The Double Human

by James O'Neal

  He crouched down to the left side of the bed where the sleeping Darla lay flat on her back, her large breasts flattening out to each side. The moonlight landed directly on her pretty face and he could see each line of her peaceful expression. He took a moment to savor the feeling as he looked at her short neck. It wasn’t the kind of prize he dreamed about but it would do. The real reward was on the other side of the bed.

  He carefully lined up the spike and leaned in, inches from her face. Then he thrust the spike cleanly into her neck. He felt it snag on her vertebrae and bounce into her esophagus. Her eyes snapped open for a second but closed. He removed the spike and watched her small body twitch slightly, then settle into her final resting position. The best part was that she had not disturbed Lisa.

  He crossed around to the other side of the bed. The taller, less shapely Lisa spread out like a long pretty tree branch in bed. She lay on her side facing away from her dead companion.

  Leonard took a moment to light one of the gas lamps in the house that had no electricity. The soft glow gave him much better visibility but still didn’t awaken Lisa.

  He couldn’t stop himself from caressing her magnificent neck. She smiled and purred without opening her eyes. He did it again and saw her nipples harden and goose bumps appear on her neck. Perfect.

  He placed the spike on her neck, slowly pressing against her skin. When her eyes opened in surprise he pushed the weapon hard enough to break the skin, then slowly worked it into her neck. She remained still for a second as her eyes focused on his face. Then she realized what he was doing but it was too late. He withdrew the spike quickly. She sat up and automatically placed her hand over the wound. She saw the blood around Darla’s head and neck then looked back at Leonard. She tried to speak but no sound came out. Instead she toppled over onto the bare, wooden floor. Blood spit out of her wound and made a wide, sticky puddle on the floor.

  Leonard stood, then got dressed. This had been some kind of exciting day. Tomorrow he started at the school as their handyman. Tomorrow could be as exciting as today if he allowed it to be.

  SEVENTEEN

  Steve Besslia was tired, hungry, and although he’d never admit it to others, scared. He was not a combat veteran like so many other members of the UPF, both male and female. Although he had done his required time in the service, he was in administrative services in the army. The worst he had seen was a bomb planted by insurgents near the end of the South African conflict and one air raid in Syria. Now, having not eaten in twenty hours, sleeping only a few minutes during the night on a hard floor and knowing he still had to get back to his bike, he felt the stress affect his judgment.

  But he knew he had to run for it. If for no other reason than to get Wilner the information he had found out on the Mary Harris murder case.

  He had found a list of five suspects. That might help. He had done some real police work. Not just pulled over the errant speeder or reckless driver. Investigative police work. It felt good and he didn’t want it to go to waste.

  He was ready. The sun should be up, giving him some light. The patter of rain had continued the entire night. He hoped the dogs were as uncomfortable in the cold rain as most humans were. He secured the backpack holding all that he had found on his back and held the stun baton in one hand and his small conventional pistol with nine rounds of ammunition in it in the other hand. This was it.

  He untied his makeshift lock and pushed open the door. Nothing.

  He eased through the first room to the open doorway he had kicked in the day before. The parking lot water was undisturbed except for the drops of rain.

  He started across the lot to the main building at a steady pace, his head swiveling to avoid any furry surprises. Less than halfway between the two buildings he saw the big brown dog that seemed like the leader of the pack step from behind a pile of rubble. It was a calculated move to conceal himself and surprise Besslia. These dogs were much more than they appeared.

  The dog let out a howl and one loud grunt, but didn’t move.

  Besslia stopped but felt some safety in the weight of his pistol and baton.

  From behind him he heard a splash and turned. Another large dog rushed at him, its gigantic paws slapping the water.

  Besslia didn’t panic. He raised his pistol and fired.

  The dog yelped and slowed but didn’t stop.

  Besslia fired again and again.

  The dog started to lope like one leg was injured.

  Another round went wide, kicking up a splash in the parking lot.

  Besslia continued to fire. Five, six, seven times. Finally the eighth shot caused the dog to fall in a heap into the water, its snout below the surface and blood spreading into the brown water.

  Besslia turned quickly but the lead dog still stood motionless. Then three more large dogs joined him.

  Besslia had one shot left and had seen how ineffective the little 9-millimeter rounds were on the dogs.

  He realized he wasn’t going to get the evidence to Wilner.

  Mari Saltis usually walked to work as the sun came up. She knew most of the people who lived between her small clean house and the school. Many were up with the sun. Since video was difficult to receive down here and many houses had no electricity other than generators, the sun directed bedtimes and wake-up calls much like it had in the earlier centuries before the widespread use of electricity.

  At this time of the morning, people would be tending their small gardens or feeding the livestock. She had grown used to the smell of goat pens and pigs. The two hardiest kinds of animals were now the world’s largest source of nonsynthetic meat. Cows were still used but the spread of mad cow disease and other contaminants had curtailed beef consumption.

  She walked up the path to the front of the school and through the unlocked courtyard door. As she reached for the key to the building she stopped.

  Her new maintenance man, Leonard, was already working on the hinges of an old outdoor storage locker.

