by Connor Mccoy
"Clerk?" Melvin asked, "or Office Manager? We could call you O.M."
"Clerk is fine," Mia said. "Short and sweet."
"Or Agent. Special Agent." Glenn was grinning. "We could call you 007."
"Or Moneypenny," Christian said. "Did she have a number as well?"
"Forget Moneypenny," Sally said, "we should call Mia ‘M.’ That's way more accurate. Mia is nobody's secretary."
"Are you good with that, Mia?" Christian asked.
"Sure," Mia said. "I'll be M. M for Mia and M for Melvin."
"Before we head to sleep," Melvin said, worried that the main point had been lost in the details, "I need to impress upon you that we cannot trust Arthur. Even if he has the best of intentions, he is only one of many, and anything he tells the others could come back to bite us. You can't let your guard down around him. And if you need to do something that seems as if it might violate the code, then have one of us distract him."
"How will we know if we're violating the code?" Sally asked.
"As I see it," Glen spoke up, "there is no way to know. So, just do your best work, and if someone seems shady or could be deemed unworthy for any reason, hustle them away to the apartment or the basement and treat them there. What else can we do?"
"I think Glen's right," Melvin said. "We just are going to have to use our best judgment and maybe have M ask any questionable patients to come back after dark."
"We should have a separate entrance for them to come after dark," Mia said. "Maybe the garage door at the side. Or the guest house? Has anyone checked out the guest house?"
"I think that's Robbie's base of operations," Sally said. "I saw him disappear in there earlier."
"Not the guest house then," Melvin said. "But I think we probably can use the door at the side of the building. The one that the staircase leads to on the street side of the apartment. But we may need to erect a privacy screen of sorts."
"We can work out the details later," Glen said, and Melvin could see him donning the cloak of leadership again. "We need our sleep. Off you go."
It wasn't until Melvin was in the hall outside the apartment that he realized he didn't know where he was going to sleep.
Chapter Five
Arthur made his way through darkening streets toward the Court. He knew he should guard himself against the Melvins, but he already found himself liking them. There was such a strong sense of comradery and mutual caring in the group. And an affinity for humor. A normalcy that Arthur himself yearned for. It was like visiting an unusually warm family and wishing you could be one of them too.
The animosity of the Tribinal was wearing on him. Before the EMP had hit, he had been used to developing friendships among his coworkers. There had been warmth and caring in the law firm. Even when cases were tense, you always knew the others would have your back. They were there for you. There wasn’t the constant questioning, arguing, having to prove your point that was the heart of the Cut Court. You certainly never had to worry about your failure resulting in a beheading.
He shuddered at the thought of it. Had he known, he probably would not have joined the Court when Chantal had asked him. He would have been happy to have a role in the reshaping of the city, and he was glad he was there to balance Xander’s brutal views on justice, but when he failed to sway the Court to a less violent solution, he suffered with the accused.
That man did not have to die, he reminded himself. He chose it. He chose to die whole rather than to live maimed. And he supposed he did not blame the man. Keeping starvation at bay was difficult enough without losing a hand, wasn’t it? Arthur shook his head. He still believed there was a better way. You could bring the rule of law without brutality. He was sure of it.
When Arthur arrived back at the Court, Chantal and Xander still were there. They looked deep in conversation, sitting across from each other at the big table. Chantal instantly became alert as he walked in the door, but relaxed when she saw it was him. He wondered if she felt the need always to be on her guard. Always watching for danger.
“Good,” Xander said. “You’re back. We have things to discuss.” He motioned to the chair next to Chantal.
That amused Arthur. Xander was pitting himself against the two of them. And he apparently thought he would win this argument, or he would have allied himself with one of them. Arthur ignored the seat Xander indicated and sat at the head of the table, between them, splitting Xander’s focus.
It was a small but strategic decision, and Arthur felt it was important to create a triangulation to balance the power.
