Just one more little shot and I'll go down the hall and shower. He was glad that Rose had met Eric. He was a good man and it took some of the burden of worry from his shoulders to know that she had someone to watch out for her. She was a tough little gal; he had made sure that she knew how to protect herself and she was capable. This was a big city and there was more than a few things that troubled him, however.
He didn't want to put the heavy boots back on, he slipped his feet into some canvas shoes and gathered some clean clothes to take to the showers. Not a man that you would turn around and stare at, he was a pleasant looking person. Rose looked more like her pretty mother than his brother, with her stunning red hair. Like his brother, his hair was a dark brown, now just touched with gray at the temples. He did have hazel eyes that leaned to the brown hue like his niece, his smile came easy and he had a good sense of humor. Lean and of average height, about six foot, he was stronger than his casual appearance indicated. On occasion a pair of non prescription reading glasses sat on the end of his nose. He had been home educated like so much of the population the last thirty five years but was intelligent and loved to read.
Looking out the window, a thoughtful look on his face, he remembered the conversation that he had earlier in the day with an old friend. About a month before, a man that he served with in the militia came to town. He was just a little older than himself, in reality had been a friend of his brother's. He knew and trusted the man and put in a good word for him. The friend was accepted into Brewer's and worked with him on the maintenance crew. The man could've lived on the lowest residential level but had requested the third floor. The two of them had been repairing some plumbing in an unoccupied room, he said, “John, I want to talk to you about something. You know that I completely trust you and that's why I'm going to tell you some things.”
John had laughed, put down the wrench he was using and said, “What is it, bud? Have you fallen in love with me?”
The man slightly smiled, “Sorry, you're not my type.” He continued, “About three months ago, a man contacted me. Said he was from the government.”
“The government? Don't hear much about them anymore,” said John.
“Yeah, well there has been a big movement the last few years to re-establish our government and to help in restoring the country. Not moving very fast, are they? Anyway, the man said that they have become increasingly concerned about the bad elements that still seem to be strong, especially in the big cities.”
“As if,” said John, “there would ever be a termination of evil on this planet of humans.”
“True. This government agent said that it has become evident that this is more than just a few thugs or criminals scattered around. They believe that the cities are the headquarters for a highly organized network, a growing and determined group that wants to rule and dominate our recovering society. They participate in the usual nefarious activities to mask a much more complex and destructive objective.”
“You mean gangs---what was it they used to call organized crime---a mafia?”
The man picked up the wrench and worked a bit more on the sink plumbing. He wiped a towel across his forehead, turned on the water and checked for leaks. Washing his hands and drying on the towel, he said, “Here's the weird thing, old friend. The government guy said that these aren't exactly normal human bad guys.”
“Not normal or not human? What then---aliens? zombies? Little green boogers?” he was amused.
“Maybe not exactly. The people that are running these organizations are extremely ruthless, sociopaths and totally dedicated to their goals. The government believes they were bred and trained, possibly genetically engineered to follow the imperative of ruling the new America. I was asked to come here and see what I could find out about the network operations here in Dallas. It's thought to be a very important hub.”
John gathered up their tools, “I'm not sure what to think or say.”
“I need someone to trust, John. Someone to have my back. I'm just asking that you keep your eyes and ears open. Maybe it's just paranoia, your run of the mill everyday dirt bags.”
“Sure, I'll be watching my own back and yours, friend. Just promise me that you'll let me know if you think there is any danger to Rose. For now, I'm not giving any more than the typical cautions that she is used to me giving. Not going to alarm her or Eric.”
Now all of this conversation replayed in his mind as he padded down the hall to the bathroom. A pretty short exchange but it could have very long time implications. If there was anything to this government theory, this country that was finally beginning to get back on it's feet could be pulled to it's knees before an evil dictatorship. He actually didn't completely understand what “genetic engineering” was, he had read some old books with mention of it. It sounded to him, though, that some genius was not merely trying to determine the color of the hair or eyes of a person, but possibly attempting to create a robotic like army that would obey orders without conscious. There was no way that this could be a positive thing for the citizens of a country that was founded on freedom and human rights.
A misty haze floated from the shower area, the numbers showed one to be open. Quickly, he stepped into a stall, disrobed and wrapped a towel around his waist. He moved through the steam, the sound of running water in his ears, searched for the unoccupied shower. His scantily clad body squished up against a soft covered figure, a towel turban spiraled on the head below his chin, his bare foot jammed into toes. “Ow-w,” said a feminine voice.
“Oh s—t! I'm sorry. I didn't see you.”
The figure limped away, “It's okay---it's kind of thick in here.”
He quickly found a free shower and washed away the day. When he emerged, a woman stood in front of the row of mirrors. Her long loose robe nearly reached her ankles above bare feet with flip flops wedged between her toes. She vigorously rubbed on smoky brown hair that twisted and curved to below her ears. Long lashes swept over round blue eyes that peered at her own reflection, a face without wrinkles or any makeup.
John cleared his throat and said, “Mam, if it was you I stepped all over, I apologize again.”
