Bystanders

by Phillip Murrell

  “I’m proud of myself, too. Will you put it in the mail for me?”

  Sam shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Claire, but you need to do that. It’s amazing how hard that last step can be. I can’t let you take a shortcut. I’m sorry.”

  Claire takes the letter back from Sam. “No big deal. I’ll mail it as soon as I get home and grab a stamp and envelope.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  Claire glances at her watch. “I guess my time is up.”

  “It looks like it is. I’ll see you in two weeks?”

  “Absolutely, Doc. I always feel better after our talks.”

  “Well, that is the idea, but it’s always nice when a patient admits it. Thank you, Claire.”

  “No problem, Doc. I’ll see you later.”

  “Goodbye.”

  Claire leaves the office with a determined look.

  The hospital cafeteria has a meager buffet line. Several hospital staff members quickly move through the line, sit, and eat in relative silence. There’s polite conversation, but most are too busy to truly enjoy their lunch, especially since the meal isn’t exactly fine dining.

  Donald, Alex, and Mike are the exception to the fast paced and silent lunch. They “enjoy” their meals together. There’s a dour cloud hanging over the trio.

  “So, how many of those people did you know?” Mike asks Alex.

  Donald flashes Mike a “shut up” look.

  Alex doesn’t notice this and resigns to answering a commonly asked question. “Enough. Most of them. I was an altar boy for Father Alan over twenty years ago.”

  “How are Kim and the kids doing?” Donald asks.

  “Ava is taking it hard. A lot of them older people used to give her candy. We haven’t told the boys. I doubt they would remember them. I guess it’s a small blessing.”

  Alex hangs his head.

  Donald rubs his back. “They were good people, man.”

  “You have friends here,” Mike adds. “Don’t be scared to talk about it.”

  Alex nods. “Thanks, guys. I know you’ve got my back. It’s just all so surreal. I can’t believe the world we live in. Why? Why all of those good people?”

  “I doubt we’ll ever know,” Donald says. “There are a lot of crazy people out there. I guess Trash Man is one of them.”

  “Trash Man, huh? I call him Crippler, based off what I see in surgery.”

  “Yeah?” Donald remarks. “I think Alex had him pegged all along. He’s Mortician. Death is all that follows him.”

  “Yeah. I used to think the guy was alright, but now I just worry for my wife and son,” Mike comments.

  “I can relate,” Alex adds.

  “What are the police doing about this?” Mike asks. “It seems like they always respond, but with only a handful of exceptions, they don’t even see Crippler. This latest attack a clear example.”

  “I know a lot of the cops. So does Alex. They’re trying their best. They just aren’t equipped for something like this.”

  “Nobody is,” Alex mumbles, “except for maybe the army.”

  Mike chuckles. “Funny you should say that. I saw on TV that Yuri Osaka was pushing to have the mayor ask the governor for assistance from the National Guard.”

  Alex and Donald nod slowly.

  “Are we really to that point?” Donald asks. “Do we want to turn Colberton into a war zone?”

  Alex erupts, drawing the attention of a few nearby tables. “It’s already a war zone! And, civilians on the battlefield are dying. I’ve been over in the desert. I’ve seen this kind of death before. I couldn’t save them over there, and I can’t save them over here either. The deck is stacked against us.”

  Alex lowers his voice again, and the cafeteria goes back to its low buzz.

  “I hear that, but we still have a job to do,” Donald states.

  Alex looks at his friend. “Did I say I was quitting?”

  “Nobody said that,” Mike intercedes. “I know you won’t. Donald does, too. Calm down.”

  “I’m calm. I don’t mean to snap. I apologize.”

  “It’s all good,” Mike says.

  “Forget about it,” Donald adds.

  The three continue eating their lunch.

  Claire stands outside her suburban house and stares at her mailbox. She holds a stamped envelope in her right hand.

  “You can do this, Claire,” she encourages herself.

  A neighbor walks by with her Saint Bernard on a leash. She waves at Claire. “Hi, Claire.”

  Claire waves back. “Hi. How’s Sparky?”

  “He’s working my ass off today. I can barely keep up. See you later.”

  The neighbor is pulled along by her dog.

  Claire forces herself to take a few steps toward her mailbox. She can feel her heart trying to beat free of her chest.

  “We can do this. It isn’t a big deal. Just put the damn envelope into the stupid mailbox.”

  Claire finally finds herself standing next to her mailbox.

  “See, the hard part is done. Now open it and put it in.”

  Claire opens the mailbox and hesitates before eventually sticking the envelope inside.

  “Good job. Now close it and go back to your yoga.”

  Claire closes the mailbox and raises the flag. She starts to walk back toward her house and stops. She looks back over her shoulder at the mailbox.

  “Keep going, Claire,” she mutters.

  She takes one more step, then she rushes back to the mailbox. She opens it and snatches the letter. She then walks back to her house.

  “The mailman has already been here today,” she justifies. “It might rain. I’ll just review it again and mail it tomorrow. I want to make sure it’s perfect. Tomorrow.”

  Claire nods to herself and goes inside her house.

