The Double Human

by James O'Neal

  In that split second he realized the other man was Tom Wilner.

  He jerked the barrel up as the bullet left the rifle.

  He prayed it was enough.

  Wilner and the Simolits ducked as they heard the shot but the bullet went high, striking near the roof of the house.

  All three men had their pistols out and pointing across the river, searching for a target.

  From inside, Besslia called out, “Who’s shooting? What’s wrong?”

  “Stay down, Steve. We got a sniper across the river.”

  Then they heard someone shout from the thick brush. “Don’t shoot, it’s me, Johann Halleck.”

  Wilner watched as the tall, Nordic-looking man stood from the bushes. He held a M-20 over his head in one hand.

  The Simolits spoke to each other in Serbian. Wilner stood and holstered his pistol. He waved and yelled, “Come on over, Johann.” He kept an eye on the Simolits to make sure they didn’t try anything, but they holstered their weapons as well.

  He watched as Johann crossed the bridge and stepped up onto the porch.

  Leonard Hall heard the shooting and knew it had to do with that hotshot cop, Wilner. He had his own problems. Like his aunt. He had to dispose of her body. He had never worried about disposal before. In fact, leaving the bodies to be found was part of the fun. Hearing someone talk about “the Vampire” gave him an additional thrill. No one had a clue.

  Sometimes he didn’t have a clue either. There was no telling when the urge would push him to act. Usually it was a slow progression when he saw a neck that interested him. Sometimes it faded and occasionally it disappeared all together. Whatever it was that pushed him to fixate on necks.

  And his aunt had paid the price.

  He had her wrapped in several blankets with thick waterproof tape secured around the carpet. In his car he had twenty feet of heavy chain he intended to wrap around her as well once all the strangers left the neighborhood.

  Until then he had her stashed safely in the hall closet, standing upright. He thought the blankets would keep the smell down if she had to stay there a little while.

  What he really wanted to do was get back to a normal life. It was reassuring that Wilner didn’t recognize him, but as smart as that guy was he’d figure everything out soon enough.

  Then he heard one of his inner friends say, “It’s too late now, Leonard. You’re stuck in this hell. Now you’ve got all of us stuck too.”

  Tom Wilner sat at a large kitchen table with the two prisoners across from him. Johann Halleck and Steve Besslia were standing behind the prisoners still amazed at how the two issues—Zoners and the Vampire killer—led to the same place. They had the two Simolits outside standing guard while they questioned the men they had captured.

  The prisoners had not spoken a word. Wilner knew they had to be shocked that anyone would assault their base of operations all the way down here in the zone.

  Now the older man looked at Wilner and said, “Who are you?” He had a light accent but it was there all the same.

  Wilner said, “My name is Tom Wilner and I’m a detective with the Unified Police Force.”

  “What the hell is the UPF doing down here?”

  “Police work.”

  “What have I done to bother the UPF? I only deal with people in the zone. I don’t go into the district. Mostly because of men like you.”

  From behind him Johann growled, “The western wilderness is out of the zone.”

  The old man twisted to see Johann. “But it’s not the district.”

  Wilner said, “I’m looking for a man. I was told he lived here.”

  “Who are you looking for?” asked the old man.

  “Janos Dadicek.”

  “I am Janos Dadicek. Why do you seek me?”

  Wilner stared at him. “You can’t be Janos Dadicek. You’re an old man.”

  “It will happen to you one day. You’ll see.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Seventy-eight.”

  Wilner looked up at Besslia. This couldn’t be right. This wasn’t the man he saw the night of the killings in the district. This old fart couldn’t outrun him.

  Wilner reached into the inside pocket of his weatherproof jacket and jerked out the page with an enlarged copy of the killer’s fingerprint.

  He looked at the old man. “Let me have your right hand.”

  The old man hesitated.

  Wilner snapped his fingers. “I’m in no mood to wait. Give me your goddamn hand.”

  The old man slid his hand across the table slowly. Wilner snatched it up and compared the middle finger to the picture of the print on the page. He concentrated and stared at both the finger and the paper.

  Then he let go of the old man’s hand and looked up at Besslia. “It’s not him.”

  The old man, Dadicek, said, “I’m not what? Why are you here?”

  “You were questioned by the Pompano police years ago.”

  Dadicek thought about it and said, “Yes, I remember.”

  “What’d they ask you about?”

  “A girl that was murdered.”

  “Why you? What led them to you?”

  “They knew I was a pimp. They thought I might have seen something.”

  “I thought you were a plumber.”

  “I was until I discovered my true calling. I love dealing in women and the zone is the perfect place for that.”

  Johann Halleck said, “Not anymore.”

  Dadicek twisted and said, “Why not? There is no law to stop me here.”

  Johann said, “I am here to stop you.”

  FORTY-ONE

  Unified Police Force Detective Tom Wilner was exhausted. Physically, emotionally and spiritually he had nothing left to give. The raid in the morning and all the hard work that led up to it had meant nothing. He was no closer to finding the Vampire than he was the day he had chased him into the zone.

