The E! news van had
reproduced.
There were satellite trucks
for three local network affiliates parked alongside the road, one with the
satellite array dispatched up towards the sky. In addition to cars and
trucks and a few more vans, one lonely county sheriff’s car was parked on the
same side of the road as the other vehicles, the north side, opposite our
driveway.
It wasn’t like there
were hundreds of people in the middle of the road. There were a couple
dozen, and once you separated the regular people from the crews it wasn’t all
that an impressive showing. The thing of it was that there ordinarily
weren’t any people in the middle of East Jennings Road. The most feet
that ever trod upon it was when a farmer might be moving cattle from field to
field and used the road as a shortcut for just a bit.
A couple of signs were held
up. The ubiquitous reference to the book of John, another regarding the
Apocalypse, and then the newly familiar one, calling for remembering Kip
Arnett.
Ruth Arnett stood back from the
crowd, well off the road, stationed on the incline on the field belonging to
Skinny Arbogast. A few lawn chairs and
backpacks belonging to others sat on the field, too.
The school bus braked to a full
stop.
I was already standing
right behind Pat’s seat.
No one made a beeline for
the bus. It would only take one person though. All that held them back was a single solitary
deputy.
“You might want to look out,”
drawled Pat. He pointed at the various reporters and their
cameramen. “They look like they’ve been salivating a while.”
And...the initial Lucid cover sketch courtesy Jenny Dayton.
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