“Who are the designers?” he asked.
“I don’t know. But they’re the ones who did this. Do you remember right after the rebellion was quelled and the establishment started dying?” she asked.
“Started being murdered, you mean. Fucking People’s Protest! Of course I remember. All those bodies swinging on the light posts, dressed up in fancy clothes. I’ll never forget it. I had to cut my doctor down.” Ramirez winced at the memory.
“Right. Well, about the same time the administrators implemented the first purge, they decided they weren’t safe staying in one location. If the purge didn’t get all the rebels, they were prime targets. Remember?” She glanced at him and he shrugged.
“Yeah, and?”
“Well, I was working for Harry Rose then. He refused to go along with the rest of them and Lewis was furious. They had a huge row because Harry kept copies of important records and Lewis didn’t think they would be safe.” Vanessa paused as Ramirez plucked a loose thread on the sofa. Her grandmother had always covered the worn arms with lace, but she didn’t bother. What was the point?
“The records were inoculation records. Kids’ inoculation records. I was listening behind the door when Lewis started screaming about what would happen if the records got into the wrong hands. I don’t understand all of it, but from what I heard, the designers had slipped something called Priscilla into regular vaccinations before the rebellion. It was a virus and it mutated them, Detective.”
Ramirez looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”
“It changed them. Once they hit puberty, they stop feeling. It’s like they don’t register greed, hate, or even love. They’re not like us. And it’s hereditary. Their kids won’t feel either.”
“Why? Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know. This, I suppose,” Vanessa sighed.
“This? You mean the NSO?”
“From what I heard, they wanted to make a utopia. I think they used the rebellion to put their plan in place. I mean it’s perfect, right? The outside world is dying and can’t interfere and they’ve got all these infected kids. So they put their government in place and let the kids grow up unmolested. Pretty soon, everyone else is expendable and they have this new race of people who won’t fight, or be jealous, or anything.”
“That’s impossible!” Staring at her in horror, Ramirez placed his hands flat on the couch as if they would stop the world from spinning. She shook her head, sadly.
“You’ve seen them, Detective. You know what the new workers are like. They don’t rebel, complain, or act like any teenager I’ve ever known.” She watched Ramirez carefully. He studied the plants in front of the window. The panes reflected the lamplight, blocking out a view of the Zone.
“Do they know you know?” he asked.
“If they did, I wouldn’t be here now. Can you imagine what people would do if it got out?”
“Then why the investigation?” he asked, turning to face her.
“I’m not sure. I’m the last of the early assistants. The rest are dead or disappeared. I’ve checked. I think maybe they’ve been getting rid of us slowly like they do the other workers. They couldn’t do it all at once because the kids needed training, but this is the first year all the assistants are teenagers. I’m guessing they kept me around until the training was complete. Someone had to know how things work. Now they don’t need me anymore. At some point, they won’t need you,” Vanessa said.
Ramirez looked through her like she was vapor. She pitied him, but did not regret her choice. Her thighs ached and sitting was difficult. The monotony of terror had worn thin her fragile shell of self-preservation and, for the first time, she would rather face the streets than the consequences of this investigation. Until the detective rejected her offer, she had not known this. Tired of pretending, tired of doing the NSO’s bidding, and tired of life, she had only known she was ready to die.
Now, she felt something else. Ramirez’s leaving had been unexpected, but his return was more of a surprise. How long had it been since someone, besides Isaac, had cared? When was the last time a man had looked at her with lust and not acted on his desire? Until now, her only hope had been the outside world would recover and destroy the NSO. Ramirez’s small act of honor had lightened her heart.
Watching him absorb the information, she wanted to touch him, but if she did, he would shatter like glass. He rubbed a hand through his hair, hollow-eyed.
“I have to go. I’ll come back. I just have to think. Is that okay, me needing to think?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he stood and shuffled out of her apartment like an old man.
