Angel City

by Jon Steele

  She looked back at him. He was slouched in his high chair, making smacking noises with his mouth as he drank the juice. His little feet, still wrapped in his jammies, wiggled in agreement to whatever it was she’d said. Katherine saw Monsieur Booty had taken her chair as soon as she’d turned her back. Max had the beast by the tail, and both beast and boy were watching her.

  “We should go out today, take a walk in the woods. Maybe we’ll see Bambi.”

  Max’s eyes lit up hearing that word. It meant animals that sometimes came into the garden. They had very long legs and snouts and ears. They hopped through the garden and disappeared into the trees. He could see them in his eyes.

  “Mmmmbies,” he said, while continuing to sip his apple juice.

  “Yeah, or maybe Bugs Bunny.”

  “Bnnnybugs.”

  “Him too.”

  Katherine filled the kettle and switched it on. She opened her box of teas and chose a sachet of Morning Light. She dropped it in a mug, looked out the window again.

  “Yup, that’s what we’re going to do. Won’t open the shop today. We’re going to take . . .”

  She saw one of the Swiss Guards beyond the tree line. Then two of them. She hadn’t seen them because of the trees at first, and it was only when they moved that she noticed them at all. They were setting stakes in the ground at regular intervals. But it wasn’t what they were doing she noticed; she’d given up trying to keep up with all the toys the boys had surrounding the house, in the house, under the house. Wouldn’t surprise her to learn there was a ray gun hidden in the roof to hold out against a Martian invasion. No, it wasn’t what they were doing, it was what they were wearing. Weirdly patterned overalls. And when they stopped moving, the two men almost disappeared into the background.

  The kettle boiled and clicked off. She filled her cup, dropped in one of the Morning Light tea bags, and got that first blast of steam in her face that always said, Good morning, and aren’t we feeling good today? Just then the guards stepped from the trees and crossed the garden, heading for Control. She saw the Brügger & Thomet submachine guns across their chests, Glock 19s strapped to their right thighs. “Loaded for bear,” the locals of Grover’s Mill called that particular look during hunting season. They stopped to look back toward the trees, and damn if they didn’t seem to blend into the green of the lawn. She picked up her tea, closed her bathrobe. She walked to the kitchen door, opened it, and called across the garden.

  “What the heck’s going on, fellas?”

  The two guards stopped.

  “Bonjour, Madame Taylor. Ça va?”

  “Bonjour, yourselves. Have the Martians invaded?”

  “Quoi?”

  “Little green men. Spaceships. Nanu nanu.”

  The guards looked at each other.

  “Pardon, Madame Taylor, we do not understand what you mean.”

  Then a voice.

  “They’re setting motion detectors along the tree line, Kat.”

  She turned around. Officer Jannsen was in the kitchen, standing next to Max.

  “Nnnn.” Max grinned, always happy to see her, this time with apple juice trickling from the sides of his mouth.

  “Guten tag, Max.”

  He smiled at her, wagged Monsieur Booty’s tail, turned to his mother.

  “Motion detectors. Okay, if you say so. But what’s with the uniforms? Those are really weird. It’s like the boys are invisible.”

  “It’s camouflage.”

  “Camouflage is Arnold Schwarzenegger in Commando. That out there, in the back garden, is the invisible monster in the trees from Predator, times two.”

  “What monster?”

  “Hid in trees, ate people. Never mind. How’s it work?”

  “The cloth is imprinted with irregular-shaped pixels that absorb surrounding colors. It creates an optical illusion. Your eyes see the forms of the two men, but the uniform interferes with how your mind registers the information. It can’t distinguish the human form against the immediate background.”

  “Made in Switzerland, I bet.”

  “It’s a prototype.”

  “Cool. Can I get one?” Katherine said.

  Officer Jannsen smiled.

  “What would you do with it?”

  “Rob a bank. Run away to a tropical island. Live happily ever after. You, me, Max. You’d like to live on a tropical island, wouldn’t you, Max?”

