by Jack Colrain
Five
Greenwich, CT.
“Your car or mine?” It was lunchtime of the next day, and Cody had returned after an early shift at work, ready to drive up to Boston. Daniel had told his parents they were taking a drive to pick up Chloe, but he hadn’t mentioned where from. They would have supported him, of course—Cody and especially Chloe were near enough family, and family was important—but they also would have worried and fussed, and he didn’t want to put them through that.
“The squad cars are all LoJacked,” Cody replied. “It’ll set off a warning at Bruce Place if we cross the state line in it, and they’ll come looking for it.”
“Mine, then. I’ll drive till we hit the city limit so you can sleep on the way, and then you can take over. You know where you’re going, right?”
“Yeah. But let’s drop off the cruiser at my place first and pick up a few things.”
Cody’s house was a nice three-bedroom apartment in a quiet section of town. He drove the squad car while Daniel followed in his SUV. Cody parked in his driveway, Daniel at the curb. Not taking any chances, Cody cut off the squad car’s engine before they went inside. While he changed clothes, Daniel drank some juice and then headed back out to wait for him in the sun. After about ten minutes, Cody came out of the house carrying a black nylon hold-all and wearing a pistol on his hip—a standard police-issue Smith & Wesson 509 automatic, Daniel knew, having been around Cody long enough—and he was showing the bulge of a smaller revolver holstered at his ankle. Cody unzipped the bag and pulled out a thick police belt with another Model 509 pistol in a holster bundled up in it. There were spare clips for pistols and rifles in the bag, too. He tossed the pistol and belt to Daniel, who caught the bundle easily, though it was slightly heavier than he’d expected.
His skin crawled as if he were holding something oddly toxic, though. Not because it was a firearm—both his parents were keen hunters, and they’d trained him well—but because it was a silver pistol. And Elizabeth had died by a silver pistol. “You OK?” Cody asked.
Daniel shivered. “Uh, yeah. Just surprised how heavy it is.”
Cody paused, then nodded. “I feel you, bro.” He tried to make light of it, adding, “Boston, and most cities, according to what I hear, can be pretty jumpy these days.”
“I’m not a cop,” Daniel reminded him. “They don’t issue sidearms to lawyers yet.”
“Yet being the operative word. Open carry’s legal there anyway.”
“If you have a Massachusetts permit, sure.”
“Don’t sweat it; anybody asks, I’ll flash my badge.”
“If you have a Massachusetts badge...”
Cody raised an eyebrow and opened the passenger door. “You think anybody who asks would know the difference?” Daniel had to concede that one with a laugh as they got into the SUV. “You know how to use one of these, right?” Cody asked next.
“Pretty much,” Daniel said slowly. “Never shot one, though.”
“No? I thought you and your mom and dad were shooters?”
“Nobody hunts deer or game with nine-mil,” Daniel said, shoving the pistol in the glove box. “We use .30-06, bolt-action. And, you know... next week’s dinners aren’t people.”
“Give the Mozari time. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had some sort of zombie apocalypse virus to hit us with.”
“I think I’ve seen that movie,” Daniel said as he pulled the SUV out onto the road.
Boston, MA.
Daniel took I-84 northeast, forking west at Bridgeport and up to Hartford since the traffic was a little lighter on that route. He didn’t go into Hartford, as it was the middle of rush hour, and there were ever more workers and security for the expanding Colt weapons factories clogging up the streets.
Instead, they pulled into a diner east of Hartford, for coffee and a rest stop, before continuing east on I-90.
Just after I-95 crossed over I-90 outside of Newton, what looked like a temporary set of turnpike booths had been set up across the road, slowing the traffic as each vehicle was halted. “This wasn’t here before, was it?” Cody asked.
Daniel shook his head. “This is new.”
“Do you have any change?”
