Broken Justice

by Ralph Gibbs

“With all those bullets flying around, it was all I could do.” He nodded at her shoulder. “You okay?” She looked down to see blood.

  “Yeah,” she said, raising her sleeve. “Just a flesh wound.” Danica knelt next to Wade. She was about to check for a pulse when his eyes popped open and focused on her. She expected to see anger, but it was something else. Was it shock in the knowledge he was going to die? Disbelief? Relief? As a tiny, almost translucent blood bubble expanded and contracted from the hole in his neck, he continued to gaze silently into her eyes until the bubble contracted for the final time and his eyes glazed over.

  Danica fell against the wall, buried her head in her arms, and cried. This time, there was no doubt she was a killer.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Take this next right,” Ruiz said.

  Danica glanced over at the man who sat in the passenger seat and was ashamed when she couldn’t help but wonder if this was the first time Ruiz had ever ridden in the front seat of a patrol car. As they left the hotel, she studied his tattoos more closely and noticed the gang and prison markings intertwined with those that were decorative in nature. She guessed that if he removed his shirt, his back and chest would be a canvass of cultural, and criminal expression. She’d wondered what gang he was affiliated with: Downtown Boys, Eightballs, Horsemen, Black Crows? No, not the Black Crows. As the name hinted, they were an African American gang and didn’t play well with others and were designated by the Southern Poverty Law Center as a hate group. All four gangs were considered the most notorious in Charlotte and were on top of everyone’s list to dismantle. The previous administration had made it their mission to bring down gangs, but up until the time of the plague, they had failed to make significant progress. A few lieutenants were arrested, but the leaders remained elusive. Did the plague accomplish what the government could not?

  After she recovered from her breakdown, she explained to Ruiz that she needed to find Matthew.

  “He’s fine. He’s with friends.”

  “That would have been nice to know before I confronted Wade.”

  Danica turned as instructed. She recognized the street as a popular upscale area where locals came to eat and browse quaint specialized shops. During the summer months, the street hosted a local Farmer’s Market every Saturday and once a month on a Sunday a day-long art festival that recently added wine tastings and live music sending the local Conservatives into a religious frenzy. But all was settled when officials promised the wine tastings and music wouldn’t start until after church services were over.

  Danica spotted Matthew sitting on a bench by himself in front of a tea and spice shop sipping a can of soda from a swirly straw and swinging his feet beneath him as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Out of habit, Danica pulled in between the two white lines of the angled parking spot.

  As Danica opened the door of the cruiser and stepped out into the hot late-afternoon sun, she saw a dark-haired Latino woman step from the adjacent store drinking a can of soda from her own swirly straw. She was the most beautiful woman Danica had ever laid eyes upon and Danica was too stunned to move. The tall elvish-like Brazilian was in her early twenties and had deep golden-brown skin, grayish-blue eyes, and long glossy black hair that looked eternally wet and twirled down her back. Though she dressed conservatively in loose-fitting jeans and a short-sleeve blood red blouse that covered her ample assets, this woman looked as if she would be comfortable wearing anything and exuded an air of confidence that told Danica she’d be just as conformable wearing nothing at all in the middle of a religious convention.

  When the woman walked toward Matthew, there was grace and pageantry in her movement that made her seem as if she were gliding toward the boy like a friendly spirit. She turned and smiled at Danica, revealing a set of dimples that sent goosebumps down Danica’s spine and turned her knees into jelly.

  “You must be Danica,” the woman said with a soft voice that buttered the air with electrical energy causing Danica to lose her breath.

  “Dany,” Matthew said, standing up quickly and nearly losing his balance. He grabbed the bench for support. Danica was about to rush forward and hug the boy when a man exited the store behind the woman that made her skin crawl. Everything about this man screamed baby-killer. He was built like a boxer, but standing next to the woman, he seemed short and stocky, although, in reality, he was nearly as tall as Danica. Just like Ruiz, this man had prison markings and tattoos that covered every inch of his body that she could see and probably everything she couldn’t. What scared her the most, though, were the face tattoos, which were a combination of tribal art around the top of his forehead reaching to the back of his neck and the semblance of a skull covering his face. Danica instinctively reached for her weapon but stopped just short of removing it from her holster.

