Paradise of Lead Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  "What?" Clara asks. "I don't understand."

  Blice crosses his arms. "I'm ordering you to change."

  "Okay. I'll do it. You have to leave."

  "I'm leaving right now." Blice steps outside and closes the door.

  What is that crazy man up to? Where's Isidore? Why the hell does Blice want her to wear a dress? She goes to it and picks it up. Is this what she thinks it is? Clara changes and buttons the tiny buttons up the back. It fits perfectly. Then she sees her reflection in the window. It's a wedding dress. No. She's not doing this. She starts to panic and just as she reaches to unbutton the top button, the door opens.

  "Hi, Clara."

  "Isidore, what is all of this?"

  Isidore steps up to her and tucks her wispy bangs behind her ears. "Don't be scared. You are so beautiful."

  Clara's breathing quickens as his hands touch her. She glances to the door. Terror and apprehension wash over her. "Listen, I don't know what you want to do, but please-"

  "Stop. Let me say something first. Clara Lifestone, you have made me finally happy to be alive. When I'm with you, I am so much more than an android or a computer. You give me a purpose and a reason to live for myself. I never want to be away from you. I need you." Isidore kneels down before her and kisses her hand. "Will you . . . marry me?"

  "No."

  Isidore doesn't say a word.

  "I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on Earth. We're done. Go to hell. Oh wait, you can't because computers don't have souls. Your heart is as cold as the metal in your brain. You're a demon who deserves to be a slave for eternity. I wish I had never met you." Clara pulls away from him. No way in hell, not after what he did. She never wants to be near him again. It's true, what they've said about androids. They will kill for the fun of it, just because they hate humans. She gathers her clothes and stuffs them in one of Blice's briefcases then leaves, slamming the door behind her.

  28

  Black sheets hang over every building as white lilies bend in the wind. The rain hasn't stopped since last night and the streets of Paradise glisten under their coating of rushing water. From the looks of it, all of Paradise has come out into the streets, oblivious to the torrential downpour. It's fitting, though. The rainwater washes away the blood and debris, leaving instead a slicked sheet of grey, devoid of identity where the turmoil of yesterday ceases to exist once again. A quiet rumble of thunder sounds in the distance above the rhythm of the raindrops and the priest speaks in front of the black coffin surrounded by weeping women and inquisitors.

  An obviously pregnant woman with her face covered by a slick black veil cries louder than the rest. She kneels in front of the casket with white lilies braided into her blonde hair, as is the tradition for a wife who has lost her husband. The priest stops talking and everyone is silent while the woman cries, her lamentation shared by the others around her.

  It's not cold by any means, but Isidore shivers under his heaviest wool coat. The umbrella being held over him by a Secret Service agent is doing little to keep the blowing rain from hitting him. It doesn't matter, anyway. He didn't know Seth very well, but no one should die without those who knew him in life sending him into death.

  After last night's delve into the darker side of his mind, Isidore welcomes the rain in hopes it will erase some of the pain he is feeling. If he gets any colder, the thoughts of Clara could become numb and frozen, never again to rise up and mock him. He was a fool to even attempt something like that. Humans will never want to marry an android. It's probably for the best . . . for both of them. Isidore knows that Blice wants to discuss what happened and why Clara stormed out like she did. He's not ready. Besides, there's nothing to discuss. Isidore hasn't said anything to Blice this entire time, even when Blice pestered him all night long to tell him what happened. Then Blice stayed up until dawn trying to call Clara who never answered.

  Even now, Blice's purple eyes beg for answer that Isidore isn't able to give. The truth is simple and definitive. Clara and Isidore were never meant to be together. They had a blossoming romance that was thriving and just beginning to stretch its petals to the sun when a blizzard came and snuffed out that tiny life. Damien was right. Now Isidore can accept it and begin the torturous process of moving on. Isidore is unlovable.