  “Goog!” Wham.

  She looked at Monsieur Booty.

  “How about you, you miserable beast?”

  Mew.

  Katherine looked at Officer Jannsen.

  “There you go. Three to one. We’re dressing up in camouflage and robbing the bank in Grover’s Mill and heading to St. Barts, today.”

  “Grover’s Mill doesn’t have a bank.”

  Katherine thought about it.

  “That’s right, it doesn’t.”

  Officer Jannsen rubbed Max’s head, walked to Katherine. She called through the door to the guards.

  “Est du périmètre de sécurité?”

  “Oui, Chef.”

  “Bon. Nous commençons à quinze cent heures.”

  The guards continued to Control.

  Katherine looked at Officer Jannsen.

  “What happens at three o’clock?”

  “We’re running a lockdown drill.”

  “Oh, God, not again.”

  “The last time we ran a drill was two months ago.”

  Katherine shrugged like a frustrated kid.

  “Ah, Mom, I was planning to take Max for a walk in the woods, look for Bambi.”

  “Not today, not for the next three days.”

  “Three days? The whole thing? Safe room drills?”

  “Mais oui.”

  Kat rolled her eyes.

  “I hate the safe room.”

  “We need to be able to get you in there within ninety seconds from any location in the house.”

  “We had it down to eighty-two seconds the last time.”

  “This time you’ll be taking Max with you.”

  “Max? We’ve always used a doll.”

  “I want him to get used to it. Make him think it’s a game.”

  “What kind of game?”

  “One where he has confidence that you’re in charge, that he’ll be okay. I’m also getting you on the firing range this afternoon while Max is having his nap. And the next three days.”

  “You mean I get to shoot stuff again?”

  “If you mean will you be at the target range, requalifying with a Glock 19, yes.”

  “Oh, then. That’s cool. But when do I get to shoot a machine gun?”

  Katherine sipped her tea, watched the way Officer Jannsen looked away, seeing red in the corner of her eye.

  “Anne? Have you been crying?”

  “No, I haven’t been to bed yet.”

  “How come?”

  Officer Jannsen shrugged. “I was preparing for the lockdown drill. Kat, why is there oatmeal on your face?”

  Katherine wiped her face, saw the grains on her hand.

  “Max got a little excited at something or other. And you’re lying.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. Come on, out with it.”

  Officer Jannsen almost spoke, then stopped. And just now, Katherine was very sure she saw Officer Jannsen’s eyes water.

  “Anne, what’s wrong?”

  Officer Jannsen took a slow breath.

  “Last night, I learned something. Something I don’t know how to tell you. Something I’m not allowed to say.”

  Katherine sipped her tea.

  “It’s okay. I know what it is.”

  “You do? How?”

  “I dreamed about it.”

 
“What sort of dream?”

  “A lucid dream.”

  Officer Jannsen stared at Katherine.

  “How do you know about lucid dreams?”

  “Hold your horses. I’m getting there.”

  Officer Jannsen leaned against the kitchen counter. “All right.”

  “Good girl. I dreamed we were in the garden last night, watching the stars and talking the night away. And in the dream, I see myself fall asleep, and you kiss my hair. Then I feel like I’m waking up, but I tell myself I want to keep dreaming it again, and it happens again. It’s always the same. I’m lying there, drifting off, you lean down. My eyes are closed, but I smell your perfume. Then you take my hair in your hands and you kiss it. I must have relived it a dozen times. Kiss, rewind, kiss, rewind. Then I went into this really deep and wonderful sleep. This morning, I woke up in my bed, and Max was still asleep. I went on Google and looked up dreams. I found a wiki page on lucid dreams, sounded like what was going on. It said human beings usually have at least one lucid dream in their lifetime, others have more, and a few can train themselves to participate in their dreams as a regular practice.”

  Officer Jannsen nodded.