  “Peace, little sister,” the woman said, putting her hands in the air. The man with the face tattoos just stood there unflinching with his hands tucked into his pockets. “No one here will harm you.”

  “What’s the matter?” Matthew asked.

  “It’s fine,” Ruiz said getting out of the squad car. “Salustio has that effect on everyone. You can relax. He’s . . . well, I won’t say he’s harmless.”

  “You better not,” Salustio interjected.

  “Because he’s not,” Ruiz continued as he shut the cruiser door. “But he won’t hurt you unless Toscana tells him to, or he gets drunk. He’s like her pet pit bull or something.” Danica flinched. She wasn’t sure if Ruiz should be insulting this man. If he attacked, she didn’t think unloading an entire clip into him would stop the man.

  “I prefer Rottweiler,” Salustio said, nonplussed.

  “It’s fine,” Matthew said. “They’re good people. They helped me.”

  “They’re gang bangers,” Danica said before she could stop herself.

  “We used to be,” Toscana said. Danica removed her hand from her weapon and relaxed. “We were all gang bangers not too long ago. Ruiz was formally a lieutenant in the Eighth Street Warriors, Salustio is formally of the Demented Deacons, and I’m Toscana Guzman, former second in command of the Valkyries. Now there’s not enough of us to defend a block and no one to defend it from. Everyone’s scattered to the four winds, or they’re dead. Mostly dead.”

  “You doing okay, Matthew?” Danica asked. He smiled and gave her a thumbs up. “Wade didn’t hurt you, did he?” At the mention of Wade’s name, Matthew seemed to shrink into himself, and his face went ashen. “It’s okay, Matt, Wade won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  “You killed him?” Matthew asked. Danica lowered her head and gave a slight nod before remembering he couldn’t see her. “He’s dead.”

  “You’re sure?” Matthew asked.

  Seeing her discomfort, Ruiz chimed in and said, “Take my word for it, he’s very dead. Your sister—”

  “She’s my neighbor,” Matthew said.

  “What’s the name of your gang now?” Danica asked.

  Toscana shrugged. “Not sure we are a gang anymore. Not sure I want to be. Still, there would be a feeling of normalcy to it. It would be like nothing was wrong, but we both know that’s not true. Considering your experience with that Wade fellow, maybe getting a gang together isn’t such a bad idea.”

  “He was just one guy,” Danica said.

  “There are more out there like him,” Toscana said. “Two girls we know disappeared a few days back.”

  “Ruiz filled me in,” Danica said. “We checked the rest of the hotel. No one else was there. The way Wade was confessing everything to me, I didn’t get the feeling he was involved in any crime spree other than murder. He actually seemed scared shitless to leave the hotel. He only left because he was hungry, and he only grabbed me because we have a history. I have to admit I’m surprised that it's degenerated this far so quickly.”

  “Remember, little sister, money’s worthless now,” Toscana said. “There’s plenty of food and shelter. People are the endangered species. And of those left, women are go
ing to be the more valuable of the two. As it should be.”

  “That’s just stupid,” Danica responded angrily. “As you said, there’s plenty of stuff out there for the taking. No one will need anything for the foreseeable future. What can you trade anything for? Need a cooking pot? Walk to your dead neighbor’s house and take one. Need a hammer? Go in their garage. That might change in a few years, but right now—”

  “You can’t trade for power,” Toscana said as she sat on the bench. “Power has to be seized, and to seize power; you need people willing to fight for you. And what do sweaty, testosterone-filled men want, little sister?”

  “Women,” Danica said softly.

  Ruiz laughed, and Danica gave him a sharp look. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Ruiz said.

