by James O'Neal
“Which way?” called Johann when he saw the bed of the truck empty and knew the other prisoner had escaped.
Victor pointed toward the river and said, “I shot at him but missed. It all happened so fast.”
“Where’s Sewell?”
“He ran after him.”
Johann didn’t see anyone on the path, so he climbed up into the high cab of the truck and started the engine. He ignored a stump the big tires rolled over as he pulled onto the path and mashed the gas pedal.
He heard another shot then slowed the truck when he saw someone move ahead of him on the path. It was the escaped prisoner and he cut south into the swampy area where Johann couldn’t follow in the truck.
He jammed the brakes when he saw a figure prone on the ground to the side. It was Jim Sewell.
He leaped from the truck, his feet sticking in the thick mud. This was turning into the disaster he had wanted to avoid.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Tom Wilner had narrowed down the possible houses where Janos Dadicek lived. The road along the Zone River held all types of different houses. From small, old-Florida one-bedroom shacks to near mansions. Of course, the mansions looked as run-down as the shacks with the lack of material and labor available for repair.
He hustled back to the car where Steve Besslia sat in silence with the two Simolits. Wilner opened the driver’s door and said, “I think it’s the big house about half a mile south. It looks like there’s a bridge behind it.”
Besslia nodded. “If it’s not the house we walk away. This isn’t the district. It’s not like we can be sued or ruin a prosecution.”
“That’s fine except if it is the house we need to hit it hard. This family has a bad reputation down here.” He cut his eyes to the two Simolits in the backseat. He wanted to see if they flinched at the comment. Anything to see if they were here because Janos Dadicek was, in fact, a member of their ancient family. They remained placid, ready to do what Wilner asked of them.
He looked back at Besslia and said, “Let me talk to one more house. The one down the street. Pick me up in a few minutes when I walk out. I don’t want to spook anyone.”
Besslia nodded as Wilner headed off toward the small yellow house. Wilner could see the rear end of a Honda parked in the rear of the house. He took a second to look around the porch once he was under the metal roof. He thought he heard someone inside.
He knocked on the solid wooden door that didn’t match the house.
Mari Saltis had taught an English class for a teacher who had the flu. Down here in the Quarantine Zone, the flu wasn’t always a simple matter of resting. Sometimes the flu turned into something worse and without the full access to medicines and the limited number of doctors people died of the flu. The other problem was the exotic diseases that mimicked common illnesses like the flu. That was one of the ways that the bioplague had spread so far before they figured out it was not an organic illness.
The class had felt like it dragged, partially because her mind was so preoccupied. She missed Tom Wilner and found herself constantly thinking of ways to see him. She was also worried about Leonard Hall.
He wasn’t at work, which was odd considering the amount of time he usually put into the school since he started. He had been there every day when she got there, and stayed until after she left. He had been very quiet about his heroics in saving her and seemed to want to forget the whole incident.
She was also troubled by the idea that Leonard knew one of the prostitutes who had been murdered. Not that she thought he killed her. It was the Vampire. Just that he hung out with prostitutes. But he was a man. He could be lonely. She knew he lived with his aunt. Mari still didn’t know how old Leonard was. His lean, muscular body gave the impression he was close to forty, but his face and graying hair made him look older.
She sat in the empty room as the girls headed off to another class. She gazed out the window, watching the light raindrops ping off the glass.
A young woman entered the room and stopped in surprise. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
“Just resting after an English class.”
“I sit in here and read sometimes until my eleven o’clock algebra class.” She took a seat on the other side of the desk where Mari sat.
Mari said, “What do you have to read?”
She held up a small, old paperback book. “I hate the electronic readers. There’s a store on Market Row that has hundreds of these.”
“What’s the book about?”
“Just a crime novel but it’s set down here before the changes. It shows Miami as a great center of commerce and some of the other cities as really upscale. Did you know there was a town named Aventura?”
Mari smiled at the woman who had not really known the zone as part of the United States except as a child.
Mari said, “Have you seen Leonard today?”
The woman shook her head and made a face.
“What’s the look for?”
“He’s weird. He gives me the creeps.”
Mari wondered if she had been blind to Leonard because he had been such a help to her. It was something to think about.
Johann Halleck kneeled down to the fallen Jim Sewell. But the former cop sat up quickly.
“He tricked me into an ambush. I don’t even know what he hit me with.” Sewell held a hand up to his head and it came away bloody. “I got a shot off on him.”
Johann was up and in the truck quickly as Sewell scampered into the passenger seat.
The big truck shot forward and he turned to the right where the man had run. Quickly the soggy marsh turned to deeper water. A gigantic alligator cruised in front of them.
“He didn’t go this way,” said Johann.
“There’s a lot of brush. He could’ve cut back in either direction.”
Johann knew the man didn’t have enough loyalty to save his friend, so that meant he was headed back to the house. Johann backed the truck out and headed toward the river. As he did the fleeing man sprang up from a low tangle of brush and started running in front of them.
