“Is it consensual?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Is it a consensual collar? Did the dog agree to it?”
“I never really asked her.”
“Oh, I see. Well, do you have any idea how demeaning that collar is?”
The Librarian shrugged. “I thought it was a pretty nice collar. It’s not like it’s leopard print or anything.”
“Very funny,” the guard responded in a sarcastic tone. “And since you can’t see my face I should probably tell you I’m being sarcastic.”
“No, I got that. Even through the mask.”
Guy number two moved between Jerry and the town. “All collars are demeaning.”
Guy number one explained. “When you put a collar on an animal, you’re telling that animal, ‘you’re mine.’ You’re telling it, ‘you’re my property.’”
Guy number two stepped forward and poked Jerry in the chest. “Do you think animals should be property, pal?”
“Before you answer,” the first guard interrupted, “I’ll tell you. They aren’t property. All animals are born free and they should live free and they should die free.”
“You want me to take the collar off?” Jerry asked.
“That depends. Do you want to be brought up on Animal Captivement Charges, smart guy?” Guy number two produced a pair of handcuffs and dangled them in front of his mask.
“And, before you answer, you do not want to be brought up on Animal Captivement Charges. Unless you want to go a round in the cage. And, before you answer ...”
“Yeah, I don’t want to go a round in the cage.” Jerry leaned down and removed Chewy’s collar. He tossed it to the first guard and turned to the second. “Can we go shopping now?”
“Before you enter it is my duty to warn you that you are entering Tolerance with a potentially dangerous animal. It is your responsibility to make sure that said animal is restrained at all times.”
“But you just made me take off the collar.”
Guy Fawkes number one stepped closer. “I don’t think I like your attitude.”
“I know I don’t like his attitude,” the second guard said.
“Do you want people to get hurt?” Guy Fawkes number two said. “You don’t like people, is that it? Well, people matter, pal. And we can’t have a dangerous animal running around in there. So either control your dog or face the consequences.”
“So can I have the collar back?” Jerry asked.
“Only if you want to face Animal Captivement Charges.”
“Which we already agreed, I don’t want to do that.” Jerry sighed a looked at each Guy Fawkes. He held up his hand and spoke. “I swear that this animal will be under my complete control at all times and cause harm to no one and at no point shall the animal’s free will be restrained in any form or fashion. Should this not be the case, I will accept the consequences of either my or my, sorry not my, the animal’s actions. And can we go in now?”
Guy Fawkes number one’s eyes grew narrow behind the mask. “You’d better check that attitude here at the gate or you’ll be paying your Fair Share in no time.” The guard stepped aside and opened the gate. “Have a nice stay.”
SIXTEEN
Erica’s dash across the campus had turned into a hurried walk as she realized that her disguise was more effective than she had hoped. During her exchanges with Carrie, Erica had failed to notice the insignia on the maroon jacket. The citizens looked away at her approach if they didn’t turn around altogether. Whatever Carrie’s position was, it was obvious that people were eager to avoid her.
It had to be the uniform. She refused to believe she looked anything like Carrie herself. But she did try to adopt a gait more like the bitch from the cellblock. She stomped hard with every step, swung her arms with clenched fists, set her eyes hard, and tried to look like she had never smiled, laughed, or found anything delightful in her entire life.
The buildings on the campus were a mix of neoclassical halls that created an esteemed, stately atmosphere of higher learning reminiscent of renaissance forums, as well as newer buildings that seemed to say, “hey, it was the seventies.”
Wide walking paths meandered between these buildings and Erica stomped her way along trying to find the outer boundaries of the town. The directional signage that once helped guide students around the school had been covered with messages encouraging freedom and love and peace or else. This frustrated her escape, but she walked with a purpose as if she knew where she was headed. Looking lost was a sure way to be found out.
The path curved right around a cinder block monolith and then left into the college square where a crowd had gathered. Turning around would make her trepidation too obvious, so Erica clenched her fists tighter, hated things more, and stomped on.
The campus square served as the marketplace. Dozens of booths, all appearing to be the same size, shape, and design, formed a rectangle on the inner portion of the grounds. A mass of people browsed the shops, stood around and talked, sat and ate, and generally loitered in the area. The social scene in Tolerance was happening.
Erica avoided eye contact but studied the people in the crowd. They appeared generally happy and well fed, which was more than could be said of most people she had met. There were genuine smiles and laughter. Their personal grooming even appeared and smelled a step above norm apocalypse levels.
If she focused on the people, it wasn’t hard to imagine that the war had never happened, and for a brief moment, in her mind, the world had returned to normal. Except she couldn’t get over the number of beards.
Their voices blended into a long forgotten din. She picked up on pieces of conversation as she moved through the square. One woman was going on about how much she liked kittens. The man she was talking to agreed with her that kittens were cute and said he found puppies adorable as well. Another group talked about how much they were enjoying the sun that day while others discussed how much they loved hiking through nature trails and how nice it was that almost everywhere was now a nature trail.
