Hostiles

by Ethan Johnson

  Maybe if she wasn’t such a hog, she wouldn’t have these problems, said a voice in her head. It wasn’t hers. She recognized it as belonging to Cade Goodwin. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Leave Lyssa alone, you dick, she thought back. Speaking of, have you gotten used to peeing sitting down? She smiled at the memory of what she had done to him during their last fight.

  Cade Goodwin didn’t reply. Diane wasn’t sure if she had bested him once more, or if she just wasn’t crazy enough to carry on entire conversations in her head. She decided to change the subject as she cleared the search again. What would she say to Lyssa when they were finally reunited? Would Lyssa be awake? Would she be too drugged up to understand anything? Diane didn’t like this line of inquiry. She returned to her seat and dug around in her overnight bag for her tablet.

  Diane swiped the screen and switched to camera mode. She selected the front camera and bared her teeth. She winced and picked at her teeth, then tried again. Fierce, she told herself. Don’t let the jerks think they can push you around. She curled her upper lip back and didn’t like how big her front teeth looked in comparison to the sparkling white veneers of Alexa Charlevoix.

  Diane’s tablet fell onto her lap, and her hand rose to her neck to touch her prized horse head pendant. She never thought she’d be a police officer. After years spent in seclusion with her father, she had no reason to have such an expectation. Clearing two roofs of hostiles during the Arbor Day attacks opened the door to the possibility that it could be a path for her. Taking out most of the Stallions gang and saving Officer Milton’s and Officer Patterson’s lives made it happen. Seasoned officers like Lieutenant Griggs took every opportunity to remind her how lucky she was to fill that role, based largely on Lieutenant Kenner sticking up for her. Now she was connected to the Special Neighborhood… she couldn’t focus on the entire name as her eyelids drooped. Her hand dropped to the tablet and prevented it from sliding down her legs onto the floor as she fell fast asleep.

  Diane awoke to the sounds of commotion coming from the direction of the registration desk. She set her tablet aside and rubbed her eyes, then walked toward the source of the disturbance. She found Mr. and Mrs. Delaney beseeching the registration clerk for information about their daughter. Diane was seized by a crick in her neck, but after massaging it for a moment she stepped forward. “Is Lyssa okay?”

  Mr. Delaney turned to her sharply. “None of your goddamned business.”

  Diane reeled, then thought of Alexa. She toughened her resolve and said evenly, “All due respect, sir, Lyssa is very much my business.”

  Mrs. Delaney’s face contorted as if she had been spoon-fed vomit, then it reddened as abject fury swept across it. “You and your sick perversions can go straight to hell. Our daughter won’t be poisoned with your filth one minute more.”

  “You think I poisoned her? Guess again. If you want to lash out at anyone, blame Sapphire. She gave me—”

  Mr. Delaney shook his fist. “Get the hell away from us. Dorrie’s suffered enough. We’re going to take care of her and get our daughter back.”

  Diane stammered in shock for a moment, then said, “Back? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Mr. Delaney did not answer. He turned to the registration clerk. “Can you call security, please? She has no right to be here.”

  Diane took a step forward. The Delaneys shrank backward, as if she was going to splash them with acid. “No right? One, I’m a cop. And two, Lyssa’s my girlfriend. I’m sorry if you’ve got a problem with that, but truth be told, she came on to me, okay? I never… I mean, I didn’t… what I mean to say is, we’re in love. Don’t you care about her happiness? Don’t you care what she wants?”

  “We know she’s under your disgusting spell, and we’re going to break it. Go away. You’re not wanted here.” Mrs. Delaney shook free of her husband’s protective grip.

  A nurse emerged from behind the intake area and shepherded the Delaneys to a door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. “The doctor wants to brief you two on your daughter’s condition.” She turned to Diane and waved her off. “Immediate family only, please. The self-service terminal will let you know when you can visit the patient.”

  Diane patted her pockets for her ID, then grimaced at the realization it was still in her bag. The Delaneys were safely through the door long before Diane could fetch it in hopes of using her badge to gain access to Lyssa. She didn’t want to comfort Lyssa while her parents sniped at her. She huffed and sank into her uncomfortable seat in the waiting area and returned to her tablet.

