State of Emergency: Jack Emery 2

by Steve P Vincent

  “I’d like to hear your side of it first.” Hall placed his club back in the bag and faced Jack front on. “Then I’ll give you mine.”

  Jack shrugged. He had nothing to lose. “Look, cards on the table, I don’t agree with the executive orders and I have huge concerns about what you and FEMA are doing. It stinks.”

  Hall frowned. “You seem to deny me the respect I’m affording you. I think I’m being incredibly reasonable here, Jack. The President has made a number of decisions in the interests of protecting the country and I’m responsible for implementing those decisions. I’m doing my job. Surely you can respect that.”

  “You’ve got a job to do, sure.” Jack wasn’t buying the tortured bureaucrat act. Hall knew what he was doing and the impact of his actions. Jack chose his words carefully, being sure not to mention Celeste. “But the same justification has been used by tyrants for centuries. I’m struggling to see the difference.”

  “Sorry, I—”

  Jack held up his hand, feeling the anger well up inside of him. “I was in Indianapolis. You’ve locked innocent people up. You’ve killed civilians. You may have a job to do, but I don’t think I like where things are heading or where it all ends. So forgive me if I don’t buy the shit you’re selling, Administrator.”

  Hall’s eyes narrowed, his face flushed red and his mouth opened and closed a few times, in a way that reminded Jack of a floundering fish. Jack wondered if he’d pushed the administrator too far. He’d definitely lost his cool, if nothing else. He wondered if he’d soon be joining Celeste in one of the camps. He took another step closer to the golf bag, now just a few feet away. A nine-iron might just hit the smug off Hall.

  Finally, Hall began to speak. “Very well. I was hoping I’d be able to convince you to keep your head down while the trouble passes, but you’ve made your position clear. I won’t waste your time or my breath. You’re a hero, Jack, and I regret that it’s come to this, but your special treatment is at an end. You’ve been warned.”

  “I understand.” Jack’s voice was barely a whisper and he was surprised by the menace in his voice.

  Hall gave a short, sharp laugh. “I don’t think you do. The next time you slip up, the next time you pop up on my radar, your precious Celeste will begin to feel pain.”

  Jack flared. He took a single, final step towards the golf bag and grabbed a club. He flicked it up into his hand and held it, with both hands, ready to strike Hall. “Do not threaten her!”

  Jack heard a commotion and shouts from behind him, but he kept his eyes locked on the administrator. Hall, surprisingly, didn’t move. He stared at Jack as he might a stray cat that had strolled into his yard. Jack gripped the club tighter, wanting to swing it and cave in Hall’s head, decapitating FEMA at the same time. But he knew that doing so would sign Celeste’s death warrant.

  “Freeze!” A voice behind Jack shouted with authority. “Drop the club or we shoot.”

  Jack flicked a glance behind him. Several suited men were pointing pistols at him. Every fiber in his being wanted to take the shot, to swing the thing at Hall’s head, to end this.

  Hall coughed. “Done? If you were going to swing that thing, you’d have done it by now.”

  Jack closed his eyes as his grip on the club slackened. He knew that the only way forward was organized resistance. He lowered the club and tossed it on the ground. “Fuck you.”

  Hall gave the same laugh. “I don’t want to hurt you, Jack, or your girlfriend. As I said, I respect you. You achieved a great deal for our country. My reaction will be directly proportional to your action. There’s no simpler way for me to say it and you’ll need to decide what comes next.”

  Jack seethed. “I’d like to go back now.”

  Hall’s features lightened and he cracked a smile. “Sure you wouldn’t like to join us for a game? The sixth is a killer.”

  Jack balled his fists by his side. “I’d like to go back.”

  Hall shrugged. “Okay, it was nice to meet you and I hope that you’ll consider my words. My helicopter will take you back.”

  Hall picked up the club Jack had tossed and replaced it in the bag. Without looking at Jack, he turned and started off down the fairway. Jack fumed, fists clenched, for several long moments as the other man walked away. He tried to calm down, but was struggling. He’d expected Hall to be a tyrant, a maniac. He’d expected threats of violence and bribes to get Jack to stop doing what he was doing.

  Instead, Jack had met a normal man, a bureaucrat who believed in what he was doing and would squeeze Jack – and Celeste – as hard as needed to get the desired result. To Hall, this wasn’t personal. It was just another problem faced by a man who was used to dealing with them. His position was crystal clear: back off, or Celeste will start to become mightily uncomfortable in FEMA custody.

  Jack was more committed than ever to ending him.