Johann eased the truck in behind him, waiting for the man to tire from running so fast through the thick, wet terrain. He could see a small yellow house across the river and even someone in the rear room turn to look at the truck. He couldn’t let the man get close enough to warn the Zoners they wanted to attack.
Leonard felt a tremendous relief as he looked at the shocked expression on his aunt’s face. She had been looking at the truck across the river and had said, “Why is that man—” She never finished her thought as Leonard went with his urge and instinct to drive his combat spike straight through her neck.
It was so fast and precise that she continued to turn her head slightly and just stared up at her nephew as he maintained his grip on the handle of the spike. Her body went limp.
He slipped the spike out quickly and stared at the precise hole in the side of her lovely neck. The tiniest dribble of blood spilled out. He eased her onto the side of the couch and placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling closer to her now than he had in all the years they had lived together in the zone. Her skin was soft and youthful.
But she was dead. Because of him.
It was then that he realized he had crossed a line. He had gone too far. His stomach churned as he considered the consequences of what he had done.
Then a sharp knock on his front door startled him. It took him several seconds to regain his composure.
He closed the combat spike back into the handle and shoved it in his front pocket, crossing the room quickly to the front door. There was no peephole; there was no need for one. He couldn’t remember the last time someone knocked on this door. Not in the last ten years at least. People didn’t mix in this part of the zone.
He opened the door a crack and saw it was only one man. As he pulled the door open the rest of the way he realized it was the cop, Tom Wilner. Had he figured out what Leonard was up to?
The first thing the cop said was, “
Can I ask you a question about one of your neighbors?”
Leonard was so shocked he gave no reaction.
Then the cop said, “You look familiar. Do we know each other?”
Leonard shook his head slowly.
The cop looked at him closely then asked, “Do you know the people in the big white house with the bridge across the river?”
Leonard started to think again. “I see them,” he mumbled.
“Is the owner’s name Dadicek?”
“Yeah, I think. A lotta people use the bridge.” Then he realized what he should be saying: Why? Who’re you?
The big cop hesitated. “Man, you sure seem familiar.”
Leonard had stuck his hand in his pocket and gripped the combat knife. In his head he knew he’d have to be fast. He judged the cop’s height and how he’d let the gravity-fed blade drop out then shove it up under Wilner’s chin.
Wilner shook his head and said, “I need to talk to Mr. Dadicek.” He looked over his shoulder.
Leonard thought this might be the moment to strike.
Wilner waved to someone and turned around to say, “Just a few friends with me.”
Leonard looked to one side of Wilner’s broad shoulders and saw the hive with three men sitting in it.
Wilner looked past him a little and said, “You live out here alone?”
“Uh, my aunt lives with me.”
“She know the Dadiceks?”
“No, she’s um, homebound. She’s taking a nap right now.” Leonard felt the sweat start to form on his forehead. He hoped the cop didn’t pick up on his nervousness. He’d use the knife but the men outside would be here in seconds.
Then Wilner said, “Thanks,” and turned back to the car.
Leonard shut the door and stumbled back into the other room. He looked at his still aunt and said, “Wow, that was close.”
THIRTY-NINE
Johann Halleck looked down on the running man from the cab of the big truck. Jim Sewell bounced in the seat next to him. He knew he could not let this Zoner get close enough to warn the others at the house and he thought that a gunshot from this distance would be heard. He punched the gas and the engine revved as he tried to run the man down. It wasn’t particularly sporting, but the settlement was counting on him ending the Zoner’s reign of terror.
Before the bumper of the truck smashed into the man he pivoted on his right foot and dove off the path into the rough foliage near the deep water.
Johann slammed on the brakes, causing the truck to skid in the mud. He put a hand on Sewell’s chest and said, “I’ll get him. Back the truck out of sight of the house.”
He was on the ground running after the prisoner in a matter of seconds. As he bounded through the brush he realized he had no weapon with him. It didn’t matter, he had to stop the man any way he could.
The tracks were easy to find in the thick mud and he knew the man couldn’t be more than a few yards in front of him. Johann cut through the thick brush with vines running up out of the murky water and through each separate bush like a trap. As he broke through one of the bushes deeper into the swamp he felt a searing pain in his shoulder, which knocked him to the ground. He turned his head to look over his shoulder in time to see a thick log glance off his head.
His face was knocked into the mud and his vision blurred, but he was conscious and not about to let this creep get away.
Johann rolled to one side as the man raised and then swung the heavy log again. It made a thumping sound as it hit the thick mud in a few inches of water.
The man hefted the log again and advanced toward the dazed Johann. He swung, catching Johann as he tried to slip the blow. It cracked against his jaw. But now Johann was standing and launched a hard kick to the man’s ribs. As the man stumbled back, Johann threw his whole body into him.
The log dropped harmlessly to the ground and the man gave Johann a surprised look.
