I knew,” Candace said, as she turned her gaze away from the Square and back to the two men on the bench beside her.
Besides a few guy's from the mill that he would have an occasional drink with, or maybe shoot a game of pool with, Mike was a loner, and he had never married. It was not something he had chosen to be, it was just the way the world was. You really couldn't trust people, he thought, you could never really know what they were like. It was a thing that had bothered him for as long as he could remember.
He had known men who seemed to be perfect fathers and husbands, but when they were at the bar, and the kids were home with the wife, they were completely different. It was something he had always hated, and something he had constantly fought with whenever he had noticed the same sort of inconsistencies in himself. It was a battle though that he had always won, and would continue to fight. It was one of the main things that had decided him against religion when he was a kid, that and his father.
His father had been a strict Catholic, and had fought with Mike's mother to get her to agree to let him take Mike to attend the local Catholic Church. Mike had hated it. His father, who was normally drunken, or at least drinking, would sit calmly through mass with all his other drinking buddies every Sunday, then when he got home it was, “Bring me a fucking cold one, woman.”
He had actually been glad when his father had died, he had never said it aloud, but he had been. He had only wished he had died a lot sooner so that his mother could have had more than the one year she had lived past him, to enjoy life. He pulled his mind reluctantly back to the conversation, when he heard Bob speak his name.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was just thinking.”
“That's okay,” Bob smiled, “we all are.”
Bob continued. “What I think is that the world has changed... That simple. We just need to get on with this different life. I know that's over simplistic, but it beats staying around here waiting for the mother ship to show up. What I was wondering is what you're going to do. Hell, what all of us are going to do now?” He paused as most of the silent crowd that had gravitated to them turned their eyes towards him.
“Maybe it's time to sacrifice an animal... Pray,” an older woman in the crowd said.
Bob continued when no one else answered. “I don't think, or maybe I'm just not convinced,” he offered the woman who had just been speaking a small smile, and then continued, “That praying, or a sacrifice, will do us much good. Maybe what we should be doing is trying to figure out what we should be doing. Catch my drift? We can't just stay here and wait for someone to come, it ain't going to happen, and I think we can all agree on that.” He looked around at the faces that surrounded him, and stopped at Mike's.
Mike nodded.
“Did any of you notice the temperature?” Bob asked.
Several people looked expectantly to one corner of the Public Square, where the Watertown Trust Bank had sat with its digital clock, which alternately flashed the time and temperature. They turned quickly back when they realized it was no longer there.
Many of them had noticed the difference in temperature though. Northern New York, even in the summer months, rarely reached the high seventies, low eighties, on the hottest days. The surrounding air was much hotter and humid.
They looked back at Bob.
“Candace and I noticed it this morning,” Mike said.
“I picked this up when I went in Samson’s Five and Dime earlier,” Bob said, holding up a small plastic thermometer. The red line on the thermometer hovered just short of one hundred degrees.
As he looked at the thermometer, Mike recalled how warm it had seemed this morning. When he had first opened the front door he had felt it, but then forgotten it as he had gazed out into the street. As he looked around now he noticed that several people in the small crowd were sweating profusely.
Besides a few guy's from the mill that he would have an occasional drink with, or maybe shoot a game of pool with, Mike was a loner, and he had never married. It was not something he had chosen to be, it was just the way the world was. You really couldn't trust people, he thought, you could never really know what they were like. It was a thing that had bothered him for as long as he could remember.
He had known men who seemed to be perfect fathers and husbands, but when they were at the bar, and the kids were home with the wife, they were completely different. It was something he had always hated, and something he had constantly fought with whenever he had noticed the same sort of inconsistencies in himself. It was a battle though that he had always won, and would continue to fight. It was one of the main things that had decided him against religion when he was a kid, that and his father.
His father had been a strict Catholic, and had fought with Mike's mother to get her to agree to let him take Mike to attend the local Catholic Church. Mike had hated it. His father, who was normally drunken, or at least drinking, would sit calmly through mass with all his other drinking buddies every Sunday, then when he got home it was, “Bring me a fucking cold one, woman.”
He had actually been glad when his father had died, he had never said it aloud, but he had been. He had only wished he had died a lot sooner so that his mother could have had more than the one year she had lived past him, to enjoy life. He pulled his mind reluctantly back to the conversation, when he heard Bob speak his name.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was just thinking.”
“That's okay,” Bob smiled, “we all are.”
Bob continued. “What I think is that the world has changed... That simple. We just need to get on with this different life. I know that's over simplistic, but it beats staying around here waiting for the mother ship to show up. What I was wondering is what you're going to do. Hell, what all of us are going to do now?” He paused as most of the silent crowd that had gravitated to them turned their eyes towards him.
“Maybe it's time to sacrifice an animal... Pray,” an older woman in the crowd said.
Bob continued when no one else answered. “I don't think, or maybe I'm just not convinced,” he offered the woman who had just been speaking a small smile, and then continued, “That praying, or a sacrifice, will do us much good. Maybe what we should be doing is trying to figure out what we should be doing. Catch my drift? We can't just stay here and wait for someone to come, it ain't going to happen, and I think we can all agree on that.” He looked around at the faces that surrounded him, and stopped at Mike's.
Mike nodded.
“Did any of you notice the temperature?” Bob asked.
Several people looked expectantly to one corner of the Public Square, where the Watertown Trust Bank had sat with its digital clock, which alternately flashed the time and temperature. They turned quickly back when they realized it was no longer there.
Many of them had noticed the difference in temperature though. Northern New York, even in the summer months, rarely reached the high seventies, low eighties, on the hottest days. The surrounding air was much hotter and humid.
They looked back at Bob.
“Candace and I noticed it this morning,” Mike said.
“I picked this up when I went in Samson’s Five and Dime earlier,” Bob said, holding up a small plastic thermometer. The red line on the thermometer hovered just short of one hundred degrees.
As he looked at the thermometer, Mike recalled how warm it had seemed this morning. When he had first opened the front door he had felt it, but then forgotten it as he had gazed out into the street. As he looked around now he noticed that several people in the small crowd were sweating profusely.
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