Members of Stormdrain streamed into the living room and sat down. The sweet smell of marijuana wafted in with them. Everyone spoke in low voices, but Di sensed a nervous energy in the room.
She searched the young men for Lawrence, but he wasn’t among them. She wished he would come and hug her before the meeting began. They had become a couple on Halloween—twenty-two days ago. It was Di’s first serious relationship, and she treated each day as an anniversary. Except that since the news of My Lai, Lawrence had become distracted, almost as though something inside him was taking root and growing.
Di got that about him—loved it about him. That he cared so much about these people who lived on the other side of the world. Lawrence had cried when he read that the women had been gang-raped, then mutilated. Some of the mothers had lain over their babies, hoping to protect them, but the soldiers threw their dead bodies aside, then murdered their children, too.
“Just like the Holocaust,” Di had said.
Lawrence had held her hands and replied, “We’ll stop them this time. I promise you, Di. We’ll stop them.”
“What do you think Lawrence will tell us to do?” Linda asked. Her eyes were eerily large, shadowed by mascara smeared by her tears. A few weeks before, her close-cropped blonde hair had looked chic, but now it made her resemble photos of Auschwitz survivors. Or maybe it was Di’s raw emotions in play.
We’re all victims, Di thought. Now, then, forever. Unless we stop them.
She was about to answer Linda when she noticed her friend’s lips open and eyes widen with an almost religious adoration. Di turned to see Lawrence striding toward the front of the room. His face was uncharacteristically flushed, his jaw clenched.
Everyone became quiet as he faced them from the fireplace.
“Thank you for coming, comrades,” he said in such a soft voice that she sensed everyone around her lean toward him.
A shape came into the room and stood in the front corner, just beyond the glow of candles, but Di would know her roommate anywhere, even in shadows.
Lawrence glanced at Gertrude, then continued speaking. But Di only half paid attention. She wondered whether the two of them had just been together. If that was the reason for his flushed cheeks.
“The government has screwed itself this time,” Lawrence was saying. “There’s a movement building, and not just students like us. Ordinary citizens are becoming outraged as the facts come out. The US military is murdering hundreds, maybe thousands, of innocent civilians.”
His words caught hold of Di, causing everything else to flee from her mind.
“Burning to death women, children, people like us, with napalm.” Lawrence’s voice became louder, angrier. “Destroying their villages with air strikes and bombardments.” His nostrils flared. “Murdering for the sake of murder.”
People shifted in their chairs. Di, too. It was impossible to sit still, listening to him.
Lawrence waved his hand at the photos on the walls. “We’ve become a country of baby killers.”
Linda gasped. She was clenching the seat of her chair, as though afraid she might fall.
Lawrence made a fist. “We won’t stand by and take it anymore!”
“We won’t take it anymore!” shouted a new Stormdrain member named Gary. Others joined in, pounding the air with their fists.
“You’ve seen the outcry,” Lawrence said. “A few days ago in Washington, DC, a half million of our comrades marched against these murderers. This isn’t the last we’ll see of protests. Next week, the government will hold a draft lottery to raise its military manpower. To try to send the rest of us into this immoral war. But we’re not going to put up with that.” His voice rose once again.” We’re not going to put up with killing babies in the name of democracy.”
“No more killing!” they shouted.
Linda’s voice was loud in her ear, almost hysterical. “No more killing!”
Lawrence held up his arms to quiet them, his loose white shirt reminding Di of a prophet’s robes.
The shouting continued despite his efforts. “No more killing. No more killing.” People were flailing their arms, standing on chairs, running between the aisles in a frenzy.
Di looked around for her roommate, but she was no longer standing in the corner, and Di couldn’t spot her with all the movement in the room.
“Comrades,” Lawrence said. The flickering candlelight played upon his cleft chin, his hollowed cheeks. “Comrades, we need to plan.”
The noise died down. People returned to their seats or leaned against the walls. All eyes were on Lawrence.
“I feel your rage, comrades,” he said. “I share it.”
Another burst of voices.
He waited until they settled back down, then said, “When we formed Stormdrain, our mission was clear. Peace on American soil. And peace throughout the world.” He held out his hand for quiet, as he continued. “But we’ve learned that to achieve peace, sometimes violence is necessary.”
“Let’s blow the motherfuckers to pieces!” Jeffrey shouted from the back of the room.
Lawrence shook his head. “Not that way.”
“Then what the fuck are we supposed to do?” Steve called out. “Sit on our asses while they keep killing babies?”
“We need to show them we mean business,” Lawrence said, “but we won’t resort to the government’s tactics. That will make us no better than they are.”
Heads nodded in agreement.
“We’re currently working on a plan to destroy certain significant targets,” Lawrence said. “Statues of historical significance. Government property. And property belonging to corporations that support the war industry.”
“Yeah, man,” a voice called out.
Di shifted in her chair, uneasy about what Lawrence was suggesting. People could get hurt. But Lawrence would never take a risk like that. She was sure he knew what he was doing.