“Yeah,” Daniel answered, “but I don’t think I’m going to need it.” From the driver’s seat, he could see, about a dozen cars ahead, that there were two Humvees parked to flank the booths, and soldiers were inspecting vehicles. This suddenly felt more like waiting at a border crossing than a turnpike on the outskirts of Boston. The soldiers wore fatigues rather than camouflaged battledress uniforms, but they still had carbines slung over their shoulders. He couldn’t tell from where they waited whether they were National Guard or regular Army troops, though he supposed that their shoulder flashes gave that information to those who could tell the difference.
As they moved slowly forward, it became clear that the soldiers were stopping and checking every vehicle, at the very least speaking to the drivers before waving them through to continue on into the city. Cody got out his badge, laying it on his lap, while Daniel dug out his driver’s license from his own wallet. “What’s with this?” Daniel asked. “Did you hear anything about military checkpoints?”
“News to me,” Cody said. “They’d have to have let the BPD know, but not any other police departments. But I’d have thought something like this would have made the TV news...”
“Yeah.”
They soon reached the booths, and a flimsy barrier had Daniel stop the car. The barrier was more symbolic than practical, Daniel thought; a good sneeze would have blasted it to splinters. A black soldier wearing sergeant’s stripes emerged from the booth on the driver’s side of the car and glanced at the license Daniel was half-offering. “Purpose of your trip today, sir?” the sergeant asked.
“Picking up my wife and daughter,” Cody said, leaning toward the driver’s side.
“I’m just his chauffeur today,” Daniel added.
The sergeant nodded. “Can I see some ID?” he asked Cody.
“Sure.” Cody opened his wallet, letting the sergeant see his badge and photo ID. The sergeant examined it for a second, checking the photo against the face in front of him. He must have seen that the badge was a Greenwich PD one, but it didn’t matter since he wasn’t looking for jurisdiction. He nodded and half-turned, waving the soldier on the barrier to open it. “Have a safe journey, guys. Oh, and remember there’s a 9 PM alcohol curfew. You don’t have to get off the streets, but congregating in groups outside of buildings is banned after 9, and you’ll find a lot of the bars will be closing then. No point staying open when you can’t sell your wares. Restaurants will be OK, but dry.”
“Thanks, Sergeant,” Cody said, the comment getting echoed by Daniel as he put the car in gear.
Daniel drove through and on, and eventually pulled off to a gas station on the north side of the interstate, on Watertown Street. He sat for a moment before opening the door. “That was freaky.”
“I wonder what they were looking for,” Cody said, nodding. “Or whether that’s just how the National Guard roll in Boston now.”
“Could be.” Daniel didn’t much like the sound of that, but he hadn’t much liked the sound of cities being flattened by the Mozari, either. Maybe there were Mozari spies and saboteurs among the populace, like in some old movie; nobody knew what they might look like, so why not? He’d taken it as a joke when it had come up in conversation with the postman who’d renewed his draft registration, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Sure, scientists on TV said the Mozari wouldn’t look human, but what did they know about alien life, really? They had never met any, surely? He got out and grabbed a gas pump. “Might as well switch seats here,” he said. “Get comfortable and I’ll fill her up.”
“As the bishop said to the actress,” Cody quipped, getting out and walking round the car to the driver’s side.
Dusk came late at this time of year, and stores and some of the bars were beginning to close for the night. Others, like rest
aurants aimed at families, were still open, their colorful lights becoming more noticeable as night fell, and Cody guided the SUV into the central district of Boston.
Now in the passenger seat, Daniel was surprised to see that, on many street corners where he’d expected to see a cop or even a police cruiser, there were military jeeps, and even occasional Bradley AFVs sitting at major intersections. Still, they passed them by without incident.
The evening sky was red and gold as Daniel caught his first glimpse of the First Church of the Mozari in the distance, at the bottom of a sloping road through downtown. The First Church gleamed pink in the sunset, like the Taj Mahal in tourist brochures for India. It looked like a compact marble wedding cake—until Cody turned another corner, and Daniel saw that it actually covered almost an entire city block. Four ionic columns guarded the front door, with solid rectangular wings to either side and a huge dome above the center. Its design looked to Daniel like the virtual Italian cities he had played in in video games; a chunk of Renaissance Florence or Rome dropped into a modern metropolis.
