by James O'Neal
He heard some shouts and footsteps and could tell they were running down the wrong hallway and hadn’t even come up the stairs yet. Leonard rolled his eyes at the incompetence of these thugs. He remembered gangs in the early days of the Quarantine Zone that terrified people. Now all they could field were mopes like these.
He stepped out of the doorway to get someone’s attention and was surprised by a bullet striking the solid wall next to his head. He ducked and scrambled behind cover and instantly heard heavy footfalls on the stairs. He stood, took another breath and swung his hand with the screwdriver just as the man appeared in the doorway.
The blow drove the screwdriver completely through the man’s muscular neck. The impact of the handle striking as the shaft exited on the opposite side threw the man down the stairs.
Leonard looked down and saw the pistol on the floor at his feet. He had struck the right target by luck. He now stepped from behind the doorway in a new light. No longer the hunted.
The remaining three men gathered around their fallen leader, staring at the thick screwdriver securely wedged in his neck.
Then all three men gazed up at Leonard and stared. Their eyes gave it all away. Without a tough guy with a gun they were just scared residents of the Quarantine Zone.
The two taller men darted in opposite directions. Only the man with the eye patch remained, frozen in fear.
Leonard smiled, feeling his buildup begin.
“That’s right, son. You bothered the wrong schoolteacher.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Steve Besslia peered beyond the fence that used to separate the evidence room from the other office space. A few rats scurried from the radiant light but nothing unusual appeared in the beam. Johann Halleck stepped up behind him.
“You really think we can find anything in that mess?”
“I want to try.”
Then Besslia paused. Something didn’t look right in relation to the rest of the cluttered, moldy room.
“What is it?” asked Johann.
“This looks like a façade. See.” He shined the light on a set of file cabinets and boxes.
“No, I don’t.”
“Nothing is disturbed. The boxes are all lined up and evenly coated with grime. Except for over here.” He moved the light. “There is a path where the floor is clean and the front of that row of cabinets have no dust.”
Johann considered the scene, then said, “Like someone uses that aisle as a path.”
“Exactly.”
Victor moved up next to them and raised his round face to them. “Isn’t this what you were looking for?”
Besslia nodded.
“Then why don’t we go in?”
“We want to make sure there are no surprises.”
“Surprises here, like what?”
Just then a shotgun blast boomed in the enclosed room like an artillery piece. The plaster on the ceiling above the three men crumbled as the buckshot ate into it.
They ducked and scrambled behind a stack of crates.
Besslia looked at Victor and said, “A surprise like that.”
Tom Wilner hesitated at the bridge that crossed over to the Quarantine Zone. If he really was going on his own time he didn’t want to show his official ID. He needed to cross like anyone else.
He looked at the two young bored National Guardsmen leaning on the rail of the old cement bridge.
He didn’t want to make them suspicious but wasn’t sure how to proceed.
Then he saw a group of nine younger people walk onto the bridge like they had done it everyday. They looked like newcomers, hair cut in straight fashionable lines, clothes from mainstream stores. One girl had a Jersey accent.
He fell in behind the group as they stopped next to the guardsmen. The private flirted with a blond girl next to him while the sergeant counted and then said to a hunched-over young man, “Twenty-seven bucks.”
“C’mon, man, don’t we get a frequent-traveler discount?”
The sergeant stared at him.
“What about a group discount?”
The sergeant said, “It’s about to go to four bucks a head.”
The young man gathered money from everyone and paid the sergeant.
Wilner stepped up and reached in his front pocket.
“Five bucks,” said the sergeant with his hand out.
“You just charged them three.”
“And I’m charging you five.”
“Why?”
“Because I can. If you want to cross you’ll pay it.”
Wilner resisted the urge to badge or threaten him. He needed to get across and see Mari. He pulled out a five dollar silver coin, a Carter humanitarian coin, and slapped it into the sergeant’s hand.
He crossed the bridge, knowing he had less than a mile’s walk to the school. He didn’t want to risk a UPF car over here on personal time. He still carried his UPF-issued pistol. He wasn’t crazy, just trying to stick to his orders that his commander had given him.
As soon as he started on the street an old pickup truck with potatoes in the back slowed. An elderly man with graying hair said, “You want a ride?” in a thick Spanish accent.
Wilner smiled and found himself at the front of the school a few minutes later. The older man wouldn’t accept any money for his trouble. “That’s just how things are done here. Tell the people up in the district that things aren’t that bad here.”
Wilner smiled. “I will.” He watched the old converted steam truck chug away.
He walked up the path to the school and froze when he found Mari in the front lobby with two other teachers. Mari was sobbing when she looked at Wilner with red, puffy eyes.
