In an effort to ease her confusion, Jon raised his arm and revealed the device on his wrist to help restore her confidence that she was not under attack.
“I’m here to see Greenwald,” Jon spoke.
“Certainly,” she replied. “Let me scan your information and we’ll get you sorted out.”
Jon raised his arm as he rolled his eyes.
“You know, the girl downstairs already scanned my information,” Jon said with a bit of an annoyed tone.
“This is standard procedure, Specialist Ballard.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense. And just because you’re beautiful doesn’t make this make any more sense.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but I assure you this is standard protocol.”
Jon muttered once again, “that is not what I was saying.”
After the clerk looked at her screen for a moment she spoke, “Please follow the hall to the end, have a seat, and the General will be with you shortly.”
Jon found his way to the end of the hall. He took a seat and bit his lips. Maybe it was time to consider an escape route. Maybe he could go underground with the dwellers. Maybe he could flee the city without detection and go live in the wilderness. Both options sounded better than what seemed to be an imminent living quarter in the shape of a six by six cage. He lost himself in thought, in an escape route.
“Specialist,” came a voice, but Jon didn’t hear it.
“Specialist!” the voice shouted.
Jon snapped out of it and looked up to see General Greenwald standing over him with his arms resting behind his back.
“Am I interrupting anything, Specialist Ballard?” he asked.
“Sorry, sir. No, sir.” Jon stood up.
Greenwald nodded his head and showed Jon the way into his office. Jon took a seat in front of the large, oversized desk and peered out of the window as Greenwald made his way around the room and to his seat.
Out of the window Jon could see just about the entire city. He was certain he could even see his building, if not the very window of his living quarters. That only added to the uneasy feeling he had on his ironically comfortable elevator ride. Greenwald took his seat.
“Tell me something, Specialist Ballard. What are your plans?”
Jon seemed puzzled by the question. “Plans, sir?”
“Yes. What do you want out of life?”
It did not ease Jon’s puzzlement. “I’m not sure, sir. I’ve never really thought about it I guess.”
Greenwald seemed annoyed. “Every man has plans. Every man dreams of remaking the world to his own liking. So tell me, what is your dream? What are your plans if you ruled the world?”
Jon put his hands on the chair and straightened himself to sit completely upright.
“Well, sir, I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about ruling the world. I guess all I’ve ever really wanted was to just be left alone.”
Greenwald stared deep into Jon with that cold, unreadable stare. Jon, being uncomfortable, adjusted his position for a second time.
Greenwald changed the subject. “This city is on edge. There is much contention and political dissention. We are currently arresting more trouble-makers than we have room to deal with.” He starred at Jon silently some more as if to provoke a response.
By that one comment, Jon knew why he got off the hook so easily. There was no room for him in any jail in the city. They had to keep it available for the true enemies of the state. His fear that he was just a pawn for the state, capable of being “dispatched” at a moment’s notice, was becoming a reality.
“What do you need from me, sir?” Jon spoke softly and was careful with his words.
“I need information, Specialist. A lot more than the crap you’re feeding me. I don’t care about the morning commute or some street brawl. I can get that on my way to work as well. I need you to blanket the city, find me places of interest, names of dissidents or revolutionaries. Find me something I can use. Is that understood, Mr. Ballard?”
Jon choked on his words, “Uh, yes sir, understood, sir.”
“The Premiere will be here soon, and I will have this city to his liking. Otherwise we all go back to the group housing project together – at best.” Greenwald paused for a moment before he spoke again.
“Now, you seem to enjoy disobeying orders as you went back to the library after I told you not to. These orders are concrete. Find me the information I need, as quickly as you can.”
“Yes, sir,” Jon quickly proclaimed, hoping the topic of the library would go away as quickly as it came up.
“What book is that has you going back?”
“Sir?” Jon began a cold sweat.
“Why are you going back to the library? What book are you reading?”
Jon bit his lips and crunched his brows as he debated what to say, or if he should just lie.
“Cowboys.”
“Cowboys?” Greenwald cocked his head and looked at Jon like he was three-years old.
“Um, it’s a book about a cowboy.”
“Right…” the general dragged his hand across his face and let out a sigh. “That device I gave you, you can just leave it here with me. If you are going to get names, you don’t want anybody to know whom you’re getting names for. Your encrypted data will still allow you the extra food and keep you immune from Enforcement – provided you don’t do anything too stupid - but nobody will know what you’re assigned to do.”
Jon was eager to lose the device. He didn’t say a word. Instead he quickly pulled up his sleeve, took off the device and placed it on the table.
Greenwald spoke, “Instead of transmitting the information I will need you to meet here once a week, or as I call on you, and brief me on what you know. You’re dismissed, Specialist.”
Jon sat with his mouth agape. It looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
Greenwald stood up out of his seat, placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward he said, “Did I stutter?”
