Hostiles

by Ethan Johnson

  Hathaway pulled over and wiped tears from his eyes. Diane groaned inwardly. Yes, he was a weakling. She wanted a new partner first thing tomorrow. His voice wavered when he spoke. “Yeah, it was a dark time for me. I lived through Arbor and got inducted into the first academy class right after. I was going to be one of the Boys in Blue, keeping Buffalo safe from whatever those terrorists tried to throw at us next time. But… well, I’m sad to say, sometimes the enemy wears your colors.”

  Diane quickly surveyed the sidewalk for threats. After she was certain they were in the clear for a moment or two, she turned to Hathaway. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  Hathaway sniffed and nodded. “My mother was the chief. I grew up idolizing the police. I told my parents I wanted to be a cop just like Mom, but she insisted I go to law school. She told me to use my smarts and stay off the street. That was for the beat cops, she said. They were a dime a dozen, but a good lawyer was one in a million.” He laughed wryly. “Well, I went to school, like she wanted, but I learned to shoot without her finding out about it. My instructor said he’d never seen precision like mine. He told me he could coach me on the finer points, but, he said, ‘You can’t teach talent.’ I wanted to surprise my Mom by acing the academy entrance exam and joining the ranks on my own merit, and not as her son.” He gave Diane a bitter chuckle. “I guess I nailed that plan.”

  “Un-fricking-believable,” Diane said, rapt.

  “You’re telling me. Anyway, Arbor happens, I make the academy, and lo and behold, I get my own badge and uniform. At last, my dream is realized. Having our picture taken together after graduation was the best moment of my life.”

  “I bet,” Diane said, envious of Hathaway for having a supportive mother. A mother he knew, she corrected herself. Supportive was a bonus.

  “Things were tough at first, learning the ropes and proving myself as more than just quick with a gun. I wanted to be a detective and solve crimes, not simply react to them. Maybe I’d find out who was behind Arbor Day and take down America’s most wanted. That was the plan, anyway. But Mom… the chief didn’t exactly share my dream.”

  “The enemy sometimes wears your colors,” Diane said.

  “Right,” Hathaway said with a wistful sigh. “They do, and to make a long story short, she did. She called me in her office one night and warned me to stay away from the ACTF, and to report everything they said and did to her personally. I didn’t have a problem with corruption being rooted out. I think everyone should be held accountable. I also think honesty is the best policy. Mom didn’t agree. The ACTF found out she was taking kickbacks from four drug lords and three gang leaders. She had her own criminal empire going on, and I had no flipping idea, man. The ACTF wouldn’t let me arrest her. Nobody got the chance. When the lead inspector read the charges, she shot him in the neck, and three more agents before…”

  Diane leaned forward and put her hand on his thigh. Tears welled up in his eyes. He grimaced as he flicked them away. Diane didn’t feel disgust for him now. This wasn’t weakness. She was sure of it. “Before what?”

  “Okay, whoo, well, I don’t tell this story to random strangers, but we’re partners now, right? Here goes, Pembrook. I shot her. Right in the chest. Just like I trained with countless paper targets. No hesitation, not one thought about the target except point and shoot. One shot, Pembrook. I killed my own mother with one shot.” He was trembling. Diane stroked his thigh and wiped her own eyes with her knuckle. His voice was steely when he spoke again. “You can’t imagine the hell of killing your own mother point-blank. They told me I acted in the line of duty, but I wanted to put another slug in my own head and apologize to her in hell. I really did. It took months to work through the crap. Moving here was part of the process, to be one hundred percent honest.”

  Diane sucked in a breath and considered her words carefully. She looked into Hathaway’s eyes and did not blink. “You’re wrong, partner. I can’t imagine it because I don’t have to. I just need to close my eyes and I can see everything like it was yesterday. Except it was my father, and he’ll spend forever in hell without me.”

  Hathaway’s jaw dropped at the revelation, then he reached over and gave Diane an awkward hug. She patted his back and shot a quick glance at the sidewalk. She didn’t observe any threats or criminal activity, to her great relief. It felt nice to bond with her new partner. With Lyssa off-limits at Trauma One, she ached for someone she could talk to. She hoped Hathaway would be that someone.

