It Sometimes Snows In May: A B.E.A.N. Police Novella

by Tope Oluwole

Both nurses crack up laughing as Lisa enters a room two doors from the nurses’ station. As she’s done for the last three months, she immediately goes to the curtains and draws them closed.

  “Hello John.” Lisa smiles at the withered black man laying in the bed. “You missed the fireworks last night. They were beautiful.”

  She checks the monitors adjoining his bed for heart rate, blood pressure, and other vitals. They are below normal, but steady, as always. Lisa looks over the man older than his stats indicates, his cuts and bruises healed, but with scars remaining. “Well, tonight, we are going to watch Independence Day. It’s a classic. I know we normally watch Ispari Vice on Fridays, but I’m feeling patriotic.” Lisa giggles. The man remains motionless, eyes shut, a array of nodes, tubes, and nanotechnology keeping him alive. “I think you’ll like it. You look like a fighter, and this movie is about fighting.”

  An hour later Lisa locks her gaze to the display watching antique fighter jets, as they used to be called, take out enemy space ships, when her PDA chimes. Lisa looks at the caller id, exhales, and takes the call as she walks out of the room.

  Moments later the heart rate display ripple to live with beeps and violently jagged topography. Soon the man’s closed eyelids begin to pulse. When Lisa returns to the room, she drop her PDA and stumbles backwards a step once she sees the man on the bed.

  The next morning Morefishco trails Lisa into the man’s hospital room. The man is sitting upright in the center of the bed wearing a patient smock. He looks up to his visitors with apprehension.

  “Good morning John.” Lisa forces a smile. “This is Ispari State Guard Morefishco.

  Zota looks to Morefishco in resignation. “She wasn’t kidding when she said I’d been in a coma, in Ispari, for the last three months?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Morefishco studied the man's face.

  “How did I get here?” Zota asks.

  “What’s the last thing you remember, before you woke up?”

  “A red sports car.” Zota narrows his eyes. “I was driving…”

  “What else?” Morefishco can see the man straining. “Take your time.”

  “There was an explosion…” He places a hand on his temple. “Spinning. Everything started spinning.”

  “He needs to rest.” Lisa says to Morefishco, but is still staring at the man. Lisa walks towards him and then lays him back down on to the bed.

  “That’s all I remember,” he says.

  Morefishco moves to the bed besides the man. “Can you give me just a couple more minutes with him?”

  Lisa is about to protest when she get a ping on her PDA, and frowns. “Make sure it’s just a couple of minutes. I’ll be right back.” Lisa smiles at the man, who returns a weak smile and a half wave.

  “It’s okay. It looks like I’m in good hands,” The man says.

  The man spies the auto-pistol in Morefishco’s holster. Morefishco waits until Lisa leaves and the door slides and hisses shut behind her.

  “She keeps calling me John because neither of us know who the hell I am. She called you when the hospital couldn’t find anything, since my identity chip is missing,” he says.

  “Your chip was gone when we found you. Nice and clean cut too. You had no other ID on you. The strangest thing is, no one has reported you missing, or come looking for you since.”

  The man runs his finger over a hairline scar on his forearm. “Since? Since what?”

  “Three months ago, excreta body bandits attacked a hover-shuttle by the DMZ.” Morefischo studies the man’s facial response.

  “What does that have to do with me?” The man asks. His face twists in confusion.

  “We found you on ice in a body box,” Morefishco says.

  “A what?”

  “A refrigeration unit for transporting large amounts of organs.” Morefishco smiled at the man. “You’re one lucky son of a gun.” The man looked up with fierce eyes. “I know it doesn’t look that way from where you’re sitting. But trust me on this one. I was there.”

  Running his hand through his hair and then feeling his naps with the palms of his hands, the man gasps.

  “I’m sure this is a lot to take in, but we need to know who you are, and why you were smuggled in a hover-shuttle,” Morefishco says.

  “I..I don’t know. Still trying to wrap my head around this whole thing.” he stops, then scratches his head. “I don’t remember anything before the drive. Or after.” The man drops his head between his hands.

  Morefishco waves until he gets Lisa’s attention, as she stare at the man from outside the room. Morefishco turns back to the man. “Well, someone wanted you badly enough. Body bandits willing and able to take that kind of risk aren’t cheap. That means someone gonna come looking for you sooner or later.” Morefishco turns to Lisa. “This room is gonna be on lockdown until further notice.”

  “Lock down?” Lisa asks.

  “There'll be a guard outside his room at all times. No one besides you and his primary doctor comes in here without my say so,” Morefishco says.

  “I don’t think we have to go that far. Your alarming John," Lisa says.

  “John?” Morefishco’s looks at Lisa, and then at the man, who shrugs in resignation. “Sure.”

  “Besides, no one knows he’s here but us,” Lisa says.

  “I’m about to change that," Morefishco says.

