by wade coleman
After getting into the driver’s seat, he says, “This could have been a lot worse. Two dead and twenty wounded, but the Japanese delegation and Kukan are okay.”
“This is war. Where does the police force stand?”
“The City Council pays the bills. Mayor Clay says there’s no virus, so the police aren’t looking. As for the explosion at the Broadmoor, he says it’s a power struggle.”
He drives me to the hospital, the halls lined with the wounded. I’m sitting with the rest of the people when the news breaks over the television. Japanese press reported the bombing of their delegation. The report says the Japanese delegation escaped unharmed under the protection of the Kukan dragon. Mention was made of the coming west coast plague and the vaccine in the dragon’s claw.
Mayor Clay gets on the TV and categorically states the vaccine is a hoax, and the attack at the Broadmoor was an internal naval power struggle. At 7 PM, Governor Brown declares martial law inside Frisco and shuts down all exits.
A nurse calls me and puts me on a table where an ultrasonic transmitter sweeps over my body. When the doctor arrives, he says I have a permanent hearing loss in the high-frequency range. He says it will make it difficult to understand speech, especially women’s higher-pitched voices.
Around midnight, I’m released and shuffle out the front door, looking for my bike, but I remember…it’s still at the country club, which is about a mile from here. I walk on the sidewalk, too tired to shadow walk. Now I have to get home through hostile territory. I look like a Pureblood. The mob will assume I’m one and them and I’m dead. I could call Detective Coleman and see if he could get me a ride, but someone tried to kill him with the explosion. His near-death escape is going to put a lot of eyes on him, so it’s best we not be seen together.
I guess it’s up to Dad to find me a ride. I get out my phone and try to make a call. After several tries, all I get a recorded message that all circuits are busy. Great, I bet they’re jamming the cell phone towers.
It looks like I’ve going to shadow walk my way out here. I need to get to my bike, eat something and rest.
A car pulls up behind me and rolls down the window. It’s Pam.
“Where you headed?”
I look at her and smile. “I need a ride to my bike…if it’s no trouble.”
“The gates to the Broadmoor are closed, Hermes. I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere.” She pats the passenger seat. “Get in. You can stay with me at my parent’s house.”
She drives us to a two-story house that looks like something out of the movies. Mature shade trees, front lawn sown with Kentucky bluegrass. Glowing rocks that light a path to the front door.
We walk inside. Men and women are in the kitchen talking.
“Not killing me was the biggest mistake they ever made!” Captain Fields yells in the kitchen. He gives me a sideways glance as we head up of the stairs.
Pam sets up the guest room with towels.
Soon after, Pam walks into the room. “Give me your clothes, Hermes.”
My clothes are caked in concrete dust, so I take them off and put them in a basket.
She points. “There’s the shower.”
White dust from my hair runs down the drain while I shower. It looks like milk. After, finishing up, I return to the guest room and lay on the bed, the air cool from a central air conditioner. There’s a knock on the door.
I get under the covers. “Yes?”
Pam walks in and sits in a chair next to me. “I still can’t believe you made it out of there alive.”
“I was wearing armor.”
“Do you always wear armor to social events?”
“These days I do. I never leave home without three layers of protection.”
“My dad is furious. Which is good news for you. Now he has someplace else to vent his anger.”
My head hurts, so I lay down on my side, turning off the light. “Tell your dad to look for a Learjet 35D. They’re going to use it to spray the virus.”
“Do you need anything else before I turn in?”
“Yes, do you have a Sat phone? Get a message to my dad and let him know I’m okay.”
“Of course.” She looks me over. “You’re still in shock.” Pam lays down next to me a, gathers my head in her arms and pulls me to her.
I take a deep breath and let it between her cleavage. Pam smells like rubbing alcohol and it reminds me of mom.
“Did your friends get hurt?”
