Campus Bones (Dead Remaining)

by Vivian Barz

  “Don’t you touch me!” Anne shrieked. “How could you do this to us, you rotten little bitch? This is so like you. You can never do anything for anyone else without expecting a favor in return!”

  Susan was watching the exchange the way she would a tennis match, her head moving back and forth. This is great, she thought. I don’t even need to speak. They’ll just incriminate themselves, arguing the way only two sisters can.

  Now Cindy was angry. “I’ll have you know that your sweet little hubby wasn’t as innocent as you thought! You know what he did? After a few drop-offs, he decided that he wanted to get in on the action. He felt that he should also be getting paid, since he was the one risking his butt.”

  “And rightfully so!” Anne shouted.

  “He also started stealing from their supply—a lot of drugs. It’s probably what got him killed, so . . .”

  Anne gasped as if she’d been slapped. Cindy folded her arms across her chest and glared back at her.

  “Hold on a sec,” Susan said. “What are you talking about, Dov getting himself killed?”

  “I never once asked Marcus what any of the things I was giving him were for, because I didn’t want to know,” Cindy said proudly, as if this somehow absolved her of all responsibility. “But Dov, he was a snoop. All he was supposed to do was take everything I gave him and put it in the birdhouses. Simple directions, right? But he starts peeking. And I guess he saw some things he thought he could make some money on—I don’t know if he was blackmailing them or running errands for them or what. But I think he got greedy, kept asking for more money. My guess is that they got tired of it.”

  Anne stared out the window expressionlessly. She blinked once and murmured, “I didn’t even know the man I was married to.”

  “Who are they, Cindy?” Susan asked.

  “Some environmental group Marcus was in bed with.”

  “DOTE? Defenders of the Earth?”

  “That’s the one,” Cindy said.

  “Anne, I need to ask you a quick question,” Susan said. She snapped her fingers in front of the woman’s face; it was like she’d gone catatonic. “Anne?”

  Anne blinked, her head bobbling loosely on her neck. “Yes?”

  “I need to know why Marcus Zelman paid you ten thousand dollars.”

  “Oh. It was for a set of keys.”

  “Keys? To what?” Though Susan could already guess.

  “He wanted Dov’s key ring from work. The one for the dam.”

  Which would give him complete access to the dam and everything inside it. “When did you give Zelman the keys?”

  “I didn’t . . . it wasn’t Zelman.”

  “Who was it, then? Anne! Listen to me: Who took the keys from you?”

  “Some guy came here this morning and picked them up. He had a funny name, like rat or something.”

  “Rodent?”

  “Yah, that was it,” Anne said, and then she turned her expressionless face back to the window.

  CHAPTER 32

  Eric’s skull felt as if it had been caved in. His vision was blurred, watery.

  No, he began to understand—he was truly surrounded by water.

  Where am I? What happened? He could remember a group of masked individuals.

  His head began to clear, though it was still muddy. He could see now that he was on the walkway at the top of a dam. Jake was sprawled on the ground next to him, no longer tied up but clearly drugged.

  Had he also been drugged?

  No, he didn’t think so. But he’d definitely been hit over the head. Even blinking hurt.

  “Jake,” he whispered. “Jake?”

  Jake pried his eyes open, groaned. They immediately dropped closed again.

  “Jake! Jake?”

  There were two other men on the walkway, he saw. One was middle aged and dressed in a business suit; the other was younger, handsome but crazy eyed. Marcus Zelman and Rodent, he assumed.

  He could feel a weight pressing on his chest, but something told him he dare not touch it. He sat up, blinked to clear his vision, which remained slow and confused. Still, when he looked down at his chest, he had no doubt that he was wearing a bomb.

  CHAPTER 33

  On the way to the dam, Susan placed a call to Howell. She quickly explained her suspicions, and her boss then immediately began to organize a backup team to meet her there. By the time she pulled up at Gruben, Howell, Johnathan, and several other members of the FBI were waiting.

  And it was a good thing, since Susan’s hunch had been right. Off in the distance, she could see movement on the platform of the dam. A few snipers had begun to set up rifles, and Susan asked them for an update. “Looks like we’ve got two perps and two hostages.”

