Home, Suite, Home
This is Chapter 9 of The Inheritance, a serial fiction novel on FITK
Friday evening, July 10, 2020, Seattle
In the back seat of the taxi Sean and Mary (with Mareka sitting between them) were talking.
“Could you get a room at the hotel?” asked Mary.
“Yes, Motif had plenty of rooms; a suite was available,” said Sean, “I reserved it for three nights, just in case.”
“Why are we going to a hotel?” said Mareka, “I thought we were going home.”
“There seems to be a disturbance… some kind of demonstration in front of our apartment building,” said Sean, “We thought it would be better to stay out of the way, at least until tomorrow. The hotel is nice, and there is a rooftop garden with games and things to do.”
“It’s only a couple of blocks from our building, we should be able to see it from the hotel,” said Mary, “I’m sure the demonstration will blow over soon and then we can go home.”
Mareka sat quietly for a few minutes, thinking over this change of plans, and then spoke up:
“This has something to do with the powers, doesn’t it?”
Mary put her index finger to her lips and pointed to the cab driver. Mareka knew from past experience that the powers were not to be spoken of in public. She gave a short nod of understanding and nestled into her mother’s side.
Outside of Mary and Sean’s apartment building the crowd had grown, and a half-dozen police officers were attempting to clear the sidewalk in front of the entrance. The police captain was talking to the KWAH television crew director in the mobile.
“Tell me why you shouldn’t be charged with inciting a riot,” said the captain, “There is no news here.”
“Honestly officer, we didn’t intend for this to be this big,” said the director, “We were just intending to do a human interest story, but most of these people came here in response to a sermon and tweets by some crackpot preacher in Arizona.”
The deadpan demeanor displayed by the director disguised his delight due to the developing demonstration. He had already gotten some great footage of the rabid crowd and, while the original story about the seven-year old heiress was cute, the wanna-be ‘witch burners’ were media dynamite.
“If you’ll excuse us, officer, we are about to go live, after that we’ll wrap this up as quickly as possible,” said the director, Robert Miller, as he turned to his console, “Camera one: stay wide, camera two: zero in on protesters, we’re on the air.”
“Burn the witch! Burn the witch! Burn the witch!” came the chant from the crowd.
In the master bedroom of the penthouse suite, Sean and Mary were unpacking as Mareka peered out of the window at the streets below. In front of their apartment building, she could see the people, police cars and television equipment that were in front of its entrance.
“Mother, what’s going on down there,” said Mareka, “Why can’t we go home?”
“It looks like some kind of protest, it it’s bigger than I thought,” said her mother, “I don’t think it is safe, sometimes a crowd like that attracts bad people—people who want to fight, or to steal things. That is why we are here, to be safe. It will be over by tomorrow.”
“Is Jo OK?” asked the girl, “Can she get to her apartment?”
“I think so,” said Sean, “If not, she can stay with us. She was across the street from our building when I talked to her from the airport. I’ll call her and see what is happening now.”
Sean called Jo, but she didn’t pick up. He texted her and waited but didn’t receive a reply. “I’m going down there to see if she is all right,” he said.
“There’s something happening down there!” said Mareka, pointing down at the flashing lights in the street below.
Back in front of the apartment building the television crew had just shut down the feed and was preparing to break down their gear and leave when a cry of ‘Fire!’ was heard and the director began yelling into his headset: “Everyone power up! Lenny! Turn on the live feed again. All cameras live… ”
Flames had begun shooting up from the trash receptacles along the sidewalk. As the television lights flared up a loud bang was heard and the lights went dark. The television remote truck began emitting smoke from the cowling that covered its generator. The crowd, still shouting ‘Burn the witch’, had surged toward the entrance of the building, overwhelming the police officers who had been guarding it. The crush of people against the outward-opening doors prevented them from opening.
“Attention! Leave the area at once or be subject to arrest,” said the police captain to the surging crowd, “Clear the area, this is your final warning!”
What the captain couldn’t accomplish with his bull horn, a series of rapid-fire explosions that followed his announcement cleared the crowd, with some people knocked to the ground in their flight from the entrance. Almost simultaneously the sounds of sirens and the honks of police and fire vehicles began echoing in the canyon between the surrounding high-rises. A cloud of pepper spray drifted from the policeA building fire alarm began to ring, then another joined in, followed by a third and fourth. The flashing lights of the police cars made the scene look as if it were a light show for a rock concert.
Across the street, standing on a bus stop bench, Jo was filming the scene with her phone.
Sean had just arrived on the scene and when he spotted her he began making his way towards her. He was blocked by a phalanx of policemen in riot gear so Sean allowed himself to be swept up by the fleeing crowd as the cops began swinging their batons. Circling around behind the bus top, he managed to work his way up to where Jo was standing.
“Jo, Jo, let’s get out of here,” Sean shouted as he grabbed her, “This way… ”
“Ah… ” gasped Jo, rocked by the biggest explosion yet, causing her to fall into Sean’s arms, “Welcome home,” she said, with a smile.
Sean and Jo managed to get back to the hotel by making a backtrack a block away from the riot scene. There were security guards at the hotel door checking the people who entered. Sean told him his name, room number and showed them his key card.
“Sorry sir, we’re doing this in light of the disturbance outside, for your protection,” said the guard as he consulted a printout, “There are four in your party, two nights, is that correct?”
“Of course, thank you, It is appreciated,” said Sean, “My wife and daughter are already in the room; this is Jo, our daughter’s nanny. Please keep the list private, thank you.”
“The security of our guests is paramount,” said the guard, “Your privacy is assured. Just a heads up—we’re posting guards at the door at least through tomorrow night, you will have to check in with us again if you do go out.”
“We’re in for the night, thank you.”
As Jo and Sean waited for the elevator there was a woman next to them looking at her iPhone.
Next chapter: Rock of Ages
