by Rob Mclean
Michelle rushed over and threw herself in front of the Captain.
“Please stop,” she cried as she fell to the Captain’s feet and wrapped herself around a leg.
Sergeant Wei huge meaty hand grabbed her ear and pulled her away. The American girl let go of the Captain and held onto the Sergeant’s fist to lessen the pain. The Sergeant had her baton raised, ready to strike. She paused to look to the Captain.
Horseface cried out for them to stop as she came to her friend’s aid. Sergeant Wei kept hold of the American girl’s ear and her eyes on the Captain as she struck out with her foot. It caught Horseface in the stomach, doubling her over. The Sergeant’s huge fist wrapped around her baton caught Horseface across the side of her face and sent her sprawling across the floor. She lay there coughing a mixture of blood and dribble before her friends, Moonface and Broken-Glasses dragged her out of harm’s way.
The Captain allowed herself a small smile. The Captain was glad to see that the Sergeant’s face maintained a dispassionate, professional expression and didn’t show any sign of disappointment.
With a small upward motion of the Captain’s hand, the Sergeant lifted the American girl, by her shirt-front, to her feet. She stood, nursing her tormented, reddened ear.
“What is the meaning of this?” the Captain asked through clenched teeth.
“I was teaching…” The American girl spoke with her head respectfully bowed.
“Not like this,” the Captain snapped. “This is not how lessons are taught.
The American girl’s brow creased with confusion. “But we were speaking English…”
“All this noise and disorder,” the Captain waved her baton about the room. “Not the Chinese way.”
“Sorry Madame. We were having a debate.”
“A debate?” the Captain. Looking around the room at the frightened faces, the Captain realised that the pinyin was telling the truth. She felt her own face redden at her misunderstanding.
“A lively debate.” The American girl risked a quick look and a conciliatory smile.
“A debate?” The Captain shook her head. “And what were you so vigorously debating?”
“What else is there but the dilemma that faces us all right now,” the American girl lifted her head. “To accept the Envoy’s conditional offer or not.”
The Captain glared around the room. “Who was arguing against this generous offer?”
The American girl gently placed a hand on the Captain’s arm. “Whoever I asked to,” she shrugged. “Whether they agreed with it or not.”
“How can they argue for something they don’t believe in?” She shook off Michelle’s hand and continued to glare at the cowering inmates.
“To argue things from the other side of the debate helps in understanding other people’s points of view.” The American girl clasped her hands together in front of her and spoke with her eyes downcast. “It promotes tolerance and understanding.”
“Tolerance eh?” the Captain grinned. “I hope you have tolerance and understanding when I tell you that your American President was shot dead last night.”
The Captain’s grin widened when she saw the colour drain from the American girl’s face. She wore a horrified expression that was mirrored around the room.
“Who?” The American girl whispered, her voice barely audible above the background murmurings. “Why?”
“I understand it was a religious fanatic – Richard Bragg, I believe. You know him?” The Captain shot Michelle a quick look, but she remained dumbfounded.
“No? According to C.N.N. he had a long history of mental health problems.” The Captain was enjoying delivering this news to these deluded pinyins. “Inevitable really, given that everyone in that degenerate country’s a gun carrying cowboy. He was killed by the security forces, but he had left a suicide note saying how he thought that a woman president wasn’t strong enough to fight the so-called ‘AntiChrist’.”
“The AntiChrist is real and this is his work.” The American girl had recovered from her initial shock and her fiery disposition had returned.
“No. It was the work of a lone crazy-man.” The Captain smiled and kept her tone conversational. “Maybe he went to one of your churches?”
Michelle shook her head.
The Captain leaned in close and spoke into Michelle’s reddened ear. “Tell me, how does your tolerance and understanding work now?”
The American girl’s lips pressed together as she clenched her jaw. She lifted her chin to look the Captain in the eye, but her eyes flicked to the source of the painful moans. The Captain saw a fleeting look of worry or anxiety flash across her face, but it was quickly replaced by one of grim determination.