  She looked around furtively and popped her ear buds in. She loaded up the final episode of Fortune and Destiny and dragged the timeline to the beginning of the final scene. Alexa Charlevoix and Ruby Ryerson sat across from each other at a small table in a fancy restaurant. Diane paused the scene, applied a screen lock, and looked longingly at Alexa. She admired her long, carefully coiffed blonde hair, studied her fiery red dress and matching glossy heels, and traced her finger along Alexa’s shiny upper lip.

  God, she’s perfect, Diane thought. She knew under all that makeup and hair was the actress Janet McBride, but she focused on the fantasy Alexa represented: beautiful, wealthy, successful, and perhaps most importantly, fierce. She let a few frames play before pausing the scene again. Alexa froze in place, threatening to splash wine in Ruby Ryerson’s scrunched face. Alexa’s eyes burned with fury. Her teeth were bared, showing aggression to her enemy. Diane licked her own teeth. She idolized Alexa Charlevoix and wanted to mimic her mannerisms in hopes of developing her best attributes. Diane didn’t have Alexa’s money, but believed she could improve in other ways.

  She set the tablet aside and fished her ID out of her bag. Alexa wouldn’t stand for being pushed aside, Diane thought, and neither would she. She yanked her ear buds out and stuffed them along with the tablet into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Diane marched up to the registration desk and flashed her badge authoritatively. “Delaney. What room?”

  The clerk became flustered and tapped nervously at a tablet. “Ruh… room 302. It says she’s in recovery, so you might not be able to—” The clerk shook her head at the realization Diane had left immediately after hearing the room number.

  Diane walked with grim determination through the halls in the emergency department in search of room 302. After noticing all the rooms were numbered in the 100s, she flagged down a nurse and flashed her ID. “Room 302. Which way?” The nurse directed her to the nearest elevator and sent her to the third floor. After a short wait, the doors slid open to reveal room 304. Diane zeroed in on her target and was met by a partially propped door. She put her hand to it to push it open, then paused when she heard voices coming from the other side.

  “Oh, Dorrie… you don’t deserve this. You’ll be back home soon, where momma can take care of you,” cooed Mrs. Delaney.

  “Poppa too,” said Mr. Delaney. “You’ll feel a lot better in your own bed. Hospitals are a scam, anyway.”

  Diane felt a chill run through her. She hated not knowing her mother, or if she was alive. Lyssa had both of her parents—her real parents—to look out for her. Who did Diane have? Nobody, not really. She hoped Lyssa would be that person but the Delaneys were doing their best to drive them apart once and for all.

  Diane began to push the door open. She felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to face a man in maroon scrubs and a name badge that read F. SUTTER. He shook his head and said, “Max of two visitors per patient. You’ll have to wait your turn.”

  Diane raised her ID. “Or, I won’t.”

  The man looked it over, then looked her up and down. “Police, huh? Is this official business?”

  Diane sighed and snapped her ID holder shut. She walked a few steps away from the door with the maroon-clad man. “No, it’s not, but that’s my… she’s a very close friend, and I’m worried sick about her. I just need to know she’s okay, then I’ll get out of everyone’s hair. Does that work for you?”

  The m
an shook his head and grabbed her arm firmly. He escorted her to the elevator and pressed the call button. “You’re leaving now. And don’t you ever pull that badge crap up here ever again, got it?”

  “But… she needs me,” Diane said feebly.

  “Wait your turn like the rest of the world. The self-serve terminal will let you know when the coast is clear.” The elevator doors slid open, and the man guided Diane into the enclosure. “Out you go.” He pressed the button for the ground floor and stepped clear of the elevator.

  The doors began to close, and Diane bristled at the sight of his shiny ID badge before it was completely obscured by the brushed metal doors. F. Sutter, she thought darkly. I’m going to find out who you are, and where you live. Same with that slob Bertram. They’ll regret ever crossing Diane Pembrook, she vowed as the elevator reached the ground floor.

