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69.
At the Daily Circus, Louise Trost was relieved to see that someone in Congress had adopted the suggestion Louise had quietly made up the chain to resolve the turf battle. Finally, orders had come down from both Washington and Sacramento. Along with the declaration of martial law by the Governor, and the declaration of a disaster area by the President, had come a Pentagon order that all waterways and land within 100 feet of shore were to be under Admiral Malayan's command, while the rest of the City of San Diego fell under General Stark's command. The Mayor of San Diego, working with the Lieutenant Governor who remained in the city, and the Governor, was to manage the civil courts and administrative services as a check and balance on arbitrary power.
As part of the deal, Louise's office was to remain in an advisory and liaison capacity in its primary function as an anti-terrorism apparatus. Louise had successfully put forth the case that this was a most opportune time for terrorists to strike—if in fact they were not behind this catastrophe in the first place.
As Louise quietly sat in, the rest of the meeting was taken up with horrified tales of the new, 'hard' mushroom people, as a reporter for the Los Angeles Times had dubbed them. The other ones, who looked human, were the 'soft' mushroom people. Some of the reporters had begun referring to the invaders as 'morels,' after a type of edible delicacy that was as ugly as it was tasty—like a sponge half-eaten away, whose acne-like cavities were the spore generators rather than gills. Some silly, giggling young female singer had referred to the invaders as 'truffles,' but the deaths and the suffering and the fear quickly banished such ghoulish humor from the media. There was, after all, some modicum of shame among the newserati; and it was beginning to seem that their bad behavior in recent years had been due in large part to boredom. Now that there was a real enemy threatening to demolish mankind, the news organs no longer needed to boost ratings by staging fake debates among vapid and venomous talking bedsores. So much for that, Louise thought.
Louise left the Daily Circus, which was being held on neutral territory on the UCSD campus. Her new emergency office, since downtown was off-limits, was in a room deep in the UCSD Main Library. She locked her office door, made coffee, and started returning long-overdue phone calls. First, she called Shaun Nolan, who had just been released from the hospital. "How are you, Shaun?"
"Stiff, but basically okay and eager to get back to work."
"What happened?"
"I saw the new kind of invaders, the 'hard' type, and panicked. Ran into the street screaming and got hit by a car. At least, that's what I'm told I did. Luckily, I got hit by a police car, and they weren't speeding."
"Will you be at work today? I missed you at the Daily Circus, but I heard you'd had an accident."
"I'm sore around my left hip, but doing fine otherwise. If you saw one of these creatures…"
"I've seen pictures. That's enough for me. Get better quickly—I need your expertise."
"I'll be there tomorrow to offer some more testimony."
"Good."
She called Jack. "How are you, Mr. Simon? Behaving?"
"I'm in the Convention Center looking for Jimmy Mendez and Maribel Walesky."
"You pick a bad time to make jokes."
"I'm serious, Louise. And you sound like a stuffed sea lion."
"Pardon me?"
"You're getting stuffy. Come down to earth."
"Jack, are you effing nuts? Been inhaling that spore stuff?"
"Probably. There are spores all over here."
"Enlighten me. We'll discuss the sea lion thing when you are within reach of my claws."
"I'd love to be in range of your rescuing hands, lady. It's pretty scary here."
"How did you get there?"
"Borrowed an ultralight plane from a friend."
"Jack."
"I'll be okay. I promise."
"Take care of yourself. Call me if there is anything I can do. By the way, if you had to sit through the bullshit I do each morning with those stuffed shirt flag officers, you'd start sounding like a sea lion too. A very stuffy one."
"Remember to let the air out, Louise."
She laughed. "You too, hot shot. Hope you find those children." She got a little misty and added: "In case the mushrooms get you, let me be the first and maybe last person to tell you that you're a hero."
She returned calls from Linsey. "Hi, honey, how are you?"
"Stuck in Mission Valley. I've been trying since yesterday to get from Montgomery Field to 32nd Street."
"That whole area is shut down. If you breathe the spores there they'll kill you. Are you walking?"
"Yes, it's all I can think to do. My department doesn't answer—I guess there is nobody working the harbor these days, so we don't need to exist."
"I have some really scare news for you. You ready?"
"Oh God, now what?"
"Jack borrowed an ultralight plane and flew to the Convention Center to look for those two kids."
"Oh my God. What next?"
"Just thought you should know." She waited in silence, expecting Linsey to start crying.
"Louise, I have a theory."
"Good. So does everyone."
"I'm serious. I need to call Dr. Nolan. I'll call you back."
"Pray for Jack, honey."
"I've prayed years for Jack." Linsey's voice thickened "He'll take care of himself. He'll figure something out."
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