  Someone steps out from behind the inquisitors and the rain slowly begins to taper off. The man's arm is bandaged and in a sling. As he walks forward to address the people, the pregnant woman looks up at him and they share a long few seconds in each other's eyes. The intensity of their connection silences everyone as they watch the couple. It is the kind of look that can traverse time and humanity, exemplifying every emotion in the universe while meaning nothing to anyone except the two who share it.

  The man hangs his head and lets the rain soak through his jacket until he finds the will to speak and looks up to them all. "My name is Damien Montgomery. I didn't come here for accolades or to be a hero as so many of you have called me since I brought this tragedy to light. While I tried my hardest to save my dear friend, I wasn't able to be the partner he needed me to be. I was Seth's partner in the Outlander Force. It's true, I'm the one who betrayed him and shot him in the back to paralyze him two years ago in Styx. Even after that, he was an honorable man who looked at the good in life. He . . . forgave me, as much as someone can forgive something like that. Seth Thompson was everything I could have wanted in a partner and a friend. I admired him, looked up to him, and I . . . I loved him. For close to ten years of my life, he was my friend, my colleague, and my life. Not many people got to know the softer side of Agent Thompson. Before the incident in Styx, we were inseparable and we did everything together. We were like brothers, always looking for something to get into, chasing women, trying to make a name for ourselves. He took me under his wing and taught me everything I know. I never imagined losing him so soon. There's so much I wanted to say to him, so many memories I wanted to relive, and too many that I want to forget. He was without a doubt the best Chief Outlander Investigator that the Unified State has ever had."

  Damien looks around at the sea of people in black and crying. "He deserved all of this. I'm not surprised there are so many people here who loved him. It was an honor to serve at his side." He holds out his arms up to the stormy sky. "Save a place for me, Seth. Your partner's coming soon."

  * * *

  After the melancholic start to his day, Damien has to get away from it all and from his adoring new fans. Sure, he loves it, but right now is not the time to be lavishing in his popularity. They called him a hero and this time, he gets to enjoy it. He opens the door to his new and empty house in Paradise. There's not even any furniture yet. It reminds him of where he used to live with Maria and his children before saving Isidore's life and getting exiled for standing up to Inquisitor Allen. Now he shares it with Byron. Speaking of Byron, he wasn't at the funeral.

  Damien takes off his rain-soaked coat and boots. "Byron? Are you here?"

  Byron comes downstairs with tequila bottle in hand. "Hey."

  "Where were you?"

  "I don't do funerals."

  Damien sets down his bag and takes out a loaf of bread and some lunchmeat. He tosses it onto Byron's makeshift bed. "Here. Help yourself. I'm not hungry."

  "Listen, you need to eat something. You've been so distraught lately. Have you even slept?"

  "No. Don't worry about me."

  "Come sit with me and talk like we used to."

  If they're going to talk, then there's something Damien needs to do. It has been a long time coming and now seems as good a time as any. He joins Byron on the pile of sheets and clothes. "Byron, with Seth dead, I need a new partner. In order for two Outlander agents to be partners, they have to be both physically and mentally compatible so they can be sure the other has their back in any situation. As the last and only head of the Outlander Force, I have the ability to choose my own partner once I find a man who I feel is capable and valuable to our purpose."

  "And what is you
r purpose?" Byron asks as he takes a bite of his sandwich.

  "The Outlander Force provides surveillance and intelligence in the wasteland. We are spies and detectives and we try to keep the peace while maintaining balance between the Inquisition and Rubble City."

  "Oh. I didn't know you were actually a spy."

  "Yep. We work directly for the president." Damien says.

  "So you work for Blice now?"

  "I guess that's true, isn't it? Anyway, I need a new partner and I've found someone who I think has the possibility of being my perfect match like Seth was. Byron, would you be interested in becoming my partner?"

  "Wow . . . really?" Byron asks. "I don't know the first thing about being a spy."

  "I'll teach you everything you need to know. We can start tomorrow. In a week, you will be inducted into the force. That is if you accept."

  Byron takes another drink then holds out his hand to Damien. "Sure. I'll be your partner, Damien."

