by Robert Brumm
“Henry Reed. I have a ten o’clock appointment.”
The woman lifted her chin in the direction of the bar-code scanner mounted on the counter but still didn’t look away from her screen. “Scan in.”
Hank placed his open palm with the bar-code tattoo below the red glow of the scanner and it beeped. The receptionist frantically typed on her computer, the clickety-clack of the keys bouncing off the walls of the empty hall. It was a sound Hank always found annoying.
Hank cleared his throat. “Slow morning?”
“You’re the first on the schedule for today, Brother,” the woman said. She finally looked up and made eye contact with Peg. “Did you bring a container?”
“Right here.” Peg lifted the shopping bag only to have it slip from her fingers and drop to the floor. Peg and Sara gasped in unison and tried to catch the bag before it hit the floor, but it was too late. Peg bent down and pulled the urn from the bag, sighing in relief when she found it was undamaged.
Hank smiled at the receptionist. She stared at him with a blank expression, unfazed by the near miss and looking like she’d rather be doing something else.
Peg carefully handed the urn over the counter to the receptionist. “I’m sorry, Sister. I guess I’m a little nervous.”
The woman placed the urn out of sight behind the counter and stood. “This way.” She led them down a narrow hallway and opened a door at the end of the corridor. The room contained a few chairs, a large mirror on the wall, and a smiling woman standing in the corner.
“Welcome, Brother Reed. My name is Jennifer and I’ll be your retirement coordinator this morning.” She motioned to the chairs. “Please, have a seat.”
The receptionist closed the door behind her, leaving the silent guard to block the only exit from the room.
Jennifer sat, beaming at Peg and Sara. “And this must be your family. So lovely you ladies could come!”
“Uh, yeah.” Hank placed his hand on Peg’s shoulder. “My wife Peg and my daughter Sara.”
Jennifer let out a dramatic sigh and clapped her hands together once, her plastic smile never faltering for a second. “I do apologize but we’re on a tight schedule this morning and need to get down to business right away. Despite that, it’s my job to make this experience as easy and pleasurable as possible.”
Jennifer picked up a small plastic cup and a glass of water from the table by her side and handed them to Hank. “Take these, Brother. It’s just a little something to help you relax.”
Hank tilted the cup containing two red pills into his mouth and washed it down with the water, hoping the rest of them didn’t notice his shaking hand. He hoped the pills acted quickly. He felt oddly calm on the bus ride over, but when they entered the building, the harsh reality hit him and he felt more anxious with every passing second.
Jennifer stood and crossed her arms. “Well. I’m afraid it’s time for goodbyes. We’ll give you folks a moment of privacy and then continue.” Jennifer and the guard closed the door behind them.
Sara bent forward in her chair and burst into tears. It was the first time she’d made a sound since they’d left the apartment that morning. Hank quickly got up and crouched in front of her. “Hey, now.” He gently lifted her chin and bushed the hair out of her face. “Don’t cry honey, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” she sobbed. “It’s not fair.”
He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “Shhh, don’t talk like that. Everything is going to be fine, I promise.”
Sara pushed him away and wiped her eyes. “How can you say that? How are we just supposed to act like nothing is wrong with this?”
Hank glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “Sara, listen to me. I know this is hard, but now’s not the time to get into this. We’ve all had plenty of time to prepare and I need you to be strong. You can scream into your pillow for an hour after you get home, but you know talk like that in here is dangerous.”
Sara studied her folded hands for a moment before nodding. “Sorry, Dad,” she sniffed.
Hank took her hand, grabbed Peg’s with the other. “You still have John and your mother for a little while. And I just know you’ll have a beautiful little granddaughter for us. A beautiful little girl, just like you.”
The door opened and Jennifer stuck her head in.
“Just a few more minutes,” Peg pleaded. “Please.”
The door opened wide, the guard casually placing his hand on the sidearm strapped to his hip. “I’m afraid not, Sister Reed,” Jennifer said. “We are on a tight schedule, like I mentioned earlier.”