Vanessa pulled the sheet tighter, suddenly cold. It was strange to have a man asking for her permission, but it didn’t matter. She had to go. It wasn’t safe here any longer. With Ramirez’s kindness no more than a sweet memory, she picked up the picture of her grandfather and kissed it. Setting it down, she blew out the candle and grabbed her journal. In her bedroom, she donned old clothes – jeans, a tee shirt, and sneakers. From the top shelf of the closet, she pulled down her daypack and set it on the bed. She rummaged through drawers and cabinets, assembling what she thought she would need. As an afterthought, she retrieved a bundle of family photographs and her grandfather’s knife. The knife was precious and she had kept it well hidden. She threw everything into the pack. There was no food. The administrators had planned well, requiring all meals be taken communally in the cafeterias. The small bits she had managed to steal were for Hercules.
Vanessa hesitated before dropping the meat on the fire escape. Chances were another creature would eat it. Hercules would come to the window in the morning. When she did not appear, he would meow and wait. Eventually, he would stop coming, knowing he had been abandoned. Like her, he would have to fend entirely for himself.
She closed the window, crossed her small living room, and walked out the door. Outside, all was quiet. Where would she go? What bare room or dank basement would she now call home? How would she find food? The problems she faced were staggering. Vanessa knew nothing of survival. For lack of a better option, she headed toward the park. It was, at least, familiar. She no longer cared about the dangers lurking there. Dangers lurked everywhere.
Moving into the trees, she found an open space that smelled of growing things. Easing her sore body onto the soft grass, she used her blanket as a pillow. Tree branches intermingled above her, their green bounty blackened by the night. She gasped, lost in the mesmerizing fabric of the star-filled sky. Awed by the infinite possibilities spread before her, she contemplated what life would be like outside the carefully ordered lines of what she had known. Now, one of the Fallen, her fear receded. Once again, she belonged.
CHAPTER 11
Though cold and tired, Jeremy would not leave. He had not expected Vanessa to walk away from the NSO without assistance and was filled with tenderness for her courage. Tonight, he would stand guard over her. Tomorrow, he would approach her.
An hour before dawn, he stretched his stiff body and cracked his neck. His eyes burned from the long vigil, but he was jubilant. Soon, she would give him what he needed. He stood to examine the woman sleeping near him. She was curled in a ball with her hair cascading over her face. Cautiously, he crept closer and scooped her backpack and blanket off of the ground. Without her belongings, she would be even more receptive to what he had to say.
Taking a last look, he stepped back into the foliage. When he returned to the basement, he would assign Michael to surveillance. They could not afford to lose Vanessa in the great maze of the inner-city once the sun crested the buildings and lit the day.
As he turned into the alley that led to the Gate, Michael descended the fire escape at the back of the building. Jeremy set down the pack and blanket and put his hands on his hips.
“Good morning,” he called. Startled, Michael scrambled down from his perch.
“Shit. What are you doin’ up?”
“Could ask you the same thing.”
“Just needed
some space last night, man. Ain’t no big thing,” Michael said.
“Not sure I agree, but I don’t have time to think about it right now. I’ve got to catch a few hours. Kovalic’s sleeping in the park and I need you on her.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain later. You’ve got to get over there. I don’t want her waking up and disappearing on us. You’ve got to stick on her, Michael. This is our chance.”
“Yeah. Right. I’m on it.”
Jeremy gave Michael the details on Vanessa’s location. Then he picked up the pack and blanket and slipped his narrow frame through the Gate.
As Michael jogged to the park, the dark and silent world stretched toward morning. From bushes near the clearing, he sighted Vanessa lying in a heap in the wide, open space. She was either stupid or brave as hell. He didn’t know which, but it didn’t matter. When they had her, Jeremy would be happy for awhile.
As dawn paled the trees, Vanessa stirred and rolled onto her back. After a minute, she sat up and surveyed her surroundings. Then she jumped to her feet and turned in a circle, looking for something. Michael grinned as he remembered the items Jeremy had been carrying. That cat never missed a beat.