Pam lets out a sigh and says, “Two people died and, a half dozen are seriously wounded.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It not your fault,” she strokes my hair. “You’re not the one who fired the missile. In fact, you’re the one who saved the day.” Pam uses her fingers to remove a knot from my hair. “My family is seventh generation Navy. There’re a lot of rules about how things get done. Everything is one long boring ritual. You have a knack for breaking up my routine, Hermes.”
* * *
I’m back at Rick's Cafe Americain. Sitting at the bar, I get out my wallet.
“Your money’s no good here, kid,” Bogart says and pours me a drink.
I sip my drink and ask, “So, who’s paying?”
Bogart pours himself a drink and lights a cigarette. Taking a drag, he blows the smoke in the direction of an Asian woman in a red dress. She’s sitting in a booth with several men present. One of them lights her cigarette at the end of her ivory handle. She sees me and nods.
Bogart pours us the second round and lifts his glass. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
We clink glasses. “What did I do?” I ask.
He takes his cigarette out of his mouth and looks at me. “You saved her life,” he says, pointing to the woman in red.
“Oh…I thought the Kukan was a dragon, not a woman,” I say.
“Doesn’t matter who they are or where they’re from, there’s always guys and dolls,” Bogart says and pours me my second. “You treat her like a lady, and she’ll give you wisdom and wealth. Cross her, and she’ll tear your heart out.”
I raise my glass, “Don’t they always?”
Bogart clinks my glass and downs his shot. “Kid, ain’t that the truth.”
* * *
The smell of food rouses me, and I notice my clothes on the chair. Going downstairs, I see Captain Fields is at the table eating breakfast. He glares at me but says nothing. Pam must have calmed him down. A woman with red hair in a bun sits next to the captain, obviously Pam’s mom. She looks at me, sizing me up. I get the impression I’m not very welcome here.
On the stove is a pan with scrambled eggs. Piling them on my plate, I also put two pieces of bread in the toaster. I find a spot at the table far from the Captain.
Pam sits down next to me.
“I talked to your commanding officer,” the captain tells me. “It seems you leave a trail of shit storms wherever you go.”
“Colonel James is not my commanding officer, and as for the shit storm, I didn’t detonate a bomb. That was Jason Baron of Baron Enterprises who is planning on killing ninety percent of the mutant population. Maybe you should be blaming him.”
Pam pets my calf with a furry slipper.
The captain grits his teeth.
“But you’re right about one thing. My actions put your family and others in danger, and for that I’m sorry.”
“Finally, you’re getting it,” Fields says, “Maybe the high explosives jostled those brain cells from their slumber.”
Toast pops up and breaks the tension. Getting up, I fill my cup with real coffee and take my toast back to the table. I cut chunks of butter off a rectangular slab. “Jostled, I like that word, the Hellfire missile jostled me to sleep.”
Pam’s mom laughs, then snorts and quickly covers her mouth. Now I know where Pam gets her laugh.
While the two girls talk, I eat. The butter hits the spot after yesterday’s workout. The caffeine in the coffee kicks in around my third cup. Looking up from breakfast, every
one is staring at me. I check my face to see if I’ve missed something.
“Wouldn’t be easier if you injected the butter directly into your veins?” Pam’s mom asks.
I smile and nod.
The captain stares at me with his arms crossed. I seen that look before. He’s sizing me up. Fields wants to ask me something. But he trying to figure out how to word it, so it doesn’t sound like a favor.
I sip my coffee and stare back. “If you’ve have something to say, then say it.”
Mr. Fields stands up and heads to the backyard. “Walk with me.”
He opens the door, and I follow him outside. The air still has a morning coolness to it.
Under the tree, Captain Fields put his hands behind him. “The Colonel said you’re a competent thief.”
I nod.
“Are you familiar with the Frisco City Tower?”
“Yes, a twenty-story skyscraper where city and county functions are held. I had business there recently.”
“The city council is holding an emergency meeting tonight, and it’s surrounded by protestors. Can you get in?”
“I will need a bike and a way out of here.”
