A sickening lurch toward Ace was all that I could manage before two sets of iron grips settled around my upper arms. The MP on my left was smirking, but the man on my right looked uncomfortable.

The Major rubbed his chafed wrists absently as he talked to the pointman of this little invasion. Why was he standing free, and I was being restrained by this wall of grey?

Suddenly, I was a little girl again, standing in this square, breathless with the excitement that washed over a crowd of my friends and neighbors. I could almost feel the scuff of my mother’s calloused hand in mine; her other raised in a fist of righteous outrage. Luce was at school, but I wasn’t quite old enough, so I stood with Mama.

Though I felt safe with Mama in the cocoon of the crowd, every now and then Mr. Ahlborn would set down his hand-painted sign in front of us to rest his arm, and I could see the man at the podium—and he scared me.

We had so many people flood in— environmentalists, lobbyists, preachers, and politicians— that I can’t remember this particular man’s name. But the flush of his face as he yelled over the crowd and the tight, rigid fury that held his body seemed to radiate danger.

“Charon! This is our home, this is our land, we live, and we die by that river! These men are choking the life from our soil, draining the health of our kids and our grandparents. They do it all for the unholy dollar, and we are done standing by and letting it happen!” He screamed.

The crowd, built to this fever pitch and melded to his energy, moved with his words. Cheers and curses and frantically waving signs accompanied the call. Moved to do more, to expel more of the fearful energy, Mama let go of my hand to thrust both of hers into the air.

“The ultimate fool’s gold,” he thrust his finger toward the sky above him, “is silver!”

I was frozen in place without the lifeline of my mother’s hand, but my eyes followed the line of his hand to the all too familiar silver haze that hung over Charon. Mama used to call the plant the cloud factory and told us that all the clouds in the world were made there. When I complained that I hated cloudy days, she smiled and said we couldn’t have rain if we didn’t have clouds, and then I could never jump in the puddles I loved so much.

She stopped calling it that when the clouds started to mix with a silver mist that never left. At first, it was so subtle it looked like fog off the river, or harmless overcast. But before long, it carried an eerie otherness that never left, and the town grew uneasy.

Silence followed the man’s impassioned speech, and he wielded it like a damning weapon.

That memory flowed into another in this place. It seemed none of my memories here were comforting.

This time, my mother was gone. Mr. Ahlborn was gone. Skinny Lanier, the boy who sometimes mowed the grass for Mama, was gone.  Twenty people had died in the explosions, and a dozen radicals had been killed since as well. A man from the plant’s corporate office was standing in a thousand-dollar suit in the place where I’d once watched a man yell about the silver fool’s gold. I was much more scared of the well-dressed man than I had ever been of the other.

But Luce was shaking, so I stood taller and pretended I was fearless. I held her hand, standing in for Mama— only nothing would make me let go. I felt her breathing calm next to me. She was nineteen, and I was seventeen, but in our souls, I had always been much older. A little pressure against my fingers gave me her unspoken thanks. I gave her a squeeze and focused on the speech.

The stuffy man hadn’t made any friends up there, droning on about progress and rebuilding and coming back bigger than ever. It had only been a few years since we’d buried the lost pieces of our hearts. No one wanted to build; we just wanted to be left alone. A tenor of hate pulsed through the gathering.

Still, it was a shock when the back of his head blew open against the propped-up curtain behind him. The explosion at the plant had gained some national interest when the environmentalists got involved, so the man’s untimely end was broadcast live to about half a million people.

There was more blood in front of me now. Less commotion. It didn’t broadcast anywhere. A troubled boy was just…dead.

I suppose I didn’t look dangerous because the MP’s had let go of me. I was vaguely aware of Stevens giving a report, gesticulating wildly to another grey suit, but I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from Ace. Time must have slipped by as my mind wandered through the past because when I finally lifted my face, the square was nearly empty. Forcing myself back to reality, I scanned the area. Though it felt like an overwhelming army, there had truly only been 10 or 12 plant police, and they had mostly scattered. A few paced the untidy parking lot we called the square, a few chatted nearby, and two had the grim task of cleanup.

“No, there is no concern there. She’ll be discreet. I am going to give her a debrief and take her home,” Harrison’s voice became clearer as he approached. “If that is okay with you.”

He said it as a question, but his delivery was an FYI. Someone grunted a response, but I was honed in on the patrolling MPs. Todd had been taken into their custody, and I doubted I would ever see him again. I wasn’t numb to that horror, but with so many others at hand, I was working on tucking it in a box so I could function.

The Major took me by surprise when he gripped my arm from behind and pulled me away.

“We need to go right now. Give me your keys,” he muttered next to my ear.

What? I couldn’t go anywhere. This was my town. People were dead.

“Excuse me?” I glared up at him.

“Just move, Eva,” he growled, “Harold called on the walkie.”

My face must have registered my confusion because he sighed and tugged again at my arm with more urgency. Harold was always chattering on the line. I couldn’t fathom why that mattered at all to Harrison. I tried to get my exhausted brain to rub its last two cells together and give me some insight.

Harold called.

Oh god.

Harold wasn’t having a normal day in public works. He was at the river recovering Mr.Thomas. But that should have been done a while ago. So…

“Oh!” I gasped. “He found something else down there?” I asked

He pressed his lips into a hard line, looking around for anyone who might be too close and hear.

“He found a third foot.” He murmured.

The weight of his words sank in, and I mutely dropped my fuzzy keychain into his hand.

He was not a small man, so I had a few minutes to sort my thoughts as he adjusted the seat and mirrors. I was able to speak again when he began to turn out of the square.

“No, the river is right out of here. He will still be down there.” I said.

“I am sure he will, but I have orders to take you home.”

“I am not going home! Turn around right now!” I yelled.

He flinched at the volume of my order.

“Would you chill out for a minute? Jesus,” he wiped a grimy sleeve across his nose that was still bleeding, “I have to take you home…”

“Major, I don’t know how you…”
“Doc,” he cut across me, “We’re certainly on a first-name basis now. Let me finish my sentence, please.”

The word please seemed a strain to keep civil, but there seemed to be more to his thought, so I sat back with my arms crossed.

“They said I have to take you home. They didn’t say how long we had to stay there. They also said to debrief you and forgot to add the gag order part.”

I opened my mouth to speak, and he put up his hand.

“Still talking,”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“They don’t send in someone at my level for a little town issue. They don’t even send my level in for murder. The only reason they would send me in is if they have something they are worried about containing.”

“Wouldn’t someone at your level know what they would want to contain?” I asked.

He heaved a sigh, and I remembered I was supposed to be shutting up, so I gestured for him to continue.

He considered for a moment.

“Yes,” his eyes still cast around as if he were on lookout, “And I was sent in without knowing anything. Which, on its own, might have been a training exercise. But two bodies isn’t training. Two bodies shredded and moved to the river next to the plant office? It’s above my paygrade and very, very bad.”

“I don’t get it. The plant has been closed since the explosions. All that’s there are the MP’s and a few office lackeys.” He raised his eyebrows, and I hastily added “No offense…”

“None taken.” He said flatly, “That is exactly why the missing gag order is about to make my life easier and yours much, much worse.”

My mind was racing, and I was over the whole cryptic bullshit routine, but I wasn’t sure I would want to hear what came next. He seemed to chew on his next words, possibly debating their impact.

“When you get to your house, I want you to call your VP and go ahead and include your sister because she’s going to interfere anyway.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Because in my debrief, I can now tell you that there is a scientific co-op that has been operating out of the plant since before it blew up, and I am fairly certain it is connected to the unfortunate end of Mr. Thomas.”