  He turned and smiled. “Hello, ma’am.”

  “Leonard, you surprised me.”

  “I’m sorry, but without keys I had to start out here.”

  She looked down at his waist. He had a tool belt with a hammer, screwdrivers and pliers hanging from it.

  Mari said, “You’re early and prepared.”

  “Try to be.”

  “I’m very impressed.” She stepped closer and saw that he had already organized the few rakes and shovels inside the locker.

  “Your family doesn’t miss you this early?”

  “No, ma’am, I live with my aunt. She doesn’t notice when I’m around or not. What about you, does anyone miss you when you’re gone?”

  Mari looked at him and said, “I don’t know. Maybe. I just met a man.” She smiled at the thought of Tom Wilner.

  Leonard said, “Really? Tell me about him.”

  She liked the handyman’s friendly manner and interest in her. She found him easy to talk to.

  It was an hour after dawn when Wilner finally found Steve Besslia’s Hive-bike. There had been several old buildings that had housed police departments in the area over the years and this one was the oldest and least marked on old maps and city plans. Wilner had checked two other buildings with his flashlight, hoping to see the bike or some sign of Besslia. The sun had made the search much easier.

  He pulled his police hive up to the point where the old entrance to the building had crumbled into the drainage ditch, then called in his location to the dispatcher. He was too worried about his friend to wait for anyone else to show up.

  He hustled through the shallow drainage ditch, the chilly water soaking through his shoes and pants. His legs went numb as he trotted toward the bike parked near the entrance to the old building. The Kevlar drape on the ground and hole in the front directed him where to go. He used his powerful duty pistol to blow off one of the supports to fit into the building easily. Inside he slowed to let his eyes adjust to the low light. He looked up the stairs and at ea
ch of the doors to see if there was a clue as to which direction Besslia had gone. One door was slightly ajar. As Wilner started to walk toward it, he heard the gunfire from the back of the building.

  He broke out in a run toward the rear exit.

  Mari looked up from her desk as one of the third-grade teachers, Mrs. Poolex, tapped at her door. Mari was used to the Haitian woman’s bright smile, which contrasted against her dark, beautiful skin, but now she had a different look on her face.

  “What is it, Anne?”

  “I heard someone found two dead women a few miles from here.”

  “How did they die?”

  “Stabbed in the neck.”

  Mari took a quick breath. “Where were they?”

  “In their own house. One of the men from that Chaos Pit had to drop off something to them and found them. They had just been killed.”

  Mari knew this was the Vampire. She worried for her girls and the other teachers. They were defenseless here.

  She looked out the window and saw the new handyman Leonard working in the courtyard. She wondered if he would be any help if there was trouble.

  Steve Besslia braced for the two dogs that were now charging him to hit. He had one bullet and his stun baton. He was going to fight but had little hope of surviving this encounter.

  He took aim at the dog in the lead as it cut through the puddles, splashing water in every direction.

  He raised his pistol, then heard the head dog bark three times.

  Both the attacking dogs froze and looked over their shoulders at the leader.

  Besslia couldn’t figure out what had caused the attack to be stopped. Then he saw a man step out from the main building with a pistol in his hand. It was Wilner.

  He hadn’t fired, but the lead dog knew the threat and was now backing away with the other dogs falling in behind him.

  Wilner called out.

  “Steve, you okay?”

  “Watch the dogs, Willie, they’re smart.”

  “They’re big too. C’mon, hustle over this way.

  Besslia didn’t waste any time to reach his friend and get out of this place. He had a lot to tell him and the dogs that communicated with one another weren’t even first on his list.

  EIGHTEEN

  After finding Steve Besslia, Tom Wilner had cleaned up at home and seen his kids off to school. Besslia was on fire from the experience but Wilner didn’t have that luxury. He had kids that depended on him and a lot on his mind. He’d promised to meet his friend later and go over things with him after the patrolman had been checked out by a doctor and rested for a few hours.

  Now Wilner arrived at the district hospital to talk to the nurse, Terry, again to see if she remembered anything about her friend Donna’s man from the zone. She had never called him but he needed to tie up the loose end anyway.

  After checking in the nursery, where she worked, he learned that she had not been to the hospital in a couple of days. Wilner found the large security guard and tried to get any details he had about the missing nurse.

  “I ain’t seen her and the hospital sent me by her apartment and no one there has seen her either.”

  “You call the UPF?”

  “No, man. You know how it is. Sometimes people want to get away. We were gonna give her a little time. She was grieving.”

  Wilner considered the comment. “Has she ever skipped work before or been unreliable?”

  “Terry, no way. This is about all she has. She always felt like we accepted her. Because of her fake hand, she didn’t mix with many outside the hospital much. Like I said, we thought she just needed some time.”

  “No one has seen her since I was here?”

  “That’s right.”

  Wilner wondered if that made her a suspect.

  “I’ll see if we have any report of her at my office and I’ll get back to you.”

  The security guard said, “You do that. We’re startin’ to get worried about her.”