Jon hopped to his feet, “No, sir. Sorry, sir. I will see you in a week.” He bolted for the door without looking behind himself and headed for the elevator. As he approached the receptionist’s desk he figured there was nothing to lose. He brushed his hand on the edge of the desk as he walked by to grab the girl’s attention.
“You have a pleasant day,” he said with a smile.
Looking irritated she spoke, “don’t do anything stupid that sends you back to jail.”
“Alright,” Jon said as he awkwardly turned in a bit of shock and disbelief.
On his journey back down to the lobby and out to the transit bus, Jon contemplated how he would go about “getting information.” He heeded the words of the receptionist more than Greenwald himself. Jon didn’t want to go back to prison. How was he supposed to get information? And whom was he going to get it from? Social settings were never a strong suite of his. Now he had to infiltrate the under-belly of the city – somehow.
The morning was late and Jon was afraid he had missed the last shuttle until the end of the first work-shift. As he approached the platform he was pleasantly surprised to see the shuttles were still operating. He climbed aboard the closest one, which was completely empty. The door closed behind him and a simulated voice came over the speaker system.
“State your destination, Specialist Ballard.”
Jon shrugged with amusement. Apparently, there were some great perks to essentially being a slave to the party. He had to think a moment because he had absolutely no idea where he was going. He had been sent off onto a blind quest into the city, so he shouted out the first street address that popped into his mind.
“H and 17, please.” Jon had just ordered the shuttle to the library.
“Please be seated,” the voice came back.
He took his seat as close to the front as he could get. A big grin took over his face. It had only been a few days since he lost the convertible, and this was probably the closest he would ever get to
have that experience again. He was looking around as though somebody could see the joy on his face.
That joy slowly began to melt away. His face went from a bright, beaming smile and gradually to a twisted puzzle of confusion. Why was he going to the library after that exchange with Greenwald? Then again, Greenwald didn’t explicitly warn him. He just mentioned it to him. Then again, Jon could feel he was between a rock and a hard place. It didn’t matter. He was on his way and this was going to have to be the last trip he made to the library. Better make it worth it.
Jon enjoyed his journey back across town being alone on the bus. It was quiet. It allowed him to think. He didn’t have to stand there awkwardly, being perpetually aware of everybody violating his personal space while trying not to violate theirs.
Finally, the shuttle came to its stop near the library. The roar coming from the motor seemed so much louder without a crowd of people and a rush of vehicles below. It echoed down and back up the street in each direction.
Jon headed to the entrance of the library. He didn’t expect to see her there again. It seemed like a once in a lifetime meeting, but there she was, Sinda. They made eye contact. She looked back at him the way he had looked at her, surprised to see him.
“You’re back,” Sinda proclaimed. “Are you here to study up on farming this time?”
She spoke with a pen just grazing her lips. Jon had seen his fair share of beautiful women, but there was something so striking about her that any coherent sentence fled from his brain.
“Uh…” he muttered while he approached that tall desk. “Um.” The words would appear in his head and then dilute into nonsense and stuttering by the time they got to his mouth.
She smiled back at him, “find what you need, and I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” he managed to spit out. This encounter was different. This situation was different. Sinda was acting as though she was interested in Jon, and that posed all kinds of problems. It was illegal and Jon saw first-hand what happened when that law was broken. He was now a party member, and here was another party member who seemed interested in him. Jon didn’t know what the penalty for that was, and at that moment he didn’t care. He felt a burning in his chest that he had never felt before. He found his way to the shelf where the book was, but he couldn’t help but look back at Sinda.
She was looking down at her desk. Seeming to feel Jon’s gaze she turned around, and they both exchanged another smile. Then Jon dropped the book on his foot. She just laughed as she turned back to her desk.
Jon picked the book up and took a seat as he began to read.
It was mid-afternoon and Johnny was sitting at the tavern sipping down a few glasses of whiskey. Then he felt a hand on the back of his shoulder. He looked up. It was the Sheriff.
“I’m sorry to hear ‘bout what happened, Johnny,” the Sheriff said.
After a short pause Johnny spoke, “what are you going to do about the men who tried to kill my family, Sheriff?”
“What can I do, Johnny? We can’t find a group of men when we don’t know who they are.”
Johnny took another moment and another sip of his whiskey. “I’ve lived in these parts my whole life. My whole life e’rybody always called me Johnny. Sometimes they call me Jon. Nobody e’er call me Johnny boy, except one man. That man was Mayor Wallace, before he was the mayor.”
“You serious, Johnny? The mayor? Gimme a break, son,” the sheriff retorted. “Nobody is going after the mayor for nothin’. Even if he were one of the men on them horses, nobody is going to take him down.”
This time Johnny downed the rest of the whiskey remaining in his cup and slammed the cup onto the bar.
“Listen to me closely Sheriff. You were elected to serve not to cower and quiver. If you don’t want to do what’s right, then I will, and anybody involved in this is going to hell with me.”
