He wasn't sure why all this subterfuge was necessary. Of course, he never actually reached the time to serve in the military, there was obviously plenty of things that he didn't know. A good deal of the last thirty five years he spent in the defense and preservation of his home and small community. No covert action had been needed, it was a straight forward struggle for survival. The biggest conflict he had experienced was the time that a gang of about thirty, ruthless and on the move had tried to move in. It was an all out battle in the small town park that left nearly all of the invaders dead and two of his community residents. Since coming to the big city, however, he had started to believe that a large and organized threat might be growing. That was why he was here.
Right before the man opened the door of the large office, he said “I assume you won't return to the city until tomorrow morning. Come over to the bar,” he looked down his watch, “about 1600. We'll share a cold one.”
“Sure,” said Bud. He was ushered into the room, the man gave a salute, turned and left.
Behind a shiny desk, the tall woman with dark skin and hair, offered her hand and a hint of a smile, “Nice to see you, Bud. You have something to share with us today?”
He shook the woman's hand and sat in a chair in front of the desk. As coherently and accurately as he could, he passed along the pieces of information he had gathered. He even included the seemly insignificant piece of gossip that John heard from Mamie, the grumblings from Pendelton's wife about her husband's frequent absences. “Like my trusted friend said, lot's of unconnected dots.”
The woman said, “We knew the old scientist, Pendelton, was in Dallas. Years ago, before the event he worked on a project for the government. It was an attempt to create a super soldier. The doctor was known for his successful genetics research and work. The project was not the first or the last of that kind to be cancelled, considered to not be viable.”
“Super soldier?” said Bud.
“The military consistently tried to find a way to build a super army, an unmatchable force of strength and ability. It was thought that if a soldier could be bred through genetic manipulation to be bigger, stronger and more durable, that army could be built. If they could produce that perfect soldier, perhaps cloning could be implemented. I don't know if you remember. In the early part of the twenty first century, when sports and athletic teams were so popular, a huge problem developed with the athletes using performance enhancing drugs. Instability was a big side effect. The thing was, even with the genetic engineering, the instability was a weakness, a flaw. In order to be a loyal and unbeatable soldier, a high degree of lack of conscious is necessary. But, when a being has no conscious, it's as likely to turn on it's friend as it's foe. Every project failed.”
He tried to absorb the phenomenal things he was hearing, “You mean the military, the government actually created some of these super people?”
“Not ever successfully,” she said. Her eyes looked away.
“You think Pendelton is still trying to do this?” he said.
“We're gathering more intel all the time. America is finally beginning to grow, to restore some of it's way of life. The government is attempting to rebuild not only it's own framework but it's ability to help in the restoration of the country. What we think is there's an organized movement whose goal is to take control before we can grow strong. They want the resources, the riches of the land that have been laying dormant but still exist. This network wants to rule and we see no indication that it would be free or democratic leadership. Pendelton could very well, still be attempting to create his super army without a conscious. My study of his personal file indicates that he was a cold and hard man, very little conscious of his own is my guess.”
Bud breathed in deep and exhaled, “I know this world is crazy but, mam, it's a lot to take in. Super people? Take over of America? There's a lot of citizens still out there that fought hard to survive all these years. I can't see them just being run over. They are tougher and more determined than you realize.”
“My name is Sharon, don't call me mam. I realize that it sounds pretty far fetched, even in days such as these, but it's becoming more and more of a possibility. You're right, there are plenty of brave and loyal citizens out there, but they're not organized. There are small groups here and there, as you said they have had to struggle and fight to survive. Our armies were decimated in the last years. While we're gathering the intel on this network, we're trying to build up our forces again. If this threat is as it appears, we're hoping to be able to organize and strengthen our military, give them the capability to go into the big cities and destroy this network piece by piece.”
“Civil War?” he said.
“I believe these people are internal terrorists. They do not seek the preservation of America, they seek the domination of America. This will be a war that those of us who hold on to any memory of a prosperous country or hope for it to return, must win.” Sharon stood up and said, “I hope you'll continue to be on our side. Please, bring me any information from the city that you're able to obtain.”
He stood and said, “I will.” From the door, “Sharon, I promise you that I'm on your side.” He pulled it closed behind him. God, I need that beer. Three minutes later, he joined his driver in the dim lit bar. He sat on the stool and drank down the first brew with barely a breath, ordered another.
“Have you made contact with the woman?” said the driver.
“Sharon? You just took me there, you know I have,” he sipped the beer now, felt a little calmer.
“No, I mean the ally, the woman in Brewer's Village. She's a bit younger than you, I think. Funny and friendly, not a skinny gal---plenty of curves. Tough though, I pity the man that makes the mistake of thinking she is some helpless female.”
Bud was baffled and then a smiling face with ash blonde curls flitted across his mind, “You're not talking about Mamie, are you?”
“Ma-mie, that's her. She's something, huh?”
“I'll be damned, she's something alright. She and the trusted old friend of mine are a couple. There's not been one hint that she was a---ah-h, you know,” said Bud.
