Chapter 12

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One thing about a pig, he thinks he’s warm if his nose is warm. 

—Senator Joseph McCarthy 

A beam of light from Land’s small but powerful flashlight illuminates the chamber. Land places his hand on a numeric touch pad. He types in the code. The interior tunnel door opens. We gingerly step through into a dimly lit concrete tunnel that stretches as far as we can see. 

Land and I start to walk. Our footsteps echo down the tunnel. “Where are we going?” 

Land picks up the pace. “I’m going to my destiny. You’re just trying to escape.” 

“What is Emergence? Some sort of secret black ops torture center?” 

“Not at first,” Land says. “Our primary mission is supposed to be to repopulate the United States after a nuclear attack or other cataclysmic disaster.” 

“Juice said there are women.” My breathing quickens. Despite being stuck underground, Land is in better shape than me. 

“The tunnel is supposed to connect to a women’s shelter,” he says. 

“So there are seven women, too?” I say. 

“Yes,” Land says. “The men and women living in the shelters are the chosen ones. Every five years, like the men, six white women and one Cherokee woman are chosen for Emergence service.” 

“Quite the melting pot,” I say. 

Land shrugs like he has nothing to do with it. “1950s,” he says in explanation. “It would have been all whites, but the Cherokee Nation got wind of the repopulation program and threatened to raise hell if we weren’t included.” His lips tighten. “That’s what we were told. But I’m not sure of anything anymore.” 

“So that’s our plan? To go to the women?” I say. 

“The women, the Utopia, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know.” 

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m just trying to understand.” 

“Me too.” 

“Do the women torture prisoners?” 

Land scrunches his face like this would be an impossibility. “They do make the Macwacky, but torture—nah, I doubt it.” 

Macwacky. That’s what they injected into Walter. 

Land stops and looks at me. “We never knew about the interrogations until we got here. I never tortured anyone. Only the hard-core guys felt it was their duty to implement the aggressive interrogation techniques. The rest of us were meant to believe it was God’s will, and we didn’t want to mess with our chances of reaching the Utopia Day, so we didn’t interfere with what was going on.” 

“X-ray, Noodles, and Clutch?” I say. 

“Yes. Those three are the interrogators. They believe they’re doing their job. They feel it’s a necessary evil to protect their dream.” 

“The Utopia dream?” 

Land looks uncertain about continuing. He quietly says, 

“Yes. The dream that we will be allowed to live forever in some sort of Utopia.” 

Live forever. Here it is again. “What is this crap about living forever through the government?” 

Land shrugs and starts walking again. 

“Flipper and Beach talked about their home in Utah,” I say. “Did they grow up together?” 

“Yes. All the white men come from the same town in Utah.” 

Happy Utopia Day, Joe McCarthyWhere stories live. Discover now