Overwatch

by Riley Flynn

  Jax smiled. “God bless America. Over.”

  Carly again. “How’s everyone there? Over.”

  Man, if that wasn’t a loaded question. He could have told her about the brutal winter that had trapped people in their homes for days on end as the army slowly dug out the roads, or the food supplies that had frozen because the weather had hit so hard and so fast, or the oceans of alcohol that so many people had turned to in order to cope with…well, everything.

  But he didn’t tell her. No need to shit in their bowls, too—they had enough to worry about themselves. He wanted to ask them if they had any nightmare stories similar to the ones they had heard from the people who had escaped Pueblo and Denver, but he knew there was no point. Horror wasn’t diminished by sharing.

  “We’re all good,” he lied instead. “Winter sucks, but we’re getting by.” As an afterthought, just in case anyone associated with Adler was actually listening in, he added: “We’re ready for anything, as always. Over.”

  “Same here, over,” Cruz said with a confidence that he had feared wouldn’t return after her ordeal in the mountains. It made him absurdly proud.

  It also underscored something else that had been on his mind for several weeks. Should he tell her about Brad Farries? Would it do any good? He finally decided against it.

  “Where to next? Over.” He knew the answer. According to the coordinates they were following, the road would continue to lead them east.

  “We’ll see,” said Cruz, picking up on his hint: they would do their best to confuse anyone who might be listening in. “Might stay here a while. Take in a Royals game. Over.”

  Jax grinned. “They’ve got a shit record this year. Zero wins. Over.”

  “Same as your Astros,” she said. “Funny, hey? Over.”

  He sat in silence for a few moments before deciding the conversation was going nowhere and was no longer worth the risk of possibly being overheard. He could stay here the rest of the night catching up, but it wouldn’t do anyone any good. Best to rip off the Band-aid. It reminded him of the times he’d spent on Skype with Rachel when he was out in the desert and she was at home in Germany. You hang up first; no, you hang up.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll let you go. We’ll talk again soon. Take care of yourselves. Over.”

  After a pause on their end, Cruz said: “Will do. Same to you. Over and out.”

  Jax sighed. It was the first time he could remember carrying on a conversation with Val Cruz in which she never once referred to him as “sir.” And it made him wonder what that word even meant anymore.

  The squawk of the radio on his belt pulled him out of his head.

  “Uh, Echo One,” said a male voice. “Echo One, this is, uh, oh shit, what’s my handle? Sierra! This is Sierra One! Uh, over.”

  Jax sighed. Sierra One was the call sign he’d given to Alfred Skolnik, a national guard major who’d been assigned to his team in the early days as they were establishing the new government. The man had been a middle-aged weekend warrior who had no full-time military experience outside of two weeks of maneuvers every summer. The “Sierra” was a play on words, since he spent the majority of his time at the High Sierra Elementary School supply depot, safely out of Jax’s way.

  “Sierra One, this is Echo One,” he said. “What’s up, Major?”

  “Sorry to, uh, bother you, sir,” Skolnik stammered. “Over.”

  “Major, I’ve told you a hundred times, you outrank me; you don’t have to call me sir. Just tell me what you need. Over.”

  The radio was silent for a long moment before Skolnik came back on. “Jax, I need you to come out to New Haven right away. Ah, God, I don’t know what to do. Something… something horrible has happened.”

  5

  “Jesus,” Maggie Stubbs breathed. “This is… Jesus.”

  Jax nodded. He’d gotten the details from Skolnik the night before. There was no reason for him to make the drive to New Haven from the mountain at that time of night, especially with the roads in the shape they were in; it certainly wouldn’t have made these three any less dead. But knowing what to expect didn’t make the reality any easier to look at.

  The two victims, Deanna Davidson and Troy Webb, were still nude in the bed, their skin already a waxy ivory color. Each of their bodies sported four crimson-black gunshot wounds; two of his were in the face, all of hers in the torso. On the floor, slumped next to the door, was Carol Firth in her pink sweatsuit. The back of her head was painted on the wall behind her in black and gray and red. A small Glock pistol sat on the carpet, a foot or so from her hand.