  After three hours of waiting, Diane decided to call off her vigil. She preferred the comfort of her own bed to the awkward and uncomfortable seats in the waiting area. She massaged her sore neck with her right hand before packing up her bag and shuffling out of the emergency department. Diane napped in her taxi and awoke with a start when the driver announced her stop with a touch of annoyance. She grabbed her bag and had barely stepped foot onto the loading zone beside the Cranston Towers when the door hissed shut and the taxi hummed away into the dawn.

  Diane rubbed her eyes and yawned. I can do this, she told herself inwardly. She shot a dirty look at Bertram on her way past the concierge desk, who in turn was absent-mindedly turning the tip of his index finger around in one of his nostrils as he studied something on a tablet. Diane didn’t want to know what it was. She wanted Kernan at her beck and call.

  Diane dropped her overnight bag just inside her apartment door when she returned home and glanced at the bottle of wine standing on the counter. That was the better option, according to Sapphire. Lyssa opted for the box of chocolates and learned of its true intent: separating her from Diane for eternity. Diane gave the wine bottle a dismissive wave and face-planted on her cushy mattress seconds later.

  Sleep was all she cared about at the brink of utter exhaustion, and sleep is what she got in abundance. Diane opened one eye and reached for her alarm clock. It read 1:05. She pushed the clock away and buried her face in her musty pillow. She lifted her head a moment later and spun the clock around again. Her eyes focused on the green indicator light beside the etched initials P.M. Crap! She rolled over and fell off the bed.

  Diane staggered into the bathroom and reset the meter on her aching bladder. She looked around at the well-appointed bathroom as she relieved herself noisily and thought about the last house she and her father shared together. She had lived with Mabel, then Veronica, then Lyssa, then Sapphire. This apartment was the first place that was truly hers, and even then, she didn’t trust it. Who was paying for it, really? She couldn’t stand the thought of Sapphire supplying her housing for future favors, whatever they might be. She was told the Panther Division had made the arrangements and her apartment was just a fancy perk to an otherwise dangerous job. She chose to believe it because it allowed her to enjoy it guilt-free. If it was a job perk, she earned it so long as she wore the uniform.

  Diane flushed and cleaned up. She looked at her bleary face in the oversized mirror and pulled one of her eyelids to examine a bloodshot eye, then the other. She made a tch sound and hunted for a vial of eye drops. Once they were applied and the burn began to subside, Diane stepped into her living room and began to see clearly.

  She picked up the wine bottle by the neck and carried it around the apartment with her. Sapphire had set her up. Killing Lyssa was always the plan. The chocolates were bad, she’d told Diane, but between the two options gifted to her at the Cotillion, Diane noted the chocolates were easy to open and eat. The wine took more effort. Lyssa was going to zero in on the chocolates because they were easy and available, Diane thought. If Sapphire had swapped out one for the other, the wine would be more of a dagger.

  She let the bottle hang beside her bare thigh as she paced around the apartment. She recalled the sensation of squeezing Lyssa’s hand as a paramedic team prepared to transport her to their ambulance. The scene replayed in her mind’s eye like an episode of Fortune and Destiny, only one not played by actors. One of the men gave Diane a disapproving look that snapped her out of her laser-sharp focus on Lyssa’s worsening condition. Diane scowled back at him and gave Lyssa’s clammy hand another squeeze.

  “Hang in there, pumpkin, they’re going to take extra good care of you,” she cooed, hoping to convey confidence instead of the doubts that plagued her even before Lyssa’s poisoning. The box of tainted chocolates rested on Lyssa’s shins as the stretcher was steered toward the hallway. There wasn’t enough space for Diane to continue her vigil at Lyssa’s side once the stretcher left her apartment. Diane patted Lyssa’s hand before letting go. Lyssa opened one eye partway and nodded.

  Diane waited for the stretcher to exit her apartment before throwing a few things together in a bag, intent on spending the night at the hospital until Lyssa’s condition stabilized enough to allow for visitors. The Masked Man told her of his intent to run her improved armor through a series of tests the following evening, but Diane didn’t care about any of that in the moment. This was a bona fide emergency. He’d have to understand, she thought. If not, his priorities would need to be re-examined.

