Dawn Of Affinity

by V. J. Deanes

  “Sure, that’s one way of looking at it” the first spotter replied. “This clip might change your mind.” A short, slow motion clip showed Kalan moving to the side just in time for man in front of him take the bullet. The close up images were at full magnification. “If the guy in the hedge wall took that shot, he wasn’t aiming for our customer,” said the first spotter. “He was aiming for Kalan.”

  “That raises more questions than it answers,” Devon remarked.

  “Our cover is blown,” said the first spotter.

  “As for what we do now, my vote is that we split up and go our separate ways,” the second spotter added. “At least until this episode fades into memory.”

  The first spotter concurred.

  “Give me my share of today’s proceeds and I’ll be gone,” said the second spotter.

  “You want to quit?” Devon asked.

  “Yeah, I do,” the second spotter replied.

  “Forget it,” Devon replied. “I’m going to get the rest of what we are owed from the Inspector. Then you’ll get your share.”

  “What?”

  “I need to get to the cops before they do something stupid, like post my picture with a request for the general public to be on the look out for me. We didn’t do anything wrong. I’m going to set the Inspector straight.”

  “Here you go,” one of the spotters said as he gave Devon the small computer. “You might need this.”

  “Thanks,” Devon replied. “Before we all disappear into the night, I need you two to watch over me for one last encounter.”

  Devon called the Inspector and arranged the meeting.

  “Who’s your comrade?” Devon asked as he approached the Inspector at the bar in the Six Flags Hotel.

  “Deputy Chief Wilson”, the tall, muscular man replied.

  “Looks like your star is rising Inspector,” Devon remarked. “Foiling a terror attack in this part of the country. Congratulations. Where’s the rest of our money?”

  “Who is your man?” the Inspector asked.

  “The man who you guys almost shot?” Devon inquired.

  “It wasn’t us,” the Inspector retorted.

  “You don’t need to know,” Devon replied.

  “Look son,” said the Deputy Chief calmly. “We’ll get your cooperation one way or the other.”

  “Not unless you pay up,” Devon replied defiantly.

  The Inspector pulled out his mobile phone and grudgingly satisfied Devon’s request.

  “That’s much better. Here you go,” Devon responded as he handed the Inspector the memory card. “All of the information you need is there. Phone numbers, call transcripts, safe house addresses, credit card numbers, bank accounts as promised.”

  The Inspector fumbled with the memory card for a moment.

  “Don’t be spreading stories about the shooting in the press. Blowing my cover will come back to haunt you,” Devon added.

  The Deputy Chief frowned.

  “Have you figured out why Birchstone made it onto a list of terrorist targets?” Devon asked.

  The suspect who lived has not been as helpful as we had hoped,” the Inspector replied.

  “Data centers,” Devon proposed. “Camouflaged by the well publicized out migration of youth that hides the gradual arrival and concentration of information technology experts. Birchstone is a perfect cover to locate strategic assets. Close to bigger cities, but quiet enough not to draw mainstream attention. If those assets were ever destroyed, telecommunications within our borders and amongst our military around the world would be disrupted. It’s all on the card I just gave you.”

  “I could get sacked for this escapade,” the Inspector complained.

  “Who gets sacked when a terrorist attack is foiled with no collateral damage, especially when a hoard of new intelligence is discovered?” Devon asked rhetorically. “It would have been different if our man had taken that bullet. Your sniper is the one who should be sacked.”

  “No one on our force fired that bullet,” the Deputy Chief responded forcefully.

  “A picture trumps a thousand lies,” said Devon as he showed the officers an image on the tablet computer. The Deputy Chief looked dismayed. The shot came from the direction of the van. “You have surveillance equipment everywhere in this city. My guess is that you have seen this already,” Devon added.

  The Deputy Chief looked over at the Inspector, then Devon. “Mr. Granger, the shooter wasn’t one of ours. We’ll see to it that the local press won’t find out anything about your group. We’ll find a way to make this story disappear quickly. You are free to go. We have no further questions. The Chief asked me to pass along his gratitude to you and your associates for bringing knowledge of this impending attack to our attention. Harnessing young men for a good cause is rare. Good night.”

  Devon stayed behind. The spotters left their vantage points on the hotel mezzanine and joined him after the police officers left.

  “It has been a good run,” said Devon. “We’ve made great coin by helping cops foil terror plans all across these Red Zones. I don’t know how we can keep going without Kalan.”

  “Anyone heard from him?” the second spotter asked.

  “He’s pretty spooked is my guess,” Devon replied. “Kalan is long gone. Who knows when we will hear from him again.”

  Chapter 4

  “You don’t belong with these other men,” the young woman remarked.

  Kalan looked up. He hadn’t noticed her. He chose to eat his dinner alone in the shelter, far away from the others in the cafeteria. Sounds of men yelling in the alley across the street had distracted him.

  “May I join you?” she asked.

  Kalan pointed to the chair across from him. “What makes you say that?” he asked after she sat down.

  “All of these men are homeless. Most of them are addicts. A few of them are even crazy. You don’t look to be affected by any of those conditions.”