Vanessa gave up on finding her belongings and drifted toward the bushes where Michael hid. She squatted and the sour smell of her urine tickled his nostrils. Standing, she zipped her jeans and headed back into the clearing, pulling fingers through her hair to untangle the bits of dry grass and twigs clinging to the strands.
In the square, Vanessa made for the bench and sat with her back erect. After taking several deep breaths and rolling her shoulders, she clasped her hands and stretched them high over her head, palms facing up. Then she opened them and slowly brought her arms down to her sides. When done, she was still for a long time. Finally, she looked under the bench. What she saw startled her and before Michael could react, she leapt up and sprinted away.
Michael followed, ducking between trees and trash cans to stay low, quiet, and out of sight. When he reached the other side of the park, he frantically swept his eyes up and down the empty street. Vanessa had disappeared. Working to slow his breathing, he tried not to panic. She couldn’t have gotten far.
Most of the storefronts were covered with gates or rollup doors. Of those remaining, only two offered a reasonable place to hide. One had been a bar and its plain, wooden doors swung open into a dark interior. Its coolers, closets, and cabinets could easily conceal a small woman like Vanessa. The Laundromat was the other option. She wouldn’t squeeze inside an abandoned washer or dryer, but the stairway that led to his old apartment was ideal for someone trying to disappear. Michael didn’t dare go into one and risk losing her in another. At the same time, he couldn’t just wait for her in the street. Both buildings had backdoors to the alley and it wouldn’t be long before she discovered an exit.
He glanced at the sun and was glad to see how far it had climbed. Facing toward home, he cupped his mouth with his hands and gave a loud cry, praying someone would recognize the emergency signal. “Aieeeee, woo woo woo! Aieeeee, woo woo woo!” The sound bounced off the buildings and rose into the crisp, morning air. He waited. When there was no response, he sang it again. This time his call was returned. Shortly after, footsteps smacked against the pavement and Michael sighed audibly as Ashley bounded into view.
She greeted him breathlessly before looking around, puzzled he was alone in the middle of the street. Briefly, he explained the situation.
“Ashley, who’s behind you?”
“I don’t know. I just yelled and ran.”
“Okay. Stay here and keep an eye on the Laundromat. I’m going to check out the bar.” Without waiting for her response, Michael sprinted toward the double doors.
Inside, his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Overturned tables and assorted debris filled the seating area. Cobwebs hung in the corners. Broken glass from a shattered window covered a section of the hardwood floor. He inched his way to the servers’ station at the end of the bar and gingerly pulled open the swinging gate that led behind it, careful not to make a sound. Holding it with one hand, he dropped to his knees and crawled forward. Vanessa was not there.
He stood, letting the gate swing shut behind him. On the far side of the narrow corridor, he spotted a storeroom. Creeping to the open door, he peered into the pitch-black interior. Then, using his hands to guide him, he made the circumference of the small room. When he touched the wood molding of a doorframe, he put his hands out and stepped into the opening, expecting to find a closet. Instead, his stomach lurched as his foot met air and he plummeted into the basement below.
On the street, Ashley greeted Jeremy and two other members of the cell. When she finished explaining what had happened, Jeremy turned to the other men and instructed them to guard the alley behind the buildings. Vanessa would have to come out eventually. They would keep watch until she did and talk to her then.
Since Michael had gone into the bar, Jeremy explored the Laundromat, leaving Ashley alone on the street. When the first floor proved vacant, Jeremy climbed the familiar stairs to his old apartment. It had meant something to him once. Though sordid and small, it had been his first adult home and he had been proud of it. Michael and he had dumpster dived for decorations. A couch with torn cushions and badly stained arms, a broken chair, and a coffee table made from milk crates and plywood furnished the living room. Cheap posters and a painting done by a friend graced the walls. Now, the tattered décor was even more decrepit. The rotting carcass of a rat in the bathtub exacerbated the decay.
