[2001] Public Enemy Zero

by Andrew Mayne

  33

  When Detective Rios got home, he had trouble sleeping. His wife and two kids were already sound asleep when he got there. He crawled in to bed and stared at the ceiling for an hour. He couldn’t get the idea out of his head that Mitchell Roberts really was a victim. Certainly someone who left a wake of destruction in his path but someone just as scared as everyone else.

  When he saw the paper the next morning, he texted Simmons that he was going to check on something before coming into the office.

  The headline read “Mad Mitch Rampage” and described the events of the previous day using lots of convenient ‘allegedlys’ in a way that made Roberts out to be some kind of domestic terrorist. To be fair to the paper, this was how law enforcement was proceeding at this point. Any time you have bodies and someone running from the scene, it’s hard not to conceive of that person as being guilty of something heinous.

  Rios drove over to the neighborhood where the first incident took place. He parked his car and walked to the spot where Mitchell had allegedly attacked the parking enforcement officer. The car had been towed away to evidence. Yellow spray-paint marked out on the street where the car had been.

  If it hadn’t been for the incident at the mall, Rios and Simmons would have canvassed the neighborhood for witnesses. That had been put on the back burner while they dealt with the larger crisis. The problem with waiting was that people forgot things or moved away.

  He looked around the street to see what houses or apartments had a view of the where he was standing. There were at least half a dozen. He walked up the steps of the nearest house and knocked on the door. The house faced the street and had a large living room window with open curtains.

  Nobody answered. Rios was about to walk away and then decided to be a little more thorough. He pulled out a business card and wrote a quick note on the back to call him. He moved on to the next house.

  There was no answer there, either. He tried an apartment after that and found a young woman getting ready for work. She told him she’d already left for work the day earlier. Rios thanked her and left.

  Back in the street, he looked around for other places to look. Across the street to the right, he saw a second-floor apartment he’d missed before. Rios walked over and climbed up the flight of stairs the led to the second level.

  He knocked on the door that faced the street. From inside he could hear someone coming to the door.

  The door opened and a short old woman in a platinum blond wig answered.

  “Hello?” she said from behind the door.

  Rios showed her his badge and introduced himself.

  “Is this about that boy?”

  “The boy?” asked Rios.

  “Yes, the young man those people were trying to hurt. Is he all right?”

  “Did you see what happened out here?” Rios pointed through the apartment to the street below.

  “I always knew that meter maid woman was a bitch. Gave me three tickets this year. When she attacked the young man, I felt so sorry for him.”

  “Did you tell anybody?” asked Rios.

  “I called 911.”

  Interesting, thought Rios. Nobody had told him about the 911 call. He’d have to look into it.

  “So when you say she attacked him, attacked how? How did the window get broken?”

  “When that cow climbed on the hood and started bashing her head into it. I’ve never seen someone so angry.”

  Rios got a few more details and then told the woman he would be in touch. She insisted he let her know as soon as he could if Mitchell was OK. Good to know that the kid has at least one friend in the world, Rios thought as he walked back to his car.

  34

  Mitchell was about to get a lot more friends. Before he made it to his hiding spot for the night, he made one more stop, the effects of which were rapidly changing at least some people’s minds.

  In a back alley between a highway and a canal where he’d parked his boat, Mitch made a video and uploaded it to YouTube on his iPhone.

  When he turned on the device for the first time since that morning, the screen was filled with a barrage of text messages and voicemail. Some familiar, others weren’t. He didn’t have enough time to check them and could already imagine what they said anyway.

  He launched the video camera app. He wanted for people to at least hear his side of things. Up until then, the police had been telling everyone what was taking place. Mitchell suspected that even they really had no idea.

  Mitch took off the hat and jacket he’d been wearing and combed back his wild hair with his hand. He took a deep breath and tried a relaxation exercise so he wouldn’t come across too excited or crazy. He knew that no matter what, he was going to sound crazy to most people, but if he could just reach a few, then that could make a difference.

  He thought out what he needed to say. He didn’t want to come across as too paranoid or too glib. He also reminded himself that there were people who suffered a lot worse than him. Mitch pressed record.

  “Hi, I’m Mitch Roberts. As you know, I am on the run. Let me make it very clear that I am ready to surrender. All I have to know is that I won’t be harmed and the people who I surrender to won’t be harmed directly or indirectly by my surrendering.

  “There is something strange going on that I don’t understand. Since yesterday, anybody who comes near me that’s not behind glass tries to kill me. Not approach me. Not stop me. But tries to kill me.

  “According to the news, they haven’t released the video from what happened at the mall. I understand that it’s disturbing. I was there. But you need to see this video. The public needs to see all of the video that’s available. You’ll understand that I’m not trying to harm anyone. I’m only defending myself, the same as you would do.

  “For me to surrender, I need to know that the people I’m surrendering to are properly protected and that I can be safely isolated from contact with other people until they find out what’s happening.” Mitchell paused for a moment and looked off screen. He had been holding up so far using his radio voice. It was beginning to crack.