  “You work here?” Kalan asked.

  “Afternoons and evenings,” she replied. “You look like a man on the run.”

  “Worked here long?” Kalan asked.

  “Long enough to recognize someone who needs a place to hide.

  “It’s that obvious?”

  “Yes it is. That’s why I came over to speak with you. Most people who need to hide with us try to blend in more with this crowd,” she said pointing to the other side of the room. “People on the run who show up here are often violent criminals. You stand out. Someone will call the authorities to check you out sooner than later. I can help you.”

  “I don’t think so,” Kalan replied.

  “You must have a name.”

  “Kalan.”

  “What are you running from Kalan?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “I’ve heard many stories from guys like you. Tell me your tale. Then I’ll tell you if I believe you.”

  “I was sitting at a table outside on a patio. I turned around and saw someone who looked exactly like me off in the distance. Just after he tried to shoot me.”

  “That doesn’t tell me why you came to our shelter.”

  “I didn’t get your name,” Kalan remarked with a distracted look.

  “Rain,” the woman answered.

  “A Haven City, like this one, is big enough for me to disappear into the woodwork. No one will think to look for me here.”

  “At least not yet,” Rain replied. She paused to think for a moment. “I figure you must have grown up somewhere around here. You chose to come home. You’re gambling that you know this city better than an adversary who is looking for you.”

  “If that’s what you think what should I do now?” Kalan asked.

  “You’re not giving me much to go on,” said Rain. “I don’t know why you can’t go home or go to friends to lay low. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need. You are starting to sound a little bit crazy, like some of these other people.”

  “That guy
can probably track me down anywhere. For all I know he’s figured out who my friends and family are and he’s scouting out where they live right now. Hoping that I’ll show up for help. Besides, I don’t know if I can trust any of them right now. I was with a few of my friends when that bullet whizzed by my head.”

  “You must know this person. He must be a twin or a cousin, something like that,” said Rain.

  “I don’t have a twin, or a cousin that looks like me.”

  Rain thought about what Kalan had said. “Sounds like you are running for your life.”

  “You are as smart as you are attractive, Rain,” Kalan replied. “I need to settle in for the night. I’ll be up early tomorrow.”

  Kalan stood up to take his dinner tray back to the counter. Noise from across the street grew more intense. Bottles breaking were soon surpassed by the sound of gun fire. He settled back into his chair. Sirens soon whirred off in the distance.

  “This place always gets searched when there is trouble nearby,” said Rain. “You can come with me if you want.”

  “To go where?” Kalan asked.

  “Somewhere safe, at least for tonight.”

  “Safe. Really? How do I know that?”

  “You don’t,” said Rain. “Trust me, or stay here. You decide.”

  XXXX

  “I thought you would have been here sooner,” Kalan said as Rain slipped through the door into the small hallway of the abandoned distillery.

  “How did you get in here? I told you to wait outside.”

  “I don’t have the luxury of waiting outside. Even if it is dark. Even if I’m in a place as out of the way as this.”

  “At least you had the sense not to try and get through this door,” Rain said as took out her keys.

  “What kind of creature lurks behind your door?” Kalan asked.

  “You left the shelter just in time. It was searched from top to bottom. That’s why I’m late.”

  Kalan cautiously followed Rain into her space under the watchful glare of her large, muscular boxer. She took hold of the mighty dog’s collar and locked him in the small hallway that separated her space from the one next door.

  Kalan walked into the center of the room. Unfinished paintings donned a small collection of easels. Images depicting torment, in a style Kalan had never seen before, hung from the walls. “Did I paint them? Is that what you are wondering?”

  “They are bold,” Kalan remarked. “Nothing like flowers or landscapes or...”

  “What did you expect?” Rain asked. “Rainbows and sunsets? These works are how I see our times. People dying with diseases that antibiotics used to fight. Irregular supplies of food and water. Air that is almost too thick with smog to breathe some days. Migration inland away from the rising ocean. Add those up and you get desperation. Poverty. Sickness.”

  Kalan wandered further into the room. “I would never have expected the inside of this building to be so remarkable judging by its appearance on the outside,” he said while looking around.

  Off to one side stood a large, unfinished sculpture that extended from the floor almost to the ceiling. A man’s figure was emerging from the wood and rock.

  “What’s this going to be when it is done?” Kalan asked.

  “I haven’t decided,” said Rain. “Maybe he will overcome the hardships of our world and breakthrough to something better. Maybe he will personify the fear in our world.”

  “Do you work with a gallery?” Kalan asked.

  “If I finished him in the image of fear in our society you might have something in common with him.”

  “Me?” Kalan remarked.

  “There was a shooting in Red Zone Nine yesterday afternoon. Like the one you described at the shelter. Some terrorist got shot and died later in hospital. The bullet just missed a young man sitting near him. I figure you’re that young man.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “That’s not important. Back at the shelter you said that I wouldn’t believe your story. I am starting to believe. That’s why I showed up.”

  “Maybe I should move on. Stay somewhere else tonight.”

  “Suit yourself,” Rain replied. “You will be safe here. Nobody else knows where you are.”