Then another building blocked his view again, and Cody pulled the SUV to a halt. Two Bradleys were parked across the road, with fencing and coiled razor-wire continuing a perimeter over to the sidewalks.
Three soldiers approached, one with a hand held up palm-outward, in a clear ‘stay put’ gesture. Unlike the men at the city limits checkpoint, these soldiers wore body armor instead of fatigues, and they carried their weapons at port arms. Cody killed the engine.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to turn your car around and go back, or else exit and proceed on foot,” the leader said. Daniel couldn’t help noticing this soldier didn’t say ‘sir’ to either of them.
Cody flashed his badge again. “I’m Officer Walker of—”
“I appreciate that. Sir,” he added belatedly. “But our orders are to deny vehicular traffic entry to Massachusetts Avenue or any parallel streets two blocks to either side.”
“Why?” Daniel couldn’t help but ask; this was like something from the TV news covering the Gaza Strip, not a major US city.
“So the Mozari worshipers along there can’t smuggle weapons or militants in or out,” he answered. He glanced at Cody. “The BPD was kept in the loop on that one—”
Cody nodded. “It’s OK. I know where there are good parking lots round here. Thanks.” He started the SUV as the soldier backed away, made a three-point turn, and then drove around the block to a parking structure. “I guess it’s time,” he said to Daniel as they got out. “I’m going to try to arrange the meet with Jill and Chloe at the Hidden Panda. It’s a decent Chinese place, about a block from the church.”
Daniel retrieved the pistol from the glove box, and asked, “Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready to keep my daughter safe. Serve and protect, right? But turned up to eleven.”
Daniel had expected nothing less. “I get that, but are you ready to talk to Jill?”
Cody grunted. “Let’s just say it’s like getting your back waxed. You’re never going to be ready, and it’s always gonna be a pain, but it’s better to get it over with as quickly as possible.”
“Yeah.” Daniel wondered if he was ready to see her, either. Or be seen by her. He locked the car.
“Now, my acting skills, that’s a whole other thing.”
“You did play Joseph pretty well in the sixth-grade nativity that time. You think you can convince her that you’re really into this whole Mozzarella crap?”
“She knows I’d go along with pretty much anything to look after Chloe.” Cody sighed. “Thankfully, it should be easier to bullshit her on the phone when she can’t see any nonverbal cues.” Daniel could only hope he was right, and nodded.
Leaning against the car, Cody took out his cellphone and looked at it for a moment. He took a few deep breaths, ran in place for a second or two, and then gritted his teeth and hit the contact button for his ex-wife.
“Jill? It’s Cody. I, uh... I’ve been thinking about what’s coming, and...” He gave her a long pause. “And what Chloe needs. She’s going to need her parents.”
Daniel had to admit to himself, Cody’s acting was pretty solid. He supposed it was a useful trait for a cop to have, to be able to convince suspects to talk. “If you’re saved and I’m not... How much is that going to hurt her? I can’t put her through that.”
Daniel felt a little weird listening to Cody’s side of the conversation, but he couldn’t help being impressed by how he was mostly telling the truth, but with a misleading spin. Cop skills, he reminded himself, a little enviously; lawyer skills, too.
“Yes,” Cody was saying now, in response to something from Jill. “I want to... OK, I can’t deny I want to live.” Cody took a shuddering breath that sounded quite convincing to Daniel. “If the Church of the Mozari can save... us, yeah. You know I love Chloe as much as you do. I know she needs her family.” He gave Jill another pause. “What I mean is... you were right. You were always right.” He sounded convincingly apologetic when he next suggested, “Look, can we meet? All three of us? I was thinking of the Hidden Panda—it’s right on the other side of the plaza in front of the church. I could use something after the long drive...”
Cody nodded at something Jill said. “Yeah, I’m in town. I couldn’t get to the church itself; the Guard wouldn’t let anyone drive through. But I still have legs; I can be there in ten minutes.”
Daniel saw that his friend was literally crossing his fingers, his brow knitted in hope. Then his face relaxed.
