by Connor Mccoy
When she stepped into the Judges’ room, Xander and Arthur already were there, sitting across from each other, ram-rod straight with looks of distaste on their faces. She joined them, echoing Arthur’s move of the other day and sitting at the head of the table between them.
“Arthur, it’s good to see you. I’d begun to wonder.” She kept her voice calm and level, maintaining an air of quiet curiosity. “You’ve come back to us.”
“I apologize for my absence, your Honor.” He bowed his head, and she wondered why he was choosing to respond so formally. “Perhaps if you had asked Xander what had become of me, you wouldn’t have worried.”
“No need to apologize,” she said. “But what did Xander know that he did not tell me?”
“I was set up when I left here last. Kicked to within an inch of my life. I only was allowed out of bed yesterday.” He was staring hard at Xander.
“Do you know who did this?” she asked. She meant to ask Arthur, but Xander flushed.
“Of course not,” he spat out. “This is nonsense, and he knows it. It was more likely that group he’s watching, showing him how wonderful they all are by saving him.”
“They came to my rescue, yes, after a boy found me the next morning. But it wasn’t them who attacked me. There are only the three men, and none of them have the same body type as my attackers,” Arthur said. “They followed me from here. It’s far more likely that Xander is finally tired of listening to reason.”
Xander snorted.
“Let’s leave that for the moment, and tell me what your initial response to the Melvins is? Worth saving?” she asked.
“I should say so, yes,” he said. “They work like dogs all day long, treating illness, setting bones, doing surgery. They’ve set up a clinic in an old museum. They’ve got a waiting room, and it’s full of people. There’s almost always a line out the door as well. This morning the place was full of mothers and children.”
“So what? They’ve earned their right to live by helping women and children?” The sarcasm oozed over Xander’s words.
“The poorest mothers and children,” Arthur said. “No one else will take care of them. Boys with horrible gashes in their legs, rashes, broken arms. And they’re apprehensive about vaccinations. If children don’t get their shots, we’re going to end up with another epidemic. People dying in the streets.”
“Do they have a plan for keeping those vaccines cold?” Xander asked. “They are useless if they get warm.”
“I don’t know,” Arthur said, frowning. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if they did. They have a gravity-fed water system, with a hand pump as a backup. They heat water with a boiler for their washing, and they keep hot water on a stove for use in the clinic.”
“It sounds like they are very resourceful,” Chantal said. “Do they turn anyone away?”
“I haven’t seen them turn anyone away, but I also haven’t seen any unsavory types come to the clinic. It’s mostly women, children, teens and maybe a few young adults, but it’s the children who do themselves the most harm.”
“And how do they feed themselves?” Chantal asked. This was key in her mind. Did they steal from others to stay alive?
“Their patients pay them primarily with food. So, whatever they take in, that’s what they eat that night. Although they keep a few nonperishables around. Like oatmeal. Ground oats is what they eat when nothing else appears.”
“What compromising facts have you discovered about them?” Xander asked. “There must be facts about them that they don’t want anyone else to know.”
“I don’t even know their names and even if there was dirt to find, what would it matter? The good they are doing the people of this city outweighs the ghosts in their pasts.” Arthur replied.
“You don’t know their names? How could you have been there a week and not know their names?” The contempt in Xander’s voice was palpable.
“They call each other by nicknames,” Arthur said. He was looking at Chantal and ignoring Xander as much as possible.
“The surgeon is called Doc. The one that runs the waiting room and check-in is called M. The nurse that assists Doc is called P I don’t know who Melvin is, and I’m not sure I want to know. I think my point is proven. They are most useful to the city by keeping them alive. Who cares what their names are?”
“You are right, their names are immaterial,” Xander said. “They all stand with Melvin, they all can die with Melvin.”