Leonard loped after the fleeing man with the eye patch, enjoying the feeling as it rose inside him. The man hobbled from the wound in his upper leg he had received at the last fight in the city hall. A rough bandage was wrapped around his thigh. Leonard had his compact, German paratroop knife in his hand but the blade was still concealed in the handle. He had ignored the other two men. He recognized them as regulars at the Chaos Pit and would be able to track them down easily enough. But this man could identify him. He needed to be silenced.
Although the man was only in his thirties he had no endurance. Leonard could tell he was struggling with each step, especially when he cut across soggy grass or through brush-covered lots. If anyone noticed the two-man race they didn’t acknowledge it. People in the zone preferred to mind their own business.
Now they were on a busier street. Leonard knew there was a shop that repaired steam-powered cars and two decent food markets. He slowed his pace, not wanting to draw any attention.
He watched the man duck into the fruit market. Leonard calmly slowed to a walk and made his way around to the back of the market that featured fresh tomatoes and pears. He pulled out the combat spike on his knife and gazed at the extended steel. There was still some of Lisa’s blood on the base of it. He never cleaned it after using it on a person. It added to the thrill.
He leaned against a dead, rotting black olive tree behind the market and contained his smile as the younger man with the eye patch blundered out of the back door. He froze as he looked at the casual way Leonard leaned on the tree. Then his eyes tracked down to the open combat spike in Leonard’s right hand.
“End of the line, son.”
Leonard took a step forward when he heard a noise. He froze midstep when he realized it was a cry from children. A cry of terror.
Besslia drew his pistol while they crouched behind the boxes.
Johann placed a gentle hand on his arm and said, “Wait a second. Let me try.” He stood and moved toward the opening in the fence where the path started. He called out to the unknown and unseen person with the gun. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
He heard the racking of the shotgun’s action. He stepped onto the path and raised his hands. From his peripheral vision he saw Steve Besslia aim his pistol.
“At least say something before you blast me.”
Johann stopped just inside the fence.
“Who are you trying to keep out?”
“Anyone not authorized to enter.”
“What if we’re authorized?”
Johann could hear someone moving and then saw a light from another room. A rail-thin figure with a shotgun in his hands moved across the light from the room. Now the voice came from the new position.
“Are you from the government?”
“Yes.”
The guardian was ready with a quick question. “What agency?”
Johann hesitated, then heard Besslia shout, “Unified Police Force.”
There was a pause, then the guardian said, “You mean the state police?”
“Yes.”
“Step forward and let me see you. All of you.”
Johann waited for Victor and Besslia to join him, then they all slowly advanced.
A beam of light fell across them and a voice said, “Let me see some ID.”
Besslia fumbled with his wallet, then held up his badge.
There was another pause then the guardian said, “Christ, finally some help. Come ahead.”
The three men slowly advanced until they saw the boney man in a tattered blue uniform shirt step from the rear room.
“Jim Sewell, Naples PD.” He held out a skeletal hand.
Johann took it carefully. “I’m Johann Halleck, this is Steve Besslia and that guy is Victor. He’s our guide.”
The man slumped back against the wall. “I’ve been waiting for relief since we suspended operations.”
Besslia said, “Suspended operations? How long ago?”
Sewell shook his head. “Must be close to a year now.”
Johann realized the poor former cop had lost it in the chaos of the past ten years. He knew they had to state their mission quickly and clearly. “We’re here for some reports on a case.”
Sewell brightened. “Got a case number?”
Besslia read off the reference number from the fingerprint database.
Sewell said, “No problem, just follow me back here.”
The man shuffled his toothpick legs into the lighted room and Johann followed. He already was thinking of how to save this poor, crazy man.
TWENTY-SIX
Wilner sat with his arm around Mari as she recounted what had happened. Not only was she unnerved by the threats from the street gang but now she was concerned about the safety of Leonard who had risked his life to lure the men away from the school.
“I’ll go look for him.”
“I’m afraid what you might find.” She started crying again.
Wilner couldn’t convince Mari to wait as she fell in next to him. He trotted down the street behind the school and ducked into several empty buildings to see if he could find any sign of the missing Leonard.
Mari said, “Maybe he did outrun them.”
“How old is he?”
“I don’t know. At least fifty, but he looks very fit.”
They cut across a vacant lot onto the busier market street and stopped at one store to ask if there had been anything unusual. No one had seen anyone being chased.
Then they saw a gathering of people at the far end of the street. Wilner had to speed up to catch the panicked Mari as she raced toward the disturbance.
Fifteen people had gathered around the pond that fed into the border canal. Mari pushed through the crowd with Wilner right behind her.
He took in the scene and waited for Mari to say if she recognized anyone involved. Either living or dead.
Leonard could have finished the cowering cornered man but the scream from the child hit him deeply. It immediately took him back to his own childhood where his screams for help were consistently ignored. Weeks at a time locked in the shuttered “hurricane safe room” his father had constructed.
He turned toward the scream and saw a woman bent over at the retaining pond that linked to the border canal. He looked back at the man with the eye patch, then grunted as he knew he’d have to help the woman and child.