“Cool. I’ll see you in ten.” Cody ended the call.
“You trust her to show?” Daniel asked.
“Yeah, and to bring Chloe. Not sure we can trust whoever else is in the church to let them come, but that’s out of our hands. Or whether we can trust whoever else is there to not come along with them, but that’s why...” Daniel understood without needing to hear the words. That’s why they had brought the guns. He wondered whether he could actually use one on another person, though, especially with a child in the area. A child the same age as Elizabeth had been when she’d been shot, too.
True to the National Guard sergeant’s word, all the bars were closed now that the clock had passed nine, and the restaurants were no longer serving alcohol, either. All but a few stores had closed, and although there were people strolling around the plaza in front of the Renaissance-style church, they were almost all alone or in pairs. Where there were three or four, no more than two were adults.
The First Church of the Mozari looked more threatening now that the sun was lower, and its surface had lost its pure warmth. Now it was as gray as the satellite pictures of the Mozari ship orbiting over the Pacific.
The Hidden Panda was still open, too, with a couple of patrons sitting inside and visible through the windows, and a couple on the outdoor tables. It was brightly-lit, a pleasant visual blend of modern and traditional, and Daniel thought it would probably fit right in with one of China’s more modernized cities, like Shanghai.
There were a few guys, of all shapes and sizes, dressed in the now-familiar Mozari Church look of turtleneck and buttoned shirt. It was impossible to tell how many of them were watching for their arrival, or how many were just there because they happened to live nearby and were in the church. “What’s the plan, Cody?”
“I think you should slip into the restaurant, order a juice or a green tea, something like that, and look at the menu. There’s a seat just inside there—” he pointed, “behind that Buddha statue, where you should be able to watch the outdoor tables without being seen. I’ll sit at that nearest table on the outside. If I snap my fingers like I’m some douche calling for a waiter really badly, you come right out, grab Chloe, and head for the car.”
“Right.”
“Break their line of sight, and then walk quickly. Don’t run. Unless you’re in jogging sweats, running makes people look suspicious. That’s why cops don’t catch shoplifters or pickpockets that often: they walk, they don’t run,
so nobody looks at them.”
“Anything else?”
“If it goes south, I’ll kick over the table; that means you come out ready to shoot.”
Daniel hoped he could do that, if necessary. “Got it.”
Cody had steeled himself for pain, but it still came as a surprise. He saw Jill’s figure first—a distinctive hourglass, with her hair still pulled back in that tight bun that he’d once thought was crisp and professional. It always hurt to see her because he knew she’d be going away again, and that he’d miss her after that. He always missed her, too—because he couldn’t choose to switch off the emotions he felt. He didn’t think anybody could. Nobody chose who to love; it just happened to you, like catching a cold.
She was walking hand in hand with a girl of around eight years old who kept looking around—either for him or, Cody thought, for some watcher or authority figure she didn’t like. She was tall for her age, but pale and wide-eyed, her brown hair tied in a bun like her mother’s, which he didn’t like; it was too much of an attempt to mold her to a specific image as far as he was concerned. He raised a hand and waved. “Jill!”
She came over and sat opposite him, pulling their daughter with her and looking a little embarrassed. “Hi, Cody. Was it a long trip?”
Chloe finally tore herself free from her mother’s grasp and threw herself at Cody. Cody could barely bring himself to answer Jill; Chloe held his full attention. “No trip’s too long so see my girl!” Chloe looked like she hardly dared believe her eyes. “Hi Chloe,” he said, as calmly as he could manage.
“Dad, I missed you—and you came!”
“Don’t I always?” he asked her with a grin. Chloe nodded, even as Cody eyed Jill carefully. “It’s not the best of circumstances, but... it’s kind of good to see you, too.”
“And you.” Jill smiled.
“We were worried that you wouldn’t come. Chloe was looking forward to it, and now that we’re settled in here... It’s like the world is new again.” Jill looked down, almost shrinking as she let out a breath. “We miss you. I can’t lie about that.”