  Steve Besslia sat quietly across the desk, just staring out the rain-streaked window. This was unlike his usual duties and Wilner was surprised how well Besslia had adapted to the demanding work of investigation. He had also come through for him when he needed the Hive-cycle cop to come through.

  Wilner tried to scribble a note but the pen didn’t write. He threw it so hard against the wall that it stuck. Then he shoved a pile of paperwork off his desk. It scattered onto the dingy floor in a symmetrical pattern around the desk.

  Besslia finally said, “It’s not a total loss. We did stop the Zoners and they were causing a lot of problems in the wilderness.”

  Wilner nodded, wondering what happened to the prisoners he allowed Johann Halleck to cart back to the settlers. “But I was so sure the Vampire was Janos.” He held his hand to his eyes. Images of the dead nurses came back to him. The prosthetic hand found in the furnace. The fact that Janos Dadicek was human. How could he have been so wrong?

  Besslia said, “We start again on the list. This time with one less name.”

  Wilner looked at the other files still on his desk. “Why didn’t the cops use the print to eliminate suspects back then? They had a list. It would be simple to check.”

  “You said they were good detectives.”

  “Yeah, and the handwritten note about Dadicek being a crooked freak was correct. The comment wasn’t directed at this case.”

  “We’ll see if there is something else hidden in the files.”

  “What about the info you brought back from Naples? What was the suspect’s name on the community college identification card?”

  “Leonard Dawson.”

  “Maybe we’ll find a link to him somewhere.” He looked at his friend. “Thanks, Steve.”

  “For what?”

  “For not letting me feel sorry for myself.”

  Sammy Cyclops jumped at every sound or odd moving shadow. He was convinced the handyman was the Vampire that everyone was talking about. There were even rumors that cops had come into the zone from the district and jacked up a house on the
Zone River.

  Now Sammy sat in the bushes across from the school. He had to know if the cops grabbed him. He couldn’t think of another reason to raid a house down here. But everyone was talking about it.

  He should have figured out who the Vampire was after the man ripped through his partners at the old North Miami city hall. Then to have him cut down his new gang was more than Sammy could take. He’d have to tell someone. But who?

  All Sammy knew was if the handyman was still around so was the Vampire. And the zone wasn’t big enough for the two of them.

  Mari Saltis stood, looking out her office window. There was a lot of work to do for the school, she had some money to raise, bills to pay, textbooks to approve but all she could think about was Tom Wilner. She missed the handsome detective from the Lawton District. She missed him so much that for the first time in years she considered what it might be like to live in the district; to be part of the United States again.

  There was a gentle rap on her office door.

  She called out, “Come in,” as she turned and was surprised to see Leonard Hall in the doorway.

  “I was afraid we had lost you, Leonard.”

  He looked down. “My aunt died.”

  “Leonard, I’m so sorry.” Mari crossed the room with her arms outstretched.

  Leonard stood upright like a child and allowed Mari to hug him.

  She said, “What happened? How did she die?”

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I think it was something in her throat.”

  She stepped away from him and motioned to the small couch at the rear of her office. They sat across from each other and chatted for a while. She felt like it was helping Leonard.

  “Do you need anything?”

  He shook his head.

  “Would you like some time off?”

  “No, I’d prefer to work. There is a lot I have to do here. It’ll keep me occupied.”

  She smiled and patted him on his shoulder.

  “Is everything all right here at the school?”

  “Yes, nothing is new.”

  “Is your policeman friend coming down any time soon?”

  “I hope so.”

  Leonard gave her a weak smile and mumbled, “So do I.”

  Johann Halleck shook his head as he looked up at the three men hanging by the limb of a giant tree on the trail between the zone and the western wilderness. The sun rising in the east poked through the clouds to cast a spooky light on the men. Their hands were tied roughly behind them and their necks were bent at sickening angles.

  Johann had given the choice of what to do with the prisoners to the settlers. Victor surprised him by saying that they had to die and he didn’t want anyone at the settlement to see it. Then he suggested hanging them and leaving their bodies as a warning to anyone else who had the idea of invading the wilderness and doing the same thing.

  Johann didn’t like to see an educated and caring man like Victor turn to dark decisions like that, but it was a sound idea. Then the settlers shocked Johann by insisting that they take the men onto the bed of the big truck, secure the ropes then drive the truck away. It left the men dangling, twitching and choking for more than a minute.

  The two younger men cried and pleaded. The one Johann had tied and questioned near the water appealed to him for mercy. Old Janos Dadicek spit just before the truck pulled away. That defiant attitude might serve him well as he roasted in hell.

  Now the settlers and Johann just looked up at the bodies, swaying in a slight breeze.

  “That’ll show people we’re not easy targets anymore,” mumbled Victor, sounding as if he wanted to justify what they had done. “Next time we’ll fight.”

  Johann looked into the back of the truck that had a stack of weapons and ammo they had taken from the Zoners’ house.

  They piled into the cab of the truck and started their trip back over the rough trail to the western wilderness.