He walks to the door and gets out his phone. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
“You welcome,” I say and watch Fields back stiffen.
“Darling,” Natasha says, “If you’re trying to impress a woman, it’s best not to antagonize the father.”
I close my eyes and nod. “I know, I’m a bitch.”
“Who’s a bitch?” Pam asks. She’s carrying a tray with two glasses of iced tea. She hands me a glass and puts the tray down. We swing on the back porch, and our shoulders touch.
Pam breaks the silence, “I was watching the news. Frisco is divided into territories run by gangs. The Broadmoor is surrounded, the mutants blame the Purebloods for the virus, and they want to take it out on us.”
We swing for a while and we finish our tea. Through the kitchen window, Mr. Fields is talking on the phone.
Pam stands up. “But I’m tired of thinking about it, let’s take a walk.”
Inside, men and women are gathering in the living room. They stop and look as we walk past. Obviously, what they’re planning is none of my business, so I don’t ask. On the way out the door, Pam puts on a hat for her fair skin.
We walk and find rows of quaint shops with covered sidewalks to stroll under. A café which serves coffee and dark chocolate is on the corner, and we order a couple of drinks and sit outside at a table. The shade allows us to people watch, and men and women are moving quickly from place to place, looking worried. Angry mutants are protesting at the gates of the Broadmoor; they blame the Purebloods for the virus.
“I thought the Broadmoor was like the Forbidden City, untouchable by my mutants.”
“What do you think of it now?” Pam asks.
“It’s a nice place to sit with a pretty girl and have coffee.”
She smiles. “I envy you. Your life is so unpretentious.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m seventh generation Navy. I was designed for long life so my children can be just like their fathers and mothers before them. My life comes with many expectations.”
I take a sip of coffee. “I was seven when I realized I rather do what I want than worry about other people expectations.”
She shakes her head and smiles. “In some ways, I envy you.”
I change the subject. “How come you still live at home if you and your father don’t get along?”
“I live on base, but I got stuck here when they closed the gates. Don’t take my father too seriously, he only smiles when he’s in his boat.”
“Yeah, my dad only smiles when he’s holding a gun or made a big score while holding his gun.”
Pam gives me her one-eyed look.
“I did some checking. Do you know that two different teachers described you as “pure evil?”
“It was a Halloween prank that really came together.”
“A Bobcat in a cooler.”
I give her my charming smile. “It was a performance art piece.”
She smiles back and leans closer to me.
I lean in to kiss her, but my speed shocks both of us. A tiny miscalculation and I would have knocked out her tooth. Once the surprise wears off, she kisses me back, then pulls away after a surreal, long, and very pleasant second.
Sitting back in her chair, she gets out her compact and touches up her lipstick, then runs her tongue across her front teeth. “Thank God you didn’t chip my tooth. How would I explain that to Daddy?”
I turn red, “I’m not used to my new nervous system.”
She presses her lips against the napkin and checks herself again in the mirror. The phone rings, and she answers it. We stand up, and Pam wipes the lipstick off my lower lip. “We need to head back.”
Walking past several homes, we watch as families pack cars, young kids on bikes running errands.
“Looks like everyone is getting ready to bug out. Where will you go?” I ask.
“Mutants have already taken over our harbor. Dad says we’re not equipped to hold off an angry mob for any length of time.”
The Fields are loading two cars with personal items. A man with an electric cart leans against the door at the edge of the drive.
Walking over to their car, Mr. Fields is stuffing a duffle bag into the trunk. “Make yourself useful and help me close this.”
I sit on the trunk while the captain pushes it down. I hear it click and get off.
“That’s your ride,” Mr. Fields looks in the direction of the man with the electric cart.
Pam holds my hand, walks me to the cart and kisses me on the cheek.
From behind me, her mom lets out a gasp, and the captain starts clearing his throat, like a croaking frog.