The woman reached in a robe pocket, pulled out a skinny pair of glasses and placed them on her slightly tilted up nose, “Not mam---it's Mamie. Don't fret, these old toes have been stepped on before.”
He smiled and she returned it, reflected in the mirror. “I'm John, nice to meet you. I assume you live on level three or do you just come down from the young people's loft to shower?”
She rolled the big eyes, “I live way down at the end of hall. Just arrived last week, I work in the market.” When she turned from the mirror the robe swished around her, she peered over the glasses and looked him up and down.
The man with only a towel around his waist was instantly reminded of that fact and that he stood with his wet hair all matted down, water dripping from his gray peppered short beard. He grabbed for his bundled clothes on the bench, “Excuse me,” darted into a toilet stall. His head against the closed door, he mumbled, “Sorry again, I don't usually meet someone in a towel.”
A sweet toned choppy laugh sounded, “I thought your towel was very nice.” It was quiet for a few moments and he attempted to get clothes on his damp body. Obviously, he needed to invest in a robe of some sort if he was to continue to use this co-ed facility.
“Mamie? are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“Have you had supper, yet?”
It wasn't until much later that he realized she could've been married, he had bumbled right in and not even asked. What had possessed him to ask someone to dinner minutes after they met? He was going to have to assume that she would've declined his invitation if she was attached. After they each went to their rooms and dressed, they met back near the restroom. Mamie was not a skinny woman, she seemed so appealing and soft around the edges to him. Her hair all dry and fluffed out, gold earrings in her ears, her lips were tinted pink. A loose fitting white blouse
with embroidered flowers at the neck tied and left a tempting oval of cleavage, dark pants draped to the top of slip-on brown shoes. Just the nice clean smell of her made him want to be close.
This was not a shy person, she ate heartily like she enjoyed and appreciated the food. Without so much as a twinge, she sipped the bourbon and water they ordered after dinner. By the end of the evening as they made their way back to level three, he felt like his cheeks were aching from the constant smiles and laughing. At the door of her room, he didn't have time to think about being unsure of how to proceed. Mamie said, “Thanks John. It was a great night.” She stretched up and kissed his cheek, “Let's do it again.” She disappeared into her room.
He stood there in her lingering scent for a moment. Down the hall, he saw his old militia friend go into his room. He hadn't thought of their earlier conversation all evening. As he moved down the long hall towards his room, he found himself looking with a more critical eye at the few third level residents he passed. The likable maintenance man knew the majority of the people who lived on his level and where they worked in the village, not as many on the fourth or second floors. He liked to joke sometimes that the upper floor was the child care center and the lower was the nursing home. Shouldn't do that, I suppose. There are plenty of productive young people here and I'm not so far away from qualifying for the old folks floor, myself.
He encountered the couple, Jason and Larry, just as they turned to go to their room on the end of the short side hall. Arm in arm, they gave him their usual friendly greeting, “Evening, John.”
He nodded and smiled. There were two side halls that branched off the lengthy main hall. At the end of each, two rooms faced each other, slightly larger spaces than all the singles that lined the main walkway. Couples were given those rooms. Across from Jason and Larry, who both worked in the cafe, were two sisters. In the second hall, two more couples resided. John had often squeezed a full bed into a single's room because no larger was available. It left barely room to walk, but at least beat two sharing a twin size bed.
He didn't turn the light on in his room, scanned the spotty glows of night from the window. His mind filed through the residents that he knew on his level, room by room. Some were more friendly and likable than others, however, he couldn't think of a single person that made him uneasy or seemed suspicious. He was going to have to pay closer attention to all the residents of Brewer's he made contact with, perhaps even make an effort to meet the ones that he didn't know. That somewhat settled in his mind, he fell asleep with thoughts of Mamie and how much he had enjoyed the evening.
Over the next three weeks, he and Mamie shared a meal at least once a week and often an early morning cup of coffee in the cafe or an evening drink. Her story was similar to so many in these times. No family left and came to the city to be around more people and work. She actually was a well trained nurse, her father had been a doctor and she worked with him for several years after the event, until his death from an infection that they couldn't get the right medicine to cure. The woman never felt like she had the heart for being a nurse and that wasn't what she wanted to do here in the city. There was a big hospital and some smaller clinics, she could've lived in a medical village. She had declined and was happy working in the market. John was a nice and interesting man, she enjoyed spending time with him, thought he felt the same.
The old friend of John's often worked beside him and sometimes would join the new couple for a drink. He hadn't said anything else about the serious exchange that had taken place, in the weeks that followed. One evening, there was a tap on the door and John opened it to find his friend there, a small bottle of bourbon in his hand. “Got time for a little nip, bud?”
“Sure, come in,” said John.
The two sat at the small table, a shot of liquor in front of them. The friend said, “Remember our talk? Have you had eyes on anything unusual?”
“Not so far. There are a lot of people here that I don't know. They come and go pretty regular.”
“Yeah, like Mamie.” He smiled, “She's a nice lady, I like her.”
