The Wilted Flower District

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The Wilted Flower District Page 6

by Martin Niewood


  “Why are we here?” I asked as though I had just awoken from a dream. My feet hurt as my sneakers were new and in my haste to shower and dress before mom arrived home, I forgot to wear socks. The floor was disgusting, so I slid my feet out and rested them on top of the offending shoes.

  Turning her attention back to me, she responded, “I’ll be the one asking questions, Ms. Noone.” Using her A2B band, she threw an image in the air of the dead man from the Northern Shore. “If you haven’t been following the news recently then I will tell you that his name is Claude Cole, a twenty years old mortal. A relative nobody, his death shouldn’t have thrown up any red flags, but here we are.”

  Weylin sat up straighter in his chair. “I saw the news reports but what does Mr. Cole’s death have to do with us?”

  Penny smirked, “This seemingly unremarkable man has a fabricated identity, and his true personal information has been sealed at the highest level.”

  “By the High Council?” I involuntarily asked.

  “Yes, the High Council is the highest level,” Penny said, staring at the Preter Academy logo on Weylin’s green tee shirt. “I thought that they taught some version of civics in that expensive school that you and your brother attend. Apparently, the five counselors unanimously agreed to seal this victim’s true identity.”

  I never paid much attention to politics, but I did question the involvement of the three preter and the two mortal counselors who oversaw Fairhaven’s municipal government. I understood why Griffen and the other two preter counselors might want to downplay the incident but why would the mortal counselors go along with them.

  “Am I boring you, Ms. Noone?” Penny asked. Perhaps this next slide will warrant your attention. As I was saying, the method of his death is unusual as he wasn’t just killed; he was massacred.” Sliding to the next image, the autopsy photo appeared. Claude Cole’s skin had been ripped from or even seared off his torso.

  Almost vomiting from the grotesque sight, I turned away. Shaking my head, “I’m sorry, but I don’t seem to be making the connection.”

  Penny shifted towards me in her seat, “Do you know why the laws against preters who commit murder carry such high sentences, sometimes even death? It is because of incidents like this. Preters are violent by nature and have some twisted abilities. No person or creature on the planet could have done that to Mr. Cole except for a preter.”

  Weylin shrugged his shoulders, “Not all preters are violent, and over 30% of the population has preter abilities. I don’t understand why you’re fixated on us.”

  “I’m not fixated on the two of you because you’re preters, but just so we’re clear, that does entitle you to a spot on the suspect list. No, I’ve been watching you closely because of this.” Penny moved to the next image of me leaving the Wilt and heading northeast through University City. Then she started a slide show tracking my movement through both districts culminating in pictures of Weylin and me approaching Woodburn Forest. My heart pulsed faster with each projected image, deathly afraid that she had one of us standing beside the body outside of the cavern, but her final image was of us entering Woodburn Forest just south of the Northern Shore.

  “This is the connection. Two preters go into Woodburn Forest around the time of the death then more curiously don’t return on any streets with cameras. Coincidentally Ms. Noone, your work at the surveillance center has provided you with precise information as to the schedule of satellite video sweeps. Few individuals would have known how to avoid all of the street cameras as well as the satellite sweeps, but you knew, and then you took a completely different route home. Why is that? Maybe you didn’t want to be seen covered in another person’s blood.”

  “But why would we randomly kill another person?” Weylin asked.

  Despite Weylin being the one that asked the question, Penny stared at me. “Most professionals believe that interrogating suspects alone is the best method because you isolate them from other witnesses to try and see if their stories match. On the other hand, I sometimes like to question them together because it’s often the reactions, not the words that tell the story.”

  Penny tapped her foot under the table, “There is one thing that I can’t figure out; Violet, perhaps you can help me understand it. You see I had one of the technicians track your movements for the entire day and something bothered us.” Playing the video, I immediately recognized that it was of me earlier that night searching Welsh Road for Ophelia. Penny played at least fifteen minutes of me walking up and down the street, obviously waiting for someone who never arrived. There were several minutes of me sitting on benches, leaning against trees and looking at my A2B band. Penny didn’t fast forward through any of it nor did she skip a single second. At the end of the video, she added, “It seems like you were searching for someone. We were wondering if you’d be willing to tell us who that was.”