  The center console squawked, terminating their embrace. Hathaway wiped his cheeks with his fingers and punched a few buttons on the console. “Crap, Pembrook, we have a situation.”

  Diane adjusted her hat and wiped her eye with her knuckle. “Just get us there, partner.”

  “We already are. Look.” He gestured at the windshield. Diane’s eyes widened at the sight of a street gang walking directly toward them. Three of the hostiles clutched liquor bottles stuffed with rags. “We’re sitting ducks, Pembrook. Hang on, I’ll try to pull out into traffic and get clear before they roast us.”

  Diane shot a determined glance at her partner and shook her head. “There’s no time for that, and we’re guaranteed to fry or get rammed, or both. Call for backup. I’ll hold them off.”

  Hathaway hollered at her to sit tight, but Diane was out of the cruiser and had her sidearm drawn in seconds flat. She slammed the door behind her and put a bullet between the first bottle-thrower’s eyes she saw. Two more shots dropped the remaining Molotov-chuckers, sending the gang into disarray. None of them ever got the chance to light a wick, let alone engulf her cruiser in flames.

  Hathaway hastily exited the cruiser and aimed for a hostile on the left flank. He identified himself as a police officer and ordered the gang to surrender peacefully. Diane spotted a gun being raised to fire and she squeezed off five shots in rapid succession, causing the gang’s ranks to become appreciably thinner. She counted four hostiles in plain view. She believed at least two more had taken cover. Diane signaled to her partner. “I’ll take the right. Watch the left.”

  Hathaway nodded and used his door as a shield. Traffic came to a halt and various onlookers formed a perimeter around the firefight. Hathaway waved to a cluster of civilians and ordered them to disperse, warning that he could not guarantee their safety.

  Diane walked steadily forward, keeping her gun trained on the nearest hostile. She began to make out his features. Despite wearing a red bandanna across the bottom half of his face, she identified him as being a scared kid. He couldn’t be much older than twenty, she thought. She put a single bullet through his heart when he produced a knife.

  Hathaway shot two hostiles, leaving one remaining who dropped to his knees and raised his hands. Diane marched forward and kept her gun trained on him. Just before she reached him, a hostile jumped out of a narrow gap between two buildings. His arm was raised and clutched a serrated knife. Diane crouched down and put a bullet into his neck, causing the knife to clatter noisily on the sidewalk and his blood to spurt onto a row of garbage cans. The hostile writhed on the ground, grasping his neck and desperately trying to breathe.

  The final hostile trembled at the sight of Diane coming at him with her gun aimed at his face. His hands shook and he said weakly, “H-hey, I said I surrender, man. I can’t believe I’m going down to a bitch.”

  Diane nodded and looked him over. “What gang were you supposed to be? I’m guessing you guys gave yourself a badass name before you hit the liquor store to get your weapons.”

  The hostile nodded. “Tenth Street Knights. We owned this block, man. We were going to put the word out, you know? Blaze a couple pigs and show everyone we ain’t playing.”

  Diane kept her gun trained on the man and reached up with her left hand to unbutton her shirt. She pulled her shirt flap aside to reveal her prized pendant. “You see this?”

  The man’s eyes widened and his arms dropped to the ground. “The Stallions wear those, man. Where did you get it? You somebody’s bitch?”<
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  Diane shook her head. “I got it from their leader, right after I killed him and the rest of those losers. I won’t give you a second thought. You’re pathetic.”

  Hathaway stepped forward cautiously and trained his gun on the kneeling hostile. “Get those hands up, now.”

  The hostile obeyed, and Diane holstered her weapon. She stepped around behind the man and ordered him to lay face-down on the ground. She pulled his hands behind his back and quickly applied cuffs. After she pulled him upright, she slid a gold ring from his right pinky finger and slipped it into her front pocket. “You’re still going in my collection.” The man began to protest. Diane pushed him against a nearby wall and leaned into his ear. “You lose, I win. One word of this to anyone, and you don’t live to see tomorrow morning.” She gave him a hard shove. “Count on it.”

  “Take it,” he whimpered. “I’m not saying nothin’.”