  Susan borrowed a pair of binoculars and let out a cry over what she saw: Rodent angrily pulling Eric to his feet by the vest he was wearing.

  Which was attached to a bomb.

  “Hold your fire!” she screamed. “They’ve got one of the hostages strapped to explosives!” Knowing that they didn’t have the time to wait for a hostage negotiator, she sprinted for the platform, ignoring the shouts of the other FBI agents. “Stand down! Stand down!” they chanted.

  She would face a serious reprimand for this, if she managed to make it out of the situation alive, but she didn’t care. Not when the only man she’d ever truly loved was in real danger of being blown up.

  When she reached the platform, Rodent, brandishing a trigger switch, began shouting. “If you come any closer, I’ll blow us all to smithereens! I’m willing to die for my cause—are you, Special Agent Marlan?”

  Susan was stunned that he knew her name, but then she remembered Zelman, who was standing off to the side of the platform, staring out at the water. He didn’t appear to be a hostage, but he wasn’t exactly coming off as a willing participant either.

  She raised her hands. “It’s okay, Rodent. I’ve only come here to talk. No need to escalate things.”

  “Take out your gun,” he commanded. “Slowly. You do anything stupid and—”

  “I know, you’ll blow us all up. Just take it easy, take it easy.” She really didn’t have a plan, which he probably knew. She wondered what was happening with the SWAT team, if they saw that he was holding a detonator. If Rodent were to be shot, every one of them—and that included Gruben Dam employees and all the residents of Cambridge Downs—would be goners.

  “Throw your gun into the water,” Rodent instructed her.

  Susan did what she was told. It was a horrible feeling, giving up her gun, but she couldn’t see any other choice. She cast a quick glance at Jake and Eric. Jake seemed so out of his mind that he probably wouldn’t remember the incident—if they didn’t die there today, that was. Her boyfriend, though, looked beyond terrified. “How you doing, Eric?”

  “I’ve got a bomb strapped to my chest,” he said, in case she hadn’t noticed.

  “I can see that. Just hang in there, okay?” She was moving closer to him and Jake as she spoke. “Don’t make any sudden movements, all right? Rodent and I are going to have a little chat—”

  “You come any closer, bitch, and I’ll detonate. I swear to God!”

  “Okay, okay.” Susan stopped in her tracks. “I learned some interesting things in the last couple days, Rodent. Would you like to hear?” She continued on as if he’d answered, keeping her hands in the air. “You and your foot soldiers are being used as pawns by Marcus Zelman. He may have been telling you otherwise, but he doesn’t care about the environment.”

  Rodent’s eyes flickered between her and Zelman. “What is she going on about?”

  Zelman turned to face them fully, and for the first time since arriving on the platform, Susan could see that he had a gun. “I have no idea, though I might shoot her just to shut her up.”

  Susan’s pulse thudded in her ears. “Oh, I don’t think you want to shoot a federal agent, Mr. Zelman. Do you see all those snipers down there on the ground? You take a single shot, and I guarantee they’r
e going to open fire. One of their bullets might hit Rodent, and you don’t want that to happen, do you?”

  Zelman hesitated, his bravado deflating before her eyes. She understood then that he’d probably thought that he and Rodent would blow the dam quietly. That they’d toss Jake into the water, tie Eric to the platform, and then leave before anyone was the wiser. It was only once they were at a safe distance that they’d detonate the bomb.

  But then the FBI had to show up and ruin their plans.

  It was only Rodent who was relishing the attention.

  “You don’t want to die, do you, Mr. Zelman?” she asked. “You’re only in it for the money.”

  “What’s she talking about?” Rodent snapped.

  “I have no idea,” he said, turning his gun on Susan.

  Behind her, a voice from a bullhorn rang out. “Drop the weapon, Mr. Zelman!”

  “See, they know who you are,” she said. “You’ll only make things worse if you shoot anyone. And we don’t want that bomb going off, do we?”

  Zelman hesitated. “What do you want me to do? I don’t want them to shoot me!” He was sweating bullets.

  “Drop the weapon! Now!” The bullhorn again, and it was spooking Zelman. He was beginning to shake.