  Staring at her I was uncertain what to say, “We…I mean I was just going for a walk.”

  “At that time of day, two neighborhoods away from your home?” Penny asked. “We don’t have audio, but clearly you’re looking for or waiting for someone? Who?”

  Staring at my hands as though they held the answer, I remained silent for I had no intention of saying anything that might jeopardize Ophelia’s safety.

  “So, you’re not going to admit that you were meeting the person who appeared on the missing sixteen seconds of tape?” Penny demanded.

  I debated if Penny had seen missing seconds of tape or if she was just bluffing. Either way, I was astonished when she turned her attention back to Weylin.

  “And while your sister was taking a walk two neighborhoods away, where were you, Mr. Rose? We have some interesting video of you and your evening travels as well.”

  Weylin stood up gripping the edge of the table, “That’s enough.”

  Undeterred, Penny stood as well, “What were you doing in Woodburn Woods while your sister was ‘just taking a walk on Welsh Road?’ Scoping out the territory or just convincing Deena to delay any planned satellite sweeps of the Northern Shore. I think that we all understand she’s as gullible as she is sweet.”

  I looked up at Penny and then Weylin completely confused. “Deena? What did she have to do with all of this?”

  “This is over,” Weylin shouted, “We’ve been more than helpful, and we don’t have to sit here and take this. Plus, I’m no lawyer but we are both minors, and without parental consent, I’m not sure that you are even allowed to be in here.”

  Penny threw her hands in the air, “We are just having a friendly conversation here. There’s no need to get crazy. We are just trying to do our jobs because we wouldn’t want people to think that we weren’t doing them to the best of our abilities.” Penny said calmly opening the door, “The two of you are free to go but know that I won’t be far behind.”

  Standing up, I realized how angry Weylin must have been when I saw that the heat from his hands had warped the table’s metal frame and melted its vinyl top. As long as he was awake, Weylin usually had incredible self-control over his preter ability, which meant that Penny must have really gotten to him. As we exited the interrogation room, Penny stared straight through me. I worried how quickly she was putting all of the pieces together, but I didn’t think she knew about Ophelia --at least, not yet.

  Moving towards the main lobby, Weylin and I saw a group of people standing in the corner by the door, reading the news feed with the words breaking news running across the screen in red. We joined the group just as the room fell silent.

  The reported, Geoff Allen, began, “It’s been confirmed that a DNA match has been made at the scene of the Griff Glass bombing. However, in a shocking turn of events, the DNA belongs to Claude Cole a story we covered this morning after his body was discovered at Bramy Cave on the beach of the Northern Shore. The authorities are actively investigating his death as a homicide but have declined to make any comments on their findings thus far.”

  Weylin grabbed me by the arm, “We should
go.”

  Glancing over, I saw Penny watching us. Then every cop in the precincts bands started to go off. Penny answered hers and turned away trying to hear over all the commotion. Hurrying towards the door, we rushed outside to the street that was much quieter than usual. The smoke over the Griff Glass building was gone or at least camouflaged by the cloudy night sky. Using his A2B band, Weylin summoned a driverless taxi that pulled up next to us.

  Tapping his arm, “Why is Penny asking you about Deena?”

  “I’ll explain later, but right now we need to get home.”

  “I thought we agreed not to get a taxi so mom wouldn’t know what we were doing.”

  Weylin stared at me, “Did you see what just happened in there. We need mom’s help. This is getting completely out of hand.”

  With that, I spotted mom running towards us. She had tried unsuccessfully to wipe the grime from her face, but the dust and soot from the explosion had turned her hair prematurely grey. Her tan linen suit and white silk blouse were now covered in dirt and the pendant that sparkled in the morning sun all those hours ago now looked more like a charcoal briquette than a faceted diamond.

  I ran up and hugged her, relieved that she had made it back unharmed.

