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

by Tope Oluwole

  Morefishco turns to John. “This is your sister?”

  “Well, I remember her face…”

  “Is she your sister, or isn’t she?” Morefishco’s face turns pink.

  “I remember her face” John nods “And her voice.”

  Morefishco scowls at the junior guardie. “You interrupted my interrogation for this? I remember the voice of President Obama; doesn’t make him my cousin.”

  “It’s what I remember,” John says. He walks to the one-way camoglass separating and obscuring the inner room from the outer room where he stands. The glass is cool to his touch as his presses his palms against it, and stares at the mocha-skinned woman.

  “Patel, you know how many weirdos we’ve had in here since the broadcast? I almost regret authorizing it,” Morefishco says.

  “I know this, but she is the only one he recognized,” Guard Patel says.

  “I’ll bet,” Morefishco hisses.

  “You can’t prove she not my sister.” John turns to Morefishco. Guard Patel swallows. Morefishco can’t see his tan face go crimson.

  “And you can’t prove she’s not one of the bandits that put you on ice!” Morefishco stands in front of John. “Did you ever think of that?” The room is silent.

  “If it makes you feel better, you can keep an eye on me. I mean her. Well, us…” John says.

  “And waste more taxpayers’ bitcash? I don’t think so.” Morefishco steps out of in front of John and extends his hand to the door separating them from Ryles. “Go say hi to your sister.” Patel’s eyes widen, but Morefishco doesn’t react to it. He open’s the inner door, and lets John through.

  Morefishco and Patel watch as John walks in and begins to observe Brown. The inner door slides shut, separating them.

  Ryles watches a thinner but healthier Zota walk towards her. He cracks a half-smile and shuffles his feet. At about a foot from the table, he puts out a hand on the chair opposite Ryles. Immediately Ryles rises from her seat and runs around the table, reaching for Zota. She places her hands on each sides of his face and then hesitates before slipping them around his neck. Her eyes water as she pulls him into a fierce hug.

  From the inner room Morefishco and Patel watch the embrace, and then at each other. “That don’t mean frack, Patel. Get a cyberdog and track them.” Before Patel could protest, Morefishco waved him down. “Got a warrant, and had him chipped and coded while he was still under. I’m not taking any chance.”

  “You do not believe Misses Brown is his sister?” Patel asked.

  “Your sister ever hug you like that?” Morefishco asked. Patel shook his head. “She’s no body bandit, but by the look of her, she’s been around the block more than a few times, and I’m sure she knows how to handle trouble.”

  “Really? What if the people those...body bandits come after him?” Patel asked.

  “That’s what I’m counting on?”

  Zota and Ryles walk out of the headquarters building. The sun low in the sky makes Ryles shield her eyes, until her sunglasses can auto-adjust. She moves briskly, slightly ahead of Zota.

  “Are you sure you’re not my sister?”

  “Damn. The guardie wasn’t kidding when he said you lost your memory.” Ryles glances behind her as they cross the street towards her ground vehicle.

  Three figures dressed like excretas, after a long day at the plant, join two others on the side of the street Ryles crossed to.

  “I thought you were dead Zota. I didn’t know different until the guardies did a broadcast about a John Doe from the hover-shuttle crash at the DMZ,” Ryles says.

  “I remembered your face. You were driving a car. I was in the car with you… Then an explosion. The car was spinning,” Zota says. Ryles nodded. “I don’t remember anything before or after that. Morefishco told me he found me in a body bandit fridge, or something.”

  “Body bandits? Damn. No wonder Morefishco wasn’t too crazy to see me. How many people did you see before I showed up?”

  The excretas close in on Ryles and Zota.

  “About a two dozen.” Zota grinned.

  Ryles unlocks her ground vehicle with a swipe of her hand against a reader embedded in the door panel. Once there are both in the vehicle, Ryles eases the vehicle into the street. “Cloud plate.” Ryles commands. The vehicle registration, external placard image becomes obscure for a few second before its characters morph into a different registration alphanumeric. A block, and two turns later, Ryles glances in the rear view display, and notices the same car has been pursuing them since they got into the vehicle.

  “What?” Zota asks.

  “That black van has been following us since we left guardie HQ.” Ryles says, cutting her eyes to the rear view display.

  The van slips in and out of traffic until it catches up with Ryles’ vehicle. Ryles takes a sharp swerve into a narrow side street, scaring few citizens senseless.

  “You think they’re after us?” Zota asks

  “I know they’re after you. I just happen to be tagging along.” Ryles says.

  Ryles’ vehicle makes another sharp turn into what appears to be a dead-end road, but leads into an industrial park. Zota looks into the passenger's side rear display, and sees a figure lean out of the window of the van, with a shoulder-mounted something.

  “Now would be a good time to lose the guys behind us. I’m not in

  any hurrying to be in another ice box.

  Ryles looks in the rearview display embedded in the dashboard. “They wouldn’t blow up this ride.” Zota turned to her. “They can sell it once they get rid of us.” Zota’s eyes widen. “They just want us to pull over.”