Johann knew that look well. He had no idea how Johann had survived the attack. The man continued to back away until Johann closed the distance and grabbed his chin and the back of his head. Johann twisted hard, sharply turning the man’s head. His neck snapped and he sunk into the mud.
Johann didn’t even think of the man as he raced back to the truck to start his assault on the Zoner’s house.
Wilner felt like he was on an official raid by the UPF. He stood on one side of the door and Besslia stood on the other. They had their heavy-duty pistols drawn and were listening to activity in the house.
They didn’t have time to call in reinforcements even if they could come into the zone. Wilner had sent the two Simolits around to the rear of the house in case someone ran out the back. He didn’t ask but knew both men were armed.
He had spent a lot of time narrowing down his suspect houses to this one. Janos Dadicek had to live here.
Wilner looked at his partner and nodded his head once. He tried the handle and found the door unlocked. He twisted it and shoved the door open. The two cops buttonhooked or looped around the door frame to the inside wall, their pistols up.
A man stepped into the hallway. Seeing the intruders, he yelled and fled toward the rear of the house. Wilner fell into pursuit. As he passed the first room in the hallway he heard a familiar and terrifying sound: someone had a flasher.
The weapon’s discharge took out half the wall and set fire to the room across the hall. The blast knocked Wilner into the kitchen where the man was standing, raising a new M-20 assault rifle.
Wilner fired into the center of the man’s frame. Just like in all the practice sessions with the marines and UPF. The man twitched and dropped the rifle as he fell back against the counter, then toppled onto the floor.
From the hallway he saw the man with the portable flasher as he raised it. Before he could fire, gunshots from behind him cut him down.
Wilner looked up to see Steve Besslia at the far end of the hallway, his pistol up.
Two more men rushed into the kitchen. Wilner screamed, “Freeze.” He emphasized the point by holding his pistol on them.
One of the men was elderly and they both raised their hands.
From the backyard Wilner heard more shots and looked out the window. One of the Simolits had been shot in the arm but they both stood over a dead man with a new automatic pistol by his side.
It looked like this part of the operation was going smoothly.
Johann Halleck had Jim Sewell behind him in the bushes with a rifle they had taken from the Zoners. The rifle was one of the new German urban assault rifles that fired bullets made of all types of material. This one had a clip of ceramic material designed to injure one person at a time but not hurt others by passing though.
Sewell was still adjusting to all the advances since he had slid from his underground evidence hole. Johann worried what he might think if he wandered into the district or some other urban area. The way the former cop was talking, Johann thought he would stay with the settlers.
Johann had a U.S. Army M-20. A combat rifle with a short barrel but tremendous accuracy that was feared by most Middle Eastern countries. Produced on a massive scale, the weapon was familiar to virtually the entire world.
This one had a small optical sight, which allowed for sniperlike shots. Johann was in the low reeds directly west of the house with the small bridge that cut across the Zone River.
Something was going on at the house. He heard some shots and men shouting. Now he was in position to see the entire rear yard and porch of the large house. Two men were standing over a body.
Johann used the scope just to get a look at the men. Immediately he recognized them. They were Bejor Simolit’s sons. He figured the Simolits might be involved in something as vile as trading in humans. If Bejor knew about this there was no telling how he had lied to Johann about the killer.
Johann knew what he had to do. If he put them each down with a shot to the head he could cross the bridge, deal with the others then go back and ensure each man was dead by pumping as many shots as
he needed into their heads or hearts.
He took a deep breath of the cool air and raised the rifle to his shoulder. He sighted in on the taller of the two Simolits. The young-looking man’s dark hair filled the small scope as he slowly released his breath and tightened the pressure on the trigger.
FORTY
Tom Wilner took his time clearing the rest of the house. He didn’t want to be surprised by some hidden gunman after he started talking to all the occupants. Steve Besslia watched the two living prisoners in the kitchen and the Simolits had the backyard. All in all it was just like a raid in the district except technically this was legal and there was no warrant.
Wilner found a second rear door as he finishing searching the back rooms. He holstered his weapon, opened the door and called back to the Simolits.
“It’s me, Wilner, don’t shoot. You hear me?” He waited until he heard one of them say, “We hear.”
He stepped into the soggy grass and onto a stone path that led to the rear patio.
“You guys okay?”
They just stared at him. It would be very difficult to hurt one of these guys short of a direct shot to the head.
Then he heard a gunshot from across the river.
Johann was outraged that the Simolits would be involved with these raiders. He also knew that this action could very well lead to the all-out war between the families that they had somehow avoided for the past century. His fear was that if he did nothing the Simolit family would just deny any allegation and nothing would ever get done.
He continued his aim at the one with dark locks of hair. He saw them move to acknowledge someone else in the backyard but decided no matter who else was there this Simolit was going down. He knew he’d have to follow up because the single shot wouldn’t kill him. But it would put him out of action for a while.
He took in one last breath then slowly let it out as he took final aim.
He saw someone with sandy-colored hair come from the corner of the house and his face flashed next to the Simolit as Johann pulled the trigger.