  * * *

  Isidore watches the rain continue to pour outside and cascade down the windows between the black velvet curtains in the Oval Office. He's still freezing even with the thermostat cranked all the way up. Blice even made a fire in the fireplace for him. He probably looks funny, all bundled up in blankets while Blice is spread out on the floor in just boxers.

  "You warm yet, Niko?"

  No. And the longer he stays this way, the more he begins to question if he will ever be warm again. For the past four hours, he has gone over the facts they know about Seth's death and it's still not making any sense to him. There's so much that they don't know. Even though Isidore didn't enjoy his visit with Kazimir, he doubts that he would do something like this and draw so much attention to himself. He thinks back to seeing Damien earlier and something glaringly disturbing enters his mind. He searches through the audio he has recorded from the previous two days and listens to it until he finds what he was looking for. Blice's conversation with Inquisitor Clark. Now he has to know. He spins around in Blice's chair to look at him. "I thought Kazimir was trained as a sniper."

  "He was. He's one of the best shots in the Unified State." Blice says.

  "Don't you see a problem, then?"

  Blice props himself up on his elbows and raises an eyebrow curiously. "What are you aiming at?"

  Isidore leans forward. "Tell me something. How does a trained sniper at a short distance hit Damien in the arm?"

  Blice shrugs his shoulders. "People miss. Be glad that he did or we would have lost them both. You're not seriously considering that Damien was involved in this."

  "I'm just trying to analyze all the facts. I think it's foolish to automatically blame Kazimir before there's an investigation into every possibility."

  "It's out of our hands, Niko. Police Chief Andrews is in charge of this case now."

  "Then maybe I need to go talk to some people."

  "You're free to leave, but I'd like to talk to you about Clara when you get back."

  Isidore stands and unwraps the blankets. "I'm never talking about her again."

  "Remember to hide your face from everyone. We don't want you to be in danger again."

  "The streets are empty. This rain is going to continue for a while. No one will see me." Isidore laces his boots and steps over Blice before leaving the room.

  * * *

  Isidore follows his GPS to the two story modest house and knocks on the door. This should be the place. Time to do some of his own investigating. It's not that he truly thinks Damien killed Seth. Not at all. It's quite the opposite, actually. Isidore wants to verify some facts then be able to clear any and all suspicion from his mind about Damien. The inconsistencies are the issue right now.

  Damien opens the door and smiles. "Isidore! Come in, come in. Get out of the rain, man."

  Isidore steps inside the barren house as Damien closes the door. "Nice place."

  "I haven't had a chance to go furniture shopping yet. Byron lives here with me. He's in town doing God knows what. Though knowing him, it consists of booze, women, and gambling."

  "Well, I won't stay for long. I have a lot of stuff to do. I just wanted to come check and see how you were holding up."

  "Good . . . as good as I can. It's gonna be hard, but I'll make it. I'll make it for Seth. He wouldn't want everyone to be grieving so much." Damien sits down on the wood floor and motions for Isidore to join him.

  Great. More cold floors. Oh well. He wraps his wool coat closer and sits where he is facing Damien. "Are you going to still work with the Outlander Force? You're the only one left. I'm sure you've heard."

  "It's horrible. Over a hundred agents died in that explosion." He rubs his eyes. "Byron is my new partner."

  Isidore searches those hazel eyes for any secrets, any sign of malice, but there's nothing. "Treat him better than you did your last partner."

  "I made that mistake once. That was enough for me. I'm just glad I was able to be there for Seth as he died. He forgave me for everything. My only regret is that I couldn't stop Kazimir from killing him."

  Isidore crosses his arms. "Tell me something."

  "Anything. What is it?"

  "What kind of gun did Kazimir use?"

  "A Glock 17." Damien says.

  Interesting. "Isn't that standard issue to Outlander Force agents?"

  "He used Seth's gun. He snuck up behind us and grabbed the gun when we were talking."

  Isidore studies Damien's injury. It's still bleeding through the bandages . . . on his inner arm. "How's your arm?"

  "Healing. I'm lucky that it missed my heart."