  Mitchell’s eyes began to get moist. “If I had known today what would have happened when I ran from the food court to all of those people. To the people in the department store. To the people that jumped or got pushed from the roof by other people, I’d like to think I wouldn’t have run.”

  Mitchell’s voice wavered. “I ... I don’t know if I could just sit there and let everyone attack me. I’d never been so scared in my life ... but I’d like to think that if I could go back there and do it all over again, I would have let them.”

  Mitch clicked the stop button. He wanted to check the video again but didn’t have time. He pressed the button to upload it to his YouTube account. It would take another hour before it went live. As he was about to shut off his iPhone, an instant notification message popped up from Twitter.

  @MadMitchFM Your not the monster they

  say you are. #runmitchrun

  He didn’t recognize the person who sent the message, but it was comforting just the same. He opened up his Twitter account just to see how people were reacting. There were thousands of @replies to him, many calling him a monster, others showing support. He saw the hash tag #runmitchrun used a lot. Not everyone was buying the story that he was the public menace the press and authorities had made him out to be.

  A number of people using the hash tag were offering him advice that ranged from ridiculous to almost helpful. He scanned through and found a couple things to keep in mind. If he could have crowd-sourced his escape earlier on, he could have saved himself some trouble.

  Mitchell decided it was worth the risk to send out a tweet. He didn’t want to be flippant, but he also just wanted to feel a part of something bigger than himself for the moment. Trying to figure out what to say took him a minute. Finally, he managed to types something out.

  Ask for the truth.

  Think of those who have been hurt.

  If
you see me coming, please run away.

  Mitchell’s YouTube video inevitably went viral later that night. The morning papers had already been sent to bed, but the television channels were filled with news anchors and commentators parsing every frame of the video. Public officials were flooded for requests for the mall video and the Super Center robbery.

  Although people were having trouble accepting Mitchell’s claim that people were attacking him without provocation, the discussion shifted from the manhunt to the root cause of what had happened. There was the growing feeling that the government wasn’t telling people everything.

  Far away from Mitchell, The Naked Man in the Forest was in his own clearing of woods. He’d come again to the Earth Mother for advice. Only he’d taken longer than he should.

  He couldn’t wait much longer. He needed her guidance. He took a small piece off the blotter from the Otherself’s pants and sat down on the rotting log. Dark thunder clouds were forming overhead. He felt cold and afraid.

  He placed it on his tongue and stared at the oak tree. It took a few minutes but the familiar face began to form. Only this time the lips weren’t supple and inviting, they formed a cruel sneer. The eyes looked at him accusingly.

  What have you done foolish child!

  The Naked Man in the Forest cowered in her presence. He felt shameful in his nakedness.

  Her eyes burned with green fury. Vines writhed around her head like Medusa’s snakes.

  My eggs? Are they safe?

  “Yes, Earth Mother! They’re safe. I’d die for them.”

  And you just might! What is that you’ve done?

  “The Otherself, Earth Mother! He made a mistake. There’s a man, a dark man, I’m afraid he may bring harm to your eggs. To me.”

  Then you must kill this man!

  “I will try. But killing him may expose the Otherself. They may know that he plots.”

  Green leaves flicked from her lips like a forked tongue.

  My eggs! All that matters are my eggs! If the Otherself can be spared for now, then do it. But kill this man!

  He’d wanted the man dead. He just had to know that was what the Earth Mother wanted, as well.

  The Naked Man in the Forest saw bees flying from an empty tree stump several yards away. Was the Earth Mother giving him a sign?

  “Should I punish myself, Earth Mother?” He walked toward the hive. His hand was outstretched.

  She said nothing. He brought his hand closer to the stump. An angry bee buzzed past his head. He looked back at the oak. Bright green eyes stared back at him. He reached into the log.

  Stop it, you fool! The Otherself can’t be punished like that. Over there instead.

  Her forked tongue pointed to a vine of leaves on a nearby tree. He pulled his hand away and walked over to the tree.

  Grab the leaves.

  He did as she commanded. His right hand grabbed a cluster of the green leaves.

  Rub them on yourself. Rub them where no one will see.

  He rubbed the leaves on his testicles. They felt cool at first like mint. They then began to itch. His scrotum was on fire. He kept rubbing. His genitals still felt distant from himself.

  Her green eyes stared right through him. The leaves began to fall apart. He could feel welts forming on his balls.

  Stop it, fool. That’s enough.

  “Yes, Earth Mother.”

  Now go. Go stop this man. Stop him from hurting my eggs.

  Her angry face withered away and the Naked Man in the Forest was all alone again.

  The Otherself whispered to him that he needed to do something about the poison ivy on his balls before the acid completely wore off.

  35

  Simmons and Rios were in a conference room with Brooks looking at surveillance video from the Super Center robbery. Rios removed a DVD from the player and put another one in the tray.

  “This camera is all the way at the other end of the store. Look at this woman and her little girl here.” Rios pointed to figures in the cereal section.