  Mayor Brianna Clarke sits in her office. She has been hounded by phone calls all day. Several from inquiring news reporters. She is a middle-aged woman with far too many pounds, augmented by her short height.

  Her aide, Henry, stands nearby, prepared to take any notes. He’s her physical opposite in every way. He’s tall, thin, and male.

  “Henry, do you ever hate your job?”

  “I feel like this is a trick question, ma’am.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Of course. Everyone does from time to time.”

  “Thanks for telling me like it is.”

  “But,” Henry continues, “I can honestly say that it’s rarely because of something you do.”

  Brianna raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. Most days when I hate my job it’s because I see how much you get beat on by the other side.”

  “They definitely had a field day today.”

  “Of course, they did. It was a chance to make you look bad, and every single citizen, to include those from other cities, states, and even continents felt the need to chime in.”

  Brianna nods. “It’s part of the job.”

  “But, it shouldn’t be,” Henry patiently states. “It pisses me off how people treat you. I’m an aide. If someone tells me I’m bad at my job, I tell him to go screw himself because he hasn’t walked a mile in my shoes. Every profession has that privilege except for politicians. You have to take criticism from drive thru workers, the sanitation department, yoga instructors, and drug dealers. And, every time you have to smile as you listen to their vile criticism. You should be allowed to tell them to kiss off, too.”

  Brianna laughs. “This is why I love you, Henry. You always know what to say. I doubt I’ll be able to take your advice, but at least I got a laugh out of it.”

  Henry smiles. “Well, I’m glad that I could be of some help.”

  Brianna allows her mind to wander back to her most pressing concern. “So, do you think Yuri is right? Should I call the governor?”

  “Not yet, but I think the need is fast approaching. This city is boiling over. If these attacks keep happening, it won’t be long until we have riots. Peopl
e are scared, and when they are scared, they start to break stuff and steal things.”

  “The circle of life.”

  “I guess so. My advice is to call the governor, but only as a heads up. Let him know that you’re concerned, but you can still handle it. If we have one more big event, then hit the panic button.”

  “Do you think it’ll make me look weak?”

  “Only if it gets out.”

  “And, if it does?”

  “Then the drive thru workers and garbage men will be pissed, but I think you’ll still hold sway over the drug dealers and yoga instructors.”

  Brianna laughs, and Henry joins in.

  “God bless you, Henry.” Brianna picks up her desk phone. “No time like the present.”

  “I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.”

  “Thank you, Henry.”

  Henry closes the door behind him while Brianna dials the governor.

  Mike walks his evening rounds through the hallways of the hospital. He whistles as he goes and waves at the patients and workers he passes.

  Tina approaches behind him. “Mike, would you check on my patient in room twenty-one?”

  “Sure, Tina, but why? Is there something wrong?”

  “He’s been weak. He was the only one pulled out of the drug party attack from the other night.”

  “I see. He just needs a friendly face?”

  “Something like that. He’s been violent to most, but that’s not unusual for people in his condition. He broke his C7 vertebrae, among other things, and he isn’t in a very happy place right now. He’s going to be with us for a while until I feel it’s safe to move him to Yama. On top of that, he has a police officer outside his room, like so many of our patients.”

  “I understand. I’ll check on him and try to make him feel a little better.”

  “Thanks, Mike.”

  Tina walks off. Mike heads to room twenty-one. He continues to whistle.

  A young police officer is positioned outside of room twenty-one.

  Mike waves at her. “Hello.”

  “Hello, are you going in?” the officer asks.

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, watch out. He’s a spitter.”

  “They usually are.”

  Mike enters the room and walks toward the bed. He pulls the chart and briefly reviews it.

  “Hello, Mr. Wiener. My name is Mike. Let’s see if I can help you.”

  The patient is hooked up to copious machines. He trashes around, ignoring Mike due to his withdrawal.

  Chapter 7

  Cammy addresses her audience from the Pierce the Issue studio, about the lack of Psycho Knight sightings and the impact on the city. “It’s been one week since the last sighting of The Psycho Knight. He was last seen, with two associates, murdering over forty people at a local Catholic community center. His absence has a lot of people asking the question, where is he?”

  Cammy’s audience is treated to street side interviews taped earlier in the day.

  A young man is interviewed first. “I don’t know what happened to that maniac, and I don’t care. He was a scourge on this city, and I hope he’s dead.”

  “Based on the video we’ve seen, do you really think it’s possible that he was killed?” Cammy asks.

  “Of course, it is,” the man answers. “He has to be human under that super armor of his. He must have taken a bath at some point. I hope he slipped getting out of the tub and broke his (bleep) neck.”

  A second interviewee fills the television screen. This time an older woman.

  “What do you think the disappearance of The Psycho Knight means?” Cammy asks her.

  “The Psycho Knight?”

  “The terrorist vigilante who has been stalking the streets of Colberton,” Cammy answers.

  The woman scoffs. “You people keep coming up with new names. I can’t keep track of them all.”

  “Do you have an opinion?” Cammy presses.

  “No. I don’t waste my time thinking about the poor state of the world. I just live my life and try to avoid vultures like you.”

  The second interviewee contemptuously walks off.