  "Must have been quite a fight." Isidore says.

  Damien isn't smiling anymore. "What do you mean?"

  "Just that for him to shoot you at that angle and have the bullet enter on the inside of your arm, you must have been fighting."

  Damien laughs. "Oh, we were. I had him pinned down in the sand and we were hitting each other then he shot me."

  "He hit you?"

  "Pretty good. Got me a couple of times in the face and everything. He's bigger than me so he was able to overpower me when I tried to save Seth."

  Isidore taps a number into his watch as he stands. "Excuse me for a minute, Damien." He steps outside and goes around to the side of the house where Damien won't be able to hear him.

  The voice comes over the speaker. "Paradise police. This is Police Chief Andrews."

  "This is Vice President Williams. You have a minute?"

  "Sure. What's up? I'm busy working on that Outlander case, but I can take a minute from that."

  Isidore wipes the drops of water from the screen. "I have a new suspect for you."

  "Who?"

  "Damien Montgomery."

  "Seth's partner? On what grounds?" Andrews asks.

  "For a man who was in a fistfight for his life, he's not banged up in the slightest. Look at the angle that bullet entered his arm. I say he shot himself to cover up the fact that he killed Seth."

  "Why would he kill Seth?" Andrews asks. "They were like brothers."

  "So were Cain and Abel."

  "Enough. Damien Montgomery is cleared of any suspicion."

  "How can you not investigate every possibility?" Isidore asks.

  "Because we have the recorded audio from the Outlander Headquarters. The voice that orders around the agents and makes threats isn't Montgomery. It's Kazimir Dark. Not only that, but Damien didn't have a vehicle. He couldn't have made it from the crime scene to the headquarters on foot in that amount of time. Also, we have already done a thorough search of Damien's communication sensor which has a tracker in it. He never went anywhere near the building. Damien's fingerprints weren't found on Seth's gun, Seth's key card, or at the headquarters. There is zero evidence that points to Montgomery."

  Isidore's intuition is beyond ignoring at this point. "I don't know how, but Damien did this."

  "Damien Montgomery is a national hero." Andrews snaps. "If you think you know everything, tell me why Damien wouldn't use his magic t
o electrocute Seth and eliminate the sound factor."

  Simple. "Magic can be tracked."

  "Not when it was storming. People get struck by lightning all the time out in the desert. If Montgomery was trying to kill Seth and cover it up, he would have done that and it would have been perfect. Damien isn't stupid."

  "Fine. Just please don't jump to any conclusions and place blame where it doesn't belong." Isidore hangs up the call.

  He has a point . . . a very valid point. But here's where he messed up. Damien isn't stupid. He's a spy. He knows how to get in, get what he needs, then get out, all while being untraceable. Damien knew that if he used his magic, they would suspect him more because they would think that he was trying to cover up the murder. Isidore grows even more frustrated as he leaves without saying goodbye to Damien. He has to tell Blice.

  29

  Today is the exact opposite of what yesterday was like. As the streets dry and Paradise becomes the buzzing metropolis it usually is, Isidore walks beside Blice as they make their way to the market. This wasn't Isidore's idea. When Blice found out that Isidore wasn't doing anything except sulking in their room all day, he decided that it would be best to get out and spend the day together. Isidore's initial reaction to that plan: Shoot me now.

  However, as they walk through the market and the bright colors from the never-fading neon lights that buzz even in the daytime and the people smile at them and some wave, Isidore can smell apples and he knows that if he either begs or pesters Blice enough, he could get a caramel apple. Then his life would be exponentially better than it has been lately. Truth be told, Isidore hasn't eaten in two days. He had been so distraught over losing Clara that he couldn't even think about eating. Now that he is feeling a bit better, he is quickly becoming voracious. The smells of the deli shops and barbeque aren't helping. Then there are the cupcake bakeries with their colorful and sugary delights spread out on tables outside so their freshly baked fragrance is carried on the breeze. Isidore may be artificial but his addiction to sweet foods is as real as a thing can be.