The Double Human

by James O'Neal

  “You have a computer or power?”

  Sewell shook his head.

  “Then how am I supposed to see what’s on the disk?”

  He hesitated and seemed to get more agitated with the questions.

  Besslia started to move toward the distraught man when he heard him suck in a breath and he knew that meant he was going to fire.

  Suddenly Johann leaped in front of Besslia just as the shotgun erupted, spewing gases and a blinding muzzle flash in the dimly lit room.

  Besslia felt Johann’s body weight as the pellets from the blast knocked him back. Then he slid onto the ground, blood already showing on his chin, neck and chest.

  Besslia reached for his pistol while Sewell was still in shock that he fired.

  From the floor, Johann coughed, “Steve, don’t.”

  That was enough to freeze everything.

  The look on Sewell’s face said it all as he dropped the weapon then jumped forward, landing on his knees to render aid to the fallen Johann.

  From behind him, Besslia heard Victor mumble, “What is he?”

  Besslia stepped past the men on the ground and picked up the shotgun. He turned to see Johann sitting up.

  Sewell was still speechless.

  Victor said, “You’re a cyborg, right?”

  Johann shook his head. “Nothing so fancy. Just an old round with weak powder. The pellets just skimmed me.”

  Sewell started to cry. “Man, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it just went off.”

  Johann patted him on the back and said, “It is okay, but now you have to help yourself. Victor’s group might be able to use a man like you.”

  Besslia looked down at the calm Johann knowing he had jumped in front of him to save his life.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Leonard Hall didn’t think the cop would recognize him but he was nervous about him getting too good of a look. He had also hoped to catch the man with the eye patch but so far none of that had worked out. He had stopped inside the small fruit market just to step out of the drizzle for a moment. Not that it made much difference now that he was soaked with the noxious water of the retention pond. He could tell that the man was dead. But he couldn’t let the woman and little girl see him just floating there.

  He was about to dispose of the gang leader’s body and retrieve his favorite screwdriver when he saw the cop, Wilner, jogging up the slight incline to the market. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was running away or avoiding him. He saw no alternative but to confront the man. Then he remembered his combat knife still in his pants. He could just finish the job right now.

  The problem was that right at this moment he didn’t feel the buildup, the urge. The detective was still working on the case and Leonard had heard that they had found the prosthetic hand of the girl he had dropped into the furnace at the hospital, but he didn’t think this cop was close to figuring out who had done it.

  He gripped his knife as the cop came closer. He held it behind his back and let the gravity feed open the blade. He saw no other alternative.

  Then he noticed the outhouse behind the market. The current state of plumbing in the zone had made outhouses with portable buckets the safest and cleanest form of sanitation. Before they started using them the waste problem had started to get out of control fast. An engineer from Romania had explained the need to dispose of human waste properly. Now the little structure offered him a chance of hiding.

  He had to make a choice and do it now.

  Mari Saltis decided to take control of the drowning scene. She went to the mother and little girl and took her jacket off, wrapping them as best she could. She looked up at several men standing there silently. “We need blankets and someone to find a dry place to move them to right away.”

  Two of the men jumped at the orders.

  She checked the girl’s eyes again and patted her blond hair.

  The woman sniffled. “She just slid off the bank and then the weeds tangled around her feet. Barry thought he could just snatch her out. Instead he slid deeper and deeper.”

  “It’ll be all right.”

  “That man. Where’d he go?”

  “He went to dry off and clean up. I’m sure you’ll see him.”

  “I recognized him.”

  “He’s lived here a long time.”

  “He went out with my neighbor.”

  “I didn’t know Leonard had a girlfriend.”

  “She was a prostitute. They found her dead last year.”

  Mari just stared at the young woman.

  Tom Wilner could see Leonard standing inside the market as he approached. Then the older man shot across the rear lot into the wooden outhouse and pulled the door tight.

  Wilner slowed as he reached the outhouse and called out, “Leonard, you all right?”

  He got no response. He was a little worried and started to pull on the handle.

  Then he heard, “I need some time.”

  “That was some pretty brave stuff back there. These canals and ponds are deadly.” He rattled the handle but it was locked.

  From inside he heard a groan and retching. “Look, I’d rather not see anyone right now. I’m fine.”

  Wilner hesitated then said, “Okay, I’ll see if I can help Mari.”

  He walked away, a little disquieted. The voice didn’t match the behavior or retching.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  It had taken nearly four hours to get back to the settlement outside of Naples. Besslia was happy with what he had accomplished. Not only had he made a makeshift stretcher from a strip of canvas and two metal poles that had supported shelves inside the old evidence room, but he had convinced Officer Jim Sewell to come with the group. The wild man who had snapped in the line of duty realized he had gone too far and didn’t want to leave Johann’s side.

  For his part, Johann had convinced both Sewell and Victor that the pellets had not pierced his skin drastically. Besslia knew that was just a lie and that his odd and superior physiology was what had kept him from dying on the cold, damp floor of the old police station.