  “Yes, that’s what it means. But, Kat, it doesn’t have anything to do with—”

  “It was your perfume, Anne.”

  “My perfume?”

  “Sight and sound are the dominant senses in dreams, not the sense of smell. Surrounding smells can affect a dream, but people don’t really have a sense of smell in their dreams.”

  Officer Jannsen didn’t speak.

  “I wasn’t dreaming, was I, Anne? I was remembering what really happened. You kissed me when you thought I was asleep, and you were hoping I wouldn’t remember. That’s what you want to tell me, isn’t it?”

  Officer Jannsen looked down at the floor.

  “Yes. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

  Katherine laughed.

  “And you know what? I read this thing about Dream Yoga. I found a place in Portland where they teach it. I was thinking maybe I could go see what it’s about. Maybe I could get really good at it, if I try.”

  Officer Jannsen remained quiet. Katherine reached over, raised her face.

  “I know there’s a red line between us. And I know why. No matter what you feel, you have a sense of duty to protect Max and me. I get it. You’re not just a cop, you’re a Swiss cop. But last night, you made it okay for me to feel something I’d been afraid of feeling for a long time. And today, right now, I’m happy. Not from what I can get from the world, but from somewhere within myself. And don’t worry, I promise not to chase after you like a lovesick puppy.”

  Officer Jannsen nodded. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want the detail to get the wrong idea. If it was reported up the chain, it could make things difficult.”

  “It’s our secret. But I’m putting you on notice, Ms. Jannsen. Day comes this whole hideout thing is over, you, me, and Max are robbing a bank, somewhere, and running away to the Caribbean. And we’re going to live happily ever after. With the cat, too, of course. I don’t think I could separate Max and Monsieur Booty with a crowbar.”

  Officer Jannsen looked at Max, holding on to Monsieur Booty’s tail. She turned to Katherine, looked into her eyes, remembering the flash traffic from Berne . . .

  Item 5: Priority exfil: Blue Marble. Secondary exfil: Swan Lake (abandon if necessary).

  “I’ll be back after lunch, Kat.”

  “Okeydoke.”

  Katherine picked up Max, grabbed her tea, and went upstairs. She changed his diaper and washed him, dressed him in blue jeans and a sweatshirt from Baby Gap, finished him off with a pair of Converse All Stars.

  “Never too young to make a fashion statement. Especially when it comes to shoes.”

  “Shooz.”

  “That’s right. One day you’re going to have to try an entire sentence, just to humor me that you’re normal.”

  She handed him his hammer and carried him and her tea to the bathroom. She sat Max on the floor. He happily banged away at no-see-ums while she jumped in the shower. She kept an eye on Max through the glass door: wham, whamwham, wham. Stepping out and drying off, she saw sunlight come through the window.

  “Know what we’re going to do? We’re going down in the garden to sit in the sunshine. Soak up some vitamin D. How’s that for an idea?”

  She saw Max watching where the light met shadows on the floor. He pulled himself to his feet, unsteadily walked a few steps into the light, plopped down. He reached out with his left hand and touched the floor where light met shadow, watched the sunlight move over his hand.

  “What are you doing, Max?”

  He looked up at her and smiled as the light crawled up his body and brightened his face. He looked up, stared at it, pointed to it.

  “Sol.”

  “Yeah, sol, sun. And who’s teaching you Spanish?”

  “Solsnnn.”

  “Sol or sun, buster, take your pick. Saying them together makes you sound like you’ve been hitting the sauce instead of Molly’s apple juice.”

  “Solsnnn.”

  “Hey, you, this is your mommy dearest speaking, one or the other.”

  Max saw the same funny look on his mother’s face, and heard the same funny tone in her voice.

  “Solsnnn, maman!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come here.”

  Katherine picked Max up from the floor, tickled him and kissed his cheek. She carried him into her bedroom and set him on the floor. Her bedroom faced southwest, away from the direct light of the early sun. Max seemed to study the layout of the room . . . floor, windows, angles. He giggled to himself, got to his hands and knees, hammer in his hand, and crawled in ever wider circles around the room.