Johnny stood up, tossed some money to the bartender and did not look back at the sheriff. Just when he got to the door and was on his way out, the sheriff shouted, “Watch your back, Johnny.”
Maybe the sheriff meant well, but that’s not how Johnny took it.
“Hey, sweetheart,” a soft voice came over John as he found himself lost in the story. “I gotta kick you out. I don’t think you’re studying up on farming anyhow.”
Then something happened that Jon did not expect. He stood up, looked in to her eyes and said something he had always been too afraid to say to a woman for fear of party retribution.
“You’re beautiful,” he said to her. “I can’t ever come back here, but I need to see you again. I don’t know why, I just do.”
She was as shocked to hear the words as Jon was to speak them.
“Nobody has ever said that to me before,” she replied. “You know that is illegal?”
“Isn’t everything illegal?”
She took a moment and gazed up at him, wondering what it is she should say.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“I, I don’t know.” Jon looked around the room as if the answer would be sitting on a shelf. “Meet me at the transit stop outside tomorrow before your shift begins. We could at least talk for a few minutes.”
She was hesitant but eventually the word “okay” escaped from her mouth. Then they both laughed in a nervous fashion. Each one of them had just violated the law, and if anybody outside of themselves caught on, it could mean game over for both of them.
They both began walking toward the exit as they continued to laugh nervously. The laughing then went from nervous to awkward as they approached the door.
“Well I’ll see you in the morning, I guess,” she said to Jon.
Jon smiled and looked in to her eyes once more, “I’m really looking forward to it.”
Jon headed outside and the door closed behind him. His stomach was riddled with knots and covered in butterflies but he couldn’t help but smile on his way toward the station.
He arrived to the station and realized – again – that no shuttles were currently operating in the middle of the day, so he began a long slow walk back toward his living quarters. Then he looked down and realized that he was still carrying the book in his hands. He never even thought to set it down, and apparently Sinda didn’t even notice that he walked out with it. Not knowing what to expect next – or if he had even committed a crime – Jon quickly started heading to his quarters and hoped desperately that nobody of importance would notice him walking around town in broad daylight with a book that he was not supposed to have.
8
A NIGHT ON THE TOWN
It was late and getting later. Jon could not stop reading his newly acquired book. He had never read a story quite like this before. As a matter of fact, he had never actually read a book like this before. Any stories that he had read had to do with the party and their victory in some revolution that happened before he even existed in this life. For all Jon knew it was made-up anyway.
There was something different about this book. It had imagination, it had passion, and it had something more. It was just a story but there was some element of underlying truth to it. Jon could not get enough of it.
Johnny walked around his ranch where the intruders came in on horseback the night before. He was looking for any type of clue, any sign that could point him in the right direction.
Whoever it was that came to kill him the night before was going to be furious when they found out they were unsuccessful, and they would most certainly return to finish the job.
Johnny had to figure this out and quick. In the meantime he sent his wife and child to a relative’s where – he hoped – nobody would think to look.
He followed the horse tracks in the dirt leading up to his house. He followed them until he saw where the first rider had stopped and began shouting. There was dried blood from where Johnny had hit him with his shotgun. He noticed some silver bullet casings lying in the dirt. He bent over and picked them up. Then he heard the sound of hooves beating the gro
und and the sound of a carriage.
Johnny stood to see a fleet of armed men on horseback with a carriage coming up behind them. It was the Sheriff and his posse. He placed the silver cartridge into his pocket.
“Hands up, Johnny,” demanded the Sheriff. “You’re under arrest.”
Johnny, feeling like he should have seen this coming, raised his hands in the air so as not to be shot on the spot.
“On what charges?’ he barked back.
“For attempted murder and arson, son.” The Sheriff had a smirk about him. It was evil at best.
The Sheriff dismounted from his horse and grabbed Johnny. Pulling him towards the barred up wagon the Sheriff remarked, “I told you, you’re not gonna bring down the mayor, but you had to come out here snooping around, didn’t you?”
Johnny said nothing as the posse threw him into the back of the wagon – but he made eye contact with each and every one of them.
Jon looked up for a moment. He had been lost in the story between the pages and forgot about his own current situation. Then he looked up and realized the power was still on. They always shut down the power by now. He ran to the window and saw that only a few other living quarters with their lights on. It was lights out time, but Jon’s were still functioning.
“It pays to obey, I guess,” he muttered to himself.
Realizing the hour, Jon tried to get some sleep, but he found himself restless in his bed. He bunched up the blankets and then tossed them to the side, only to retrieve them and bunch them up again. He broke out in a sweat, got lost in a song stuck in his head and then had a panic attack.
He just couldn’t sleep.
Jon stood up from his bed and went to the window. He starred at that poster across the street. It flapped and swayed in the gentle night breeze. Jon could only behold how atrocious the thing was. Ugly colors, ugly people and an ugly message were all Jon could see.
The Cowboy of Pinnacle City Page 11