  A third interview is shown, with a young woman. “I’m worried that First Line is gone.”

  “Why is that?” Cammy asks her. “Isn’t the disappearance of a terrorist a good thing?”

  The woman frowns. “First off, no; a disappeared terrorist makes me think that he’s planning something big. Second, First Line isn’t a terrorist. He’s been keeping this city safe for two months. Crime has spiked over the last week. It’s definitely worse now than it was last month this time. We need First Line back, and we need him now.”

  “And, if he’s dead?”

  “Then God help us all because the animals are having a field day. I’m scared to walk the streets at night. The streets that I grew up on and never worried about. This crime is out of control and that lazy (bleep) of a mayor isn’t doing anything to stop it.”

  Cammy once again reports from the present.

  “That last woman has a point. I checked the stats on crimes over the last week when compared to last year this time, as well as last month this time. The results are startling.”

  Cammy pauses so her viewers can see a graphical display on their televisions.

  “As you can see, the rates are much higher than last year. To the tune of forty percent. It’s worth noting that this year has seen a significant spike in crime, mostly due to The Psycho Knight’s direct actions. Still, when we compare last week to this week, crime has gone up eleven percent. These numbers are alarming, so to explain them, I have Colberton Police Chief Wallace.”

  Police Chief Wallace sits on the set with Cammy. He’s a grizzled man who looks uncomfortable. Perhaps because he’s immaculately dressed in his pristine uniform, or from the anticipated conversation.

  “Chief Wallace, thank you for speaking with me tonight.”

  Chief Wallace nods. “I’m glad to be here to put things into perspective.”

  Cammy shuffles some papers on her desk and begins her questioning. “Well, Chief, the obvious question is, why the spike in crime?”

  “There are a lot of variables that lead to spikes. Traditionally we have more crime in the summer months, like we’re currently in, because a lot of youth are not in school.”

  “You want my audience to believe the murder rate has gone up thirty-six percent because of unoccupied teenagers?”

  “Of course not, but it’s important to point out that many of those violent crimes were down in the previous two months. In fact, they were even lower than the numbers have ever been for the last two years.”

  “You’re talking about murder, rape, arson, trafficking, et cetera?”

  “Yes, these numbers have gone down drastically from diligent police work.”

  “So, you want my audience to believe that The Psycho Knight has actually done some good for the city, between bouts of abject terrorism?”

  “I’m not implying anything of the sort. The vigilante is a criminal who will be apprehended.”

  “When, Chief?”

  “When we start to get the help from the community. It’s rare when one of the vigilante’s victims is willing to give us any details.”

  Cammy exploits Chief Wallace’s poorly selected words.

  “So, now you’re blaming the public!”

  “Of course not!”

  “That’s not what it sounded like to me. So, what are you saying, Chief?”

  “I think the media is sensationalizing the actions of one man and making them seem bigger than they are.”

  “Now you’re accusing the media of, of what, of making Hollywood level promos to ramp up ratings?”

  “I’m not saying that at all. I’m just asking for help from the media and the public.”

  “Fair enough, Chief, but what are you doing for us? What are you doing to stifle this surge in criminal activity?”

  “We’ve doubled our patrols in the city. We’ve also
asked assistance from Yama.”

  “So, the big city is going to bail Colberton out? Plus, most of those patrols are in the upper-class neighborhoods, isn’t that true, Chief?”

  Cammy keeps pushing him. She senses that Chief Wallace is barely able to contain his anger as it grows throughout the interview. She inwardly smiles at the anticipated ratings boost from antagonizing him.

  “You mean like the neighborhood you live in?” Chief Wallace asks.

  “I live here in Yama, Chief. Regardless, I believe all communities deserve equal amounts of protection. Not just those of us who can afford it.”

  Chief Wallace finally blows up on the set. “Are you accusing my officers of taking bribes?”

  “No, but your tone suggests that maybe this job is too much pressure for you. A lot of people have been calling for your resignation. I think they might be right.”

  Chief Wallace rips his microphone off and throws it at Cammy’s desk. “I’m done with this attack. I have a city to save. Find a different scapegoat.”

  With that, Chief Wallace storms off the set.

  Cammy addresses her audience. “I apologize for his behavior. It would appear that I pierced his issue a bit too deeply. Not everyone is capable of dealing with the tough questions that we ask here.”

  Cammy composes herself. “Many of you are wondering what Mayor Clarke is doing about this. Has she lost control of the city? You’ve just witnessed that she has an out of control police chief running the show. I tried to speak with Mayor Clarke earlier today, and this is what happened.”

  Another recording plays. This time of Cammy ambushing Brianna in the hallways of Colberton City Hall.

  “Mayor Clarke, can you comment on the rising crime in the city?”

  Brianna keeps walking and mostly ignores Cammy. “No comment.”

  Cammy hurries alongside her. “Is Chief Wallace ill-suited to handle the problem of The Psycho Knight?”

  Brianna rolls her eyes. “The Psycho Knight? Please.”

  “Don’t you feel an obligation to your city to keep it safe? Has the governor weighed in at all?”

  Brianna finally makes it to the door she apparently wanted and goes inside. Cammy is locked out.