“A spy?” the driver laughed.
“Kind of a nasty word.”
“Not to me, Bud. We need you guys. You two were just both on your own. I guess she didn't chose to share with you.” The fellow bar fly asked for another beer.
“S—t! What else don't I know, what about John? Is my old friend another secret agent?”
“Don't know nothin' about John. Sounds to me like he is now, whether he wanted to be or not. The man took the last swig and said, “I'm assuming the debriefing went well. Sleep good, I'll see you in the morning.”
In the early morning, he was taken closer to the deserted bus stop, “See ya, Bud.” The growling behemoth arrived shortly and he was delivered back into the fast beating heart of the city villages. As he made his way toward the Brewer's Village, the smells of the street swirled around him, the odors of a variety of food cooking, the exhausts of the jerky traffic, perfumes and smoke; under it all, an unpleasant and sour layer. As the waves of indifferent pedestrians flowed around him, he wondered if life and the world had made them so disconnected or---were they born that way?
***
It was another Thursday, mid morning. John and Mamie, their friend Bud and the youngest in this newly formed alliance, Jackson met under the tree by the river. It was all understood between the four of them where they stood, now. Bud filled the others in on the information he was given in his meeting with Sharon.
Jackson said, “That's some pretty wild possibilities. What do you really think? Could there be an organized network that is strong enough to take over America?”
“I think these government people believe it. We all know there's something going on around here and agree that the old scientist is stinking with it,” replied Bud.
John tossed a rock into the river and leaned up against the tree, “That woman that Jackson met, she is scared t
o death. Probably has a right to be, I think she's in deep trouble. She doesn't have the whole big picture but she knows Pendelton is a sadistic slime, probably first hand.” He ignored Jackson's grimace.
Mamie said, “The wife, she hasn't really said anymore about the old man's behavior. I tried to pick a little, a couple of days ago. She shrugged it off, said she was just old and bitchy sometimes. I know we bruise easier as we get older,” she pointed to a tiny blue spot on her arm, “she had a helluva bruise on both wrists.”
“Okay, my friends. Guess all we can do for now, is keep our eyes and ears open. See you around the village,” Bud nodded to them and walked away across the open field.
“It's Thursday, think I'll hang around for a while. John, do you still think that we should keep Rose and Eric in the dark about all this?” said Jackson.
“I do. I realize that makes it hard on you.”
“I agree,” said Mamie, “We might put them in danger.” She placed her hand on the young man's cheek. “There's enough of us there, already.”
“Gotcha'. I'll stay quiet.”
John reached for the woman's hand and they walked off along a sidewalk that once smoothly followed the river but now was broken and sprouting with grass, hardly a visible path. Jackson sat on the bench and searched for a glimpse of a dark head. A few infrequent visitors walked in the park, not many. The citizens of Dallas villages seemed to mostly chug along the streets in a mindless rush. His heart did a tiny leap when he spotted the slim figure entering the park, dark glasses and deliberate steps.
Fortunately, he then spotted the person that followed not far behind. It was the street thug that he had seen with her in the cafe. He dropped back and stayed in the shadow of the tree, Anissa didn't look his way. She crossed the field, stood by the river for a minute and then walked up the broken sidewalk, away from the park. Damn! That thug is following her and she knows it. Another day that I won't get to spend some time with her. There had only been one other day since they met, she was able to come to the park for just a few minutes and they had sat by the river. Very few words were exchanged, she just seemed happy to sit with him for a while.
Frustrated, he gave it a few minutes and then rose to leave. Anissa had disappeared from view but he did see the thug. A good ways up the river, he stood near a row of low bushes and Jackson shaded his eyes to be sure of the identity of the man that he talked to. No mistake, the giant hat and boots, it was the sheriff. The law didn't seem to be threatening the man this time. They exchanged something, way too far to tell what---money, a package, a note?
What the heck is that about? Bud said he wasn't certain about the lawman's loyalties. Is he part of the network or getting bribes from them? Is this city really so infested with these rats? Once again, the young man thought that he had to get her and her son out of danger. When the path was vermin free he followed it for a ways, with a small hope that he would find her waiting in the more secluded area ahead.
***
Eric sat at the small table in their room. It was really just Rose's single room. When each of them arrived at separate times, they were not a couple, just singles. Later, they requested to be put on a list for a larger room but so far there was no availability. Rose's Uncle John had helped Eric squeeze a full size bed into the space, without so much as a blink of condemnation. It was tricky just to maneuver around in the tight space. They didn't really mind, the two young people were in love and glad to be together.
She never acquired a taste for coffee, she sat the steaming cup in front of Eric. In her sleeveless knit top and soft shorts with big flowers splashed on them, her bare feet took the two steps to the fridge and she took out a bottle of orange juice. She stood for a second, pulled the tangle of flaming color hair up and let the small fan blow on her neck. Her hand pulled a stretchy cord from her slim wrist, she secured the hair up on her head, stepped back to the table with her juice.
“Babe, do you ever think that somethings going on around here that we don't know about?” she said.