Xander slapped his hand on the table.“I want to know what the criteria are for judging these people, these ‘Melvin Foles,’ as they call themselves. There has to be solid evidence of their conduct. I don’t want to hear any touchy-feely stuff. Solid empirical evidence, do you hear me?” he said.
“Why don’t you explain to me what you mean by touchy-feely stuff?” Arthur caught and held Xander’s gaze, daring him to incriminate himself.
“You know what I mean.” Xander puffed up. “Statements beginning with the words ‘I feel, I think’ or ‘I believe.’ I want to hear what you observe. I want to know the results of these people’s actions. I want to know what the benefit to the community is.”
“I didn’t expect anything else,” Arthur said. “Do you have any other suggestions? Anything you think I should be looking for?”
“Make sure they aren’t treating anyone who has been deemed undesirable by the Court.” Xander narrowed his eyes. “Or obtain things on the black market.”
“There is no other kind of market,” Chantal snorted. “The only way to get supplies of any kind is in backdoor deals, theft, or coercion. Let’s be realistic, unless this probation is just a ruse to pacify Arthur. Is that how you see it, Xander?”
“I see it as a waste of effing time. That’s how I see it,” Xander spat out. “We should have killed them all, women and men both. That’s what they deserved for lying to the Court. When word of this gets out, we’ll be swimming in people trying to game the system. They want to stand by their buddies? Fine. Everyone dies.”
“That is no way to run a system of justice,” Arthur said. “The Court must remain impartial, but also fair. Is it fair to kill five people for one man’s crimes? No. These people weren’t protecting their friend out of fear. They are decent people who believe we are wrong. The truth must be allowed to surface.”
“The only good to come out of this is that one of them will slip up and you will know who Melvin is. The minute that happens, bring him to us.” Xander slapped a hand on the table. “Then we’ll get our justice.”
“I will not.” Arthur kept his voice steady, but hard. “We have given them a month to save Melvin’s life, and I will honor that pact. Once again, you do not realize how precarious our position is. If our actions seem irrational or dishonest, the Court will lose its viability. You seem to forget, Xander, there are many more of them than there are of us.”
“A fact that didn’t use to be a problem,” Chantal retorted. “People want structure. They yearn for an authority to keep the world safe for them. They are grateful to us for providing that, and they only should be afraid if they are on the wrong side of our rule. The issue here is rigidity of purpose versus perceived compassion. A dichotomy of moral standards. If we are seen to be unyielding, unfair, and capricious, the people may well rebel.”
“If they rebel, we will beat them back into submission.” Xander laughed. “All it takes is for a few children to go missing to send families running in fear. Even the most hardened man will blanch before the thought of losing his child.”
“My God, Xander, do you hear yourself?” Arthur was burning with indignation. “You are barbaric.”
“And barbarism is all that is needed to keep the seething masses in line,” Xander replied. “Why flinch from barbarism when it will save the most lives, keep the most people safe? From each other, I might add. They have very little to fear from us if they behave with honor toward one another.”
“And yet, isn’t that what Melvin Foles was doing?” Chantal asked. “Behaving with honor toward his fellow citizens? Healing a man who needed healing, regardless of the danger it brought to him? If you follow your own logic, Xander, Melvin should go free.”
Xander stood up sending his chair into the wall. “What you are failing to remember is that we are the law of the land. And we forbid any citizen to provide aid to any person condemned by that law. Melvin Foles pitted himself against that self-same law when he rendered aid to the condemned. For that, he must be punished.”
“Even if it means an uprising by the citizens we are sworn to protect?” Arthur took a breath to calm himself. “And why are we calling them citizens? They are people, families, individuals. They may have the same basic needs, but they are not all the same. We need to recognize their individuality and use their strengths to better the community that we all must live in.”
One of the candles on the table sputtered and went out, causing the room to dim dramatically.
Arthur laughed. “I couldn’t ask for a more dramatic coincidence. The candle has become my stage director.”
“It does seem to have changed the atmosphere, and I believe for the better,” Chantal said. She was smiling.
