Don and Rodney took a seat on a log about ten feet from the bonfire, the flames rising and crackling toward the sky. And that was to say nothing of the sky itself: stars in only half the sky. The other half was pure black, as if those stars had all been swallowed up. Or, that something was so close that it blocked the light from ever reaching them.
Pantomime had disappeared after making sure they were settled in, reappearing a few minutes later carrying two bowls filled with chili. She gave them each a bowl and pulled two plastic spoons out of a pocket on her skirt. Rodney made a face as he took the spoon from her, but otherwise didn’t react.
She sat down next to them, stretching her long legs out toward the fire. Her toes dug into the coarse grass of the field. Across from them, people sat or stood in small groups, laughing and chatting away. On the other side of the fire, two women slow danced, their heads on each other’s shoulders.
“So,” Pantomime said as Don and Rodney dug into their food. “How’s it going?”
Don stopped, his spoon halfway to his mouth. “It’s… going?”
She nodded as if that was the answer she expected. “That’s fair. And probably as best an answer as any of us can hope for.”
Rodney snorted into his chili. Pantomime either didn’t hear him or ignored him.
“We’re going to Canada,” she said. “Came up from Houston.” She shook her head. “Had to get out of the city while we still could.Military were in the streets, telling everyone to stay at home, to stay off the roads.” She looked at them with eyes reflecting the firelight. “A lot of people refused, so they were shot and killed.”
“Jesus Christ,” Don muttered.
“It’s happening all over,” she said. “I don’t know why anyone expected anything different. You tell people that nothing can save them, and what do you think is going to happen? For them to just lie there and take it? For them to say, oh, well, we had a good run? That’s not how humans work.”
“And how do they work?” Rodney asked, his tone sardonic.
Pantomime laughed. “We’re animals. All of us. Take away the sense of societal normalcy, and everyone turns at least a little bit feral.”
“Did you?” Don asked.
“Can’t turn into something I already was.” She shrugged. “I’ve accepted who and what I am. It took me a long time, and now, with everything… I might as well be the real me while I still have the chance.”
“Why does it take the end of the world to be you?” Rodney asked.
“Why are you going to Washington now?” she countered, neat as you please. “Why not last month, last year?”
Rodney glared down at his chili.
“Did I upset him?” she whispered in Don’s ear.
“Yes,” Don said. “But he’s always a little upset.”
Pantomime laughed. “Aren’t we all? It’s strange, really. How different we all are. And yet, it’s universal. Things like anger. Grief. Happiness. Maybe the causes aren’t quite the same, but we all know what it feels like to laugh. To cry. To rage. Have you accepted the truth?” She plucked at the flower crown on Don’s head.
“What truth?” he asked.
“That we’re all in this moment together. We’re all going the same way. It doesn’t matter what color you are. Your background. Your beliefs. Your heritage. Who you love. Everyone, right now, is all the same. There’s something beautiful about that.”
“So,” Rodney said, “those people who were shot. Those people who died. That’s beautiful?”
“Of course not,” Pantomime said. She didn’t seem offended. “That’s horror. That’s ugly. But then that’s also humanity, isn’t it? Look at us, in the middle of nowhere. We’re celebrating the fact that we’re here. Right now, in this moment, we’re alive. Some would want to take that from us without a second thought. Because they’re following orders or because they have malice in their hearts and the permission to act on it. It’s the duality of humanity. One side, capable of great love, the other, great harm. There’s nothing like us anywhere.” She perked up when a new song—the B-52s and “Love Shack”—began to spill from the speakers. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere!” She stood and practically floated toward the fire. A man wrapped his arms around her shoulders as they both started to sing at the top of their lungs.
“What have you gotten us into?” Rodney asked.
“I notice you finished all the food they provided.”
“It wasn’t bad,” Rodney muttered. “Not spicy enough.”
“Yes, I’m sure we can let the chef know. I bet he’ll comp the meal.”
“Please do. And no corn bread? I want to speak to the manager. Youmusthave corn bread with chili.”
“I’ll get right on that.”