Haven Days
By William Easley
(December 2019-January 2020)
1-Texts and Letters
Stanford was perhaps the first person to know.
His wristwatch, which monitored his fitness, also had other uses. It vibrated, waking him up, a little before six in the morning. Ford quietly got out of bed and went to his office to check the secured computer.
December, the lead-up to Christmas, was not the best time to receive uncheerful news, and Ford had a feeling about this message. The Agency, tasked with investigating cases that no average person in their right mind would take seriously, had texted him an urgent and triple-encoded report from Station WCI. Always an advocate for taking more precautions than a situation seemed to deserve, Ford first closed and sealed the office door and then did a thorough scan for bugs, not roaches but the electronic-surveillance species.
None found. The connection and the room were safe. Ford sat at the computer, identified himself by fingerprint, voiceprint, and retinal scan and with a feeling of dread broke the code. The next-to-last version read ominously WARNING! DANGEROUS RANSOMEWARE DETECTED! DELETE TEXT AND BREAK THIS COMPUTER'S NETWORK CONNECTION IMMEDIATELY!
The screen went completely haywire, flashes of color on a black background, and then the computer made a screeching, crackling sound, as if its innards were frying. Ford typed in the last, secret key, which changed twice a day and was never the same in any given year. This one, from an obscure play, was "Grant I may never prove so fond, To trust man on his oath or bond."
The computer settled down and displayed the decrypted, teres report:
PRIORITY 1
EYES ONLY
Asia Station reports unfamiliar respiratory outbreak in Area CN-5. Initial PT analysis: 95. Spread estimate: 4-8 weeks. Mark for?
"Oh, no." Resignedly, Ford typed in "Mark for immediate action. Assemble all area directors 1300 UTC."
That meant he would have to be at this same computer at 1:00 PM his time for what would doubtlessly be a fraught remote conference. The Directors had some sense of the contingency, but confronting something unknown would make even them jumpy. Even such stalwarts as Powers and Hazard. But it had to be done.
Ford stood up and checked the time: 6:17 A.M. His legs felt heavy. He left his and Lorena's house without waking her and walked up the hill, through six inches of soft new snow, to his twin Stanley's house. The late-night, early-morning wind touched his face with frigid brushes, and he felt the pepper of flying snowflakes.
His feet ached from the cold. Up at Stan and Sheila's house, only the yard light was on. Instead of going to the front door, Stanford walked around back, slipping a little on the hill. He took his computer phone from his pocket and, shivering violently, punched the speed-dial for Stanley's phone.
A surprised, gravelly voice said, "Yah?"
"Stanley," Ford said, "I'm at your basement door. Please let me in."
In less than ten seconds he heard the door deadbolt and latch bolt both being thrown, the overhead patio light flared on, and Stanley, wearing a heavy bathrobe, opened the door. "Ford, for cryin' out loud, come in! Why didn't you at least put on a coat?"
Ford gave him an apologetic smile and entered the house. "Slipped my mind. You were in your office," he said. "Up early?"
"Nah, not really. These days I generally get up around six. I was on the computer doin' some Mayor business. Come upstairs and have some coffee at least."
"That would be good."
"Jeeze, you came out in the snow wearin' only bedroom slippers?"
"I didn't think. It's . . . what you didn't want to hear."
For a few seconds, Stan gave his twin a blank look. Then he groaned, "Oy!" He pulled off his bathrobe and handed it to Ford. "You're shiverin'. Take this, the heat's come on, I'll be OK."
"The shirt off your back," Ford said as he gratefully pulled on the bathrobe. He had worn only his pajamas and slippers and, he realized now, he was freezing.
"Sheila's still sleeping," Stanley said. "She wants to drive to Portland today for some Christmas shopping." They were in the kitchen now, and Stan loaded up the coffee maker. It immediately started to hiss, dripping hot water into the basket of grounds. "So it's here. Damn," Stan said as he took down two sixteen-ounce Mystery Shack mugs. "You, uh, you want an orange?"
"If you have one."
Stan picked out a navel orange nearly the size of a softball. "Sit, sit," he said. "You like the coffee black, right?"
Ford nodded and sat at the table. Stan put a small plate down for him, and he mechanically began to peel the orange. The thick rind came off easily. "I missed oranges so much when I was lost in the Multiverse," he said. "Odd. Very, very few of the Earthlike dimensions developed citrus fruits. We would have loved these when we were kids. No seeds." He neatly sectioned the orange.
"'Scuse me a minute." Stan went upstairs for less than a minute and then returned holding a ball of fabric. He tossed it to Ford, who fumbled it but picked it up from the floor. "Wool socks," Stan said. "Bet your feet are nearly frostbit."