  Susan made a slow gesture with her hand to silence the snipers. They were going to get everyone killed if they didn’t zip it. “Look at me, Mr. Zelman. That’s good. I want you to slowly lower your weapon, turn around, slowly, and toss your gun into the water. Slowly. That’s good, great.”

  Her relief at seeing Zelman relinquish his weapon was short lived. She still had Rodent and his bomb to contend with. “Now, Rodent, I want you to listen to me. You do not want to blow this dam, because you’re going to flood Cambridge Downs and kill all those people, and that’s exactly what Zelman wants you to do.”

  “The lives of a few are but a small sacrifice for the greater good,” he chanted like a credo.

  “But it’s not for the greater good, Rodent. It’s for the good of Zelman’s pocketbook. Listen to me. The land underneath Cambridge Downs contains a rare mineral that’s worth a lot of money—billions of dollars. The only reason Zelman has convinced you to blow this dam is so that you flood the neighborhood. He’s been purchasing properties in Cambridge Downs, but some people don’t want to leave. If you kill everyone there, he’ll be able to buy up the victims’ land and then begin excavating it once the water is cleared. If you do this, you’ll actually be hurting the environment far worse than the dam ever would, because Zelman plans to mine it.”

  “Th-that’s ridiculous,” Zelman sputtered, but his expression was pure guilt.

  “Think about it, Rodent. He had your people kill an environmental engineer, didn’t he? Doing his dirty work is one of the reasons why you’re able to live on his land for free.”

  Rodent didn’t answer, but his expression confirmed she was right.

  “Zelman probably spouted some bullshit, too, about sparing the world from evil engineers, right? But the real reason he wanted Nguygen dead was because he’d hired him to do a survey of Cambridge Downs, and it was then that Nguygen discovered the mineral. Zelman couldn’t risk the secret getting out, so he had your group kill him. I’m sorry, Rodent, but you’ve been played.”

  “She’s lying!” Zelman shouted, cowering away from Rodent, who looked like he was considering ending his life.

  “Ask yourself, Rodent, why he’d be buying up properties in Cambridge Downs if he knew you were going to flood it. There’s no other reason that makes sense than the one I’m telling you, and you know it. So, by saving the dam now, you’ll be turning your vengeance on Zelman, who used your group for his own agenda. He’s the bad guy here, Rodent, not a bunch of poor elderly people in Cambridge Downs who are struggling to get by.”

  Susan didn’t know if Rodent was even listening anymore. He was huffing and puffing like a big bad wolf, and his narrowed gaze was trained on Zelman. Suddenly, he was rushing him. “I’ll kill you for this!” he shrieked, animallike, his eyes devoid of humanity. Spittle sprayed from his mouth. “You deceitful bastard! I’ll kill you!”

  Zelman let out a frightened, pathetic squeal, tripping over his own feet as he scrambled backward. He groaned as he landed hard on his butt; Susan’s own tailbone ached in sympathy. “Stay away from me! Help!” he commanded to no one in particular.

  Rodent waved the detonator in his hand as he and Zelman tumbled about. Susan could see that it was only a matter of time before the bomb would be set off. She quickly ran to Eric and unstrapped the vest from his chest. She rushed to the ledge of the dam and threw it into the water, half expecting it to detonate upon impact.

  She and Eric watched the vest float away in stunned silence.

  Seconds later, the bomb went off. Though the water around the vest swelled up into a minimushroom cloud, the dam remained intact. Moments later, FBI agents were swarming the platform, but Susan and Eric were oblivious, having collapsed in each other’s arms.

  EPILOGUE

  With the sun shining so brightly, Susan, Eric, and Jake decided to meet at Fisherman’s Wharf for steaming clam chowder in bread bowls, a celebrated if not gimmicky specialty in San Francisco that they all equally enjoyed. The area was a bit of a nightmare to navigate—traffic, expensive parking rates, mobs of tourists—thus, they saved Thurston’s Seafood for special occasions. While taking down a terrorist cell certainly counted as one, Eric and Susan had another reason to celebrate.

  The trio sat in contented silence as they dunked crusty sourdough chunks in chowder and watched people from all over the world snapping photos and milling about. For the first time in a very long time, they were content and looking forward to catching up on each other’s lives. They all agreed: it was nice to finally be able to relax.