  After hugging both of us, she asked, “What the hell is going on? I received a call from an officer that you were being questioned. The call couldn’t go through because my band couldn’t get a signal and the call went directly to voicemail.”

  Weylin and I glanced at each other, “Mom, there’s something that we need to tell you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When we arrived home, the street was deserted. Closing the driverless taxi door behind her, mom placed her hand beneath Weylin’s collar and forcibly guided him up the steps. Although her face remained calm, I braced myself for the explosion once she learned of my secret meeting with Ophelia, the daughter she had lost four years before. I suspected that mom chose not to discuss the matter in the taxi, as many were equipped with listening or recording devices. However, the second the front door clicked closed, her demeanor changed. She became tense as though preparing to pounce.

  Shaking her head she began in a voice barely above a whisper, “I remained quiet the entire ride home, and now I want to know what the hell is going on.” The grey eyes that usually conveyed warmth and reassurance now darted wildly between Weylin and me. “Didn’t I make myself clear just now?” she asked, gesturing towards us with her hands.

  Weylin looked at me, and I suspected he was about to sell me out. Although able to survive exploding buildings and withstand police interrogations, he was a complete wuss when it came to his mom, “Perhaps you should take this one, Violet.”

  I didn’t know where to begin. Unsure of the best approach, I decided to start at the beginning and slowly work up to the part about the murder. “A few days ago, there was an incident at work. I saw something on the satellite feed, but I wasn’t sure if I should tell anyone. Anyway, I decided to tell Patrick, my boss, but then things spun out of control.” I paused, looked up and saw that mom was becoming more and more agitated. Instinctively, I abandoned my plan to explain the sequence of events of the last few days, sputtering out, “I’m sorry, it’s Ophelia. She’s alive. I saw her on the video feed, and I went looking for her but then we found a dead body, and now the police think we’re murderers.”

  “Wait, wait, wait...” mom paused and took a deep breath, “What are you saying? Ophelia, alive? Murderers? I don’t understand. How could you see Ophelia?”

  For a moment, it felt as though I couldn’t breathe and I knew that my mom was upset. It took me several seconds before I could catch my breath and continue. “Patrick had asked me to reposition some of the satellite cameras. It’s routine; I do it all the time. Anyway, after the programming adjustment, the standard procedure is to go back and check that the angle is correct and that there are no visual obstructions. So, I was checking the new camera angles, and suddenly, Ophelia appeared on the screen as though she stepped out of thin air and then vanished back into it just as quickly. I thought that I had imagined it but I replayed the tape, and I saw her there as plain as day.

  Without mentioning Ophelia’s name, I told my boss what I saw, but nothing came of it. At first, he said that I must have imagined it, but eventually, he promised to look into it. I recognized the street where she appeared, and after leaving work, I decided to go there and search the area to see if I could find her. She wasn’t there, so I gave up and came home. When I arrived here, Ophelia was in my room waiting for me.”

  “You mean to tell me she was in this house?” My mom took a seat on the sofa.

  “Yes but only for a few minutes. She said that she was looking for you. I think that she was in some kind of trouble or something but that’s where things got really bad. She told me that she had to leave but to meet her at 9:00 at Bramy Cave, the tidal cavern on the Northern Shore. She said to make sure that I brought you and Weylin with me. Weylin wasn’t home and I tried to call you several times but your A2B band was on do not disturb and the calls couldn’t go through.”

  Mom glanced down at the band and shook her head, mumbling, “We were submitting a major bid to the High Council that night. Go on.”

  I continued, “Anyway, I was running out of time so I decided to go and meet her alone because I didn’t want to lose her a second time. Luckily, on the way there, I ran into Weylin on the edge of Woodburn Forest and he agreed to go with me. When we reached the cave, Ophelia was nowhere to been seen; instead, we found a dead body.”

  “A body?” mom repeated numbly as she rose from the sofa, paced the length of the room while rubbing her hands together and then just as suddenly resumed her seat. In a tone that appeared as forced as it was controlled, she calmly restated my last words and said, “So, you found a dead body.”