  Several night later Ryles sits against the headboard of a hotel room bed. She wears her hair short and curly, from a styling kit she picked up at a convenience store a block away from the hotel. Her Big, gold, door-knocker earrings, swing and shine in the lowlight of the room. A blue light glows on the end of each earring. The in-room display suspended above the foot of the bed blares out world news. The red sundress she’s in shows the scars on her legs barely noticeable under her expensive, but hurriedly applied, makeup. Ryles nods and continues her seemly one-sided conversation.

  “I’m sure they haven’t forgotten about me. This ware is something they want more than money. I had to disappear when things went south with the client.”

  Ryles nods a couple of times before continuing. “If you’re sure they’re going for the termination clause, then I guess I’d better come up with a plan B.”

  Ryles disconnects her call with a swipe of her right earring. She looks up to the live news report. “Increase media volume twenty percent,” Ryles commands.

  “Male, black, mid-thirties...Ispari State Guard would like anyone with any information on a John Doe, in his mid thirties, to contact them at @TIPO-ISG or tips@ISG.gov”

  Ryles strains to study the man on the display with bushy hair and a full mustache and beard. It takes her about ten seconds before she recognizes him. “Zota.” She scrambles to her feet and scurries up to the display until she’s half a meter in front of it. “I can’t believe it. You son-of-a-bitch. You’re alive! My payday is alive, and I better get my ass in gear to claim it, before someone else beats me to it.”

  Ryles swipes her right earring again, and initiates an outgoing call. She’s pacing back and forth on the memory mattress, pulling down her dress and smoothing it out. The call connects.

  “Ispari State Guard, I can I help you?” a woman asks.

  “Thank you Jee-sus,” Ryles says.

  “Ma’am?”

  “You found him! You’ve found my brother,” Ryles says. “I just saw the news broadcast about the Joe Doe.”

  “You’ll need to come down to our headquarters, and ask for Guard Morefishco. Let me give you the address…”

  The next morning, a black man, in his sixties knocks at a motel room door. Ryles answers it wearing a denim skirt, a snug and revealing blouse, and three-inch, open-toe high heels. Her face is made up heavy to enhance what nature and life had laid on her. She even managed a manicure and pedicure.

  Ryles lets in a man wearing a work overalls with James embroidered over one of the breast pocket, and a toolbox in his left hand.

  “What took you so long?” Ryles asks. “Th
e guardies are gonna be expecting me this morning. You get everything?”

  James plops his toolbox on the desk across from the bed. He opens it up, and pulls out net-paper of various sizes, ID cards, flash chips. “Hey queenie, you just can’t pick these up at your local office supply store.” He pulls up an ID card with thumb and retinal, biometric output panes. “New state ID for Maria Brown, ground vehicle license, passport. I also set up financial records, relational history, back ten years...including your wedding to Mister Brown. And, since you’re one of my favorite, if not best looking, customer’s, I threw in wedding images, and courtship e-mails…”

  “Damn.” Ryles blushed. “How well will it hold up?”

  “It’ll be fine...as long as they don’t dig deeper than Misses and Mister Brown. The fake friends are hologram thin, so if some guardie with a hard-on goes hunting for your maid-of-honor, you may have some explaining to do. Unless you want to go for broke and get some cyber-actors?”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s the latest thing in the bazaar. Unemployed and aspiring actors are getting cybernetics to play any a-list actor they can dream of. It’s their edge to break into the biz. They can be anybody you want them to be.” James smiles.

  “How much is that gonna set me back?”

  “If you have to ask…” James lays a net-paper on the table facing Ryles.

  Ryles glances at the price matrix. Her eyes widen. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “I figured as much,” James says.

  “How much do I owe you?” Ryles asks.

  “three-fifty,” James says. “And before you have a little heart attack, that includes first and last month’s rent for the furnished house.”

  Ryles sighs. “Where?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. It ain’t no mansion. But, it’s a nice and respectable, everyone-minds-their-own-damn-business neighborhood in New Neasden.”

  “Okay.” Ryles pulls out a department store shopping bag from under the bed, and holds it against her. “There’s three in here…”

  James frowns.

  “I wasn’t expecting that much, and it’s all I can get right now, without raising alarms.” Ryles stares at James and watches him size her up. “It’s in cash James, and you know that ain’t easy.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “You’ll even be more impressed, when you count it.” Ryles closes the space between herself and James to about a meter.

  “Hey, I’m old school,” James says. “You know I’m gonna count it.” He continues to study Ryles. James grabs the bag from Ryles and immediately feels the weight. He pulls it up and peeks inside. “I hope he’s worth it.” James smiles.

  Ryles squeezes James shoulder as he leaves. Then closes the door behind him. “Thanks dad.”

  Ryles pulls down the street in a hover-car, from a tall glass and metal, cone-shaped building. She glances at her PDA as the vehicle auto-parks. The time on the marquee display belonging to the bank across the street, reads 12:07 PM. Ryles heads towards the gleaming tower with, ISPARI STATE GUARD HEADQUARTERS, in neon, scrolling across the main entrance.