  Eric shooed away a seagull that was lurking at an empty table nearby and then spooned up a mouthful of steaming bliss. He let out a soft moan. “God, this is good—I don’t particularly love clams or potatoes, but together they’re—”

  “Heavenly,” Susan finished for him, before letting out a contented moan of her own.

  Eric said, “I’m wishing now that I’d ordered two of these.”

  “Me too,” Jake said, and then Eric asked him when the big day was.

  Jake tapped the diamond solitaire sparkling prettily on the ring finger of Susan’s left hand. “Me? I think I should be asking you guys that question.”

  Susan flapped a hand nonchalantly, but she was feeling pure bliss. “We’re in no hurry. We only just got engaged.”

  Eric seconded the statement and brought them back on topic. “So, when do you start?”

  Jake beamed at the couple as he mopped up some chowder with a hunk of sourdough ripped from a bread bowl that was bigger than the plate it sat on. “Got my first class Monday.” He popped the morsel into his mouth, and once he swallowed his bite he told Eric, “I’m not sure if I ever mentioned this, but I really appreciate your blessing on this. You have no idea how long it took me to muster the courage to drop the bombshell about me leaving university.”

  And when he had, his friend had seemed surprisingly unperturbed. It was the push Jake had needed to sign up for the program to become a private investigator. (His parents, while initially far less understanding, ultimately had given Jake their blessing as well.)

  Eric shrugged, shot Susan a wink. “You only get one life, so you’ve got to do what makes you happy.”

  “What do you think the lesson will be about?” Susan asked.

  “I don’t know, but I hope there’s a section on how to properly hide out in the bushes,” Jake joked and wiggled his eyebrows. “While a trick of the trade, I feel that could also be a great general life skill.”

  Susan rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’d keep that one to myself, if I were you.”

  “Well, you’d better not screw up, because I’ve already hired another teacher’s assistant,” Eric said.

  “Please don’t say you replaced me with Nate Boyle. He
’s such a little brownnoser,” Jake said with a groan.

  “’Fraid so. He’s a brownnoser, but a smart one. I’d fire him in an instant, though, if you ever wanted to come back.”

  Jake shook his head. “Nah, I think I’ve found my calling. And how about you, Suze? You still in hot water at the FBI?”

  Susan shrugged. “Guess it depends on who you ask. While their official stance is that I acted recklessly and put the lives of civilians and my fellow agents in danger, Howell personally commended me for my bravery. So, I guess the takeaway is that I’ve been warned not to do anything like that again.”

  “Let’s hope you won’t need to. But I’m glad you did,” Eric said.

  “Me too,” Jake agreed. “Or else you’d be sitting at our funerals now.”

  “And the funerals of other people,” Susan reminded them.

  The full extent of Rodent’s insanity had become apparent during the FBI’s raid of the DOTE compound. The intended explosion at Gruben Dam was only the beginning, and shocking evidence of further premeditated destruction was uncovered; many of the FBI agents on-site said it was the worst they’d ever seen. Ammonium nitrate, acetone, gasoline, gunpowder, and large quantities of pool sanitizer were among some of the large-scale bomb-making supplies discovered. Scrap metal, broken glass, and nails—materials intended to make explosions all the more lethal—were also found. Additionally, there were supplies for pipe bombs, Molotov cocktails, and homemade hand grenades: enough pipes, batteries, fuses, bottles, and timers to fill a medium-size storage container. DOTE had also amassed a sizeable cache of AK-47s and tear gas canisters. An informant who’d traded secrets for immunity later revealed that DOTE had been providing opium to a militia with ties to white supremacy. In exchange, the group members, many with dishonorable discharges from the military, furnished DOTE with weapons they’d procured in the Middle East.

  The informant also revealed Rodent and his Bay Area unit’s grandiose plans for expansion. While there were branches of the organization across the United States, Rodent, unhappy with the passivity of other chapters, had been planning a statewide takeover, though his ultimate goal was to absorb the clubs across fifty states and become the president of DOTE America. A lofty ambition, but his followers wholeheartedly believed it was one he was on his way to achieving.