  “Pull over?” Zota’s asks, deadpan. Ryles doesn’t answer, just grins.

  The bandit leaning out of the van window fires a round out of his shoulder-mounted launcher. The large capsule-like projectile whistles through the air toward Ryles vehicle.

  Alarms blare from the Ryles’ vehicle speakers. INCOMING MISSILE flashes across the screen of the vehicular computer. On the its display, a red dot moves closer and closer to a green dot moving in the same direction, but much slower in comparison.

  Ryles swerves the vehicle hard left and drives towards an alley between two warehouse buildings. “Hang on!”

  The capsule breaks on impact against the rear deck of the vehicle. A gelatinous mass sticks to hull, and begins to grow a red spike. The spike digs into the metal of the hull, burrowing inside.

  “No boom?” Zota asks.

  The dashboard light begin to flicker, and the vehicle begins to lurch forward. “EMP...I’m losing power,” Ryles yells.

  As Ryles’ vehicle slows to a crawl, the bandits speed closer. “Get ready to bounce out the car quick,” Ryles says. Zota nods. “Get my gun.” Ryles tap a button on the navigation controls, which opens a compartment above Zota knees. Zota tentatively pulls the auto-pistol out of the compartment.

  Their vehicle does a slow crash into the corner of one of the buildings. Ryles and Zota scramble out of the vehicle and down the alley, as smoke fills the air around them. “Hold your breath, and move!” Ryles pushes Zota ahead of her. After about five seconds of break-neck speed, Ryles spins around, and begins firing down the alley in the direction they came from. The bandits back-up momentarily, taking cover behind Ryles’ vehicle. Ryles taps her her smart-watch twice. “Come on.”

  Ryles and Zota duck down a cross street. A loud explosion in the distance, startles Zota, but he keeps running.

  Elisa and Aalin stand in the upstairs hallway of Elisa’s mansion. Elisa is dressed in a pearlescent skirt suit, while Aalin dries his face with a towel. The monogram on the bathrobe he’s wearing read, “ZC”.

  “You said he had been taken care of,” Elisa says.

  “What’s this all about.” Aalin slips both arms around Elisa, resting his large palms on her buttocks. “Bad day at the office?”

  “Don’t try to butter me Aalin, it’s ill-advised. I’m hardly in the mood.” Elisa lightly smacks Aalin’s arms down, an
d slips out of his grasp.

  Aalin’s smile disappears. “Okay… What happened?”

  “This.” Elisa puts her PDA in Aalin face and taps a button to stream a video. It’s a newscast featuring Zota as John Doe. Aalin’s face hardens as he watches the highlights of the video.

  “Where did you get this? How do you know it isn’t some hoax,” Aalin says.

  “Because the individual who sent this to me, knew he was my husband,” Elisa says.

  “Do you recognize the address?” Aalin asks.

  “No. It came in as spam,” Elisa says.

  “Did you reply?”

  “Reply?” Elisa walks to the railing. “I deleted the blood e-mail.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it personally,” Aalin says.

  “No! No more skullduggery,” Elisa says.

  Alan recoils. “Are you getting sentimental?” Aalin watches Elisa face intently. “I have no interest in going to prison.”

  “Don’t get nervous. It doesn’t suit you.” Elisa get up close to Aalin. “All this person knows is that Zota was my husband. Zota clearly can’t confirm that or he wouldn’t be a John Doe, and the Ispari authorities would have contacted me by now.

  “So what’s the plan?” Aalin leans against the railing looking at Elisa. Elisa in turn begins rubbing her hand across his bare chest.

  “Keep it simply silly. I will go to Ispari and get my ex-husband. Then you will see to it that he has a more permanent retirement,” Elisa says.

  Ryles open the door with her fingerprint and voice activation through an access panel in the front door. The door slides open. Ryles stumbles in, and then collapses on a plush, beige couch.

  Zota enters the room after Ryles, and examines the apartment with an open floor plan. A kitchen to the left with an adjoining bar to the right of the door, while the living-room where he find Ryles sprawled on the coach. On the corner table Zota sees an oil painting of the two of them, with Ryles leaning against him.

  “Soooo...what’s going on?” Zota asks.

  “The bad guys didn’t get you today,” Ryles replies. “You can thank me later.”

  “Who are you? And don’t tell me you’re my sister,” Zota says.

  Ryles takes her hands off her face and look up to the ceiling. She presses a couple of buttons on her PDA. Moments later a house robot, about the size and shape of a ottoman, brings her a glass half-full of whisky. Its aroma invades Zota’s sense and bring about a frown of recollection. “Didn’t we already go through this?”

  “You had me going until I saw that picture. I had a flashback of you and kissing me.” Zota circled around the couch while running his finger along its spine, until he go behind Ryles. Then Zota knelt so his head was now behind hers. “It felt like someone lit a match and kept it just far enough away from my mouth not to burn.”