  ***

  Callum closed his eyes for the first time in sixteen hours. It wasn’t quite as good as having his head on a pillow, but a comfortable chair and his feet on the desk was the best he could manage for the moment. He was on duty for another half-hour and for once there was nothing happening that required his attention. He hoped his luck would hold. He’d been on desk duty for the past few days, as part of a rotating shift involving all of the guards. Everyone took a turn on the towers, in the yard and in the administration. The latter was the most boring slot on the duty roster. It also had the longest shifts.

  He hated himself for thinking it, but he wondered whether it would be a better idea to return to active duty. He hated the politics of the camp: management to guard, guard to guard, guard to prisoner, prisoner to prisoner. With the politics came the issues: maintenance, overcrowding, complaints. The thought of being back in a unit of soldiers, all working toward the same goal, suddenly seemed very appealing, if not for the carnage and violence it risked. He couldn’t deal with that. Not yet.

  There was a soft knock on the door. His eyes shot open and he nearly fell off the chair, but he managed to grab the desk before he made a fool of himself. “Come in.”

  The door opened and one of the few civilian staff in the detention center entered. Callum couldn’t remember her name, but she flashed him a shy smile. “Hi, sorry to bother you.”

  “No problem.” He waved her inside. She walked towards his desk and placed a single sheet of paper on it. He looked at it, then up at her. “What’s that? Can’t wait until next shift?”

  “I don’t think so, Sergeant. It’s a, um—”

  “It’s okay.” He smiled at her and held up a hand. “I’ll take a look.”

  Relief spread like a rash across her face. Whatever the document was, it was something she was uncomfortable with. She nodded and backed toward the door. He shook his head, amazed that they’d recruited such a wilting flower to work in a place like this. He glanced at the sheet of paper, hoping he’d be able to palm it off on the next person to warm the chair, then sighed. It had the FEMA and State Guard logos side by side at the top. That made it important. He removed his feet from the desk and started to read the document.

  He had to read it through four times before he processed and believed what was on the piece of paper. It was astonishing, to the point where he suspected fraud or some sort of practical joke. Except that this was no laughing matter. He flipped through the papers on his desk until he found a post-it with the number he was looking for. He picked up the phone, but paused before dialing. He looked once more at the newly arrived sheet of paper then dialed with a shake of his head.

  The call was picked up quickly. “Operations, Nancy speaking.”

  “Hi Nancy, it’s Callum Watkins out at Effingham.”

  “Hi Callum, how can I help?”

  Callum leaned in to look at the sheet. “Can you confirm that correspondence Alpha-Hotel-Four-One-Five is legitimate?”

  “Just give me a minute.” He heard the sound of fast typing in the background. “Looks like it’s legit. It has all the requisite approval
s.”

  Callum’s eyes widened as she spoke. “Okay. Thanks.”

  He hung up the phone and stared at the sheet for a few long moments. A detainee was to be executed for treason. The order was clear. Now it was confirmed as well. There was nothing else to do but act. He climbed to his feet and grabbed his shotgun from the rack on the wall. He checked the load and made sure the safety was on. If he was to detain a woman for execution, it meant separation from the other detainees. It could mean trouble.

  He’d nearly reached the door when Micah Hill appeared on the other side. Callum winced, then regretted it – the other man had seen. He’d tried to avoid Micah since the incident in the shower block with the female detainees. Callum would prefer not to be associated with Hill’s lack of professionalism and borderline criminal behavior, if he could, but they worked so closely together that it was hard to avoid the other man entirely.

  Callum forced a smile. “How’s it going, Micah?”

  The other man ignored his greeting and glanced down at the shotgun. “Where you going, Cal? Your shift doesn’t end for another twenty minutes.”

  Callum bit his tongue. He had to be careful. Despite his issues, Hill was still a superior. Callum waved the paper. “Orders.”

  “Oh yeah?” Hill reached out and grabbed the piece of paper.

  Callum didn’t resist or speak up as the other man read it. His eyes flicked back and forth rapidly, as a grin grew slowly on his face. When he finished reading, he resembled a wolf that had just been handed the key to the chicken coop. “You’ve checked it out? It’s legit? Damn.”

  “Yep.” Callum shrugged. “It checks out.”

  “Well I guess that little bitch is going to get what’s coming to her.” The grin turned cold. “I’ll take care of this one, Cal. You take it easy.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Hill’s tone was sharp. “You take the next one.”

  Even though Callum doubted there would be a next one, and the other man made his skin crawl, he could hardly resist the order. In truth, Callum was glad to avoid the job. He needed, and wanted, to keep his hands clean – that was the deal with Bainbridge. If Callum could hand this over to someone else, he had to take the chance. Hill would handle the prep for the execution. If he fucked up, it was on him.

