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

by Tope Oluwole

  A temp car with the Director of Protocol in the back and his heavy driving hum down the avenue. He hears faint banging beyond the rear cabin he’s seated in.

  “I guess you didn’t drop her hard enough,” Director of Protocol says.

  Zota breezes through city traffic. He peeks at the GPS clock on the heads-up-display. “Damn.”

  Morefishco reclines at his desk. His wireless earpiece flashes blue, as he puts notes to net-paper. “What about John Doe?”

  On a split display atop Morefishco’s desk, Patel appears. “Ah, he got away from us.”

  “Got away?” Morefishco. “How does a man who doesn’t even know his own name, in a state he doesn’t live in, get away from a state guard?”

  “John Doe and Misses Brown were gone when we got to her residence. A neighbor says some men put Misses Brown in the booth of a temp car. We have another John Doe; dead at the scene,” Patel says.

  “Great!” Morefishco says. “Any more good news?”

  “I’ve got a trace on our first John Doe,” Patel says. “He is travelling down Main Street. His destination is...East Ispari Hospital.”

  A virtual desk guard pops his head into Morefishco’s office. Morefishco waves him forward. Behind the virtual desk guard, Morefishco can see Elisa and Aalin. “Have them wait a moment.” Morefishco tells the virtual desk guard.

  “Please be mindful of the two minute warning,” the virtual desk guard says.

  “Yes, I won’t keep them waiting for more than two minutes. I know the regulation,” Morefishco says. Morefishco waits until the virtual desk guard has retreated, before turning his attention back to Patel. “Bring him in.”

  “On what basis?” Patel asks.

  “Driving without a license for starters,” Morefishco says, and then taps the screen to end the call. Morefishco waves Elisa and Aalin into his office. He studies them with his glance as they sit down in suits that look like they would cost him a weeks salary.

  “Thank you for coming Representative Citysun. Can I get you some coffee, water…” Morefishco gestures over to his well appointed minibar, including juices and carbonated soft drinks.

  “Zota Citysun is my husband,” Elisa says is an even tone. “Where is he?”

  Morefishco waits a moment, gazes to Aalin, and then returns his gaze to Elisa.

  “This is my protective detail,” Elisa says.

  “Well, before I can answer your question, I’ll need to verify you are who you say you are,” Morefishco says.

  “Really? You don’t know who I am?” Elisa slides forward, leaning towards Morefishco. “Do I need to call your superiors?”

  “Don’t take it personally. After the week I’ve had, I’d ask Jesus Christ for I-D, and he can walk on water.” Morefishco slides a print scanner in front of Elisa.

  Elisa straightens up, and places her right hand on the scanner.

  “I guess you don’t get net news here in Ispari?” Aalin says.

  Morefishco swivels to Aalin. “We do, but I figured why let a few million dollars worth of technology collect dust. On a net-paper display, Elisa’s identification and credentials are verified. Her dossier includes the name and picture of her husband.

  “Zota...Citysun. I didn’t think he was a John”, Morefishco says.

  “Now that we’ve established my identity, I would like to see my husband, now,” Elisa says.

  Morefishco glances at his PDA momentarily as if to will it to chime with a news flash of Zota’s capture.

  “Well, he’s going to be under observation for at least another hour…” Morefishco says.

  “Observation?” Elisa asks.

  Morefishco holds up his bands. “Just as a precaution, so the department isn’t liable for anything that happens to Zota, after we release him into your custody.”

  “You’re stalling,” Aalin says.

  “Am I?” Morefishco says.

  “Yes. What I want to know is why,” Aalin says.

  “Departmental protocol.” Morefishco shrugs. “I’m just a cog in the system. I know you understand.”

  “That’s bull!” Aalin says.

  “You think I want to keep a three-month-old John Doe case open? Believe me, It’ll be good riddance!” Morefishco turns to Elisa. “No offence.”

  “None taken,” Elisa responds.

  “You sure I can’t get you both a cup of coffee?” Morefishco asks, and gestures again to the mini-bar. Elisa shakes her head. “You’re pretty lucky you know? No sign of your husband in three months, and one sunny morning, blam. It must have been tough. I figured you’d be luckier and find him sooner. I’m sure you spent the last three months looking under every rock for him.”

  Elisa’s eyes go vacant and then flicker red. Morefishco doesn’t notice.

  “Relax! He doesn’t suspect a thing. He’s just a graying civil servant, grasping at straws,” the voice hisses inside Elisa head.

  “Guard Morefishco, I have been more than patient under the circumstances. Now, I would like to see my husband, please,” Elisa says.

  Morefishco looks to Elisa and then to Aalin and back. “I’ll check with my men at the hospital.” Morefishco picks up his PDA and pings Patel.

  A red temp car pulls into the parking lot of East Ispari Hospital. Once parked, one of Director of Protocol’s heavies pops the trunk remotely. He casually strolls to the rear of the temp car, smiles and carefully lifts Ryles out of the trunk, and places her on her feet. Ryles knees buckle, and the heavy catches her and stands her upright. After taking a moment to straighten her up, the heavy passes Ryles her PDA.