  “What are you looking for, Max?”

  He kept crawling and giggling till he landed in the corner of the room. He spun around and sat with his back to the wall and stared at the floor. The sun crossed the bedroom window and a beam of light parted shadow and found Max in the corner. Katherine felt something stir, like a long-forgotten memory. Watching a light move over a dark stone floor, somewhere, finding her. And there were colors, brilliant colors, because the sun was passing through a great round window of leaded glass, high in a gray stone wall. She could see it. And the sun was warm, and she felt the warmth deep in her body, and there was a voice: to purify the light before it touches the life within you. Then the voice was gone, the colors were gone, and there was just Max sitting on the floor, now holding his hand into the beam of light coming through the bedroom window.

  “Max?”

  He looked at her.

  The light has crossed his face, brushed his eyes.

  She dropped her towel, put on her bathrobe. She slid her wet feet into her slippers, walked to Max, picked him up, and carried him to the bathroom. She carried him to the mirror above the sink, but it was fogged with steam and the light was coming from the wrong direction. She lifted Max to her right hip, carried him to his own bedroom. The sun was hitting the mirror above Max’s dressing table and reflecting into the room. She stepped close to the mirror, into the light. Katherine studied Max’s face, his eyes. Then, she saw it. The color of Max’s almond-shaped eyes had shifted from baby blue to match Katherine’s own hazel color, and just now in the light, both their eyes sparkled with flares of emerald green. Max could see it, too; raised his right hand, pointed to Katherine’s face in the looking glass.

  “Sol.”

  “No kidding.”

  She carried Max into the bathroom. Her Morning Light tea was sitting next to the sink. She poured it down the drain.

  II

  SHE SET THE BLACK CIRCLE BETWEEN THE REAR SIGHTS, RAISED the barrel of the Glock till the front sights lined up on the target, twenty meters downrange. She held her breath, squeezed the trigger, fired six shots in d
ouble taps. The Glock’s slide snapped back. She pressed the magazine release behind the trigger, pulled the clip from the grip. She checked it: empty. She stuffed it into the clip pouch on her belt. She checked the firing chamber of the Glock: empty. She lay the weapon on the table, took off her ear protection and blast goggles.

  “Well done, Kat,” Officer Jannsen said, pointing to the screen of the electronic scorekeeper. “Looks like your first two shots went just wide of the circle, but the next four were in the second ring. Last four fired off in two and a half seconds. That’s really good.”

  “Yeah, well, you know what they say about bicycles.”

  “No, what do they say?”

  “Once you learn to ride it, you own it. Reload?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “How many rounds?”

  “How many do you feel comfortable with?”

  “Fourteen, full clip.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Boxes of ammunition lay on the table. RUAG Ammotec, AG. 9x19mm parabellum the lettering on the lids read. Katherine pulled the magazine from her belt, loaded a round against the spring mechanism, pressed down with her thumb, then another.

  “The bullets are like the water in this place,” Katherine said.

  “Pardon?”

  “The bullets. RUAG Ammotec, AG. The AG means they’re made in Switzerland, doesn’t it?”

  Officer Jannsen smiled.

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing. Just that the bullets in this place are like the water we use in the house. They’re imported.”

  “They’re very common rounds, Kat. RUAG has factories all over the world.”

  “Is that right? So why don’t we buy our bullets from Big Dick’s Guns and Ammo down the road in Carson?”

  “Who?”

  “A gun shop next door to the lumberyards. It’s set back from the road, so if you blink, you miss it. But the sign grabbed my attention on one of our trips to Portland to see Max’s doctor, or my shrink, or my ob-gyn, or my dentist. I can’t remember, have I ever been to a dentist since we’ve been here?”

  Officer Jannsen crossed her arms under her breasts, still smiling.

  “Yes, five months ago.”

  “Really?”

  “Why do you ask?”