“I'm rather attached to her myself. Truth is, it's really nice to have someone to share some things with, talk to.”
The drinks disappeared, “Do you know the couple on the second level, the Pendeltons?” asked the friend.
“Don't think that I could say I know them. I've joined them for lunch a time or two. You know, folks on the second level usually work only short hours, not any of the manual labor jobs. I believe the two of them work in the market at various jobs. Mamie might know more of them. Is this Pendelton of interest to you?”
“Nothing definitive, yet. A hint or two of outside connections, away from Brewer's.”
John said, “Now that you mention it, something I nearly forgot. Eric told me that on the day that he and Rose and the new friend, Jackson went out on a shopping and lunch trip, they thought Pendelton was in the back regions of the Luciano Village Pizza place. Thing was, a recognized street thug was also there with a young woman and was admitted through a door by Pendelton. They all wondered why the old guy would be in private areas of that village and have contact with a known criminal.”
“I'd say that is of interest. Since you're at least on familiar terms with the couple, if the opportunity arises again, join them in the cafe. See if you can get a read on the guy. Listen, I still don't have an idea if there is some deep dark secret beneath these more open seedy activities. If there is something more sinister, they are doing a frickin' good job of hiding it. It would be extremely dangerous for anyone that even skirted the edge of this underground operation. I need your eyes and ears but don't be careless.” The friend shook his hand, placed the small bottle in a pocket and said good night.
Pendelton? What the hell could that old fart be up to or into? He and the wife both just barely shuffle around. Well, one thing I know, I'm going to find out.
A couple of days later, he had a bit of luck. Jackson was in the maintenance area. When John asked him what was on his schedule that day, he said he was supposed to add some shelves to the bottle storage area that was in a small room on the second floor. He was gathering some supplies onto a rolling cart, no easy task to get materials up and down the stairs. So happened that Eric was busy on the fourth floor today. “And one of the residents, Mrs. Pendelton asked that I stop in. The closet rod collapsed and she needs it put back up,” said Jackson.
Pendelton, got John's attention. “I'll help you get the supplies to the storage area. Don't know why I can't go and repair that closet rod. If it's something I can't handle, I can let you know.”
“That would help. Let me finish strapping these supplies on. The Pendelton's are in room 220.”
When they got the supplies into the double locked storage room---bottles of booze were too tempting to leave unsecured---John went down the second story hall to room 220 and knocked on the door, his tool box in hand. It took a moment for the short gray haired woman to reach the door, “Oh, hello John,” she looked at his toolbox, “I was expecting that young carpenter.”
He smiled, “I think that I can get the closet rod repaired for you, Mrs. Pendelton.”
The woman motioned him in and moved at her slow pace toward the closet. The bed was scattered and piled with clothes and hangers. He looked in the emptied hanging space, “Looks like that middle support just pulled out from the wall. I'm no master carpenter but I think I can get this secure again for you.” He opened his toolbox.
“I'll just get over here, out of the way, John.” She eased over to the small table and sat with a steaming cup and saucer in front of her. These rooms on the second level were all just a slight bit larger than the other rooms and had space for two easy chairs and a normal size refrigerator. Like all the rooms in the complex, there was a counter with a tiny sink and shelves above. More of these rooms had a private toilet, the old couple had one beside the closet.
He tapped with his hammer and searched for something solid to mount the hanging rod
support. It appeared that when it was installed, it missed the stud behind the wall. In one end of the closet he noticed a quite large metal box that was padlocked, on top of it sat a leather bag that looked like the type a doctor would carry. A small brass plate was engraved, Dr. Pendelton.
“Your husband is a doctor, Mrs. Pendelton?” he made a pilot hole in the wall with a nail so he could screw the support back in.
“He is doctor Pendelton but not a medical doctor. He was a research scientist, years and years ago.”
“Impressive, he must be a very smart man. Where did...”
The door banged open and Dr. Pendelton stood in the opening, his gray hair in disarray, shoulders permanently stooped, wearing a faded suit and an unpleasant expression, “What are you doing here, John?”
He turned to address the man, “Hello, Mr. Pendelton. I've come to fix the closet rod that fell down.” He extended his hand.
The old man looked from his wife to the maintenance man and then flashed a quite forced smile, “Oh. Well, carry on. Thanks.” He sat in one of the easy chairs, made no more effort at conversation and watched John as he finished.
When he was done, the rod back in place, he closed his toolbox and reached for a piece of clothing on the bed, “I'll help you get these hung back up.”
At the same time, the wife said thank you, Dr. Pendelton said, “No thanks, we can manage. Appreciate your help.” He took the few steps to the door and held it open. “I'm sure we'll be catching up with you in the cafe.”
Later that week, John and Mamie did join the Pendeltons in the cafe for lunch. Mamie waved from the entrance at the older woman and they were motioned over to their table. The two women talked about some new linens that had come into the market. It was no different from other times that he had shared a meal with the elderly couple, he supposed. When he said to the man, “Your wife tells me that you're a research scientist, Mr. Pendelton. That's very interesting, where did you two live before you came to Dallas?”
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