses in judgment, in time, our excuse is no excuse, full stop. We’re all on familiar ground, I imagine; it should be the focus of wide-eyed, understanding the unspoken nature of neighborly shared silent shame.”

The seven members left of the San Ferdinand N.W.A. (Neighborly Warriors Alliance of Mercy (me) Medical Center) to attend Sunday’s weekly sat under the hum and brisk air, highlighting the sterile smell. A few light coughs, no eye contact, sunglasses or not. Dennis was about to continue when number seven stumbled in. Gasps sucked in palms, and Dennis guided them to the open seat at the end of the table. Looks shot to Alister and in and with the same quickness, returned to the same, ‘what’s that? Nothing.’ Attitudes with some real estate on whatever wall or table spot that could hold in their isolative eye-lines. Alister took their seat uncomfortably, and Tammy mouthed something to Kim that looked close to ‘can they see us.’ Being at the top of the table gave them the excuse to remain at a respectable distance. Dennis took a deep breath.

“As we prepare to join the work week, our actions have created setbacks, inconveniences for the buses; those drives will need to be repaved; it’s not a debate. Some are going to directly affect the Art festival/block party schedule and will be more stressful given the sudden drop in members, TAMMY, but only half of the booth materials need to be replaced; the other half just need to be found. Let’s focus on the silver linings…lining...? We’ll survive this fallout together. Who called whose ex to crash the party isn’t as important as the festival; plenty are looking forward to this, kids included.”

“I—”

“We are aware, James, you didn’t know the mental status of said thoroughly pre-gamed woman when you acted in Max’s ‘best interest.’ That doesn’t mean we can’t turn this around.”

“Sure, okay. Silence holds.”

“Too soon,”

“Speaking of, BRUCE, since everyone knows you were involved with the release of patients in the psyche ward, the ‘spiked absinthe’ issue makes the two teens that stole that car your problem. You’d think it’s Moonshine, just sniff it, right? The Petersons and who’s left of the Winters will not be returning, so we need to restart the archway build, plans and all, maybe also change the theme. At least enough to think we have a delayed but strict timetable that looks intentional. I’ll leave you to figuring out the new connections for parts. No Hospital funding or community center donations for this, keep in mind, Alister. We’ll use the rest of the day for major trash pick-up in the neighborhood, and thank you for the volunteers, Kim. I must reiterate: we are all liable for everything, so mobs, calls for the police mob are not moments to panic. It’s time to block, defend your head, and if it’s a formal arrest, lawyer first. Have back-ups. We were off hours, so find your own alibi, don’t speak on what you don't know. That reroute, Alister, nice job, but if they realize the loop road and return is actually doing, there is going to be another reason normal life will become impossible.”

“They can’t?” Alister said. The tone made the temperature drop in all the warm bodies, who were cringing and shivering in their chairs.

“Still, a mob is a mob. The helpers will stick to the main cul-de-sac, and we’ll humbly clean everyone’s yards of Roman Candles, cans, bottle rockets, shrapnel, whatever you find. If you see Hazmat suits, move around them.”

“NO one is going to thank us, Dennis. It started at your house. We clean our own mess; the shit will get done. The Clouse’s are missing a garage door, the light at the entry is still blocked…Let’s not take blame for shit we didn’t do.”

“Don’t you think I—If they don’t report us to the HOA and have us voted out, we’ll have to take it, Brenda. Luckily, I know a few of them were getting nasty on my Ring camera, so...”

“So, blackmail…I can’t believe…” Instead of answering the question, Dennis’ wife figured out which device was a phone. Her rant continued, and he scrolled. He’s expected several surprises as he flicked through the hints from his strange, unrecognizable, photogenic self and glanced at a few nodding heads while he scrolled through with awe. What a position to be in, he thought? He cut her off and hit play. Dragging of a heavy rug, anger for the thud that sounded like a bumper being kicked, and then a melon slapping a hard surface. The voice was recognized by Bruce to be the sister of the head of the PTA. Brenda wanted to ignore it, but the sight of new information was beckoning to the curious soul scratching for a hint of the previous night she actively fought to recall, under her huffing and pouting. Her lip quivered, the sound of a trunk lid slamming made her put the phone on its face.

“All of us, to a degree, have a reason to turn ourselves in. While we null this great ethical dilemma, maybe questionless damage control—clean-up is the best strategy we’ve got. Open to suggestions either way.”

“Some light info on who might not throw shit at us based on what they remember? Save them for last?”

“Yes, but only if you keep it casual and apologetic. If social skills aren’t your strong suit, leave it, just clean, Alister. No offense.”

“It’s the facelessness, isn’t it?”

“It’s how you communicate because of your facelessness. Everybody, STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!”

“I understand. It was my spell. Any way I can help.”

“I appreciate you, thanks. I won’t sugarcoat this; we fucked it. The NWA has only been active for five months and has already defeated our own goals. But no one can say we weren’t doing our best and what was asked, until the door crack was found. We don’t have a saving grace here, so call it forced servitude if you want; we’ve been identified already, the best we've got is turn over every source of info we found. We barely understood it, but we have scientists here, I hope. Actions are the best way to make our flimsy attempts to save face be genuine—SHIT! Alister, I’m sorry.”

“It’s an adjustment. You’ll get there. I’m winking.”

“We move with peace, what we know of the ‘Incident’ with dedication to our cause of pushing for a safer community, and we show remorse. We will be stopped, questioned. Don't be too intimidated to admit you don't know. Proximity is not proof; a genetic alteration is not involvement. Don’t engage if you don’t have to. But you are not punching bags to accept hate. We were scared; they didn’t speak English, and everyone had unique reasons to weigh options the way they did let’s lead without judgment. Facts are on our side, but the smugness isn’t us. Plus, if we stay quiet, we won’t have to admit that ninety percent of what we just became the poster children for is beyond our understanding. No matter who broke the Vail—”

“WHOOAA! Sick Party. GO NWA! WHOOAA!” the scream came from the bushes outside the window of the ground-floor break room. The man had risen from the bushes, leaves in his hair, scratches and bruises over his naked body. They gave us the international sign to ‘Rock On,’ double-barreled, and walked proudly through parking lot B, waving at patients as equally off-kilter as day shift staff. Brenda shuddered in a sense of relief that forced out an enthusiastic Hallelujah, then she scrambled for her phone, saying, “I gotta call Valerie—I’ll get started,” as she left.

"We won't tell 'em about the horn," Bruce said.

Out into the world they went to greet the press in a frenzy, arms full of supplies. Military members are roping people to lines to resettle them on the other side of Asheboro. Members, because at the time of the Incident, back-office workers were the only ones in the city limits due to a training exercise. The weapons slung on them weren’t secured as they picked up boxes. You could tell who wasn’t used to the weight of plates in the flack vest. Since the community center was on the line of the wrinkle, changing eras every bright flash, throwing radiation no one could measure, experiencing rewrites in the life time, done before the eyes. The split came with a loss of communication with the rest of the state, the rest of the country, in theory. A white void of vibrational frequencies that makes ears bleed with too much exposure on the park side and leaving southward on the back roads puts you driving through an unseeable track that always has you making a right onto Main Street, having switched places with a version of you that has never been to this small town.

Dennis sighed, remembering by looking down at his tattered workout pants and hoodie. He needed to see if any of his clothes survived the second-floor flooding from the closet we’ve—"Damn it, Kim—” was even remotely savable. She better have gotten rid of that {REDACTED}, or he’ll put the blame where it should. If it can’t be fixed, we’re not going to blend the way our people need.