  “Keep talking like that, and I’ll look the other way while she shoots you,” Toscana said, though she smiled when she said it.

  “I’ll help you look for them,” Danica said.

  “Thank you,” Toscana said. “They don’t deserve the life I think they are about to lead. No one does.”

  Danica inwardly shuddered. The chances of finding these girls were small. Charlotte was a big city, and before the plague, there were too many places to hide. Now that the plague emptied the city, the hiding places went up considerably. Their only chance was to use bait and hope the assailants tried again.

  “Matthew said you were headed to the hospital,” Toscana said.

  “I’m not holding out much hope, but I needed to see if I can find my parents,” Danica said.

  Toscana’s grimaced. “Take my word for it; you don’t want to go there,” she said. “By the end, they were lining up bodies in the street. It is not a pretty sight. And the smell is worse. When the wind is blowing just right, you can smell the decomposing bodies from here. Last time I was there, the crows and ravens started their work. If your parents are there, you don’t want to remember them like that. Just turn around and go home.”

  If this were any other day, she probably would have ignored the advice and tried, anyway. She might only have stayed a few minutes, but at least she could say she tried. However, this wasn’t any other day. This was the day Wade knocked her out, told her she killed Donavan and then she killed Wake. Mentally, she was a train wreck, and she needed the familiarity of home to decompress. The fact her head was still pounding from where Wade hit her helped make up her mind.

  “I think I’ll take that advice.”

  “Are you waiting for anyone?” Matthew suddenly asked Toscana.

  “What do you mean?” Toscana asked.

  “Dany is waiting for her mom and dad to come home,” Matthew explained. Danica started to say something but changed her mind. Matthew continued. “My mom is dead. Donavan killed her. I know she’s not coming home.”

  “What about your dad?” Ruiz asked. Matthew shrugged.

  “I barely remember him,” Matthew said softly. “I haven’t seen him in years. I’m not waiting on him.”

  “We’re not waiting on anyone,” Toscana said. “We know where they are, and they are no longer on this Earth.”

  “Then come with us,” Matthew said. “Danica told me if civilization is going to pull itself up, we must come together and form a tribe. You can be part of our tribe.”

  “You’re a tribe now?” Toscana said, almost laughing.

  “We can be,” he answered.

  “There’s room,” Danica said.

  “There’s about eight of us in all,” Toscana said.

  “It’s a big neighborhood,” Danica said. Toscana was silent as she weighed her options. As she looked at the assembled group, an unspoken agreement passed between them.

  “Fine, little sister,” Toscana said. “We’ll need time to gather our things.”

  “We can leave when you’re ready,” Danica said.

  Toscana took Matthew by the hand. “Let’s go see if we can find you some clothes. Those are ripe.”

  CHAPTER 26

  While the small group slept, Paris Ishida stood staring down at the unconscious prisoner, cocking and uncocking the revolver resting against her leg. She lost count of the number of times she talked herself out of killing the man. It would be easy enough. As if to prove how easy, Paris put the muzzle of the pistol next to his head, finger resting lightly on the trigger. Less than two pounds of pressure and his brains would be splattered against the back wall.

  “So, what were you?” Franklin asked softly so as not to startle her.

  “What do you mean?” Paris said purposely not lowering the weapon. She didn’t care if he saw what she was doing. He was no one to her.

  “You look and handle yourself like a professional. What are you, Marshal, CIA, Chinese mob enforcer?”

  For a few more tense moments, Paris stared at the prisoner. “FBI,” she finally said, putting the weapon into her waistband. She turned to face him. “And if I were a mob enforcer, it would be for the Triad.”

  “Come,” Franklin said, getting up slowly. He was still out of shape. “Lets you and I go outside and make sure the area is secure.” He tapped Travis on the leg. “Your turn on watch.” Travis didn’t argue. He grabbed his rifle and began watching out the window.