  “I saw plenty of people with holes in them in my army career,” said Jax. “I know everyone’s seen more than their share of death since the Eko outbreak, but there’s something different about gunshot wounds.” He turned to Maggie. “Look who I’m talking to. I’m sure you saw your fair share as a deputy, too.”

  Something flashed behind her eyes; probably a particularly bad memory. Just because she’d worked for Pueblo County didn’t mean she hadn’t had seen violent crime.

  She cleared her throat. “So what did you need me for?”

  “Just to confirm what we already know: that it was a murder-suicide and we don’t have a killer on the loose. Skolnik said the three of them had been living together since late fall. Said Carol rarely mentioned the others, outside of small talk.”

  “Everything that came out of Carol’s mouth was small talk,” said Maggie. “She was deep in denial, even back when I first met her at the high school. Pasted-on smile, way too much laughing. And always that look on her face, like she was in the front seat of a roller coaster. Looking back, we should have seen this coming. She was like a screw under constant pressure that finally cracked; when it happened, she took out her housemates and then herself.”

  Jax smiled. “You’re pretty good at that.”

  “At what?”

  “Cop show stuff. I think it’s where you belong.”

  She avoided his eyes. “I don’t know where I belong anymore. And figuring out what was going on inside Carol’s head isn’t rocket science.”

  “I didn’t see it. I mean, I could see she was off her nut, but I figured she was harmless.”

  Maggie sighed and took another look around the room. “I don’t know what else we can do here besides get the bodies out. Open the place up for some new tenants.”

  “Already got the medics ready to dispose of them,” he said. “I just wanted to see you in action first.”

  “Why?” There was exasperation in her voice.

  “Because you don’t belong on my team. You shouldn’t be a lieutenant.”

  Her eyes widened and Jax could swear he saw her pupils dilate in a fight-or-flight response. He quickly held up his hands, palms forward.

  “That didn’t come out right,” he said. “What I meant was that I think there’s a job where you could do a lot more good.”

  She took some deep breaths and appeared to calm down as he explained his idea. By the end, he didn’t know what to make of her expression, but she agreed to his proposal.

  State Highway 122 turned into Lake Avenue when it crossed 1st Street, where it became, essentially, the driveway for the Broadmoor Resort. The avenue was split into eastbound and westbound lanes separated by a boulevard lined with young elms, before leading to a group of small, decorative gardens that culminate in the lush hedges and manicured spruce trees that led up to the hotel’s entrance.

  At least, that was how it had looked six months earlier, in September. Now, in mid-February, Lake Avenue was simply two narrow tracks on either side of a row of bare trees, the gardens were covered by three feet of snow, and the pines had the look of a sheepdog that had spent the night under the porch.

  “Every time I come here, it’s still weird,” Skolnik said from the backseat of the Hummer. “I mean, the Broadmoor used to be the place in Colorado Springs. The accounting firm I worked for would book receptions at the ballroom to impress clients from outside the c
ity. Drop fifty grand for a night, easy, but they’d make it back ten times over. Always made me feel like one of the big shots that could actually afford to stay at the hotel.”

  “And now?” Jax asked from the driver’s seat.

  Skolnik paused. “Now it just reminds me of everything that used to be nice.” There was a dull bitterness to his voice. “It’s weird, you know? The Broadmoor is still here, nothing’s really changed, but still, everything is different. All the stuff that made it special is gone. It’s just another building now.”

  “That depends on how you look at it,” said Maggie. She was seated next to Jax. “It’s the home to our new civilian government, such as it is. So it’s special that way.”

  “Huh,” Skolnik scoffed. “Everyone knows the real government is downtown at the old nursery building. And out with us at the resort HQ. And under the mountain. If you’re not carrying a weapon, you’re not government.”