  Diane smiled and waved Hathaway over. “Good boy. My partner is going to frisk you.” She fingered the warm band in her pocket with a satisfied smile as Hathaway ran his hands up and down the man’s pant legs. It felt good to pick up another trophy after being denied for so long. Best of all, she thought, the Masked Man couldn’t take it from her. This had nothing to do with him or his secret organization.

  She marched the hostile to her cruiser with Hathaway and tuned out the reading of his rights in favor of enjoying the thrill of conquest.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  That feeling didn’t last long. After spending hours filling out reports about her nearly single-handed takedown of the Tenth Street Knights under Sergeant Griggs’ disapproving eye, Diane slammed her locker door shut. She wished she could go straight home after work, but the Masked Man had other plans for her tonight. Tonight, and every night, it seemed. She desperately craved five minutes of time to herself, filled with peace and quiet, or with Lyssa, even in a hospital room. She sighed and glanced at her comm unit. To her surprise, a simple message ordered her to wait at the main entrance before vanishing from her screen. She jammed the comm unit into her bag and obeyed.

  She brushed past Gabe and two other men along the way. Gabe gave her a dirty look but didn’t say anything. Diane grunted an apology and gave a curt wave. Gabe didn’t respond, but Diane heard one of the men say to him, “Bet I could turn her.”

  Diane rolled her eyes and hurried down the stairs. She hated the comments her fellow officers made behind her back, seemingly uncaring if they were overheard. Some, like Cade Goodwin, seemed disappointed if she didn’t react. So, she liked girls, she thought. So what? But did she, though? Lyssa insisted she never made out with a guy, at least not since her teens. She didn’t count innocent kissing on the playground when she was four. Diane didn’t either, but didn’t recall much about that time, except for her father not being as angry back then.

  Once Diane reached the main entrance, a sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb. Remembering her ordeal in the east lot, she looked for assurances the vehicle was there for her, and her alone, with no funny business. She fished her comm unit out of her bag. A message flashed quickly on the screen: NOT THAT ONE.

  After a few minutes, the SUV pulled away from the curb. It was replaced by a powder-blue sedan that glided smoothly to a stop. Diane recognized it as being Sapphire’s car. She scowled at it, then at her comm unit. She huffed when the screen flashed THAT ONE.

  Diane crossed her arms and considered her options. Despite her urge to enjoy some quiet time alone, she preferred the rigors of the Masked Man’s training sessions or another assignment to spending one minute with Sapphire that didn’t involve subjecting her to a slow, agonizing death.

  For Lyssa.

  The rear passenger door opened by itself and revealed a spotless white leather bench seat. Diane frowned at it for a moment, then surrendered to her fate. She hoped she’d get a crack at Sapphire, if only verbally. Once she was seated, the door closed gently, and the sedan pulled away from the curb. Soothing music filled the cabin. Diane found her thoughts drifting to her fantasies of living like her idol Alexa Charlevoix. She imagined the thick blanket of audio hanging in the air as she swirled wine in a swanky Italian villa. Or while she laid face-down on a massage table in a luxurious spa. Or while she stretched out on a plush bed to ask Lyssa what she’d like sent up for breakfast.

  In that moment, Diane felt an uncomfortable blend of arousal and sadness. If she had Alexa’s money and lifestyle, Lyssa’s parents couldn’t dictate how or if they lived together, she mused. And if they did have a problem with it, tough. She’d order up a helicopter and whisk Lyssa away high up in the mountains, or to another country, and leave them in the dirt. But Lyssa had been whisked away to Trauma One, and now Diane was left in the dirt without her.

  She glared at the empty driver’s seat. Just get this over with, she thought.

  Her wish was granted a moment later. The sedan swooped to the left and hissed to a halt outside of a blonde-brick building with a black metal door covered in chipped paint illuminated by a single light bulb. Diane cocked her head, expecting the familiar double doors of the Cotillion. After all, it was Sapphire’s favorite place. She doubted it was Sapphire’s apartment, then she shook her head and berated herself for thinking that was real. Sapphire had Alexa money. She wouldn’t piss around in a dump like this.

