“Daddy says he was looking for a bear,” May said, without, it seemed, much conviction. “It just, it just doesn’t seem possible.”
Timmy Wickens slid an arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “Honey, why don’t you go help Mom with dinner.”
She turned obediently and sleepwalked her way to the kitchen, Charlene following her.
“She’s very upset,” Timmy said, once the women were out of earshot.
“I can imagine,” said Dad.
I was about to sit down on the couch for a second time when another man, the one Timmy had referred to as Dougie the day before, strode into the room with a young boy.
“Well, now you can meet everyone,” Timmy said. “Charlene’s son Dougie, and May is my daughter, and this here is my grandson Jeffrey, May’s boy.”
Dougie nodded and continued on to the kitchen, but Jeffrey approached with his arm extended. He was holding, in his left hand, a TIE fighter, a model spaceship with two hexagonal wings connected to a round pod, from the Star Wars movies.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, shaking my hand and then Dad’s.
He was a handsome young boy, shiny blond hair swept to one side, a look of innocence in his eyes.
“Hello,” I said. “Nice TIE fighter. You got an Imperial soldier inside the cockpit there?”
Jeffrey brightened. Imagine an adult knowing such a thing. “Wow. No, I haven’t got one of those yet. You like Star Wars?”
“I love Star Wars,” I said. “I love all sorts of science fiction. I’ve even written a few science fiction books.”
“No kidding? Were they made into movies?”
“No,” I said.
“But they were optioned, at least, weren’t they, son?” Dad asked.
“No, Dad, none of them were optioned.” To Jeffrey, I said, “My whole office at home is filled with sci-fi toys. Star Trek, Lost in Space, all kinds of stuff. I’ve never really grown up.”
Jeffrey giggled at that. “I haven’t seen you around very much,” he said. He nodded toward my dad. “I’ve seen Mr. Walker down by the cabins, but not you. Are you renting a cabin?”
“I’m borrowing one. I’m Zack Walker. That’s my dad.”
Jeffrey nodded, then frowned. “I guess you heard about Morton.”
“Yes,” I said. “We have.”
“He was looking for a bear and it killed him. That’s what happened.” He said it with conviction.
“How old are you, Jeffrey?” I asked.
“I’m ten,” he said. “I don’t go to school. I learn right here at home. My mom teaches me, and Grandpa helps prepare lessons for me.”
“Isn’t that great,” I said.
Jeffrey said he had to go and ran off after Dougie. Timmy smiled proudly as I sat down on the couch. “He’s a great kid.”
“Who’s that?” Dad said, pointing to the McVeigh portrait. Jesus, Dad, don’t go there, I thought.
Timmy smiled reverently. “That’s Timothy McVeigh, a famous fighter for freedom. You must have heard of him.”
Dad, who’s never been quite as plugged into the news as I, might not have recognized the picture, but he had no trouble with the name. “Christ, he’s the one blew up that building, isn’t he?”
Timmy shook his head sadly. “That’s what they’d have you believe, but there are a lot of interesting questions about that day. Did you know that?”
We shook our heads.
“Well, one big question is, why did some federal employees who did FBI work not come to the Alfred P. Murrah Building that day? Huh? Did you know that a lot of them didn’t report for work? Pretended to be sick? Do you know why? It’s because they knew something was going to happen, that’s why.”
I leaned forward on the couch. This was not something I’d heard before. “What are you getting at, Timmy?”
“What I’m saying is, they had to have been tipped off by the military. You see, the amount of damage done to the building could never have been accomplished with the kind of bomb they say Mr. McVeigh had in that cube van. Absolutely impossible. Had to be something much bigger, something that detonated either instead of, or in addition to, that rental truck.”
“I’m a bit confused,” I said. “You’re saying the military, the U.S. government, knew the bombing was going to happen, and got some of its people out of there, but let the rest die?”
“They didn’t just know about the bombing,” he said, and paused. “They’re the ones that did it.”
I was speechless for a few seconds. “The government bombed its own people?”
“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Wickens said, as if sharing in my astonishment. “There are a lot of parallels between that event and what happened at the Twin Towers. You know how they pancaked down, one floor collapsing on top of another?”
The unforgettable images flashed in my mind. “Yeah,” I said.
“That was because there were already bombs in the buildings. That’s how they came down so perfectly, like when those demolition experts go in and drop a building, you know.”
I paused. “You noticed those two planes, right?”