  As she climbs the front stairs, miscellaneous uniformed and non-uniformed personnel and citizens march out and stroll in by her. Some pass her a casual glance as she fans her chest in the noonday heat.

  Once Ryles passes the sliding door she’s scanned by an electronic eye above the main sliding doors, and is then greeted by a virtual female desk guardie.

  “Welcome to Ispari State Guard Headquarters, Misses Brown. How may I be of service today?” The virtual guardie asks.

  “I’m here to see...Morefishco, about my missing brother,” Ryles says. She looks at her PDA to double-check the name.

  “One moment please.” The virtual guardie blinks her eyes in time with the data processing she’s performing. After few moments, a copy of the virtual guardie appears beside Ryles. “Follow me, please.”

  Ryles tries not to look alarmed and follows the virtual guardie copy to the smart lift. They are carried silently up several floors. When the smart lift doors slide open, a lean but muscular, caucasian man in his late fifties in uniform, awaits them.

  “Guard Morefishco. This way Misses Maria Brown,” the virtual guardie says.

  “Thanks Vidge.” Morefishco watches the virtual guardie dematerialize. “Afternoon, Misses Brown. Thank you for coming. This way please.” Morefishco begin down the hall, but waits for Ryles to catch up before getting too far ahead.

  “When can I see my brother?”

  Morefishco casts Ryles a looks. “We just have to take care of some minor bureaucratic details.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m sure this is a lot to take in, but we have to go through a quick ID verification process. Just a formality. I can’t tell you how many times some missing guy turns up, and half the women in Ispari show up claiming to be a wife, girlfriend, or grandmother.” They both walk past an office with ISG. M. Morefishco glowing within the glass of the door.

  “Yeah..It is a lot,” Ryles says.

  Morefishco leads Ryles into a room with camoglass. Ryles can feel her neck turn warm. “Why are we here? Where is my brother?” Ryles asks.

  “Please sit down Misses Brown.” Morefishco gestures towards the chair opposite him and then waits until Ryles sits down, before doing the same. “For security, I need to verify some information. The man we have in custody doesn’t know his own name.” Morefishco pauses and stares at Ryles, who in turn leans forward in her chair.

  “What? He doesn’t know who I am?” Ryles points a finger towards her chest. "When he sees my face..."

  “Can I see some identification, Misses Brown. A quick scan should speed this up for both of us,” Morefishco says.

  Ryles pulls her Maria Brown license out of her bag, and places it on the table in front of Morefishco, showing off her manicure. A neon blue square appears within the table and shrinks, until is perfectly fits the perimeter of the license. Morefishco slides the net-paper, card stock off the table, and studies it for several moment occasionally glancing back at her.

  Suddenly, a display rises out of the table, visible only to Morefishco. It begins scrolling information of Mary Brown of Ispari. The record includes a residence address, vehicle registration, and some traffic violations. Towards the end, the record shows social networking records. “What’s your brother’s name?”

  “Roberto.” Ryles stares at Morefishco who is still scanning the record.

  Morefishco taps on a relationship link leading to Roberto Brown; the third Brown on the list. The image renders. It resembles a clean-cut version of the John Doe Morefishco has in custody.

  “You’ll be happy to hear you’re not one of the usual characters we get.” Morefishco taps the top edge of the display firmly. The display powers itself off, and then slowly slides back into its place embedded in the table

  “Nice to know,” Ryles says.

  Morefishco studies Ryles for a moment. “I’m curious Misses Brown, where did you file a missing persons report for your brother? I didn’t find any record of one being filed in the state.”

  “My brother kinda does his own thing. It’s not unlike him to fly off to Brazil for a month and not tell anybody. I didn’t know he was missing until I saw him on TV.”

  “I see.” Morefishco gave Ryles an even expression. “I guess you guys aren’t close then?” Ryles responded with a scowl. “Sorry, occupational hazard. I can’t help but ask.”

  “No, we don’t swap recipes or bitch about our exes,” Ryles says.

  “What about his family?” Morefishco leaned in, resting his forearms on the table.

  “Family?”

  Morefishco recoiled. “You know...Wife, ex-wife, kids, a dog, a cat, a snake… People who might give a crap if he was missing for three months.”

  Ryles lowered her head, and hunched over, which inadvertently made her look softer to Morefishco; less I-don’t-need-no-man, and more I-got-problems-but-doesn’t-everyone. I’m the
only family he’s got left.

  A light on the top of the display in the table glows green. Morefishco pushes down on the top of the display which toggles it back up to face him. “Can I speak with you sir? It’s important”, appears in an alert message on the screen. Morefishco stares at the message for a moment, then closes the display.

  “Are we done?” Ryles asks.

  “Almost. I’ll be right back.” Morefishco exits the interrogation room from a different door than they had entered, and walks into a back room where a junior guardie and John are waiting.

  A bony young man rises at Morefishco’s entrance into the room. “He said he recognized her.”