  Ryles could feel his hot breath at the back of her ear, and then down her neck. “Don’t get it twisted. You don’t know me like that…” Zota lay his hand on Ryles shoulder, and let it rest there. His head now besides hers. Ryles head resting and still tilted up, focused at no point on the ceiling in particular.

  “Then there was the way you handled Morefishco, and those bandits in the alley. You didn’t even blink. I just about pissed my pants,” Zota says. “You’re daiswright, ex-militia or something, right?”

  “I...I’m a teacher,” Ryles says.

  “What martial arts?” Zota says. “Then teach me.”

  Zota closes in on Ryles until his lips are inches from hers. Suddenly, Ryles whips out an auto-pistol and jams it against Zota temple. Zota winces. His mind flashes back to being back in a sports car, driving down a deserted road with Ryles in the passenger’s seat. Ryles mouths something. “I said...we don’t have that kind of relationship.”

  Zota opens his eyes, the metal of the barrel presses deep into his temple.

  “Easy, easy. I’m gonna get up, go into the bathroom, and take a cold shower now. Right after I change my drawers,” Zota says.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Ryles rotates herself off the couch with the auto-pistol still pointed at Zota. Zota can feel his knees begin to throb as he remains behind the couch.

  “Are you a bounty hunter?” Zota asks. “Whatever they’re paying you, I’m sure we can work something out.”

  “It’s kinda nice to see you on your knees. I think I like the new you better,” Ryles says. “Plus, I’m not interested in turning you in for cash. I don’t hate you that much. You and I…”

  “Dating? Yeah, I guessed that much. So what went wrong? You caught me with another woman? I’m sure it won’t do any good to say, ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t remember,” Zota says.

  “Ha ha!” Ryles steps backs a bit. “I like the new you, but please don’t ruin it by getting off your knees.” Ryles circles around the couch and behind Zota, and then quietly slips her auto-pistol back into her thigh holster. Oh we were in a relationship...a business relationship. What went wrong was that the ware we were supposed to deliver doesn’t work, so we didn’t get paid.

  “Is there a back-up?” Zota asks.

  “Oh yeah,” Ryles says.

  “How do you know?”

  “I know you,” Ryles says. “And for both our sakes, there better be.”

  At Ispari State Guard Headquarters, Morefishco sits at his desk running Zota’s picture against images in a federal database. Moments later Patel appears at Morefishco’s open door, and knocks.

  “Can I speak with you?” Patel asks.

  Morefishco waves in him quickly with irritation and brings his attention back to his desktop display. Images are still flying by on the screen. Patel steps in and then stands in front of Morefishco cluttered desk.

  “The John Doe person you asked me to track…”

  Morefishco looks up. “Don’t tell me, his sister killed him?”

  “Um no...but if she is a teacher, then I am a boy scout,” Patel says.

  Morefishco rolls back in his seat and lets out a laugh. “But you are boy scout.”

  Patel grins and passes Morefishco a slip of net-paper. “Surveillance cameras caught Mary Brown in an altercation with a group of body bandits. John Doe was with her.”

  Morefishco taps on the net-paper and watches play-back of the body bandits chasing Ryles and Zota, and end with an explosion. “I see Brown shooting, and I see the explosion, but I don’t see any bodies.”

  “Nothing could have survived that,” Patel says.

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “She’s not a school teacher chief,” Patel says.

  “I know, but if Brown wanted John Doe dead, he would be already. There’s something else going on and we need Mary Brown to lead us to it.” Morefishco’s PDA chimes. He picks it up on the second chime.

  “Morefishco? They want what? Tell that wacko that kidnapping is still against the law and we can trace his call if he doesn’t politely hang up.”

  Patel looks to Morefishco. His eyes wide. He watches Morefishco listen for a few seconds, all the while trying to get a word in edgewise.

  “I can’t release him, because he’s already gone...excuse me? His wife? New Mass Congresswoman Citysun?” Morefishco’s eyes squeeze shut. “Hold on.” Morefishco taps mute on this PDA and swivels to Patel. “Grab Practice, and pick ‘em up. Right now!”

  “Pick up who chief?” Patel asks.

  “Hansel and Gretel, who do you think?”

  Patel scurries out of Morefishco’s office. Morefishco waits until Patel closes his door, and then returns his attention back to his PDA. “Put Congresswoman Citysun through.”

  Ryles strolls into the living room of her apartment house wearing jeans and a tank-top. Her hair is wrapped in a white towel, and her feet bare. Ryles stares at Zota laying on the couch with a slip of net-paper in his hands. On hearing Ryles enter he straightens up.

  “Good morning sunshine. I made some breakfast. It’s in the microwave. I didn’t realize you were going to sleep-in this long,” Zota say
s.

  “You made breakfast?”

  “Yeah.” Zota pauses. “Is that allowed?”

  Ryles nods and cracks a tiny smile. “Thank you.”

  “You should smile more often,” Zota says. “You seem like you’d be fun to be around. When you’re not killing bad guys of course.”

  Ryles’ frown returns as she walks into the kitchen.

  “So who are you, really? You’re sure not looking to kill me, because you would have already. So why all the secrecy?” Zota asks.