“You gave me a month to determine their characters,” Arthur said, his teeth clenched in anger. “And I will take a month, even if it’s just to postpone their executions. I don’t understand you, Xander. You will smother every good thing that happens in this city. I don’t believe you want to see a renaissance, because a rebirth of the city would diminish your power.”
“And I don’t understand you, Arthur,” Xander sneered. “You seek to give away power at every turn. You would reduce the Koupe Tribinal to a farce. An empty shell with no power, laughed at by the people, scorned. And yet, without us the city still would be a brutal death trap for all but the most brutal. I know you think it’s me who is brutal, but you haven’t seen the worst of this city. You have been coddled.”
“Coddled? You think me coddled?” Arthur’s voice was rising. “Do you have any idea where I grew up? You have a lot of nerve, Xander, considering you are a white man raised in a middle-class neighborhood. If you’ve seen brutality, it wasn’t until the city went dark. Unless, of course, you witnessed your father beating your mother. That wouldn’t surprise me. That’s the kind of man you’ve grown into. If someone disagrees with you, you thrash them. And that’s why I think you sent those thugs. I disagreed with you.”
Chantal considered how long she should let them pound at each other. They were like petulant children, each complaining that the other got all the love. An outsider never would guess they actually were weighing the fate of five people. That was the critical issue here.
“Gentlemen,” she said, putting as much frost in her voice as she could, “we are here to discuss the merits of letting the Melvins live. Your private hatred for each other is not welcome. Arthur is correct, he has three more weeks to convince us of their merit. It does not have to be done today. We all know your opinion, Xander, you’ve made that entirely clear. It is also clear that you are not willing to move from your position. I would remind you that a judge of the Koupe Tribinal has no business becoming immovable. This court is a collaboration of minds. If I feel your mind is no longer open, I will replace you.
“And you, Arthur, you rise to the bait every time. You would do much better to ignore Xander instead of acting like the younger brother rising to his older brother’s taunts. Relay the facts. Tell us about the characters and morality of the people involved. I don’t care what they are doing for the city, I want to know who they are.”
“I believe they have the highest honor,” Arthur said, “but I can see I must prove it even to you, Chantal. What is it you want to know?”
“Tell me about M. What do you know about her?” Chantal asked.
“I think they call her M after the leader of MI6 in the James Bond movies,” he began. “She doesn’t appear to have any medical skills, but she runs things. She’s an organizer, problem solver – and she’s good at keeping morale high. She and the Tech are a pair. I believe they are in a relationship.”
“If she has no medical skills, it’s not likely she’s Melvin, is it?” Chantal pointed out. “But we knew Melvin was unlikely to be either of the women. Tell me about the doctor.”
“The Doc is the oldest of the group, I think the others look to him for guidance. He is highly skilled, and it seems obvious to me that he’s a trained surgeon. He’s confident, never dithers about what he needs to do. He sees the problem, quickly decides the right course of action and takes it. He doesn’t question himself. He moves from patient to patient in a manner that exudes competence. No, not competence, it’s more than that. He’s an expert, he doesn’t sh
ove it in anyone’s face, but he knows what he’s doing, and it shows.”
“He could be Melvin then,” Chantal mused. “But it would be a shame to lose those skills.”
“Surgeons are a dime a dozen in this city,” Xander muttered.
“If you can afford to pay them,” Arthur replied.
They just couldn’t leave it alone, Chantal thought. The two of them will be the death of me. “Who else?” she asked, at least partially to distract them from another session of needless bickering. “Who is the other woman?”
“P.A., short for Physician’s Assistant. She’s the youngest, I think. She has skill handling patients, but no formal training as far as I can tell. She’s quick and unafraid and seems to know intuitively what’s needed. She almost reads the Doctor’s mind, she’s ready with what he needs before he knows it himself. She and M are very close, and I think that there is a connection from before the EMP.”
“Again, I doubt she’s Melvin. Even if she wasn’t a woman, I don’t think an untrained eye could have saved the man in question. That took skill and a knowledge of anatomy. Next.” Chantal raised an eyebrow at him.