  Jax frowned. Even Skolnik, who could always be counted on to at least keep his mouth shut, was bitching these days. This winter couldn’t end soon enough.

  “Let’s belay that talk,” he said as the Hummer reached the shoveled path that led to the Broadmoor’s entrance. “We’re here to meet with the president’s council, and we’re going to show them the respect they deserve. Clear?”

  Skolnik muttered something as he climbed out of the backseat into the clear, cold afternoon.

  “Sorry, I missed that,” said Jax. “You have something to say, Major?”

  The man turned to face him, his thin hair lifting in the light breeze.

  “Yeah,” he snapped. “I’m resigning as soon as this stupid meeting is over. I should have done it the day Archer assigned me to your team. What the hell am I getting out of any of this? Fuck all, that’s what.”

  Maggie put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Alf, settle down…”

  “What for?” He brushed her hand away. “I know you all thought Carol was a looney tune, but she was my friend. And now she’s dead, and none of you people did anything to stop it from happening.”

  “Like what?” Jax asked, scowling. “What the hell were we supposed to do? Diagnose whatever her mental illness was?”

  “You were supposed to make things better!” Skolnik’s cheeks were suddenly flushed, and not just from the cold. “You all acted like you had a plan, like if we just followed you, everything would be okay. Well, it’s not okay. It’s a million fucking light years from okay!”

  He spun and trudged his way through the stone arch to the front door. Maggie snagged Jax’s arm before he could follow.

  “Give him a minute,” she said quietly.

  “He’s full of shit,” Jax growled. “The military has done everything we can to help these people. Without us, this city would be chaos, just like Pueblo and Denver. Or worse, under attack by Adler and his mountain people! That fucking ingrate!”

  Maggie’s brow furrowed and she took him by the shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. But was it directed at Skolnik, or somewhere else?

  “Cool it, Jax. Everyone’s entitled to let off a little steam these days. The guy is just remembering how much better his life used to be.”

  “Yeah, well he’s not the only one.” Jax was appalled by the irritation he could hear in his own voice.

  “You signed up for this,” said Maggie. “The army has been your life for years, not his. Or thousands of other people. Or mine, for that matter.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Then I guess it’s good that you’re leaving.”

  She glared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “I’ll see you inside. Wait until I’m in there to follow. I’m done talking to you.”

  Part of him wanted to bark out that he was the one who gave the orders around here, but another part of him knew that would only make things worse. And if he knew anything for sure, it was that things didn’t need to be any worse than they already were.

  Jax took a seat across the table from his companions, next to Brian Price, the marine major assigned to his team. The Crystal Room was the only space in the hotel that made sense for a meeting like this; all the other ballrooms were cavernous. He wondered again why President Raines had chosen the hotel to house the members of his advisory council. It was beautiful, no doubt, but its sheer size was almost overwhelming. The amount of electricity that was being wasted just to heat the place was ridiculous.

  “You ever see The Shining?” Price asked as Jax sat down. He pointed out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the snow piled up on the grounds. “It’s about these people stuck in a huge hotel alone in the winter. I’m going to dream about it tonight, I just fucking know it.”

  Patrick and Elsa, the pair assigned to looking after the president’s advisory council, stood silently in the corner of the room, their hands folded behind them. They were middle-aged and dressed all in black, as usual. And, as usual, Jax thought they were creepy. He’d never learned anything about them other than their first names.

  “Try living here,” said a voice from the doorway. “All work and no play makes Wally a dull boy.”

  Jax turned to see Wallace Todd in his usual T-shirt and jeans, along with Steven Burnett, the guy who insisted on people mispronouncing his first name so that it rhymed with heaven. He made sweater vests look even less fashionable than they already had been before the collapse. They were followed by Lisa Blume, who somehow managed to look like she just came from a salon even though salons were no longer a thing, and Evan Travis, the young fellow who always seemed to be in Lisa’s wake.

