One Year After: A Novel by William R. Forstchen Read Free Book Online Page A

friendly enough smile as the man approached, hand extended, which John took, and there was a firm enough handshake. Dale stood half a foot shorter than John, light, sandy hair worn a bit long and combed across his forehead to cover the fact that his hairline was receding. He was wearing a blue jacket, standard light-blue shirt, and red tie, the way most professionals dressed before everything had gone down. John didn’t know if the man’s clothes were setting him off or if they were actually a touch of reassurance that somehow, in some ways, things were coming back to normal. It made John awkwardly aware of his own well-worn dress shirt, collar frayed and permanently darkened from sweat, his jeans and hiking boots both a bit the worse for wear, as well.
    Dale’s face was round, again a strange sight in a way for the survivors of what they now called the starving times, which had left a permanent mark on all who had survived it. Perhaps the only positive thing that could be said of those days was that the American slide into near universal obesity had finally come to a stop. Something else caught John’s attention. The man was freshly showered and shaved, a fact that made John feel suddenly out of place.
    Dale’s pale gray eyes darted to Makala. His smile broadened slightly, and he offered his hand, which Makala took firmly, introducing herself.
    “I assume this is Mrs. Matherson. My assistant told me you were coming.”
    “It’s Makala Turner Matherson,” she replied, her smile as broad as his. “Director of public health and safety for our community. And I assume you are Dale Fredericks.”
    There was a slight flicker of a frown from Dale, and then he regained instant composure over his faux pas. “Oh, sorry; I did not properly introduce myself. Yes, I am Dale Fredericks.”
    She gave a sidelong glance to John as if nudging him. Though he felt comfortable with all of the aspects of his jobs as a colonel, a college professor, and the one who took on the role of near dictator operating under martial law during the darkest days of the crisis, there were nuances of the games of diplomacy at which he knew Makala was superior, and he caught it now as if she were saying, Don’t let the fact that the guy is clean and well dressed put us off.
    “If my administrative assistant had clearly understood who was calling, she most certainly would have scheduled you in. Please accept my apologies for the confusion. Let’s go into my office and see what I can do for you.”
    He led the way, graciously helping Makala to take a seat and offering water, which both Makala and John accepted. To John’s utter disbelief, the water was freezing cold.
    “Oh, that?” Dale replied with a chuckle. “Indeed a luxury, I realize. We have an old-fashioned water cooler. I know it’s a bit of an excess, but on some of these hot days, it means a lot for staff morale.”
    “Did I feel air-conditioning when we came in?” Makala asked innocently. “It really did feel wonderful.”
    “We turn it on for a few minutes each day,” Dale said.
    “Oh, how wonderful,” Makala whispered, and then she set her glass down after only one sip.
    There was a moment of nervous silence, and Dale cleared his throat, pale eyes fixed on John. “I think I can guess why you came here today, but why don’t you open the discussion? But I have to warn you, I’m really tied up today, so we’ll have to keep it fairly short for now.”
    John pulled Elizabeth’s draft notice out of his pocket and put it on the table. Before he could speak, Dale leaned over, took it, and held it up.
    “Your daughter?” he asked.
    “For starters, yes.”
    Dale smiled disarmingly. “Well, in that case, I know I can work an arrangement for you. We’ll figure out some sort of deferment.”
    John now actually did sit up straighter, and Makala gently reached over and put a light restraining hand on his arm.
    “I didn’t come here to just plead for my daughter, sir.”
    Dale’s