Xander, however, was not. A permanent-seeming scowl had hardened onto his face. “You do not understand that sparing that man will be perceived as weakness. I believe it is weak and foolhardy to believe that compassion is necessary to lead people. It is not.”
Arthur stood. “Whether it is or it isn’t,” he said, “I have an early morning tomorrow. I have been instructed by a boy, no more than ten or twelve years old, that I am to be at the clinic to help at seven-thirty in the morning. I must go to bed.”
He bowed his goodbyes to Chantal and Xander, who nodded their heads in return. It had become the custom, and Arthur didn’t even know how it had begun. A display of respect at the end of every meeting, even when they didn’t agree.
As he was walking home, he realized they hadn’t come up with any concrete signs of the value of the Melvin Foles group to the community. That was fine with him. As much as Xander didn’t like the words ‘feel’ and ‘believe,’ Arthur thought it would be the feeling or belief of the people and the intentions behind their actions that would save or condemn them. And he’d already begun to believe they should be saved.
He would know more tomorrow, of course, and in the days after that, but he already had respect for the tall, graying doctor and his team of associates. They were compassionate people, and smart. The fact that the boy, Robbie was his name, had attached himself to the group said a good deal. He had protected the building from intruders, and the fact that they’d barely been gone long enough for people to realize the fact, did not detract from his loyalty. He saw something in the group, especially the women. Arthur would have to figure out if he could see just what it was that had drawn the child to them. That was the key to their humanity and their worth, he believed. And he would find it.
If he could not, then perhaps it was time to move on and leave the Court behind. He’d heard rumors that good things were happening on the country’s Southern coast. That electricity was being generated by the ocean waves. How he yearned for the days of flipping a switch for light and hot water. Yes, perhaps he would leave this brutal version of Detroit behind.
He was two streets away from home when he heard quiet footsteps on the street behind him. He strained his ears, trying to discern how many men might be behind him. Two at least, maybe more. If he ran, they most certainly would catch him, but if he could lengthen his stride and increase his speed just a little perhaps he could outsmart them.
He wondered who they were. Family members of the man recently beheaded at the Court? Random thugs on the lookout for a victim? Had Xander finally had his fill? Or was this the Melvin Foles come to put an end to his snooping? Arthur set those thoughts aside and concentrated on making it home in one piece. He ducked down an alleyway but stopped short when he saw shadows move at the far end. He turned, but it was too late. The trailing footsteps had caught up with him.
He ran full speed down the alley, hoping to hit the shadows at the end with enough speed to topple them over. He pushed through the two men blocking his path, but as he emerged from the alleyway something caught at his legs, clotheslining him at his knees and sending him crashing to the ground. He lay there, winded for five whole seconds before he became the bottom of a dog pile. Then he was grabbed by his arms and legs and held while a couple, or maybe it was three large men, kicked him unconscious.
Chapter Six
It had taken the group a few minutes to figure out sleeping arrangements, but once that was sorted out, Glen thought they'd gotten a decent night's sleep. At least he had. He'd ended up in the apartment's master bedroom, with Sally in the spare room.
Christian had joined Mia in her transported bedroom in the upper hall, with Melvin nearby in the room, with her parents’ belongings. It was odd to see their clothing hung in closets in this building, but it was fitting. Another piece of Detroit's history preserved in the museum.
Glen discovered the stove still was supplied with propane and that surprised him, but it made making coffee so much easier. He was about to boil water for a big pot of oats when he heard the sound of bare feet running down the hall. Robbie?
He moved quickly to the apartment door and opened it cautiously. It was Robbie, who pulled up just short of the door and stood panting.
“You’ve got to come quick,” Robbie panted. “It’s the man from the Court. He’s hurt bad.” Robbie grabbed Glen’s arm and started tugging.