Jeremy left, softly closing the door on his memories. At the end of the hall, another door led to a fire escape and the alley. He opened it and called to the sentries he had stationed behind the building. They looked up at him, shaking their heads.
On the street, he beckoned to Ashley. “Michael’s not back yet?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she said.
“Fuck! Where the hell did he go?” Jeremy poked his head inside the bar and yelled. Receiving no answer, he slammed his hand against the doorframe and stormed inside.
CHAPTER 12
Nestled in the branches of a large tree, Ramirez stared, bleary-eyed, into the morning. Last night, he had been too tired and upset to make the long hike back to his own apartment. Instead, he had found a safe place to hole up while he processed Vanessa’s story.
Running footsteps had startled him from his reverie. Looking down, he had seen Vanessa running toward him from across the square. A man was in hot pursuit, ducking between trees to avoid detection. Seconds had passed before Ramirez’s instinct and training kicked in. He had dropped onto the park bench he used as a ladder the night before and grabbed Vanessa as she ran by. Placing a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream, he had identified himself and pointed out the man bobbing and weaving through the foliage behind her. They had scaled the lower branches of the tree before the man emerged from the park.
Now, they were both intent on drama in the street. After the men had vanished into the bar, the girl paced while she waited for them to return. Even from this distance, her blackened eye was readily apparent and Ramirez was certain she was the girl from the video in Vanessa’s file.
As he pondered this, a hair-raising call startled him. The girl had also heard it and was scanning the area. In a voice twisted and dangerous, the call came again. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” The girl hugged herself as another call came from the opposite direction. “Dinnnnner time,” it rang out in a high pitch. Ramirez shivered. The girl spun in a circle then ran to the door where the men had disappeared. After looking inside, she returned to her post. A third voice joined the chorus. “Soup’s on boys,” it chimed loudly.
The calls resounded in the park, getting louder as they got closer. The girl was frozen, her frail body a stick figure on the street. Without warning, she screamed, but her small voice did not travel far.
Ramirez fought his instincts and stayed quiet in the tree. Why didn’t she leave, or even go into
the building after her men? “Run girl! Run!” he whispered, praying she would somehow hear him.
It was quiet now. The girl stood like a statue. The air was brittle. Any small movement would break the tension and it would crack. Ramirez unclasped the strap that held his gun. Easing the heavy weapon from its holster, he hefted it into position and took aim. Then the girl sprinted away. As she crossed out of his line of sight, the voices sang out again. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” cried one. “Dinnnnner time,” called another.
The girl reappeared, heading toward the park. When the third voice shrilled, “Soup’s on!” the girl stopped short and began walking backward toward the buildings, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Ramirez caught another movement out of the corner of his eye. A stalker had come into view. He was mostly naked. A small cloth covered his genitals, colorful paint decorated his lean body, and his blond hair was wild. An elaborate necklace hung from his neck and he carried a long piece of metal pipe in one hand. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” he said. A menacing grin stretched across his face and his free hand reached for the girl, fingers wiggling in mock invitation.
She screamed, turning to run into the building where her men had gone. Suddenly another scantily clad, painted figure emerged at a dead run on Ramirez’s right. Ramirez fired his gun, but the shot missed. The figure grabbed the girl, threw her over his shoulders, and fled back in the direction from which he had come. Vanessa cried out as Ramirez holstered his weapon and climbed over her in his frantic effort to get out of the tree.
“Stay here!” he whispered before letting go of the branch. His feet slammed onto the ground. Dropping to a crouch, he surveyed the scene. The man with the pipe had vanished. Another, presumably the third caller, had joined the kidnapper. They ran with the girl, who kicked and beat on her assailant without effect. At the end of the block, they turned the corner and disappeared.
Ramirez got to his feet and took off after them. Everything was a blur except the target. The girl’s affiliations didn’t matter now. She was a victim and he was, once again, a cop with a clear objective.
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