  Ryles approaches the entrance of the emergency room, her face weathered. She swipes an entry on her PDA and initiates a call.

  Patel watches Zota stride into the parking lot of East Ispari Hospital. He glances to his left, and right, and then over his shoulder, pulling the duffel bag he’s carrying closer to his body. “I’m looking at him right now chief. Misses Brown also just showed up to, with company. Yes, we are going to need back-up. One is a cyborg.”

  Patel ends the call, and then sighs. Practice look to Patel with anticipation. “What did the chief say?”

  “The John Doe is Zota Citysun, some New Mass politician’s husband. He wants us to protect him at all costs,” Patel says.

  “What?” Practice asks.

  “The chief wants us to bring Citysun to HQ once we get the all clear,” Patel says. “That’s code for: thing are about to get very messy, so watch your ass until backup arrives.”

  “It doesn’t sound the same when you say it,” Patience says.

  Zota sees Ryles stumbling towards him. Her eyes are swollen, and there are cuts across her face. Blood speckles her tank top.

  “You look like crap,” Zota says.

  “Thank you for noticing,” Ryles says. “The battered look is making a comeback.”

  “How’d you get away?” Zota asked.

  Ryles tries to grin, and grimaces. Zota fumbles inside the bag until his fingers touch Ryles auto-pistol. He scans around the parking lot quickly.

  “Don’t!” Ryles yells.

  Zota raises an eyebrow at Ryles and then takes a step back.

  “Why don’t you bring the bag to me?” Director of Protocol hovers up from behind Ryles.

  Zota spins to make a break for it, only to be greeted by the fist of the Director’s heavies. Zota drops into a clump on the ground of the parking lot, after getting his head smacked back. Ryles shakes her head, and walks up to Zota on the ground. “He does you no good brain dead.” Ryles taps her forehead with her finger. “Unless you don’t want the ware anymore.”

  “Say you’re sorry,” Director of Protocol says to his heavy.

  “I am sorry,” the heavy replies. The heavy goes through Zota’s clothing, and finds nothing. The heavy begins to poke into the bag when a voice booms around him.

  “Ispari State Guard!” Morefishco yells. “Get face down on the ground with your hands out you where I can see ‘em.

  The heavy gla
nces at Director of Protocol, while still in a prone position with a hand in the bag. Ryles slowly drops to her knees, then to the ground.

  Director of Protocol makes eye contact with the heavy and nods. The heavy flexes his muscles and sprints with the bag in one arm. Tear gas grenades fly between the heavy and Director of Protocol. Ryles crawls with her breath held groping ahead. The heavy’s feet ignite and rockets blast lift him off and towards Director of Protocol. Director of Protocol taps a button on his wrist, and smoke and fireworks stream out of his hover-chair. A swarm of Ispari State Guards open fire with heavy explosive squash head rounds, as the heavy grabs Director of Protocol and blasts off into the evening sky.

  As the smoke clears, Zota begins to regain consciousness. He strains to get his bearings and sees a dozen armor units around him. He drops his head in resignation.

  “Let me guess,” Morefishco’s voice crackles through the armor unit’s comm system. “That was your crazy uncle, and second cousin, right?” Morefishco waves to Practice and Patel, who both help Zota up. Morefishco leads them towards the collection of cruisers outside the perimeter of the parking lot.

  “Should we cuff him?” Practice buzzes through the comm system of her armored unit. Patel stifles a laugh which comes out of his armored unit’s comm system as a static. Morefishco grins.

  “I don’t know. Zota? Should we cuff you?” Morefishco asks. Zota looks up to Morefishco, who sees recognition in his eyes. “Yes, that’s your real name.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?” Zota says. “Besides, how do you know that’s my real name.”

  “You don’t have to take my word for it,” Morefishco says. “I’m just trying to get rid of you. Maybe it’ll stick this time.” Morefishco leads them to a cruiser with Elisa and Aalin in the back seat. Morefishco raps lightly on the driver’s side of the roof. The guard gets out, and then opens the rear door. Elisa slides out, her exposed, long legs first. Zota sees this and narrows his eyes. When Zota eyes meet Elisa, she gasps.

  Elisa runs to Zota and throws her arms around him. She holds him tight. After what seems like an eternity, she breaks her embrace.

  “Elisa? You’re Elisa,” Zota says.

  “Yes. I’m…,” Elisa starts, but Morefishco puts up a hand at Elisa interrupting her.

  “Zota? Who is she?” Morefishco asks.

  “She’s...she’s...my wife,” Zota says.

  “I love happy endings, don’t you,” Morefishco says with a deadpan expression.

  As Elisa embraces Zota again, his and Aalin’s eyes meet.

  “Who’s that?” Zota asks Elisa.

  Elisa turns around to follow Zota’s gaze. “A friend. He helped me find you.”

