Writing Evan’s name was merely a formality. After all, Evan served on the council, the same council that designated Tortelli’s a ration redemption point, which ensured a high level of traffic. Evan’s tab was covered.
He found a quiet booth in the corner and waited several minutes until his appointment arrived: a white man just about six feet tall with thin brown hair, a lanky body, and small, sharp brown eyes. He wore a sport jacket that covered a shoulder holster where a 357 Magnum hung.
“Hello Ray, what took you so long?”
The waitress-Mrs. Tortelli-knew to get the newcomer a glass of homemade beer. Like Evan, the tab made no difference because it paid to have friends in Internal Security.
“Don’t you just get to the point? Yes you do. But you are going to love why I’m late.”
Evan sipped his drink then placed it on a coaster atop the wooden table.
“Now you just have to tell me.”
“I will, I will. But what have you got for me?”
Evan told him, “I’ve got you an appointment with Dr. Davis. Just like I promised.”
“Yeah? Everything?”
“Novocain. Nurses. Everything. They’ll have that tooth taken care of in no time.”
Ray raised a hand to his cheek and said, “Good thing, too. This was starting to drive me nuts. How long is the wait?”
“For most people, about three months and they don’t get Novocain. For my friend? Well, let’s just say the name ‘Ray Roos’ is at the top of their list. Go in whenever you want. Go tomorrow, if you like. You’ll probably be out of there in two hours or less.”
“Isn’t that fantastic? Yes it is,” Ray thanked Evan.
“Now, what have you got for me?”
“I got a shitload for you. Most of it is no problem because it’s general knowledge in I.S. But today’s stuff, well, find a creative way to bring it up because it can be traced back to people like me. You know, officers.”
“C’mon now,” Evan pushed. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“Okay,” Roos leaned forward. “First off, ammo is way low in just about every field office north of Maryland. A couple of H-K handlers refused to go out with the K9s because they didn’t have high-caliber rounds for their big guns. So the friggin’ dogs were doing the sweeps on their own. Now what if they ran into a Hostile One-Fifty Seven or a Goat-Walker? They couldn’t handle those. For Christ’s sake, military units can’t handle those things most of the time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Evan waved his hand impatiently. “I got the gist of that from the council meeting. Jones won’t discuss half of it when I’m around. Still, you can do better than ‘we’re low on ammo’.”
Roos grinned mischievously.
“Howabout this, then? Howabout K9s ripping each other apart.”
“What did you say?”
“The past few days security at the estate has found five different K9s that seemed to have turned on each other. Ripped each other apart. They found a sixth dog that killed its buddy but it was whacko. They say Trevor couldn’t even get through to it. They had to put it down.”
Evan felt goose bumps bubble along his arms. He could only imagine the nightmare that would ensue if Trevor’s dogs went berserk.
“Well, what? A disease? Rabies?”
“No one is sure, but it’s scaring the I.S. guys around the mansion. It’s like something got into the dogs’ heads or something. No one has actually witnessed it, either, just finding bodies. Really creepy shit.”
“Yeah, really creepy. I’ll see what I can find out. What else you got?”
Roos smiled as if anticipating the joy this news would bring the councilman.
“I got Dubois, Pennsylvania. Maybe seventy miles northeast of Pittsburgh. Small place, sort of a hub for some farms. No electricity, well-water, real stone-age living. Point is, about one-hundred people were there and they just got slaughtered by Red Hands. That’s right, Red Hands. Wanna know the kicker? The follow up teams got a bloody nose and had to call in regular military units to handle it, to handle Red Hands! Those idiots use spears and arrows for Christ’s sake.”
Evan licked his lips. Red Hands-a primitive organized force-hit a human settlement well inside the ‘secure’ boundaries of the lands Trevor had ‘saved.’
“There’s more to it,” Evan said. “I can tell by the way you tap your thumb on the table. You’re just waiting for it to sink in before you hit me with the real punch line.”
“Is that what you think? Of course you do. They found over a thousand Red Hands living north of Dubois in Allegheny National Forest. They had to have been there for a year at least.”
“Jesus,” Evan slouched in the booth. “You know what that means? It means we’re not safe inside our borders. It means we damn well need more resources for Internal Security. I mean, who cares about the Hivvans if primitive Red Hands can take out a settlement way inside our lines?”
“You think I don’t know that? Of course, you know I do. I’m hoping you get the word out because we need help.”
“Maybe you need a new chief.”
Roos tilted his head slightly as he considered that thought and then answered, “Jones is a good guy, but he’s in over his head.”
Evan said, “No shit. He has no law enforcement experience, no background in criminal justice; he wasn’t even a mall security guard. He used to work with computers, for God’s sake. He got that job only because he’s Trevor’s friend.”
“Sometimes he don’t talk like it,” Roos said and that grabbed Evan’s attention.
“What do you mean?”
“I hear him mumbling now and then. Complaining. Every so often he says something loud enough for his guys to hear.”
“What kind of somethings?”
Roos told Evan, “That maybe Trevor is a little too big for his britches. I little too all-powerful and whatnot.”
“Now that is interesting,” Godfrey took note. “That’s very interesting.”
“I think he’s like us; he’s got a lot of questions. And I’ll tell you what, the boys in I.S. love him because he’s always looking out for us and he stands up to Trevor a lot. But he’s overwhelmed and these days he’s been hoppin’ mad over things. Some more resources would go a long way.”
“I’ll do my best,” Evan said.
“Why do you think I’m here? First time I met you, Mr. Godfrey, I could see you were going places. I’ve had this little feeling since day one that you were a horse worth backing. I think you can really help a fellow out.”
Roos raised his beer in salute.
Evan returned the salute with his flat gin and tonic.
“I know we can help each other, Ray. I just know it.”
6. Marching Orders
An hour before dawn, Catherine Nina Brewer slept peacefully in her bed, one arm clasping a raggedy one-eyed teddy bear. Her tiny belly eased up and down as she inhaled and exhaled softly.
Jon watched his daughter sleep and wondered if she would ever understand exactly how wrong the world was.
He could not lie to his child; monsters did exist. Terrible, ferocious monsters. He could never assure her that ‘it’s just a dream’ or ‘things like that aren’t real.’ Every bump in the night could be a horror waiting to pounce; there might really be something nasty hiding under her bed.
Jon stroked her forehead, just to feel his flesh and blood once before leaving.
Like all the children born into this insanity, his daughter accepted that nightmare world. Only four years old, she recognized the whistle of a Devilbat in the sky and could distinguish between the playful bark of a K9 and a howl of warning.
“Pleasant dreams, sweet pea,” he whispered.
Lori stepped to his side and placed an arm on his shoulder. Jon decided he needed more than a touch of her forehead. He leaned his tall frame over and kissed her sleeping cheek.
The two parents walked out into the hall. Lori eased the bedroom door shut.