  Late in the afternoon, Wilner stopped at Steve Besslia’s condo in the Northern Enclave. He was surprised to find Johann Halleck visiting too.

  “You feeling better?”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “You woulda gotten out of it, besides you found the suspect list.”

  Johann said, “Are there any names that match current residents of the district?”

  Wilner said, “We checked the five that were on the list. One guy, John Mckeague, was killed in the fourth Iraqi war. One suspect still lives in the district. Two are missing and no one has any idea if they’re dead or alive. And one has had several names.” He looked at Johann. “One of the names was Janos Dadicek.”

  “The name is not familiar.”

  “But it is Eastern European.”

  “That doesn’t make him a Simolit.”

  “Doesn’t mean he’s not either.”

  Besslia spoke up from his chair. “What now?”

  “The commander says no more trips into the zone, he wants us here.”

  “Here in the district?”

  “Here in the United States.”

  “I’m gonna see if there are any names matched to other crimes where they found a fingerprint?”

  “That’s good,” said Wilner. “I’m trying to get a photo of the suspects if one is available to see if we can match it to the guy I saw.”

  Besslia said, “The old city of Naples had one of the cases.”

  “That’s nothing but underbrush and wilderness now.”

  Johann said, “I could go with Steve. Maybe we would turn something up.”

  Wilner nodded. It was as good as any other suggestion.

  Leonard Hall had nervous energy stored in him like a canister of expanding gas. He knew word would spread quickly about his activities at Lisa and Darla’s house. He never cared too much about the aftermath of his actions, as long as no one suspected him. It was the instant of seeing something plunge into a neck that excited him.

  Although it was early in the morning and he was new to the job, he liked working around the school. It was just that the excitement of his evening was still coursing through him. At least he wasn’t thinking about the cop anymore.

  Leonard had dealt with a few cops before the Quarantine Zone was established. The first time was a Pompano cop who talked to everyone near the place where he had killed his first victim, Mary. The tall detective had come to the house first, then asked him to come down to the old police station. Leonard had spoken to three detectives before they released him. He had seen one of them following him once, but no one ever arrested him. That’s when he knew he could go on doing this forever. That was his first time and he learned more each time. He knew it would be harder and harder to catch him.

  Down here in the Quarantine Zone, without a court system, people tended to take a vigilante view of justice. A crowd might go on a rampage if he did too many killings. They could grab him by chance and wouldn’t need to make a case. The question was whether once they had him could they keep him contained? He doubted it.

  The sun popped out from a cloud as Leonard trimmed a bush outside the head teacher’s office window. He looked over his shoulder and wondered if he was seeing the sun more often lately. Then, as he turned back to the bush, he caught a glimpse of Mari Saltis speaking with one of her teachers. She was a beautiful woman who had been nice to him.

  She confused Leonard.

  On the second floor of the district’s largest hospital, Kern Green, the hospital’s security guard, and Toby Reed, the facilities manager, enjoyed a couple of mouthfuls of Baht. The African drug had soared in popularity as veterans of various African campaigns returned to the United States. The police did little to stop it. With so many other problems, especially the repeated terrorist attacks, drug enforcement had been severely curtailed. Very few businesses could afford drug tests and didn’t care anyway.

  Toby said, “What do you think happened to Terry?”

  The big black guard said, “No idea. But if anyone’s go
nna find her, I think it’s that cop Wilner. He seems like he’s got his shit together.”

  “I didn’t talk to him but I seen him around. He’s been in here a couple of times. He was in a big shoot-out at that bar on the Zone River. Caused some kind of explosion.”

  “How you know that?”

  “He was in here for treatment and I was working.”

  Kern shrugged, chewing some more root as he watched Toby clean up near the furnace, then open the door to the unlit chamber.

  Toby leaned in and looked up. He shouted back, “I’m gonna have to climb up and change them filters soon. We been burning a lot more stuff since the new arrivals came. People been bringing in stuff from home to burn too.”

  “Like what?”

  Toby pulled out his head from the cool furnace. “All kinds of stuff. Financial records, old immigration records. Nobody wants to risk someone taking their information. Burning the stuff up is smart and free if you work here.”

  Toby looked back into the metal chamber and wiped down the window inside the door. The heavy fireproof polymer had dirt and grime on it kicked up by the intense heat. “Hey, look at this.”

  Kern eased up off the stool he was resting on and ambled over to his friend at the furnace. He looked inside where Toby was pointing.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know, but it didn’t burn.”

  “What wouldn’t burn?”

  “Some of the new alloys with titanium. I see it every once in a while.” Toby leaned in the furnace and plucked at the shiny item on the floor under a sheet of ash. It was larger than he first thought as he clutched it and lifted it free of the ash.

  Kern watched him blow off the soot and ash and hold up a prosthetic hand with eight fingers and synthetic tendons that reached below the hand for seven inches.

  Toby said, “I can tell by the weight that this thing is titanium. It’s awful high-end. Look at the eight fingers.”

  Kern frowned. “I only saw one like it.”

  “Where?”

  “Here at the hospital. That was Terry’s fake hand.”