His muscular legs carried him across the muddy field faster than he even thought they could. Before he had reached the edge of the water he saw the woman futilely reaching for the outstretched hand of a young girl with blond hair that fanned out in the water. Another body floated facedown in the water behind the girl.
Leonard dove into the murky water and in a second had covered the fifteen feet to the girl. He felt the vines and weeds catch his booted feet and realized how the floating person had probably drowned.
He wrapped his arms around the girl and felt her tiny arms around his shoulders. He kicked hard and then felt the muddy bottom. The mud was so thick he ended up tossing the girl to her mother, then turning back to the body. As soon as he grabbed the loose shirt by the shoulder he knew it was a man. He tugged the lifeless figure closer to shore, then took a second to catch his breath. He noticed other people rushing over from the market.
By the time he felt hands pull him from the water, someone was already giving CPR to the man he had pulled from the water.
He looked past the crowd to see the man with the eye patch take one more peek at the scene, then disappear around the other side of the market.
Steve Besslia was amazed that anyone could live in the rear of this building for so long. Naples was abandoned not long after the big storm. It was just so isolated that no one worried about making it into a forbidden area.
He had sat and listened to Officer Jim Sewell but he really wanted to view the data disk in the old format that looked like a one-inch coin. The disk held all the information related to the case that was referenced in the fingerprint database. He held the disk tightly in one hand and waited to tell the officer they had to be going.
The wild man in a police uniform explained that he had been a patrolman for about a year when things went bad.
He said, “My captain said, ‘Sewell, keep an eye on the evidence locker and don’t let any assholes get in there.’”
Besslia had so many questions that he just stared at the man, trying to figure out his age and what the hell could be going on in that confused mind. He had a thick matted beard and eyebrows that looked like the underbrush surrounding the city. His skin was white with deep flecks of embedded dirt.
Johann used his soothing voice. “What have you been eating?”
“I had military nutrition packs for a while. Then I found a cache of canned food down the street. The rats here are fat and lazy so they make up most of my meals.”
Besslia was speechless.
Victor turned away and held his hand to his mouth to forestall vomiting.
“Is there anyone else? Do you have anyone to talk to?”
“Sometimes I talk to the dogs.”
Besslia perked up at that, thinking about the smart dogs at the old Pompano police station. “Wait… so you can understand them?”
“No, but they wag their tails when I pet them and talk to them.”
Besslia sagged. He scanned the well-kept room they were in now. The file cabinets were arranged in tight formation and little dust had made its way into this room. In the corner was a little cot and a stack of paperback books.
Besslia pointed to the corner. “Is that where you live?”
He nodded. “I take one day off a week.”
“What do you do?”
“Visit the rest of the city.”
“Then you know what’s happened. There’s no reason to stay here.”
“I have no reason to go anywhere else.”
“You just guard the forgotten evidence of the police department?”
“I guard the whole station but this is the most important part.”
He seemed rational for a guy who had essentially lived in a cave.
Finally Besslia stood up. “We need to be going, Officer. Why don’t you come with us?”<
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The walking stick stood up, the shotgun still in his hands. “My duty is here.”
“Your duty is done. No one could ask any more of you.”
“I’ll visit the settlers and Victor now that I know where they are, but this is my primary assignment.”
Besslia was going to say something else, but Johann leaned in and said, “Give him time, Steve. This is a big shock to him.”
Besslia nodded and looked up at Sewell. “Thanks for the disk. We’ll be back to check on you soon.”
“Wait a minute.” Sewell raised his weapon slightly.
“What?”
“That’s evidence. You can’t take it out of here.” Now he had the barrel of the old shotgun pointed right at Besslia.
Tom Wilner stood at the edge of the crowd and watched the woman wail over the body of the dead man. They were both young, in their twenties. Mari had stooped down to an older man with gray hair that now hung into his face, dripping water onto the little girl he held in his arms.
Mari hugged the older man and called him Leonard.
Wilner knew now that this was the handyman who had been helping Mari and had just saved her life. It looked like he had taken time out to save the little girl as well.
Wilner kneeled down and checked the pulse of the prone man. He was dead and his body temperature had already dropped. He looked at the girl, checking her eyes and pulse. She was in shock, but someone had already retrieved a blanket to wrap around her. There were others who knew what they were doing as well.
Mari helped Leonard to his feet and guided him toward Wilner. The older man kept his face down and coughed. Then mumbled something to Mari and turned to head back toward the market.
Mari turned toward Wilner and said, “He thought he might vomit and didn’t want anyone to see.” She looked toward him, then back to Wilner. “Would you check on him, please? I think he’d be all right with another man.”
Wilner nodded and jogged after Leonard.
Besslia froze as the crazy former cop pointed the shotgun and said, “That is evidence. It stays here.”