“It’s okay, Peg.” Hank rose to his feet. “Go on home now. I’ll be fine.” He gave her a long kiss and whispered in her ear. Hugged Sara, trying hard not to cry himself. Tried hard to be strong in front of his family.
Suddenly they were gone, the door closed and the room empty. A flood of memories and regrets slammed into him all at once, followed by such an intense feeling of sadness he almost couldn’t bear it. He’d never see his family again. It was over and he hated himself for not cherishing every moment he had.
Jennifer’s syrupy voice filled the room but he was lost in his own thoughts, her words falling on his deaf ears. He finally took the gown she held out in front of him and slowly undressed after she left the room. He placed his clothes and shoes in a bag marked with his name and waited.
Hank faced the mirror and frowned at the old man staring back at him. It occurred to him for the first time it was probably a two way mirror and wondered who was watching him from the other side.
Jennifer returned and led him down the hall to the next room where he saw the chair he’d been dreading his whole life. It would have looked like an ordinary dentist or even barber chair if it hadn’t been for the restraints. Two for the ankles, two for the wrists, and one for the head.
Hank realized he was trembling. His jaw was clenched together so tight his teeth ached. His mouth was bone dry, his stomach churning. He thought he was prepared for this. He’d gone over it in his head countless times.
You sit down.
They stick you.
Lights out.
There was nothing to be afraid of. Millions of people had done it before him and millions would follow. But all that logic disappeared when he saw the chair. He barely noticed there was a man in a white lab coat standing next to it.
“Brother Reed, my name is Allen. How are we feeling? Is the sedative helping?”
Now that he’d mentioned it, Hank’s head was feeling a bit fuzzy. Had he been relaxing at home and not moments away from death, he probably would have felt pretty stoned. Might have even enjoyed it.
Hank didn’t reply and Allen didn’t wait for the answer. Jennifer guided him to the chair and he sat down. He wasn’t surprised to see another grim faced guard standing in the corner. Wouldn’t want the old man to make a break for it and ruin the schedule.
Allen strapped Hank to the chair while Jennifer stood at attention in front of him and began her speech. For once she wasn’t smiling. “Henry Reed. By order of the Mandatory Retirement Act, under the statutes of the Population Density Control Clause, you will now be euthanized by lethal injection, exactly sixty years after the day of your birth. The United Federation of Nations thanks you for your contribution to the State and for the sacrifice you are making so that future generations may prosper.”
Jennifer stepped aside and Allen took her place. He held a syringe filled with clear liquid and tapped the side twice with his fingernail. “Now then, Brother. Just relax. This will be totally painless and you’ll simply go to sleep.” He placed his hand on Hank’s shoulder and lined up the syringe for the injection.
“Wait!” Hank gripped the armrests so hard his fingers were practically piercing the vinyl covering. The tip of the needle stopped just inches from Hank’s arm and a single drop of the deadly payload landed on his skin. “Please, wait. Just a minute for the sedative to kick in. I’m not ready.”
“Henry, there’s
nothing to fear,” Allen said. His breath smelled of garlic. “This will all be over in just a moment.”
Hank looked at Jennifer, who gave him a little nod. The needle pierced his skin and Allen pushed the plunger, sending the toxin to the other side. Allen tossed the used needle into the biohazard box mounted to the wall and told Jennifer he’d be right back. He opened the door and didn’t even look back at the man who would be dead when he returned.
Hank took a deep breath and watched the clock on the wall. Looked at the second hand as it made its endless journey around and around. Every second that passed, every beat of this heart, pulled him closer to the Great Unknown.
He was never a religious man and didn’t believe in the afterlife. But now that he was so close, doubts started to creep in. The possibilities that waited for him on the other side swirled through his head. Eternal darkness. Judgment from his maker. Unconscious nothing. Heaven. Hell.