  “Mom, it was awful,” I responded looking over at Weylin who remained silent. “Then yesterday some investigator called Penny interviewed me at work. At first, I thought that it was about my report of ‘an abnormality’ on the tape.” The words were falling out of my mouth too quickly but I couldn’t slow them down, “She said that she reviewed the tape and that sixteen seconds were missing. Then she accused me of altering the tape. Today she came here with two police officers and took Weylin and me to the Wilt police station where she pummeled us with questions about what we were doing in the area of the Northern Shore that night. She said that we were suspects in the murder investigation of Claude Cole.”

  I attempted to put my hand on mom’s shoulder.

  The mixture of concentration and concern on her face was intense as though the gears were churning in her head. Absently, she swatted my hand away, “Did you have anything to do with what happened to that man? Tell me now because I need to know the truth.”

  Weylin physically stepped back as though appalled by the thought, “Mom, of course, we didn’t have anything to do with that. The man was dead when we found him outside that musty cave.”

  Mom stood very still for a minute but it seemed like an eternity. Suddenly she turned and faced me, she asked, “You’re absolutely sure that you saw and spoke with Ophelia?”

  “Yes, mom, I’m absolutely sure,” I responded.

  After closing her eyes for a few seconds and taking a long deep breath, she seemed visibly calmer. Then in a voice that was barely audible, she looked from Weylin to me and said, “Tell me everything again from the beginning and spare no details from that night.”

  Mom listened intently without interruption. It wasn’t until after I had finished that she asked, “When you saw Ophelia was there a light that appeared with her or was it more like she was stepping out of a doorway that wasn’t there.”

  “More like stepping out of a doorway,” I responded.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. But if there was some kind of doorway, I didn’t see it.” I found the question strange and I had no idea what mom was getting at.

  “No, you wouldn’t,
would you?” Mom sat thinking for a few minutes and then suddenly clapped her hands, “We are going to handle this together. I think that everything is going to be okay.” Mom stopped and I could see tears in the corners of her eyes, “I can’t believe that your sister is still alive.” She hid her face in her hands and pulled Weylin down by the shirt to sit next to her on the sofa. Placing her arm around him, she sobbed with soft tears.

  It was obvious that mom loved Ophelia and Weylin very much and I felt terrible that after finding Ophelia, I had lost her that quickly. While mom and Weylin comforted each other, I checked to see if there was any news about the murder or the explosions. Tapping my A2B band, I switched on a news broadcast but the scene I witnessed was frightening. A small group of anti preter rioters had taken to the Downtown District streets causing chaos. They had killed three preters and hung their corpses in close proximity from streetlights.

  The running ticker below the images read, “Breaking news, the anti preter organization known as the Red Knights have claimed responsibility for the Griff Glass bombings. The organization had assumed the name of the Red Knights as a signal of their intent to stop preters from living in Fairhaven. Their homepage claimed that “The Red Knights are a brotherhood who champions the noble quest of ridding Fairhaven of the preter infestation that plagues our city and vows to fight until the streets run crimson with preter blood.” According to the report, the Red Knights indicated that the bombing of Griff Glass was intended to send a firm message to preters, ‘Leave Fairhaven, or face complete annihilation.’ The Knights released a statement claiming, “The preter murder of Claude Cole was a call to action for all mortals. The brotherhood will no longer stand by and let these preters, these unnatural beings, threaten their safety and destroy their way of life.”

  This was strange. The preter mortal war ended a century ago. Shortly thereafter, the preters and mortals joined forces and after successfully fighting off an invasion from across the sea, formed a democratically elected government. Sure, there were a few radicals on both sides but no one paid much attention to them. Preters and mortals attended the same schools, worked together and lived in the same neighborhoods. Hell, these days it wasn’t uncommon for them to marry each other. This made no sense. Although there were mortals who clung to the resentment of ill treatment in the distant past and preters who felt superior to mortals, I had no idea that the level of animosity advocated by the Red Knight brotherhood existed anywhere in Fairhaven.

 

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