  The trek through the underbrush and along the paths, which only the men from the settlement knew how to find, made Besslia think about his life. On the east coast he was just a patrolman who had served in the army but had never seen combat. He was comfortable in his state-assigned condo and simple job of patrolling nearly empty streets. But here, just a hundred and twenty miles west, he could make a difference. They needed someone to maintain order. They needed an armed man to help deal with the Zoners raiding into the wilderness. No one in the state government cared. This area all the way north to Sarasota was officially designated as not habitable and was not provided with any services.

  They entered the camp just as the sun was setting, casting a weak glow into the endless cloud cover. Several campfires and a few hanging oil lamps, which were fueled by the remains of abandoned cars or forgotten oil drums, lit the camp.

  The evening meal was about to begin in the community shelter, which sat in the center of the settlement. Four long tables could hold the thirty or so children and forty adults.

  Victor led Sewell toward the group. As he ducked into the big tent he said in a loud voice, “This is Jim. He’s going to be staying with us.”

  Besslia could tell a few of the women were skeptical looking at the wild hair and dark furtive eyes of the new arrival.

  Besslia sat with Johann, Sewell, Victor and Victor’s wife and young son as they ate a stew with fresh vegetables and a meat he couldn’t identify. He held a piece at the end of a fork and stared at it for a moment.

  Victor whispered, “Opossum.”

  Besslia looked at him.

  “Tastes like cat.”

  Besslia’s eyes widened and Victor smiled.

  “Just kidding, can’t tell it from chicken.”

  “Why not use the chickens here in the camp?”

  “Because they give us eggs whereas the opossums are plentiful and if we don’t thin them out they get into camp
and steal the eggs. Trust me, people have been eating opossum for hundreds of years.”

  Besslia took a leap of faith and continued to eat, deciding he liked the stew. In fact, he liked the whole idea of the camp.

  He looked across at Johann, who had started on his second bowl of stew, and said, “The pellet marks on your face are already healing up. They’re just red marks now.”

  Johann nodded, checking to make sure no one was listening to them. “By tomorrow I will be fine. I need time to concentrate on healing and stopping the bleeding. The wounds on my chest are much more severe.”

  “What’s it feel like to heal yourself like that?”

  “I’m not sure, I never thought of it like that before. I just think about the injury and, if I can avoid physical exertion, I can heal it. I guess it tingles somewhat.”

  “What’s the worst you were ever hurt?”

  Again Johann looked from side to side. “A German artillery shell not only blew shrapnel through me but the concussion injured my internal organs. Then I had to retreat with the rest of my unit of Norwegian partisans. I had to lay still for nearly a week. The partisans thought I was dead and left me in an abandoned building. I think I was found by a German patrol, which also mistook me for a corpse. It was more than a month before I felt normal again.”

  Besslia shook his head as he did at many of the stories that his friend told him.

  Johann said, “I still have a couple of scars from that one.”

  “I didn’t think you guys scarred.”

  “Oh, yes, if the injury is severe enough or if we can’t concentrate for some reason. Of course, if it’s that important to someone they can always find a time and place to concentrate and heal the scar. But I don’t mind the ones from the artillery shell. They’re like a keepsake. I also have one from a knife fight. Just a personal decision.”

  Now Victor leaned away from his conversation with his wife and said to Besslia. “I’m glad you visited and hope you return but you must keep our location a secret.”

  “You don’t want to see if I can get you some form of aid?”

  “Like what? Food? We eat better than you. We have all we need.”

  “Except security. What if the Zoners find you again?”

  Victor frowned. “We’re working on an early warning system where we can hide if they come back.”

  “I’ve been thinking that if I stayed, I might provide enough firepower to scare them off for good.”

  Victor and Johann stared at him.

  “I’m serious. I could help.”

  Johann reached across the table and placed his hand on Besslia’s arm. “I know you are. I also know you could be of great help here but you have a calling and a task right now. The UPF is more important everyday. Especially with the newcomers.”

  “But what about the Zoners?”

  “I intend to stay.”

  “You.”

  “God did not give me the abilities I have and not expect me to use them to help others. This has been my family’s mandate for centuries. You know this. Besides, Wilner needs the information on that disk and you have to help him find the killer.”

  “Me, I’m no help to a guy like that.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re the only one he counts on. Without you, Tom Wilner would be lost.”

  “What will I do without you?”

  Johann smiled. “I’ll be back soon. As soon as these people are safe again.”

  Johann’s smile made Besslia feel like he did have a reason to go back. He finished his meal and prepared to leave first thing in the morning.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Tom Wilner sat next to Mari Saltis at a large, round table where she and some of the teachers from the school shared barbequed chicken from one of the nearby shops. The shopkeeper’s daughters attended the school and he provided food for the school as well as the occasional dinner for the teachers.