The corners of his vision grew dark. His gaze turned from the clock, to the guard in the corner studying his fingernails, to Jennifer, to the ceiling. He opened his mouth to say something. He wanted to leave them with something profound. Something that would make everybody who may have been listening or watching question what it was they were doing. All he managed was a single word.
“Peg.”
Hank closed his eyes.
Chapter 3
John Sanderson drained his second cup of coffee, never taking his eyes from the door across the street. The synthetic brew left a sour taste in his mouth and he regretted not buying a glass of water to go with it. The shop could advertise all day long how their new and improved signature blend tasted just as good as the real thing, but that was laughable. Then again, John guessed he was probably the only person in the restaurant who’d tasted real coffee in the last five years. None of the other patrons knew what they were missing.
The screen on the tablet he pretended to read on the table in front of him went dark and he tapped the screen to wake it. He checked his watch again, trying to not allow himself to get anxious. It was taking longer than they’d expected, but there was no need for alarm yet. He’d be home late again, but that usually wasn’t a big deal either. On most days. Sara’s father retired that morning and he knew she’d be a wreck that night. Not that he didn’t feel bad for her, but after a long day in the field he usually found it hard to dredge up sympathy and support when he’d rather just unwind. Ever since they’d lost the baby it seemed like she found an excuse to cry about something just about every day. Tonight it was guaranteed.
Sanderson caught his mind drifting and he looked out the window. Focused on the door across the street. The phone in his hip pocket vibrated and he flipped it open.
“Razorback.”
“Package just left the office,” the voice on the other end of the line reported. “Should be coming out any minute.”
“What did he have?” Sanderson asked. “Anything?”
“Oh, he had plenty. Tier one risk.”
“Understood. I’m on it.” Sanderson hung and up returned the borrowed tablet to the counter. He donned his face mask and headed out the door. “Command,” he said, activating the microphone in the small transmitter/receiver inserted in his ear canal. “Did you get all that?”
“Affirmative, Razorback. Stand by for confirmation and orders.”
Sanderson pretended to study a sign in the store window next door as a group of people walked out of the building across the street. He could see the package reflected in the window. Hands in his pants pockets, head down, walking fast.
Sanderson followed from the other side of the street, increasing his pace to a jog as the package turned the corner out of sight. He should’ve had backup. It was practically rush hour and the sidewalks were filling fast. He allowed a moment of relief when he made the package through the crowd and matched his pace from behind.
“Razorback,” the radio piece in his ear hissed into life. “You have green light. Say again. You have green light.”
“Roger that.”
Sanderson picked up the pace and grew closer to the package. The man he was following had just left the office of one of the last privately owned news outlets in the country. He probably marched in there and spilled his guts to what he thought was a reporter. What he didn’t know was that, instead of a reporter hungry for a scoop, it was just one of Sanderson’s colleagues. He also obviously didn’t realize that even though the paper was privately owned, it was still run by the State and no news left the door uncensored. This man knew something the State didn’t want him to know and all he just accomplished was to confirm what they already suspected. Sanderson didn’t know the details. It wasn’t his concern.
Sanderson removed a small case from his pocket and took out the disc held inside. It was in the shape of a coin - adhesive on one side, a small needle on the other. He made sure it was stuck securely to his palm and removed the protective cover from the needle.
“Scott Hansen,” he muttered to himself. “Scott Hansen. Nicolet.”
Sanderson took a deep breath and broke into a jog. “Scott!” he shouted. “Hey, Scott!”
The package spun around, alarmed at the sound of his name and looking confused. Sanderson trotted up and pretended to catch his breath. Big smile on his face.
“Man, I thought that was you. I spotted you two blocks ago and almost lost you. Didn’t you hear me call out your name before?”
Hansen glanced up and down the street before frowning at Sanderson. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
Sanderson held up his hands. “Oh, come on, Brother. Don’t tell me don’t remember me. Steve Smith?” Sanderson raised his eyebrows. Hansen just stared.