  Morefishco glances at Aalin and then turns to Patel and Practice. “Please give Congresswoman Citysun and her...delegation...an escort to the DMZ.”

  The stars shine bright and the moon is full. Practice and Patel’s armored personnel carrier leads Elisa’s vehicle towards the DMZ. Inside Elisa’s vehicle Aalin drives while Elisa and Zota hold each other close in the back.

  “Guard Morefishco told me you lost your memory,” Elisa said. “I didn’t believe it.”

  Zota’s eyes drift from Elisa’s to Aalin staring back through the rear-view camera display. “I don’t remember him,” Zota says.

  “Aalin is my envoy. You don’t remember do you?” Elisa says. “He was over the house a few times during last summer.”

  Aalin grins but Zota doesn’t see him. The convoy reaches the DMZ tower gate. Aalin passes the checkpoint gate guard his passport. The guard reviews it, looks at Aalin, and gives him his passport.

  Practice and Patel watch as the massive gates slides apart and Elisa’s vehicle drives through. Practice and Patel watch the DMZ gates shut with a clang behind Elisa’s vehicle.

  “So is that what they’re calling gigolos these days?” Zota says.

  Elisa’s mask of a smile disappears. “How dare you lecture me on fidelity. If you hadn’t left with that whore we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Elisa slides away from Zota towards her door. “Now we can drop this farce.” Her chest heaves and drops. “You could have told me about your contact with the Triad.”

  “I may be a just a daiswright, but even I know that the government can’t handle the responsibility for that type of ware,” Zota says.

  “But, I was your wife! I had a right to know!” Elisa says.

  “And to get paid,” Zota says.

  “It was never about the money,” Elisa says.

  “It is now,” Aalin says. He taps the auto-drive button on the vehicle controller. He then turns an auto-pistol on Zota.

  “Bad news,” Zota says. “I don’t have the ware. So, you have nothing.”

  “I know,” Elisa says. Elisa’s eyes flash red, and Zota look at her, closely. “However, I’ll have to thank her for leading me to such a payday, with your ware.” Elisa brings up her wrist and points to the media slot.

  “So why bother to look for me?” Zota asks.

  Silence fills the vehicle as Zota looks at Aalin and Elisa’s expressions.

  “You thought I was dead, but when Morefishco found me it ruined your happily-ever-after,” Zota says.

  A female silhouette stands in the middle of the bridge between Ispari and New Mass. Coming towards her are the lights of a vehicle.

  In her gloved left hand is a device with a flashing red light. In her right hand is a submachine gun. A gloved thumb squeezes the device.

  Zota looks to Elisa, who turns to look out the window, staring at nothing in particular.

  “Time to put the X in ex-husband,” Aalin says. Aalin grins as he lines up the pistol to Zota head.

  Zota looks to Elisa. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For everything.”

  Explosions strike in front of Elisa’s vehicle. The vehicle shudders from the impact and then lurches to the left, then to the right. Aalin frantically attempts to stabilize the vehicle.

  “Aalin!” Elisa screams.

  The vehicle collides nose first into the guard barrier. Elisa and Zota are tossed to the floor of the vehicle. The vehicle grinds to a halt in front of the woman with the submachine gun at her side. Before Aalin can get his bearings, she races to the driver’s side and bashes the glass in. “Out! Nice and cool,” Ryles says with the barrel pointed at Aalin’s head. She hears movement in the rear of the vehicle. “You too princess!”

  “If it’s money…” Aalin begins. He looks up but can’t only hear a voice in the darkness. He opens the door and steps out slowly.

  “Shut up!” Ryles slams Aalin in the face with the butt of the submachine gun, knocking him down to his knees. Elisa steps out carefully from the rear of the vehicle, followed by Zota.

  “Do you know who I am?” Elisa asks.

  “Yes, I do. And by this time tomorrow, so well everyone on the planet,” Ryles says. She looks to Zota. “Tie the them up.” Ryles tosses Zota a pair of strip binders. Zota catches them both and and begins to cuff Aalin and Elisa to the vehicle.

  “What are you doing?” Elisa says.

  “You tried to kill me.” Zota says. “I guess I was some kind of bastard. Ryles levels the submachine gun at Elisa on cue.

  “You weren’t always like that,” Elisa says.

  “You’re either crazy or stupid.” Aalin feels the fresh blood on the side of his face as he steadies himself onto his knees. “You’re not really going to kill a dulcet, a congresswoman?”

  Ryles hits Aalin again with the submachine gun, knocking him unconscious. She turns her attention back on Elisa. Elisa eyes begins to dart about, and tear up. “I’m pregnant!” Elisa blurts out.

  “What?” Zota says.

  “That’s a good one,” Ryles says.

  “It’s yours,” Elisa says to Zota.

  “She’s playing you, again,” Ryles says.

  “You’d choose your whore over your own child,” Elisa asks Zota.

  “I don’t believe you,” Zota says. “Give me the wa
re, and I’ll disappear, like you wanted me to in the first place. We’ll call it even.”