“I shall pray for both the Presi…” she started to say, but was cut off by the Captain’s baton jabbed into her abdomen. She fell to her knee, clutching her pain.
“…and her killer,” the American girl continued between grunts.
The Captain lifted her knee. It smashed into her face, sending her twisting and sprawling to the floor. She lay on her back, her groans bubbling up through her broken nose.
“Such foolishness will not be tolerated,” the Captain said as she stood over the American girl.
She kneeled down and pulled Michelle’s reddened ear closer to her lips. “Do you understand?”
The American girl’s eyes were glazed and unfocussed, but they became alert when the Captain grabbed her ear. She winced and nodded weakly. It brought a satisfied smile to the Captain’s face.
As soon as the Captain let go of her ear, Michelle added “And for you.”
There was a resounding crack as the Captain lashed out with a back-handed baton strike. It was a wild anger fuelled blow, but it sent the American girl into unconsciousness.
The Captain clicked her fingers at her Sergeant, who scooped up the American girl and threw her on her shoulder with practiced ease. The Captain sheathed her baton.
“Back to your cells,” she barked. “This class is finished.”
Chapter 21
John stood in the sweltering L.A. sun in full riot gear with the rest of the squads. If they had to sweat it out, then he figured he would too. He didn’t want anyone to think that this promotion had made him go soft.
This was to be his first assignment as group leader and he wanted it to go well. Under a contract awarded to BlackSky from the State of California, his mission today was to maintain order and to protect the pro-alien speakers.
He didn’t expect any trouble. According to the surveys, the good people of this ‘City of Angels’ were overwhelmingly in favour of the alien’s offer, but he knew that after the assassination of the President, it only took one religious nut-job to spoil his day.
MacArthur Park had been chosen as the site of the event. Before anything could start, they firstly had to move out the homeless, the drug dealers, people selling fake I.D.s, the preachers with bullhorns and the prostitutes.
To smooth over the eviction, he had assured them it was only a temporary situation and that things would be back to normal in a day or two. More than a few had told him that they’d be having to do it again in a few weeks time as the envoy was supposed to be appearing in Los Angeles. The company hadn’t told John anything about that. How was it that these vagrants thought they knew more than him and his company? He saw it as an example of the power of social media over corporate ‘efficiency’.
The locals had been moved out yesterday, but still, the place had a lingering smell of stale urine and rancid trash. The heat didn’t help.
Despite all that, there was a festival atmosphere amongst the crowd that had turned out to fill MacArthur Park. They had closed off Wilshire Boulevard to traffic and people had moved in to fill the space. Towards the south-western corner, under the shade of the few palm trees, families had spread out picnic blankets and brought deck-chairs. Stalls selling everything from Hot-dogs, pizzas, fairy-floss, soft-drinks and beer, to ‘welcome to Earth’ T-shirts and merchandise added to
the carnival atmosphere. Clowns juggled and street performers kept the families entertained.
A Tijuana brass band could just be heard from where John stood closer to the stage. The distinctive strains competed against the powered bass rumble of the rock band up on the Levitt Pavilion stage. They entertained the crowd closer to the stage. Girls danced around in bikinis, guys paraded shirtless all the while being sprayed with a fine mist of cooling water.
The event had originally been billed as a public debate, but when the only religious speakers had pulled out of the event, citing respect for the late President, the event had turned into a pro-alien party wake. If this hedonistic crowd was any indication, John had no doubt which way the referendum would go in this town.
Many in the crowd were wearing science-fiction costumes. Despite the heat, John saw many Star Trekkers, Jedis, Storm troopers as well. There was even one idiot in a Wookie costume. There was a huge array of video game characters enjoying the cosplay as well as hundreds of Japanese Anime characters that he couldn’t name. All of them welcomed the alien with a religious fervour.