“Nicolet Voc School? Year two English? I sat right behind you for a whole semester, man.”
“Oh.” Hansen took half a step and glanced in the direction he came from. “Right, Steve. Good to see you, Brother. Listen, I’d love to catch up but I’m really late for something.”
“Yeah, no problem. Just wanted to say hey.” Sanderson held out his hand. “Great to see you again.”
“You too.” Hansen shook his hand and made a face. “Ow, what the hell?”
Sanderson gripped harder and smiled. “Really great.”
“What are you doing?” Hansen tried to pull his hand away. “That hurts, what’s the matter with you?”
Sanderson’s pulse quickened as the situation quickly started to take a turn for the unexpected. Hansen should have been on his knees by now. He should have been holding his chest, gasping for breath while Sanderson feigned alarm, begging for help from passers-by as his old school mate had a heart attack.
The poison on the tip of the needle in Sanderson’s hand was powerful enough to kill Hansen in seconds. It would be untraceable in an autopsy. A clean kill. Instead, all it did was prick his skin, obviously a dud and not doing what it was designed to do.
Hansen finally pulled his hand free and stumbled backwards, falling over a trashcan. The handful of pedestrians on the quiet side street kept walking, not wanting to get involved. A few crossed the road to get away from the commotion.
Sanderson held out his hands as Hansen scrambled to his feet. “Hey, take it easy. Just want to talk to you.”
Hansen bolted.
He ran down the sidewalk with Sanderson following. He reached under his shirt and pulled out his service weapon, a Springfield XD-S. It was a subcompact, easy to conceal, and one of the few weapons in that class chambered for a .45. Sanderson gritted his teeth as he hurtled over a trashcan. He was pissed he even needed his gun. Not in the plans.
Sanderson caught a break as Hansen ducked into a narrow alley off the street. He wasn’t too familiar with the area, but most alleys in the city were pretty much the same. Dark and dirty. Filled with trash, debris, and shady characters peddling drugs or sex in the dank shadows. What they didn’t have were an abundance of curious eyewitnesses eager to call the cops.
Scott Hansen tripped over a pile of trash when he risked a g
lance behind him and tumbled to the damp pavement. Sanderson slowed to a stop and lifted his mask off his face. The plastic face shield wasn’t designed for heavy breathing from running and was too fogged to see properly. He kept his weapon trained on Hansen’s chest.
“Hold on,” Hansen panted. He rolled over onto his back and held up his hands. “Just hol…”
Sanderson leaned forward and fired a single shot from just a foot away. The heavy slug took most of the top of Hansen’s head off.
“Command, package down. Shot fired.” Sanderson said. He tucked the gun back into the waist holster under his shirt and quickly headed back down the alley from where he came.
“Razorback, interrogative. Why did you fire your weapon?”
Sanderson paused mid-step and sighed. The bum was covered in so much filth and surrounded by garbage he practically blended right in and was invisible. Had he not flinched when Sanderson passed, he would have walked right past him. Stupid mistake.
He shot him once in the head and jogged toward the end of the alley. “Command, make that two shots. Witness in the vicinity. I’m exfil, over.”
“Razorback, I say again. Why did you…” Sanderson pulled the radio from his ear and shoved it in his pocket. He reached the entrance to the alley just as a cop pulled up and hopped off his bike. He pulled out his sidearm and ordered Sanderson to freeze. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he muttered.
“Don’t move!” the cop shouted.
Sanderson slowly raised his hands. “Officer, I’m a federal agent. I’m going to slowly turn around and reach for my wallet. It’s in my back pocket.”
The cop gripped his weapon harder and took a step forward. He looked young. Probably not even a year out of the academy. Indecision flashed across his face.
“Officer, did you understand what I just said? I’m a federal agent and I’m about to show you my identification.”
The cop nodded. “Slowly. Turn around and take out your wallet. Nice and easy.”
John took out his wallet and flipped it open. The cop’s eyes widened.