“The Tech, or Techie as they call him,” Arthur said. “A little older than the girls, but still young. A jack of all trades. He helps in the examining rooms some, but he also does the heavy lifting. Today he was in the laundry boiling sheets. He keeps an eye out for M and tries to make sure she’s not overtired.”
Chantal made a ‘go on’ gesture with her hand.
“The Quartermaster. He’s a skilled medic, but I wouldn’t say he’s a surgeon. His age lies somewhere between M, P, and Techie, and the Doctor. Whereas the Doctor is all finesse and fine sewing, the Quartermaster is down and dirty. He’s quick and competent, very skilled at diagnosing and then banging out what’s needed. A kid had a big gash in his leg, and I was needed to help keep it still while the Quartermaster was sewing it up. It wasn’t fancy little stitches, but it was neat and complete and done with speed.” He thought a moment.
“That’s it, I guess. There’s a child named Robbie who is helping them. I think he adopted them, kind of a mascot. But he makes himself useful, and he has a gang of kids who follow him. He calls, they come and help. It’s kind of handy to have that kind of manpower at your beck and call. A workforce on demand.”
“Do you think he would tell you which one is Melvin?” Chantal asked.
“I doubt it. The kid is loyal. He’s attached to M, would do anything for her.” Arthur shrugged. “She seems to inspire loyalty. But I think it’s because she gives it back. She’s definitely one of the people who holds them together.”
“Thank you, Arthur,” Chantal said. “You should go home and get some sleep. I take it your days are busy.”
“Yes, very busy.” His face dropped. “Actually, they make me take breaks. They say my internal organs still are healing and I need to rest. But the work still wears me out, even with the breaks.”
“Go on, then. But check in every couple of days if you can. I want to keep tabs on you,” Chantal said.
Xander snorted with derision but didn’t say anything, and a moment later Arthur was gone.
“I can’t believe you think he’s of any use to us,” Xander said. “You’d think they all shit gold the way he talks. An expert surgeon. The force that holds them together. I couldn’t give a goddamn shit about any of it. The Melvins need to die, and Arthur along with them.”
“I keep Arthur as a foil to you,” Chantal said. It was only partly the truth, he was good for much more than just to balance Xander’s homicidal tendencies, but Xander didn’t need to know that. “He keeps you on the straight and narrow, and his opinions balance yours. Remember that. If he goes, I either have to find another just like him, or you go too. You’re dangerous unchecked, Xander.”
“You have no idea how dangerous I actually am,” he said as he leaned across and took her wrist in his hand. “I have followers of my own. And should I need this dainty wrist broken, they’d happily do that for me.”
An enforcer appeared at Xander’s back and laid the steel of a sword against his neck. He let go of Chantal’s arm and sat back. “No need for beheading, enforcer, I just was making a point.”
“And I am making this point,” Chantal said. “Do not act without my consent, Xander, or you will join your victims in the sawdust. Arthur is mine, and I have need of him. He lives.” She got up and went to the door. “Good night.”
She was feeling confident as she walked away, until Xander spoke from the room. She didn’t know if she was meant to hear the words or not.
“He dies tomorrow on the steps of the clinic.”
She thought about going back, rebuking him. But she had advised many people not to rise to Xander’s bait. Tonight she was going to take her own advice.
Chapter Nine
Mia woke the next day with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. Christian still was asleep. She dressed quietly, and instead of going to the apartment for breakfast, she walked through the ballroom and out to lean her arms on the parapet that edged the terrace. The air was nicely fresh, and sometimes deep breathing would get rid of the feeling of impending doom, but not today.
She told herself she was being ridiculous and looked down on the park, seeking signs of life in the chill morning. Two squirrels chased each other around and around the trunk of a large tree that already had lost most of its leaves. She should be smiling at the pair, who reminded her of the cartoon chipmunks her mother had shown her on the TV.