“Wait,” Glen said. “Let me get help.” Shaking off the boy's grasp, he ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time all the way to the top floor. He banged on Melvin’s door first, and when he heard the sound of Melvin moving, he ran to Mia’s door. But before he could bang on it, the door opened, followed by Christian and Mia peering into the hall.
“Mia, wake Sally. Arthur has been injured. Get an examination room ready for him. Christian, shoes on and come with me.”
He turned to see Melvin coming down the hall. “Did you hear that?” Glen asked.
Melvin nodded and turned back into his room. Glen glanced in as he passed to see Melvin shoving his feet into work boots.
“Meet me at the door,” he yelled and headed back down the stairs to where Robbie was waiting.
“Can he walk?” he asked the boy as they hurried down the hall toward the medical wing. “Do I need to make a stretcher?”
“We have a boat trailer,” the boy said, “and some sheets. But you need some way to attach them together.”
“How big of a boat trailer?” Glen asked, hoping it wasn’t a yacht trailer. Even a smallish sailboat trailer would be hard to move.
“It’s for a dingy,” the boy said, “you know, a little sailboat for one or two people. Just long enough for a person to lie on.”
“Well, that’s okay then.” Glen said, and then asked, “How do you know about dinghies?”
“I was raised on the river. All us river boys know about boats and ships and things.”
“Is that where you got the boat trailer? At the river?” They had reached the medical offices, and Glen was searching for something to tie the sheets to the trailer.
“No,” Robbie said, “it’s mine. I had a dingy, but we burned it for heat last winter.”
Glen sneaked a look at the boy. He seemed resigned rather than devastated. He understood that the need for heat outweighed a boy’s need for freedom. He sorted through a box and found a spool of twine at the bottom.
“This should do the trick,” he said.
They popped back into the hall just as Christian and Melvin turned down the hall.
“Come on,” Robbie said. “We’ve been too long already,” and he started out at a trot.
Glen noted that the razor wire had been laid around the edge of the building now, as it was not needed to block the doorway. It was pre
tty smart of the boy to leave it where it would be readily accessible.
They turned out into the street where the trailer was waiting, guarded by two boys who were slightly bigger than Robbie. He grabbed the tongue of the trailer and lifted, steering while the other two pushed. He may not be the biggest of his friends, but he was their leader, leading children and adults the same, trotting down the street ahead of the pack, steering the boat trailer.
The scene struck Glen as funny, although he knew the situation wasn’t. He wondered what anyone watching them might think about three boys and three men rushing down the street with a boat trailer first thing in the morning. He couldn’t imagine.
They found Arthur lying on the ground, guarded by a girl of maybe sixteen years old. She wore a black t-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of black biker boots. A bicycle chain swung from her hand. Her hair was dirty, and her expression mean until she saw Robbie and it lightened. “I had to chase off a dog and a couple of lousy stinking men,” she said. “The dog had more sense.”
“Did you whack them in the balls with your chain?” Robbie asked.
“Just one of them,” she said. “The other one got smart after that. I don’t think they’ll bother me again.”
Christian and Melvin had gone straight to Arthur, assessing his injuries. Glen noted Arthur was answering their questions, which was a good sign. He was conscious.
“Where are those sheets you mentioned?” he asked Robbie. One of the other boys slid them out from under his jacket, which surprised Glen. He hadn’t noticed the bulk. He took a second look and saw that the boy in question was painfully thin. Maybe they could remedy that.
Glen set to work helping Robbie to create a hammock between the two long fabric covered poles that Robbie told him were called bunks. They ran the length of the trailer, more or less, and the hull of the boat would have rested on them. It made a perfect rolling stretcher for a man. Once the sheets were secured in place.
Robbie knotted the corners of the sheets, tied the twine below the knots, and secured them to the bunks, and Glen followed suit. Then, to add strength, Glen ran the excess cord back and forth across the bunks, crisscrossing underneath the sheet. It probably wouldn’t be as comfortable, but it may keep the sheet from ripping. And that seemed essential to Glen. They needed to get Arthur back to the museum with as few mishaps as possible.