  “Raylene’s not with you?” Maggie asked as the others joined them at the table.

  “She went into town to pick up someone she wants us to meet,” said Lisa. She looked at Jax. “One of the Denver people you brought in a few days ago, Captain.”

  Jax thought for a moment, then nodded. “Let me guess: Elwood Hutchinson.”

  “That’s the one. He made an impression on you, too, did he?”

  “He’s an interesting guy. I don’t know that he needs to be in on this meeting, though.”

  Todd shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, all of this council’s meetings are open to the public.”

  Jax struggled to keep from reacting. Todd’s starting in early today. He decided against arguing with him—for now. The council was only a few months old, and while they were great for public relations, they hadn’t really done anything in the way of governance. But it was only a matter of time before a serious issue came to them—the army was dealing with the aftermath of the end of the world, and there would be times when the council’s job would be to tell the people what was going to happen, not ask them what should happen.

  But for now, there was no harm in letting them get their way.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” a voice bleated from the hallway. A second later Raylene Van Dyke trotted into the room. She had recently taken to trying all sorts of fashions on her tall, blocky frame—why not, when there was always a hundred-percent-off sale in post-collapse America?—and today she sported a plaid shirt under a suede jacket that had probably retailed for $2,000 last spring.

  Behind her, a tall man in a cable-knit sweater and brand new jeans with rolled cuffs ambled into the room. Hutch had trimmed his beard, leaving just a four-day shadow and a soul patch under his bottom lip. Jax noted that, without the Santa look, the professor appeared to be in his late fifties at most. He looked surprisingly fit now that Jax saw him without his bulky outerwear.

  “Captain!” Hutch hooted as he caught sight of him. “Well, blow me down! Fancy meeting you here.”

  Jax stood and the two men shook hands. “Good to see you again, Hutch.”

  “And you, my friend.” He turned to the others. “I’ve decided to accept Capt. Booth here, and Lt. Lambert, of course, wherever he is, as my personal saviors. Our church will be the downtown bowling alley, services to be held every day, during happy hour.”

  “Everyone,” said Raylene, “this blasphemous gent is the g
uy I’ve been telling you about. Elwood Hutchinson, meet the council.”

  “Hutch, please.” They made their introductions and Raylene motioned for him to take a seat at the table. He held up his hands to beg off.

  “Interlopers belong in the peanut gallery,” he said as he pulled a chair from against the wall and set it several yards from the table. “I’ve taught enough courses on government over the years to know my place.”

  I knew there was a reason I liked this guy, Jax thought.

  “But that’s the whole point of bringing you,” said Raylene. “None of us knows anything about government.”

  Burnett opened his mouth to speak, but Raylene held up a silencing finger. “Just don’t, Steven.”

  “I second that,” said Todd. “Working for a congressman doesn’t mean you know how to govern. That’s like saying you must be a good driver because you worked for the DMV.”

  Burnett’s face throbbed with his usual outrage, but he held his tongue. Hutch cocked an eyebrow at the exchange and said: “If I may be recognized?”

  Todd nodded.

  “I’m happy to chat after the meeting, but until then, it’s not my place to speak. I wasn’t elected, and I’m not administration, like our friends from under the mountain here. I’m just Joe Shmuck, civilian observer.”

  Price frowned. “Can we get on with this?”

  “Let’s do it,” said Todd. He turned to Jax. “Your message said you want to create a police department? Did I hear that right?”

  “Not a department,” said Jax. “Just two people: Lt. Stubbs and Maj. Price.”

  Lisa Blume leaned forward on the table. Travis followed suit an instant later.

  “Why now?” she asked.

  “I assume you’ve all heard about Carol Firth and her two housemates?”

  They nodded gravely. “Such a shock,” said Lisa. “I didn’t know the other two, but Carol always seemed so happy. Any time you needed someone to do something, she was the first to volunteer.”