  The mother pushed the cart down the row and then reached up to get a box. Suddenly her nostrils flared and her face changed expression. She turned her head toward the center of the store and started to run. The woman’s daughter looked confused and then followed her mother a few steps. Just like her mother, her expression changed and she started to run in the same direction.

  “Tell me, what’s happening here?” asked Rios. “That’s not somebody who heard a disturbance then decided to check it out. That’s somebody who smells something, like a dog getting a scent, then goes to chase after it, leaving her child behind.”

  Brooks waved his hand. “What are you asking for Rios? When we catch him we can look for an explanation.”

  Simmons spoke up. “That’s the problem, Brooks. Would you want to be caught by us if that’s what happens when we get near you?”

  “No one wants to get caught. But it’s our job to see that they are. We can handle it like professionals,” replied Brooks.

  Simmons pointed to another DVD. Rios put it into the player. The screen showed the sheriff’s deputy walking through the far entrance. He took three steps in before his face took on the same contortion as everyone else and he started running toward the other exit.

  Rios put in another DVD. This one showed a view looking down the aisle along the front end of the store. Mitchell was running toward the camera throwing bags of marbles onto the floor. Rios paused the video.

  “Marbles. The guy has a baseball bat and he’s throwing marbles on the ground like a kid trying to ruin a parade. This is a person who just wants to get away from people,” said Rios. “But look at them.” Rios pointed to the faces of the people chasing Mitchell and the animal-like way they held out their hands to claw at him.

  Simmons spoke up. “I showed some photos to my husband last night after he got off from the pathology department at the hospital. I didn’t tell him what they were from. I just showed him some stills of people’s faces and posture, without any context. Besides making reference to zombies, his opinion was that these people were on something. Something that was giving them a bad trip.”

  Brooks shook his head. “We already tested for that. Nothing.”

  “Nothing we know to look for,” replied Simmons.

  Brooks finally realized that Simmons and Rios had put a lot more work into their questions and were trying to sell him on something. “Level with me.” He looked at Simmons. He knew the crafty way she would get people to reach conclusions she already had.

  Simmons gave Rios a glance and then looked back at Brooks. “Something else is going on here. We don’t think our culprit is a man or these people. We think there could be some kind of chemical agent that Roberts was exposed to, something that’s causing this reaction.”

  “We had Homeland Security personnel on the scene. They haven’t said anything like that,” said Brooks.

  Simmons shook her head, “Would they know? What if they only suspected? Would they tell us?”

  Brooks leaned back. “I can tell you this, they’re about to release a statement. They’re going to call it ‘contagious hysteria.’”

  “It’s contagious, all right,” interjected Rios. “But this isn’t hysteria. This isn’t some kind of Pokemon thing or a Justin Bieber sighting.” Rios pointed back at the screen. “Those people weren’t reacting to anything they saw or heard.”

  “Whatever,” said Brooks. “Once we catch him, we can find out.”

  “Whoever catches him is going to kill him,” replied Simmons.

  Brooks shook his head. “I think trained law enforcement professionals are going to handle this differently than average people.”

  Rios stood up and pointed a finger at the image of the deputy frozen on the screen. His face was in a snarl and his hands were reaching out, trying to claw Mitchell. “Like that guy?”

  Brooks checked his watch. “So what are you guys asking for? That we let him go?”

  “Of course not,” said Simm
ons. “We need to make sure that whoever apprehends Roberts takes the proper precautions. If there is something chemical or biological, then we can’t have people interacting with him without the right kind of protective gear. We also need to make sure that we have the proper facility to put him into. We certainly can’t put him in the county lockup.” She paused to think about the consequences of that. “That could be disastrous.”

  Brooks held his hands up in surrender. “OK. I’ll speak with our Homeland Security liaison about your concerns. If they think it’s necessary, there are precautions they can take.”

  There was a knock at the door. Detective Oliver entered.

  “Guess what genius forgot to turn his phone off after he made his little YouTube video?”

  Brooks looked up. “You got a trace?”

  The detective nodded. “Yup. I used the warrant to get into his personal account and activate the GPS. He’s in Martin County headed north near the ocean.”

  “We need to call them,” said Brooks.

  “Already did,” said Oliver. “They’re sending out their chopper and SWAT. I gave them the account info so they could track him from the air.”

  Simmons looked at Brooks. “You need to tell them.”

  “Fine. Fine. I’ll let them know to be cautious,” he said reluctantly. “We can call them from the car.”

  36

  When the Martin County Sheriff’s Department was informed Mitchell Roberts was in their jurisdiction, they locked down the highways within minutes.

  Police cars were dispatched to all of the major intersections. A fleet of marked cars came in from the south while another fleet came in from the north on the main highway, U.S. 1. Each time they passed a major artery, the last car in line would pull off to block traffic.

  The sheriff’s department aviation unit dispatched an American Eurocopter AS350 with a map tracking system to zero in on the location of Mitchell. It flew down the Intracoastal waterway just above the treetops as a deputy at a console plugged in tracking information. As the system got a lock on the GPS signal, he gave the pilot and deputies on the ground minute-by-minute directions.