"Thank you," Ford said, tugging the dry socks on. "That is notably better."
"You're welcome." Stan poured a mug full of coffee and then replaced the carafe in the coffeemaker. "Here ya go, Sixer," he said, setting the mug down. He returned to the counter and popped a bagel into the toaster. "Want one of these?"
"Thank you, Stanley, no. The orange and coffee will suffice." Ford took a tentative small sip. "Good coffee."
"Yeah, we get it from this place in Portland. Guess we'd better stock up on it." He watched his brother eat the orange until his bagel popped up and he poured his own coffee. He added a spoonful of sugar and stirred, then sat down. "Ya gonna tell me or what?"
Ford took another swallow of the hot coffee. "Mr. Blandin's warning," he said. "The Agency's World Center for Intelligence in D.C. reports an unknown, highly contagious respiratory disease has appeared in China. We have issued alerts to mundane national intelligence sources, but they've already warned us they doubt the government will pay attention. The disease has the potential to spread wildly. The chances it will develop into a pandemic are extremely high. The estimate for its transmission to the United States is one or two months. If it shows up and no drastic measures are taken, it will be in every state by April."
Stan brought his coffee and the bagel to the table. He started to munch the bagel, though he had not put cream cheese on it or even buttered it. "I'll call the kids," he said.
"Yes, but tell them to keep it secret even from their relatives until my Agency conference this afternoon. I'll advise them. Meanwhile, I'm going to alert the Agency to initiate Condition Red," Ford said. "Oh, that means—well, the next thing to a quarantine for all offices along with special precautions for field operations. This is going to be bad, Stanley."
"At least we had time to prepare," Stanley replied. "Aw, geeze. I'll hafta get the Council involved and bring 'em on board with the emergency plan. We got like at least a month?"
"I wouldn't push it past New Year's Day," Ford said. He finished the coffee and stood. "Thank you, Stanley, I'd better return home and get to work."
"Don't be nuts, Let me finish my breakfast and drink my coffee. Then I'll get dressed, you can borrow a pair of my shoes and a jacket, and I'll drive you down the hill. Comin' out in twenty-five-degree snowy weather in pajamas, brilliant idea."
"I'm preoccupied," Stanford admitted.
As Stanley stood, Ford suddenly jumped up and hugged him. "Well," Stan said, "this is awkward."
"You're my brother," Ford said, his voice choking. "And you're my best friend."
"Yeah, yeah, so get me somethin' nice for Christmas. Come on, I'll try to get my clothes on and bring you some shoes without wakin' Sheila." He closed his hand into a fist and gently bumped it against Ford's shoulder. In a soft, gruff tone he muttered, "Uh, hey, I love you too, Sixer."
A little later that morning, outside of Crescent City, California, Dipper Pines walked back to the house from the mailbox. The weather there was much milder than in central Oregon. The temperature was in the low forties, with light breezes from the east, and overhead partially cloudy skies. Tripper and Don Coyote, the two family dogs, greeted him as though he had been gone for a month rather than forty seconds. He stooped to pat both of them and called out, "Wen? We've got mail!"
Wendy, who had been packing a trunk for their return to Gravity Falls, came from the bedroom. "Our grades?" she guessed.
"It's two real thick WAU Registrar's Office envelopes," Dipper said. "Not just a grade report."
"Now I got butterflies," she said. She had tied her mane of red hair back and wore a scoop-necked white undershirt and jeans, though she was barefoot. "Let's sit down for this."
They sat at the dining table, and Dipper handed her the envelope addressed to her. She reached and clasped his hand. In a melodramatic voice, she said, "Good luck, dearest husband!"
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Good luck, darling wife!"
Wendy poised with the envelope gripped in both hands. "Ready? One, two, three—go!"
They ripped the envelopes open and took out a folded set of documents maybe a dozen pages long. The first was a form cover letter, except for the salutation the same for each of them:
Dear Mr/Mrs Corduroy-Pines:
The Dean of your College and the President of Western Alliance University take pleasure in notifying you that you have completed all degree requirements for your program.
This file will include (1) a formal summary of your degree, major(s), and total hours and credits awarded; (2) an unofficial transcript of your grades to date, with this term's GPA and your cumulative GPA; (3) a preliminary version of the diploma you will be officially awarded at University's next Convocation, June 6, 2020. Please carefully review this document and notify the Registrar's Office immediately to correct any errors.
Since you have completed your degree requirements early, you may request copies of your official transcript after ( January 15, 2020 ). Please note that your first three official transcripts are free. The fee for each subsequent transcript will be $10.00 for PDF copies or $12.00 for mailed copies. If you need express preparation and delivery service for a transcript, there will be an additional fee of $10.00. Your diploma and graduation fees have already been paid as part of your normal University fees.