“Hey boss,” Marcus gave John a nudge. Akeem stood beside him. “Hot enough for ya?” His gap-filled grin was hidden behind his tinted full-face riot helmet visor, but John knew he was giggling because his head and shoulders jiggled like jelly on top of a mountain during an earthquake.
“Ain’t nothing funny about this heat,” John grumbled.
“I don’t believe our learned friend is talking about the weather,” Akeem pointed to a bunch of scantily dressed girls cavorting about near the lake, too smart to risk their health by actually getting wet.
“Hadn’t noticed, but good to see that you two are on the job.”
“Got a drink for ya boss.” Marcus produced a can of soft drink. He could see the water condensate on the outside of the can and as he took it, he could almost feel its icy coolness through his glove. It must have just come out of someone’s ice-box.
John took his hand out from his riot shield, took off his gloves and tilted back his visor. “Cool,” he said as he popped the drink open. Both Marcus and Akeem did the same with drinks of their own.
“It’s from those girls, boss.” Marcus pointed to a group of hippy type new-age girls, mostly in string bikini tops, tie-dyed long skirts and straw hats, but some were topless except for some body-paint and some had the wilted remains of flowers in their hair. They gave him a chorus of flirty smiles, shy waves and even a ‘peace’ sign.
John nodded in return and gave them a mock salute with the can in his hand. “Suppose you’ve already accepted their peace offerings?” John said to Marcus as he smiled at the girls.
“Sure have boss.”
“Even though you’re on duty?” John gave Marcus a mock serious look.
Marcus shrugged.
“It would be rude not to,” Akeem suggested.
“You’re probably right,” John drained the drink in one long draw and handed the empty can back to Marcus. “Tell ‘em ‘thanks’ from me.”
“Should I get their number?”
“Not for me.” John shook his head as he put his gloves back on. Nice as these girls looked, who knows how nice they had been to how many boys before? Although she had some religious issues, he was thankful to have Angela and her loyalty.
“Still hanging out for Sleeping Beauty, boss?” Marcus grinned.
“I’m just not that cheap,” John said, interlocking his fingers to work them into the gloves. “It’ll take more than a can of drink to have me.”
John caught sight of a pair of toothy grins before they finished their drinks.
“Hey, where’s mine?” Grace greeted Marcus with a slap on his broad back. It caused him to spill some of his drink.
“Sorry, new boss,” he said, managing to look both guilty, apologetic and mischievous at the same time.
“Don’t worry about it,” Grace dismissed him with an annoyed wave and a frown. “I came to see Johnny.”
John was glad he had his gear back on and had given back the incriminating drink can. “What’s the go?”
Grace gave him a look that clearly told him that she knew he had been fooling about and didn’t approve of his ‘boy’s club’ style of management.
“Hey, you see that skinny kid in the orange hoodie?” She pointed towards the play equipment.
“He’s wearing a hoodie, in this heat?”
“It’s only a thin cotton hoodie, but still…” Grace said.
“A slave to fashion, perhaps?” Akeem suggested. He grinned at his own joke.
“Or worried about getting sunburnt,” John said without conviction. As they watched, the kid put on a pair of sunglasses and adjusted his flat-cap he wore under his hoodie. He seemed, to John to be doing his best to be incognito. Unfortunately for him, on such a hot day, it only served to draw attention. The kid took a long look around, then satisfied with himself, allowed himself a smug grin.
Suddenly John recognised the expression. “Hey, isn’t that Zeke Campbell?”
“Uh huh,” Grace nodded. “That’s what I thought, but it’s good to get a second opinion.”
John started towards Zeke, but Grace put a restraining hand on his arm. “Sure hope you aren’t thinking of doing something stupid Johnny.”
“Just a friendly chat,” he said as lightly as he could, but he knew he couldn’t fool Grace.
“Then wait a moment.” She sent Marcus and Akeem to approach Zeke from the opposite direction. “He’ll bolt like a scalded cat when he sees us.”
“Us?”