The man with a crew cut drives me to the south side of the Broadmoor. The fifteen-foot high concrete wall that surrounds the subdivision has a bike and walk path for the most of the perimeter. Next to the wall is a metal shed. The man unlocks the door. He moves a riding lawnmower and opens a hatch. Inside is a ladder leading down bolted to the concrete wall.
“On the other side of this tunnel is an elf named Vanyah. She’ll brief you on your mission.”
I head down the ladder about twenty feet underground. The tunnel is four feet wide and six feet tall with LED lights every twenty feet. In ten minutes, I find myself on the other side. I push on the trapdoor above me. An elf with violet eyes and hair looks down.
I climb the ladder. Vanyah closes the trapdoor, and I help her pull a bale of hemp on top of it. Vanyah walks over to a card table near a set of double doors. They stand open to the outside. By the position of the sun, it’s early afternoon.
On a card table is an immersion helmet. Vanyah points to it with a long finger. “Put it on.”
I comply, blinded by a flash of light, and I remove the helmet.
She hands me a key card. “You name is Mike Cassidy. He works in the transportation department. Your implant is changing your face to look like his.
I sit on a hemp bale, “What’s it like out there?”
She hands me a water bottle. “Think Gimme Shelter, by the Rolling Stones.”
I love the song Gimme Shelter, the way Mick’s moody voice balances Mary Clayton’s raw power combined with Keith Richard’s guitar rhythms, bringing it all together beautifully.
Feeling cocky after stealing a kiss from Pam, I say “Natasha, pull up the lyrics and start the song.”
Walking over to Vanyah in my best Mick Jagger swagger, I raise my hands over my head, forming a V and sing, “Oh, a storm is threat’ning my very life today. If I don't get some shelter.” Backing up and lowering my hands, “Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away.”
Vanyah backs up, looks at me surprised, “Your implant is playing the song.” She smiles. “Alright, two can play that game…John, start the music.”
I smile, knowing she’s talking to her implant.
&n
bsp; She clenches her fist and shouts, “War…children, it’s just a shot away. It just a shot away.” She sashays up, slaps my face and sings, “War, children…”
Her slap startles me, and I push her back into a pile of hemp, and she comes to an abrupt stop. Vanyah is stunned. Natasha, startled by the slap, accelerated my speed, and I used a little too much force.
Standing back up, she pulls a knife she has strapped to her calf. Closing in on me, she says, “Rape, murder, it’s just a shot away…” Vanyah lunges and cuts an arc across my chest. But at my accelerated speed, I notice that her swing was calculated to miss by less than an inch. I just stand there and watch the knife swing past.
At the last possible moment, I raise my arm and grab her wrist. Before she reacts, I shove her back into the hemp bales. After pinning Vanya's hands to each side of her head, Natasha slows me down.
Vanyah knees me in the groin, but my spider-silk undergarment stiffens and cushions the blow.
“Fuck you!” she screams at me.
I let go of her hands, and she pokes the knife into my vest.
I sing, “I tell you love, sister, it’s just a kiss away, it’s just a kiss…”
Vanyah stabs the knife into a bale of hay behind her. Ten we tear off each other’s clothes. Pressing her against the hay bales, I devour her. I pull her so close that nothing separates us. Like a man who has crossed a desert, I drink her waters of life.
Into Vanyah I pour my love of Kim, my jealousy of Maggie, and my desire for Pam. And in the background, I feel Natasha’s presence, accepting it all. She has replaced the primitive part of my brain, the medulla, so she’s able to experience primitive emotions like fear, anger, and…sex. There are no secrets I can keep from Natasha, and it makes me feel even more naked and exposed.
Later, we lay on top of toppled hay bales, her head on my stomach and I stroke her violet hair.
“Wow. Are you a werewolf or something? Because if you are one, I’m okay with that.”
“Yeah…that did get a little out of control.”
Vanyah sits up on the bale of hay, looks at me and asks, “Do you have a twitchy Mark five?”
“To say the least,” I sit up, looking for my pants. “What model do you have?”