You will receive information about the spring Convocation in April. The University Bookstore will begin accepting cap and gown rental orders at that time as well. Please consider joining the Western Alliance University Alumni Association to continue your support of our institution. You may find full details online, along with a schedule of Alumni Association activities and projects.
Finally, and with great pride in your accomplishment, we offer congratulations on attaining your degree!
"We're bachelors!" Wendy crowed.
"Oh, no, Mabel will want us to have another wedding!" Dipper said. "Kiss me, Bachelor of Science Wendy!"
"Gladly, Bachelor of Science Dipper!"
The dogs knew something was up. They danced around the table, furiously wagging their tails.
The young couple read through the rest of the stack. They both carried A averages—no surprise there, they'd been Dean's List students the whole way, even when Dipper overloaded, challenged classes, and took extra online courses just so they both could finish their education early. Wendy's degree certified her for employment in forestry and wildlife management, meaning she could find a position in private industry or in state or federal government. Dipper's double major actually qualified him for two degrees, an A.B. in English (truthfully, he had exempted the maximum number of courses there) and a B.S. in Physical Science.
"Whoo," Wendy said, her face pink. "I feel so happy. But . . . kinda sad, too."
"Same here," Dipper said. "I want to call Mom and Dad, but I'll wait until Mabel gets home this afternoon. She'll be jealous. She still has like four classes to go in the spring term."
"Yeah, but she's arranged to take those online," Wendy said. "You know, man, most of all I'm gonna miss living here. This has been such a great home."
"I'm pretty sure Stan and Ford will let us stay here any time up until they re-sell it."
"It's been wonderful, though," Wendy said. "Nice and quiet. Comfortable, roomy. The fruit trees. The nut trees. Big old yard, lots of hiking room, great big . . . bed! So many memories." She sighed. "But we did it! We're all but graduated. What do you want to do to celebrate?"
"Got any ideas?"
Wendy gave him her crooked grin. "Let the dogs out in the back yard and go to bed?"
"We're not even holding hands, and you read my mind."
They did let the dogs outside, but wouldn't you know it, just as they got to the bedroom and got comfortable, Dipper's phone went off. Grunkle Stan's ring tone.
"Hi," he said. "Oh, good, good. We just got our notification that Wendy and I are all set for graduation. Hey, we're both honor students, too! . . . Thanks, we're planning to come back to the Falls on Wednesday . . . what?" He listened, his expression becoming serious. Wendy watched anxiously but gave him privacy by not touching him to read his thoughts. At last Dipper sighed. "Oh . . . yeah. I remember that. Oh, no. . .. I understand. . .. Yes, I'll tell Mabel. Her last exam's today. . . .. That's OK, better to know. What? I'm sorry, a little louder, please. Heh. We love you too, Grunkle Stan, and thanks for . . . everything. See you Wednesday."
"What's wrong?" Wendy asked as Dipper set his phone down on the bedside table.
He took her hand. –Blendin Blandin warned us. There's a pandemic coming, a real bad one. Maybe millions of people won't survive it. And it's gonna be super contagious. That's why we had to rush to get all our coursework done.
Oh, no. Do we—how much time do we have?
—Stan says four weeks, maybe eight. So once we get to Gravity Falls, we stay put.
Quarantine? And how long will that be?
—Nobody knows. Time travel rules, I guess. I mean, Blendin must know, but to protect the timeline or whatever, he's not telling. Not allowed to tell. I'm guessing we'll have to stay in the Falls for a long stretch. Could be months.
We'll tough it out.
—Right. We're flippin' Corduroy-Pines! Dipper could read Wendy's feelings as well as her thoughts, and he sensed a heavy tension in her.
Dip, what about your mom and dad? What about Billy Sheaffer?
—Don't know. We'll talk about that with Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford, and maybe somehow we can help protect them. All I know right now is what I told you. And that no matter what, I love you more than anyone in the whole world.
They were lying in bed and had already taken off their clothing. She rested her cheek on his chest, and he felt a trickle of tears, warm and then cold.
Dipper, I'm not really all that sad. I'm kind of, you know—tears of joy, too. We met the goal we set, and we'll get through whatever's coming . Yeah, we'll face it together. Kiss me.
They did make love, but it was with a strange kind of joy, tinged a little with sadness. Still, their celebration felt slow and full of love and sweetness.
No fireworks, but it brought on a lingering glow. For a while, neither of them spoke aloud, but in their own way they had already said everything to each other.