One heated exchange discussed the ills of greed, but there was no argument from the other party. The two men just agreed with one another in angry tones about how bad they thought it was.
But, no one complained about starving. No one complained about the war. No one complained about the condition of the world. The only complaint she overheard was something about Nickelback. They were a people without a concern in the world. Happy and carefree.
A man’s voice cried, “Officer.” It was the first voice she’d heard that seemed to have any distress. She stomped a little faster. She didn’t want to be anywhere the local authorities might show up.
“Officer.”
The caller was coming in her direction. Erica turned to a booth selling a surprisingly decent selection of personal care products and pretended to look around.
“Officer!”
The voice was right behind her now. She feigned interest in a loofa and turned it over in her hands several more times than made any rational sense.
“Officer!”
A hand landed on her shoulder and pulled. Erica turned around and came face to face with an angry man with a beard but no mustache, and a face but no chin.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Erica looked at his hand. “I was shopping for a loofa.”
This upset him more than Erica thought it would. “I’ve been calling you. Didn’t you hear me?”
Oh great. She was a cop. Stupid uniform. “I really needed a loofa,” she told the man.
The man grabbed the loofa and tossed it back on the table. “Are you going to help me or not?”
Erica had never pretended to be a cop before. Would a cop stand for having a loofa ripped from her hand? Had that particular situation ever come up before? Should she yell at the man for assaulting an officer’s loofa? Should she take it in stride? Should she ignore him and go back to looking at the loofa? In the end she figured that police were always helpful and decided to play
it nice.
“What seems to be the problem?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the man. “Maybe just everything.”
“Okay, let’s start with when you interrupted me and go from there.”
“Do you know Caroline?” he asked.
Should she know Caroline? Did everyone know Caroline? Would not knowing Caroline give away her cover as a loofa shopping cop? She looked around the crowd for a moment hoping Caroline wore a giant nametag, but did not spot her. Erica looked annoyed and dodged the question. That’s what Carrie would do. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened?”
“Fine. I asked Caroline out and she said no.”
Erica nodded along with the very brief story. She was still nodding before she realized it was over so she prompted him for more. “And?”
The weak-chinned man threw up his arms. “And what?”
“And what’s the problem?”
“Uh, she said, ‘no.’ What do you think is the problem?”
“Well, it could be your beard,” Erica said.
“What? What does that have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of weird that there’s no mustache, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You wanted to know what the problem was. I figured you knew about not having a chin, which is why I assumed you grew the beard, but I think a mustache would go a long way to pulling the whole look together.”
The man gasped a few times and shook his head. “What are you going to do about this?”
“Well, I can’t grow a mustache for you, so I’m not sure what to tell you.”
“Caroline hurt my feelings!” he whined. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Um ...” Erica reached out hesitantly and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “There, there,” she said and then patted his shoulder twice.
The man slapped her hand away and pointed into the crowd. “Arrest her!”
“Arrest who?”
“Caroline!”
“For what? For not wanting to date a no-chinned crybaby?”
“For hurting my feelings.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not against the law.”
“Of ... Of course it is. She assaulted my emotions.” The man looked around in frustration. “Who the hell made you Freedom Enforcement Officer?”
She had stepped in it now. No one, no rational person anyway, would blame her, but it didn’t change the fact that this little failed Romeo could blow her cover. She had to stop thinking like a cop. What would Carrie do?
“Are you going to do something or do I have to go find a real cop?”
Erica grabbed the man by the collar with both hands and pulled him close. She didn’t speak loudly, but made sure a lot of spit left her mouth as she berated him. “Listen, Chinstrap. I’m not going to do a damn thing about it. And you know why? Because that woman deservers a prize for just telling you no and not laughing in your ridiculous face. Speaking as a woman myself, I am going to say she was a real humanitarian for even talking with you to begin with. And here’s a piece of free advice for the next time you try to talk to a woman: Most women like men, not whiny little boys that cry about their feelings being hurt or tattletale to Mommy or the police because they’re too stupid to take an honest look in the mirror and realize they look like a retarded Abraham Lincoln wannabe short a stovepipe hat and the balls to take a little rejection. Now I want you to go find Caroline and apologize for being a big whiny douchebag and then either grow a fucking mustache or shave that stupid fucking beard!”
Erica held his terrified glance for a silent minute before letting him go. The man backed away and whimpered, “This was supposed to be a safe space.”
Erica shook her head as he ran off into the crowd. This place was crazy beyond anything she had ever seen, and she knew a group of people that worshipped a tree because one particular squirrel chose to live in it. She had to get out of here before she went crazy with them.
The man tending the booth tapped her on the shoulder. “You still want the loofa, Officer?”
Erica ignored him and started stomping again. She hadn’t taken four stomps when there was a crack and another shout from the crowd.