“Yes, you’ll need witnesses for your friendly little chat, won’t you?”
John grunted his concession.
“And what do you intend to chat about? The weather?”
“Just want to make it clear to him that it’s over between him and Angela.”
Grace pursed her lips and frowned. “I don’t think so. Not while you’re on duty.”
“We have reason to believe he’s acting suspiciously.”
“Then let me do the talking. We really should call in another squad or, better still, the cops. Do I have to remind you that he’s got a lawsuit against you.”
“All the more reason for him not to be here where I’m working.”
At that moment they saw Zeke look their way. They could see him register a pair of security people staring at him. John expected him to turn and run, or at least scurry away as fast as he could. Instead, a grin worked its way across his face. He dug his hands into his hoodie pockets and without looking away, strolled towards them.
“Cocky little shit, isn’t he?” Grace said.
Both John and Grace had their visors up. “Do you think he recognises me?” He remembered back to when they had met in the church washroom. He was certain Zeke wouldn’t be so casual again.
“Just let me do the talking,” Grace insisted. “Okay?”
“Sure. I’ll do the hammering.”
“No you won’t,” Grace said with her best school teacher tone.
Zeke’s grin widened as he drew nearer. A set of white teeth showed a friendly smile as if welcoming and old friend, but in his eyes, John saw only malicious intent.
“Well, the people you see,” Zeke said, “when you don’t have a gun.”
John didn’t allow him the satisfaction of reacting. He saw that Marcus and Akeem had circled around and were coming up on Zeke from behind.
“Zeke Campbell,” Grace said, “You are advised that anything you say may be used against you in any future legal action…”
“Yeah, whatever…” Zeke waved away her words with a swat of his hand. John saw he had a cheap old-school phone in his hand. He noticed it because it didn’t fit in with the rich kid image. “I came to give my blessings to this rock-ape and his new girl-friend.”
John heard the insult and felt his anger rising. He was determined not to give Zeke any pleasure by showing that his words had any effect.
“You see,” Zeke said to Grace, ignoring John as eff
ectively as John was ignoring him, “I have finished with her. She means nothing to me.”
The dents in John’s car boot told a different story. The blatant lie made John’s cheeks tighten as he fought to repress the grin that wanted to break out.
“I’ve had her,” Zeke continued, his voice getting louder as he spoke, unaware that Marcus and Akeem were standing close behind. Around him, people had stopped what they were doing and stood around to watch the confrontation between the skinny kid and the four heavily equipped security staff. “I have had her in every way you can think of.”
Some of the spectators called out leery cheers and cat-calls in support. Zeke turned to the gathering crowd and lifted his arms to gather up their support. Many clapped and cheered, happy to see the underdog give it to the ‘authorities’. John found his urge to grin had passed.
“And a few more besides.” Zeke taunted, smiling to the crowd. Raucous bawdy laughter and whistles added to Zeke’s arrogance.
Grace placed herself between John and Zeke. She stood face to face with John, Her back to Zeke. “You need to go, Johnny,” she pushed her baton into John’s chest. “Now, before it escalates.”
John knew she was right, but it galled him to have to back down.
“And it wasn’t that long ago either,” Zeke called out from behind Grace.
John clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together. “It’s cool,” he said as evenly as he could. “I’ll ghost it.”
“Been only ‘bout a week or so since I last had her.” Zeke waved and nodded at the ribald cheers from the growing crowd.
“He’s making it personal…”
“I’m fine,” John said too sharply, “just letting it all pass through.”
Zeke leaned over Grace’s shoulder and shouted, “You can have my sloppy seconds.” He punctuated his words by jabbing his finger at John. “I’ve parted her red sea and been all the way to her promised land…”
“Hey!” a voice in the crowd called out. “You some sort of Jesus freak?”
Zeke turned to face his accuser. John saw that Zeke had slipped his phone back into his pocket and his hands had curled into fists. He crouched to face the crowd in a fighting stance.