  Some of the teachers’ husbands sat with them and it felt like a party back in the District. In fact, the fresh chicken reminded him of barbeques from when he was a child back in New Jersey before the great changes that had occurred in the country that started slowly with the first Islamic attacks in September of 2001. He was too young then to know how profoundly life on Earth would change. But throughout his years in the marines and as a cop he was surprised that life continued to evolve no matter what seemed to spring up in front of him.

  Just a few months ago he would’ve bet he’d be in Europe fighting to contain Germany and he never would’ve thought that he would discover that humans were not alone as the only hominid species on the planet. Now he sat in a foreign country just twenty miles from his home, eating a meal as ordinary and pleasant as any he had experienced as a child.

  Mari said, “I wish Leonard had felt well enough to eat. He certainly earned it today.”

  Wilner nodded.

  The woman next to Wilner said, “Mari told us you’re trying to find the Vampire.”

  “I can’t believe you guys named him. Does anyone know how many killings have occurred all together?”

  The woman shook her head. “No one really knows because of the way rumors start. I heard about them as far back as seven years ago. The last one I know of was the two dancers from the Chaos Pit.”

  Mari added, “I saw the house and the people moving the bodies.”

  Someone down the table said, “I heard four gang members were found down at the old North Miami city hall with neck wounds last week.”

  Wilner looked up.

  Then Mari said, “I heard about a prostitute that was killed. Leonard might have known her.”

  Wilner looked at Mari’s perfect face. “Have any of you ever heard of a man named Janos Dadicek?”

  An older Jamaican woman sitting across the wide table looked up and spoke for the first time. “There’s a family named Dadicek that lives somewhere over by the Zone River.”

  “Do you know them?”

  “I know what they are. A bunch of criminals is what they are.”

  “Is one named Janos?”

  “Heard that name but don’t know which one it is. They’re traders. They go into the district and out into the Everglades and bring back things people need.”

  “What makes them criminals?”

  “Sometimes they bring back women.”

  Wilner had his first good lead on Janos Dadicek.

  Tom Wilner agreed to meet Steve Besslia at the UPF district office just after lunch. He was shocked by his friend’s condition. He had dozens of scratches and cuts and his uniform was spotted with mud, blood and green stains Wilner couldn’t identify.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  Besslia held up the data disk. “I found the case file on the burglary in Naples that listed your killer’s fingerprint.”

  “How did you ever find it?”

  “It’s a long story but this is why I rushed back to you.”

  Wilner took the small disk and placed it in the slot that read info. The computer screen showed an index of material in the old format of police files before the UPF took over all enforcement and investigative functions.

  Wilner said, “There was no violence, just a burglary.”

  Besslia, looking over his shoulder, said, “Looks like the woman in the apartment heard the intruder and got to the cops.”

  “Look here, a cop questioned a man on the next street for suspicious activity.”

  “Suspicious activity? What’s that?”

  “Not sure, but I don’t think they could arrest people for that kind of stuff back then.”

  “No shit, they just let people wander around even if they were suspicious?”

  Wilner shrugged. “The man produced a Broward Community College student identification card in the name of Leonard Dawson.”

  “The district used to be called Broward County.”

  “I didn’t know there were ever any colleges here.”

  “That’s a long time ago. Look, more than
forty years. We weren’t even born yet.”

  “So this is our man. I think I might know where he is.”

  Besslia said, “Janos Dadicek?”

  “Has to be. Look at the dates.”

  “Would a Simolit go to a community college? Are you sure?”

  Wilner said, “There is a family named Dadicek that lives in the zone. They’re some kind of traders. They trade women into prostitution sometimes.”

  “Zoners.”

  “What?”

  “Janos Dadicek is a Zoner; a raider into the western wilderness.”

  “What are you talking about, Steve?”

  Besslia took his time and told him the whole story of his trip.

  Leonard Hall was exhausted. He had expended a lot of energy saving the little girl then, after avoiding the cop, retrieved his favorite screwdriver from the neck of the gang leader. He had dragged the body to the top of the empty building and counted on the rats and birds coming in the empty windows to do their job. Even if he was found forensics were so poor down here that no one would be able to tell when he died.

  Now he sat in the Chaos Pit hoping to catch a glimpse of the other gang members. Especially the guy with the missing eye. He sat at a table by himself and ate a sandwich made of synthetic beef and synthetic lettuce. Basically a way to eat a few calories and nutrients with some texture but no real taste.

  He looked up at the dancers but one of them caught his eye. Sally, a regular with only one arm, smiled at him but she did nothing for him. He missed Darla and Lisa. They made a real connection with him. For the first time in his life he regretted letting his drive overwhelm him. Right now he wished either girl was here to sit with him and hear about his day.

  Before he got too wound up in dreaming about some imaginary life he saw two familiar faces. The two gang members had just entered the front door.

  Leonard made sure they didn’t look his way. He had time. He needed to do this at the right time and the right place. Not only to keep suspicions to a minimum but to let the build-up go on as long as possible.

  It was late for anyone to be in the district commander’s office. Tom Wilner and Steve Besslia sat across the wide desk and listened as the commander barked out his opinions while wiping down his bald crown.