  Johann watched the endless Everglades pass by the windows and hoped he hadn’t corrupted the ideals of the settlers and set them on a different path. He’d leave them soon. He had made the settlement safe. At least from outsiders. It was time to get back to civilization.

  Or, more accurately, the Lawton District.

  FORTY-TWO

  Steve Besslia thought he was dozing off when his tired eyes caught a sentence with three faded words. He read it again, then couldn’t help shouting, “I got it.”

  He could see he made the drowsy Tom Wilner jump a little at his excitement.

  The detective looked over to Besslia expectantly.

  Besslia couldn’t help but smile. “I know why the cops didn’t try and print the suspects during the Mary Harris investigation.”

  “Why?”

  “They found the print on a black hair clip that had been wedged in the seawall.”

  “So?”

  “The lead detective, Butler, found it a month after the body and down from where the body was actually discovered.”

  Wilner sat up, staring at his partner.

  “He was one hell of a detective. He must’ve been frustrated and walked the scene again. The report says the clip was protected in a crevice in the seawall. Then the lab guys must’ve thought he was grasping at straws and didn’t get around to processing it for another four months.”

  Wilner added, “By then a lot of other things were going on.”

  Besslia said, “I know what really affected the case.”

  “What?”

  “Look how Butler signed the report.” He held up the yellowing old paper. “He was promoted to sergeant and moved out to the road.”

  “Just like we do it.”

  “A police tradition that’s screwed up more cases than lawyers.”

  Wilner nodded and said, “Steve, you been bailing me out a lot lately. I appreciate it.”

  Besslia had to smile.

  The two UPF officers spent another hour going over everything in the files that was still readable.

  Besslia held up the list. “We can remove Janos Dadicek from the list. He was a creep and living in the area but those weren’t his prints here or at the other crimes.”

  “And he wasn’t the guy who ran from me.”

  “Of all the names here the one they seemed to have passed by at the time was this Lenny Nelson.”

  Wilner said, “Sometimes it’s the guys you don’t take seriously that slide by. Why wouldn’t they take this guy seriously?”

  Besslia stared at the old report. “This one is hard to read. It looks like he might have been some kind of student.”

  Wilner said, “Leonard Dawson, the guy questioned in Naples, was a student. Right here in the old Broward County.”

  Besslia said, “We may have another winner.”

  Before they could start to look into files more to follow up on their theory the emergency alert tone went off on both their V-coms at the same time.

  Leonard Hall’s day at work had dragged by. One of the factors making time slow down was the knowledge that he still had to get rid of his aunt’s body when he got home. That made it hard to concentrate on replacing light sockets with ones he had salvaged from an old police station nearby.

  Mari wandered into his small workroom off the courtyard in the center of the school. Her sweet smile and voice cheered him, but didn’t make him feel too much better about all that had happened.

  She said, “I was worried about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.” She settled on the stool next to his workbench.

  He nodded. He was about to answer when one of the voices made a rude comment and distracted him.

  Mari placed a hand on his arm. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “Yeah, just tired.”

  “Maybe you should head out early today.”

  He was about to agree when he heard something. Just a wave of noise from a distance then some clear, precise gunshots.

  Mari stood and cocked her head.

  Leonard let his breath out. She had h
eard it too.

  Mari said, “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know.” An explosion from far off ate up all the other sounds.

  “Good Lord,” said Mari, rushing off to do what a smart leader would do. Find out what she needed to do to protect the students.

  Tom Wilner and Steve Besslia listened to the simultaneous broadcast over both their V-coms and the station speaker.

  A male voice said, “All sworn personnel are to immediately assemble on Bob Graham Boulevard in the southern part of the district with full body armor and weapons ready to go.”

  The two cops stared at each other until Besslia said, “What the hell could this be about?”

  Just then the commander came marching through the office. Two uniformed cops trailed him, slipping on their body armor, which no one ever wore.

  Besslia stood and blocked the squat man’s exit. “What’s going on, skipper?”

  “Some damn New Yorker newcomer started flapping his gums about how the new restaurant is serving human flesh as part of its burgers. As pissed off as all the newcomers are it gave them a reason to trash the place. Now it’s a full-blown riot. Some of the guardsmen on the border already responded from a few blocks away and fired a couple of volleys high but it didn’t scare any of them. Now we got work to do, boys. Follow me.”

  Wilner could see how the commander had inspired troops to follow him in the Philippine conflict. He knew how to talk but more important he wasn’t afraid to move. Once a man like that started moving you couldn’t help but be caught up in his wake.

  Wilner let himself get caught up. It seemed like the commander picked up more and more followers until there were nine cops struggling to get into their protective gear by the time they hit the rear parking lot.

  “Lets move out,” shouted the commander as he slipped into his car and drove out of the lot.

  Wilner was worried about what might happen if the border were unmanned and this riot spilled into the zone.

  He’d do his best not to let that happen.

  FORTY-THREE

  In Iran, Wilner had been in some urban fighting but most of it was open desert, large force clashes. In Bosnia it was more of a mix as the U.S. soldiers fought to keep the peace more than anything else.