  Diane touched her fingers to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut. Bona fide? What did that even mean? Legitimate. Guaranteed. Genuine. Yes, that was correct, she thought. She assumed she had read it somewhere, or maybe Alexa Charlevoix said it in an old Fortune and Destiny episode. Diane felt a thrill at the correct usage of this alien term, if only in her mind. She wondered how she could work it into a future conversation. She smacked her forehead as she resolved to do so if and when the Masked Man raised any objections to her impromptu absence.

  Impromptu? What in holy hell was that supposed to mean? Diane tried to ignore it in favor of prepping for an overnight hospital stay. She stuffed a ball of socks into her bag and zipped it shut. Sudden. Unexpected. Yes, this was an impromptu trip to the hospital. Obviously, she thought with a snort.

  Diane hurried out of the apartment and locked the door behind her. She caught the paramedics at the rear service elevator and signaled her intent to ride along with them. The medic who conveyed his disapproval of her affection for Lyssa pressed a button on the control panel and made the doors close prematurely. Diane threw her free arm up in disgust and made a sharp detour to the nearest stairwell. She rumbled down the stairs, hell-bent on greeting the stretcher when the elevator doors opened at the ground floor.

  Unfortunately, the elevator was faster by a few seconds and the frowning medic bumped her shoulder with his own as the crew wheeled Lyssa to the ambulance. Diane chose a female medic to approach on the other side of the stretcher. The medic raised a comm unit to her dull lips and called in Lyssa’s vital signs and estimated time of arrival. Diane raised her finger first to hail the medic, then put it to her own lips. She mouthed an apology for interrupting, even though she hadn’t interfered.

  Lyssa was wheeled to the ambulance and loaded into the back by four medics. Diane waited until the men stepped onto the pavement before attempting to step up and grab an available seat. As she reached for a grab bar, a gloved hand gripped her wrist. Diane turned sharply and came nose to nose with the surly male medic. He pulled his upper lip into a sneer and shook his head. “We’ve got a full house. Get your own ride.”

  Diane jerked her thumb at Lyssa. “But I’m—”

  “In the way. Beat it, civvie. Authorized personnel only.”

  Diane cocked her head. Civvie? She hadn’t heard that term before. She focused on the last part of the medic’s dismissal and fished her ID out of her overnight bag. She held her badge up inches from his nose. “Authorized enough for you?”

  The medic took a step back and squinted at the ID. “Oh, you’re a cop. Well, pardon the heck out of
me. Get your own ride from the division. We’re still full up. No freeloaders.”

  With that, the medic brushed past Diane and stepped up into the back of the ambulance, brusquely pulling the double doors closed behind him. Diane caught a glimpse of his name plate. SCHELTOFF glinted under the fluorescent dome lighting before the doors slammed shut. She stepped around to the side of the ambulance to read where this crew was stationed. Unlike the police department, the Newark fire department kept its original operational structure, which struck Diane as odd. Since she tended to stick with other police officers or Lyssa, she wasn’t keenly aware of the rift that had been growing between cops and the emergency services even before Arbor Day.

  Diane made a mental note of the station number and the medic’s last name. Scheltoff, she reminded herself. I’ll be seeing more of him soon, she thought darkly. Diane slapped the side of the ambulance twice and sighed. “Stay strong, baby,” she said, and Diane stood in her living room, clutching the bottle of wine as though it were Lyssa’s limp hand. The memory vanished, leaving her full of present-day rage and vindictiveness.

  In that moment, she ticked off the growing list of people who had wronged her: Cade Goodwin, Gabe Hinajosa, Jim Hendricks, Bertram, a medic named Scheltoff, and someone at the hospital named F. Sutter. She’d taken her best shot against Cade Goodwin, she felt, or at least her most satisfying one. Diane knew she could have, and by all rights should have killed him. She believed her solution sent a stronger message. He’d live to serve as a warning to others.