  Diane exited the vehicle and stood outside the door, unsure of how to proceed. She checked her comm unit for guidance, but the screen remained blank. She raised a fist and considered rapping at the door, but after a cursory glance at the neighborhood, she decided it was best to look as though she belonged there. The sun was sinking lower on the horizon, bringing darkness and the prospect of darker elements on the prowl for victims. She remembered the Masked Man’s warning about situational awareness and pulled the door open.

  Diane found herself in a dimly lit hallway with peeling paint on the walls and dirty carpeting. She reached into her bag and felt only her comm unit, not a gun. She clutched it for a sense of security. The screen did not display any new messages. She kept her thumb close to the distress button, figuring a cruiser arriving five minutes later was preferable to being completely defenseless in the face of uncertain dangers.

  A beaded curtain glistened at the end of the hallway. A warmly lit room laid beyond it. Diane saw the sparkle of glass beyond the twinkling beads and allowed her curiosity to propel her forward. She slipped her slender fingers between two rows of dangling beads and drew them aside to reveal a stately dining room, furnished with a long table and a flowing linen tablecloth. Diane remembered one of her strange visions during… whatever the Masked Man had done to her after Cade Goodwin punched her face repeatedly. She absent-mindedly stroked her cheek and felt no evidence of any broken bones she was certain had cracked during their final battle.

  Diane stepped into the room and looked around. The walls were gorgeously paneled in wood and polished to a high gloss. White wax candles burned on pillars around the room, but the table itself was illuminated by a spectacular chandelier. Hundreds of tiny crystals dazzled Diane’s eyes as she gaped at it. The table was set for two, but Diane didn’t see any sign of anyone who might be joining her, assuming it was set for her. She slipped her comm unit back into her bag and picked up an empty wine goblet from the table. It looked like something Alexa Charlevoix would drink from before sending most of her wine angrily into the face of someone she despised. Diane half hoped Sapphire would be joining her here. She smiled at the thought of giving Sapphire an Alexa-worthy dousing.

  Instead, a woman she had never seen before stepped through a doorway across the room. She wore a long black dress, with long dark hair and, she noticed with a touch of embarrassment, full red lips. She licked her own nervously and ran her fingers through her hair. The woman walked confidently toward her and shook her head.

  “Tch. Hardly a commanding entrance,” she said.

  Diane cocked her head. “Huh? What is this place? Who are you?”

  The woman shook her head again and gave Di
ane a hard stare that made her feel weak in the knees. She wasn’t sure if it was attraction, or something else. The woman walked around the table. A sleek bare leg sheathed in a glossy black heel slid out from a slit in her dress, then vanished behind the swirl of her gown enveloping it as she stepped forward with her other covered leg. Diane felt something stir within her as she looked down at the woman’s foot as her heel touched down on the gleaming floor. The room reverberated with each step.

  The woman gestured to Diane to hand over her bag. Diane clutched it uneasily, unsure if she could trust her. The woman’s eyes pierced through Diane’s, compelling her to obey the unspoken command. The woman gave the bag a disdainful frown and set it aside on an accent table. She returned her penetrating gaze to Diane and shook her head once more.

  “Unimpressive, to the last.” She cupped Diane’s chin and studied her curiously, like the Masked Man did, but she found this encounter much more sensuous, if not terrifying. Diane caught the scent of the woman as she stepped slowly around her.

  Lyssa wore perfume, but Diane didn’t care for it. She only liked the smell when they were apart, such as on her clothes or on her pillow. When Lyssa was close, Diane hated the bubblegum smell. It made Lyssa seem, well, like a little girl. Diane caught a whiff of something lightly floral and found herself attracted to the strange woman’s maturity. No, that wasn’t the word for it. The woman took a handful of Diane’s hair and teased it between her fingers. Diane felt herself moisten at her touch. No, maturity wasn’t the word. Confidence was.

  Diane fought to maintain an impassive exterior as she thrilled to the closeness of the mysterious woman but panicked at the thought of being unfaithful to Lyssa as she laid in a hospital room, poisoned by Sapphire. She couldn’t turn her back on Lyssa. Not now. Not ever. And yet, in mere minutes this woman had shown Diane what she craved from a partner, male or female. The woman stepped around to Diane’s right side and Diane tried to look annoyed at being inspected like a piece of artwork.