He wasn't in a hurry to get moving this morning. He was assigned to closet rod duty, not his favorite job and she would be working in the pub all evening. “Around where?”
“Um-m, around Brewer's, I suppose. I don't know, sounds silly but I get this feeling of secrets being kept. Like people, even Jackson sometimes knows something that we don't.”
The cup came to his lips, he blew on it and sipped, “I spend a lot of time with Jackson. I never got a feeling of suspicion. Are you saying you don't trust him?”
She smiled, “No, no, I love Jack. I'm sure it's just my imagination. You know, one of those female things, we get those intuitions sometimes.”
“Well, there are some pretty weird things in the city. You know that we do have to be careful. Just like those creeps that we had a run in with on the street that day and then old man Pendelton slinking around in the back of the restaurant. I may not be real perceptive but he makes my skin crawl a bit. And Jack, with the girl he only saw that one time, as far as I know. I don't think he has ever forgotten her and he doesn't even know her. But why do you think we eat so friggin' much pizza? The boy is fascinated by those red lips on the big screens. All a lit-tle strange, if you ask me.”
She came around and sat on his knee, he traced her pink lips with his finger, and the pouty lips said, “Well, I guess everyone can't be as normal and smart as you and me.” He lifted her, threw her on the bed, they tussled and laughed. Not time for work, yet.
That evening, after a full afternoon of being scrunched up in closets, he sat with Jackson in the crowded pub. Rose brought them drinks and with an air kiss hustled away to wait on other customers.
Eric said, “Hey, know that woman that we saw in the pizza place that time? Did you ever see her again?”
“No, why do you ask?” said Jackson.
He got a laugh from Jackson when he made an exaggerated smack and puffed out his lips, “I thought you kind of were interested. You spend an awful lot of time staring at those big screens and I think we've all gained five pounds eating pizza. Why don't you ask someone at Luciano's about her?”
Jackson looked down at his drink, in a quiet voice he said, “She was beautiful, not very happy.” He looked up, “I might just do that sometime, ask about her. Eric, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
He was cut off by a loud cursing in the back of the pub, “You b—ch! What the hell is wrong with you?” Eric got up and walked back to where Rose stood, a large man towered in front of her, drenched in bourbon.
He recognized her fake sweet voice, “Oh-h-my-goodness, I must've tripped. Sorry, I'll bring you another drink.”
The man bellowed, “You bring me a towel AND another drink, on you.”
Eric took a step toward the man, she took his arm and moved him away. “Asshole pinched me,” she whispered, still holding tight to his arm.
“You don't have to put up with that,” he tried to turn back, she held tight.
“I didn't.” She smiled, kissed his cheek. “Go along, Babe, I can take care of myself.”
Eric stomped back to the table. Jackson gave him a questioning look. He shook his head and said, “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Nothing important, never mind,” said Jackson, glad that he had been interrupted. It was hard not to confide in his friend about Anissa and everything.
In Brewer's Village, like it is said, life goes on. There are lovers and friends, there's work to be done, there's the shadow of the enemy and secrets. Just a few blocks away, Anissa faced the dark and evil life of the city. She walked a dangerous path, trapped on the outside edges of the growing network of malice. If she moved with extreme caution, she could keep her son and herself from harm. Occasionally, a monster from deeper in the web reached out to swipe at her.
Behind the back door in Luciano's Pizza Cafe, the young dark haired woman sat at a beat up table across from the street thug. Smoke from his cigarette circled around them and made it feel stifling.
He inhaled and said, “I saw you at the park.”
“Yes. Are you saying I'm not allowed to walk in the park?” Anissa said, hiding her tremble and beating heart.
“Pends on who you was at the park to see,” his coarse voice said.
She was so weary of being afraid, her anger flared, “I was WALK-ing in the park. Sometimes, I check out places to take my son, safe places. You dim witted piece of crap!”
The glowing cigarette went straight down to the soft hand that rested on the table. She jerked her hand back and refused to scream, tears streamed down her face. He stood and blew smoke in her face, “I'll be watching you, you hateful piece.” He walked away deeper into the building.
She stood up and went through the door behind the pizza counter. Her hand pulled a piece of ice from the chest, put it on the burned hand and she wrapped a towel around it. The man and girl behind the counter did not say a word or ask any questions. With the door closed, she sat at the table and sobbed into the towel, her hand throbbing.
The network had a much bigger purpose with much more sophisticated soldiers than the idiot street thug. However, there was no lack of willing henchmen like him, men who didn't have to be specially bred by Dr. Pendelton. There were plenty of natural born mean and sadistic bullies to enlist to take care of their profitable minor enterprises. Indeed, evil seems quite capable of evolving on it's own without any manipulation, the birth of natural genetic sociopaths.
Chapter Five
The Network
Anissa could only allow herself so much time to wallow in her misery. After about thirty minutes, she washed her face, found some antibiotic cream for the burn and placed a bandage over it. As pulled together as she could accomplish she reluctantly took the stairs to the second floor.
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