“You worthless piece of shit!”
Erica turned reflexively towards the voice and saw a man crack a woman across the jaw. The woman dropped to the ground, and before she could think of what Carrie would do, she was running towards the altercation.
The crowd had cleared around the pair and the man raised his hand to strike again.
Erica dove and tackled him to the ground.
He wasn’t expecting any resistance and her attack knocked the wind out of him. He wheezed as she rolled him over and pulled his hands behind his back. He struggled, but she dug her knee into his lower back and ground it around a bit.
“Freedom Police. Stop struggling.”
“What did I do?”
“Don’t give me that. I saw you hit that woman. Twice.”
“So? That’s not against the law.”
“You’d better believe it is. You might have hurt her feelings.”
“She’s a slave. She’s not allowed to have feelings.”
Erica looked to the beaten woman. For the first time she noticed that the woman was dressed in rags compared to the others.
The woman sobbed and tugged the collar of her shirt down to reveal a branded T on her collarbone. She met Erica’s gaze for only an instant before turning away and crying harder.
“Oh, great,” the man pinned beneath her whined. “You made my slave cry. Thanks a lot.”
The crowd surrounded her and pulled her back away from the man. They helped brush her off and explained that she must not have known the woman was a slave or, surely, a Freedom Enforcement Officer would never have intervened.
Erica backed away as the man rose and collected his property. Every time she ran into slavery, it sickened her. Every place that had it justified it a different way. How could anyone be like this? How could anyone rationalize it? Especially under the banner of freedom and tolerance; it turned her stomach.
The crowd moved in to help the man off the ground and left the woman weeping all alone.
Erica stepped over and offered her hand to help the woman up.
The woman looked at the uniform and crawled quickly away.
Erica wasn’t sure what to do. Every part of her wanted to stand up and tell these people off. Maybe punch a few of them to get the point across. She had a thousand lectures at the ready but knew they would do no good. These weren’t the kind of people that listened.
She looked at the crowd and realized they were all like Carrie. The people here believed they held the moral high ground and there was no more seductive position. They had no doubt convinced themselves that how they treated the woman and other slaves was fair and just. And possibly for the slaves’ own good.
She looked around the crowd and saw for the first time the distinct classes. The well groomed and the threadbare clothes. The broad smiles and cast down eyes. It wasn’t the town of happy carefree citizens. It was a city of monsters. All through the crowd men and women of all races were subjugated.
She also began to notice several more Freedom Enforcement Officers in maroon jackets and berets. They were on their way to check on the commotion. One group of officers was being led straight to her by the chinless man. She turned to find a way out and saw Carrie stomping across the square with the two guards. Behind her, Mr. Christopher held his side, trying to keep up.
Erica ran and the crowd parted for the uniform. She tossed the beret aside and shed the jacket somewhere in the marketplace. Pushing her way through the crowd she finally reached the edge of the market and dashed down the paved walkway around the corner of a building.
She didn’t stop. She turned down an alleyway and ducked up another side street racing towards what she hoped was the edge of the campus. There were fewer people in the backstreets and
service ways and she was moving fast enough that anyone who spotted her had little time to react before she was out of sight.
But it wasn’t long before her legs began to tire. The officers’ shouts were catching up to her. She couldn’t see them but they had to be close. She couldn’t keep up the pace.
Another turn brought her to the eastern edge of the college grounds. The boundary was defined by a creek and a tree line forming the edge of a wooded area. It could be a park or preserve. It could be the edge of a national forest for all she knew. She ran as fast as her legs were willing and made it as far as a pedestrian bridge before the gunshots began.
The walkway rails splintered as bullets intended for her buried themselves into the bridge at her feet.
She looked over the rail to the creek below. The water raged. The creek was swollen from a recent storm. A bullet hummed by her ear, and she made her decision. She hit the side of the bridge and swung her legs over, dropping into the frigid current. She took a breath all the way to the water and stayed under as long as she could.
SEVENTEEN
Tolerance’s town square was settling from some kind of commotion when Jerry and Chewy arrived. People were on the ground with their heads between their knees crying into their hands. Others paced back and forth arguing with themselves and losing. Others huddled together talking excitedly.
It was interesting to watch the citizens of Tolerance panic because they all wanted to freak out but did their best not to interrupt one another lest they offend someone.
Jerry took in the scene and immediately assumed someone had died. He scanned the area looking for a body. There would be a group of relatively calm people around it. Paramedics or whatever passed for doctors in the town. He saw nothing but an overexcited populace that didn’t know what to do with itself.
“What do you think happened here, girl?” he asked Chewy.
The dog had no idea.
Several officers in maroon coats and dumb hats were mingling in the crowd trying to calm more excited members. Several people were being questioned by another group of uniformed men and women that were trying to make sense of what happened.
Pursuit of the Apocalypse Page 10