There were a few birds perched here and there. They seemed intent upon keeping each other from invading their territory, squawking and scolding when the others came near. A sleek brown dog padded quietly along the path, ignoring both the squirrels and the birds, he seemed focused on his destination. No time for hijinks in the park for this dog.
No hijinks for her either. It had been too long since they had taken a day for relaxation. There were so many people with untreated medical needs, it just didn’t seem fair not to open the clinic every day. She didn’t know about the others, but she needed a day to unwind.
They could find a little sailboat and have a day on the river or, even better, on the lake. They could sail out to one of the small islands and picnic. Then they could swim or just sleep, have a bonfire and sing. Her family had summer days like that when she was a child. They didn’t have to be fancy. They’d load up her father’s SUV and go to the lake or the river. Once they bought these short foam surfboards. Boogie Boards, that’s what they were called. A speed boat pulled them along and she’d been flipped by the wake and tumbled in the wash, but her father had plucked her from the lake, and once he’d been sure that she was okay, he’d taken her for ice cream.
They needed days like that in times like these. A little bit of normalcy. Some fun. Time to forget that there were vigilante courts who thought they could rule your lives, thugs on the streets waiting to beat you senseless like what happened to poor Arthur, and so, so many people who needed help. Never ending lines of dirty children who were sick, or injured, or just plain malnourished.
She thought again of the lake, and how the sun felt on her back, and the feel of the hot sand under her fingers. How cold the water was when she first stepped in. The feeling of her father’s arms wrapped around her. That was so long ago as to almost be another lifetime, and yet she could remember every detail. How lovely it would be to spend a day like that, to make fresh memories. To have a day just for them.
A jay rasped from a nearby tree, and she pulled herself back into the present. It was all very well trying to distract herself, but it wasn’t working. She still had an uneasy feeling. She decided to go find Sally. Sally would be able to talk her out of her anxiety.
She found Sally in the spare room in the apartment getting ready for the day. She seemed happy enough in her own way, and Mia hated to put a damper on that, but Sally was the one person she always could be herself with, and that wasn’t going to stop today.
�
��I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen today,” she said, sitting on Sally’s bed. “It’s gnawing at me.”
“It’s just the surgery today,” Sally said, pulling on a T-shirt. “It’s our first one, it’s natural that you should be anxious.”
“It feels bigger than that,” Mia said. “Like doom rolling down on us. The kind of feeling that kept me home from school the day a student took out the chem lab at college.”
“Are you going to stay in bed today then?” Sally asked.
“No. You need me at the clinic,” Mia said. “I can ignore the feeling when I need to. Let’s make breakfast.”
Melvin was already in the kitchen when Sally and Mia emerged into the living areas. Mia was relieved that she wouldn’t be the one cooking this morning. The cardamom experiment hadn’t gone over that well.
“Mia’s got a bad feeling in her gut about today,” Sally told Melvin. “And she doesn’t think it’s about the surgery.”
“Surgery?” Melvin asked. “Oh, you mean the extraction.”
“Extraction?” Mia said. “That sounds like we’re removing teeth.”
“Gallbladder, teeth, if they need to come out it’s all the same thing. Extraction,” Melvin said.
“I’m glad I’m not going to be in the room while you men remove a gallbladder. Especially not under these conditions.”
“Just be happy it’s not you,” Sally said. “I can’t imagine what I’d be going through if I had to have surgery these days. Sure, you and Glen have plenty of skill, but it’s not going to be sterile, is it? As hard as we try, there’s no real way to create a germ-free operating theater.”
“It’s not a complicated procedure,” Melvin said. “I wish we could use cameras, but we can keep the incisions small. She’ll be up and around before you know it.”
“But that’s not it,” Mia said. “I’m sure of it. There’s no reason for me to be anxious about the operation because I’m not involved. God, I hate this feeling.” She flung herself into a chair at the table just as Christian came in.