  “Did you see a picture of the shooter?” Kalan asked.

  “No,” said Rain. “The best thing for you right now is to unwind, get some rest.”

  “You’re sure no one else knows I’m here.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. One other person knows that I have a guest tonight. He doesn’t know who you are. He also knows that I only bring strange men home for the night when they need help.”

  “Who is he?” Kalan asked.

  “Cecil will stop by in a few minutes. He calls himself the Superintendent. He’ll show you to your room.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Just through there,” Rain said, pointing to a door Kalan had not noticed before.

  “What would you do tomorrow morning if you were me?” Kalan asked.

  “We’re going to meet with a friend of mine. A doctor who can access the DNA records from all of the births going back well over thirty years. She works in a clinic that handles pathology and forensics. Cold cases. Wrongful convictions. Crimes that can only be solved with high powered science. She has the tools to get around the barriers that the establishment puts up in order to keep secrets. You can ask her questions about your biological parents and siblings. Perhaps she can help.”

  There was a knock at the door. “That will be Cecil. The answer to your question is yes. I do work with galleries. My inspiration comes from how people in distress, like you, survive. Sleep well.

  XXXX

  “You look surprised Mr. Mars,” said the doctor.

  “I had no idea that...”

  “Newborns are always for screened for genetic diseases,” she remarked. “Government mandated. Parental consent is not required. Hasn’t been for a while. Your DNA is in the records somewhere.”

  “Really?”

  “I just need a sample,” the doctor added as she handed Kalan a swab. “

  “What do we do now?” Kalan asked.

  “Take a seat,” she replied, as she pointed to a waiting room. “We will have some preliminary results for you within the hour.”

  Kalan walked over to the waiting room, while Rain had a quiet conversation with her friend. The room was bright and full of people who sought relief from some form of ailment. Security cameras were mounted in every corner. He became anxious.

  “You should know more soon enough,” Rain said once she joined Kalan. “I need to go now.”

  “I can’t stay here,” Kalan remarked. “These people, the cameras,” he added nervously. “We walked past a church on the way here. Let’s go there. It will be dark inside. No people. No cameras.”

  “I really need to get on with the rest of my day,” Rain insisted. “You’re going to have to make some decisions about where to go next. I can’t help you make those decisions. Besides, if you need anything you know where the shelter is.”

  Kalan followed Rain as she walked out of the clinic. “It’s right there,” he said, looking over at the church.

  “Do you have a number they can text you at when your results are ready?” Rain asked once they were inside the chapel.

  “No,” Kalan replied. “Better that no one knows how to track me down.”

  Rain resisted the urge to leave. “I get it. She has my number.”

  “Who has your number?”

  “Mia, the doctor you met with.”

  Kalan felt safe, at least for the moment. He and Rain sat cloaked in the darkness that shrouded the rear pew of the empty church. Candles flickered along the sides. A lone cleric tended to the ones on the other side. Sunlight brought the colors in the windows near the altar to life.

  “Thank you for helping me,” Kalan said quietly.

  Rain simply nodded.

  “What makes you so interested in the desperate souls of this world?”
he asked, as the two sat on the wooden bench, looking toward the altar.

  “Desperate souls fight to survive. They live on the raw edge between life and death. That inspires me. Seems like I was born to see the world this way.”

  Rain looked down as the cleric walked slowly by them. He turned and came back. He was an older man. He looked over at Kalan.

  “I know you,” he remarked.

  “You must be mistaken,” Kalan answered. “I have never been here before.”

  The old man persisted. “I am not mistaken. You were in my congregation down south. You’re Zach Gedder’s boy. I’m sure of it.”

  Rain tried to get Kalan’s attention.

  “I remember when you started coming to fellowship with your father and sister,” the cleric remarked. “Must be fifteen years ago now.”

  Kalan wanted to ask the clergyman some questions, but Rain intervened. “We need to go,” she said. “Now.”

  XXXX

  “This room is private,” the doctor assured Kalan and Rain. “We can speak freely.

  “What did you find out?” Kalan asked.

  “I can get information that most people can’t access,” Mia remarked. “But you can’t know that. Do you understand?”

  “This discussion that we are about to have never happened is what you are saying,” Kalan confirmed.

  “No. You just can’t tell anyone that I am your source of information.” Mia replied. “Medical records turned up the same DNA in two places,” Mia noted. “Once in what is now Haven City Four and once in a suburb of Red Zone Nine. Where did you grow up?”

  “Hadley’s Crossing.”

  “Where on Earth is that?”

  “Here,” Kalan replied, showing her a map on his mobile phone.

  “I see,” said Mia. “I found that the first birth record was normal. The second birth record appears to have been tampered with, perhaps even falsified. The birth dates are eleven months apart. This is where I think the records were manipulated. The second birth was signed off by Damien Farlane.”

  “Who?”

  “Doctor Damien Farlane pioneered several techniques that enabled the creation of synthetic lifeforms. He is a recluse today, if he is even still alive. At the time the baby was born, he was suspected of cloning humans, even though it was, and still is, against the law.”