  Franklin headed back to where he had been methodically going through the storage. With the stuff found so far, he could have furnished an eight-bedroom house, built a playground in the backyard and filled up a two-car garage with a boat and car. However, he found little in the way of practical supplies. The only things he found that would be of use were two sleeping bags, rope, and a few cooking pots. He found a tent, but it was a family five-man tent, too bulky and heavy to be functional. They would be better served to break into houses and sleep there.

  “So,” he said picking up the bolt cutters, “Agent Paris—"

  “Agent Ishida,” Paris said. “My first name is Paris.”

  “Do I need to worry about you, Agent Ishida?”

  “No.”

  Franklin turned to face her and steeled his voice, “Because what I just witnessed and what happened back at the plantation house says otherwise. And just so we’re clear, what happened back at the plantation house will not happen again.” He turned away before she could respond and cut the next lock. He softened his voice. “Look, I understand what you’ve been through.”

  “You don’t understand shit,” she snapped.

  “Sorry, wrong choice of words,” he said, throwing the cut lock away. He opened the unit. Nine bedrooms. “The world’s gone to shit, so I can guess what happened. The question is, can you hold your shit together?” He moved to the next unit.

  “I’ve been trained for this,” Paris said. “They train us to compartmentalize.”

  “Training and doing are two different things. Have you been raped before?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  “No,” she said tartly.

  Franklin looked her in the eyes. “The rest of the girls?”

  “Only Gunilla was spared.”

  “Gunilla?” Franklin asked clipping off another lock.

  “Tall, blond, beautiful, Swedish accent. I’m sure you noticed.”

  “I only meant why was Gunilla spared?”

  “Apparently, she was to be for the leader.”

  Franklin was shocked. “Leader? The world’s still in the process of going to crap, and already there’s a slave rape gang running around large enough to have a functional leader?”

  “His small town was spared. Divine intervention, his followers say. He claims this is the Rapture. The truth is, they’re isolationists. They have very little contact with the outside world. They’re like a crazy version of the Amish who feel it’s their right to go out into the world and multiply by force.” Paris shrugged. “I’d like to say I’ve heard worse, but . . . I really don’t know what the rest of his beliefs are. I wasn’t around long enough to meet him.”

  “And the people in this town believe him?”

  “It’s not really a town. It’s more like a walled compoun
d. And why not? As you said, the world has gone to shit, but they remain untouched. At least for now. To them, they are witness to the Tribulation.”

  “The Tribulation?” Franklin said perplexed.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been to church, but the Tribulation is supposed to be the seven years of trials for people that weren’t taken in the Rapture,” Paris said.

  “Wait, I’m confused I thought in the Rapture, all God’s faithful were taken to heaven in a puff of smoke or something.”

  Paris laughed for the first time since Franklin found them. It was a sweet laugh which seemed to match her dark hair and slight features.

  “It depends on your line of thinking. Some religious leaders believe that a few Christians will remain behind, protected by God, to bear witness to the seven years of trials and the brief rule of the antichrist.”

  “And I take it he believes he’s the leader of one of these groups?” Franklin asked disgustedly.

  “Seems so.”

  “And Travis was one of them?”

  “He was.”

  “You trust him?”

  “Right now, I’m not the trusting type, but I believe he won’t betray us. He helped us escape.”

  “So why are you out here? You from one of the local field offices?”

  “My partner and I are out of the Bowling Green, Kentucky, office,” Paris said. “We got a call to go out to Mammoth Cave and find Dr. Gunilla.”

  “She’s important?”

  “She’s the European CDC director’s daughter,” Paris said as if that explained things. “They were the first ones to identify the plague and give us the warning.”

  “For that, she warrants a personal pick up.”

  “I don’t usually ask questions, but it’s possible the president felt he owed them a favor. More likely, he thinks she can be of use. Besides, she’s a doctor. Something we will be in short supply of for a while. It was supposed to be an easy pickup. Go out to Mammoth Cave, pick her up and return for further instructions.”

  “But it wasn’t.”