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “Later, man.” Hill turned and stalked after his prey.

  Callum shook his head as he closed the door. He placed the shotgun back on its rack and then walked back to the desk. Before he closed his eyes, he glanced at the clock. Another thirteen minutes and he was in the clear. He did all he could to avoid thinking about the unfortunate woman, whatever her crime. But no matter how hard he thought about other things, the order haunted him.

  And she would haunt his dreams.

  ***

  Mariposa winced as she watched Celeste struggle to shift her position in the bed slightly. Though she offered a brave smile, the woman was clearly in a lot of pain. It was hardly surprising. The guard’s nightstick had shattered her kneecap and she’d also done some damage to the ligaments in the knee when she’d fallen. It was a combination of injuries that would take a while to heal.

  Mariposa looked around. There was only one other patient in the small detention center hospital. She’d heard that the guards were quite hesitant to permit a trip to the hospital for most people, but they could hardly argue a shattered kneecap. It was more surprising that she’d been allowed to keep Celeste company, though. They’d spent the time chatting, getting to know each other more.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “A frozen Margarita?” Celeste’s smile was contagious.

  “No, unfortunately.” Mariposa laughed softly. “But I could get you—”

  “Seriously, I’m fine.” Celeste reached out and gripped Mariposa’s hand. “Stop worrying. I’m just glad I’ve got someone to talk to.”

  Mariposa felt her face flush. She felt like she owed Celeste so much. Twice now she’d saved her, this time at great personal cost. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “No.” Celeste gave a tired looking frown. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. It’s complicated. Absurdly so.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a really long story.” She shook her head in near disbelief. “I hadn’t seen him for a long time, then our first night together was the night I was arrested.”

  Mariposa didn’t know what to say. “What happens if you get out of here?”

  “I don’t know. Hopefully a hug and a smile. But I’m not sure. This is the second time we’ve spent a lot of time apart in less than eighteen months. It might be too late.”

  Mariposa nodded and Celeste went quiet. They sat in silence until she noticed Celeste blinking a few times, as if trying to ward off sleep. Mariposa reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. As if she’d pressed a button, Celeste’s eyes closed and before long she’d started to breathe heavily. Mariposa could have left, but she kept holding the other woman’s hand.

  Mariposa woke when she heard a noise behind her, shocked by the noise as much as the by the fact she’d fallen asleep. She turned around and felt her heart jump into her throat as she saw him – the black man who’d assaulted them in the bathroom. There was no doubt who he was here for. Mariposa let go of Celeste’s hand and held her hands up slightly, showing him she was no threat.

  He approached the bed, shotgun held casually. “On your feet.”

  Mariposa kept her voice to a whisper. “Please be quiet. She’s only just gone to sleep.”

  “Detainee, on your feet. I’ve got orders to take you to a different wing.”

  “What wing? My friend—”

  “I’m not asking.” He yanked her back, away from the bed.

  She squealed but didn’t resist. She’d had her fill of fighting authority, it had done nothing but lead her here. She was going to be assaulted by the man, but she couldn’t ask Celeste for help this time, even if the other woman was capable of providing it. She would fight, for all that she was worth, but she’d do it away from Celeste Adams.

  “Please let me say a few words?” Mariposa looked him straight in the eyes. “Then I’ll come with you.”

  “You better.” His eyes narrowed and something in his voice seemed very final as he backed away. “You’ve got two minutes.”

  Mariposa nodded and walked over to Celeste. She wasn’t thinking clearly, but she didn’t have time to fix that. She shook the woman’s arm. Celeste stirred and mumbled something. Mariposa shook her some more, and Celeste’s eyes flickered open. She looked up at Mariposa, confused. Celeste winced in pain as she tried to move.

  “What’s up?” Celeste blinked a few more times. “I just need to sleep, Mari.”

  “I know.” Mariposa smiled sadly as she squeezed Celeste’s hand. “I have to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” Celeste’s eyes started to close again.

  Mariposa pinched Celeste’s chin and shook her head slightly. “Celeste, you need to stay awake. Just a few more minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  “If you ever get out of here and something has happened to me, I want you to go to my home. Just look it up.”

  “Okay. I’ll say hi to your son.”

  “Good.” Mariposa smiled sadly. “There’s a spare key under the ceramic cat out the back. I want you to go inside and find my mother.”

  Celeste fell silent and started to snore softly again. Mariposa cursed under her breath and tried to shake her. She was about to try harder when the guard grabbed her again and pulled her away from the bed. She’d clearly had all the time she was going to get. She let herself be led outside, hoping her final words to Celeste had registered.

  As they walked along the path, surrounded on either side by a high chain-link fence, she started to get a sinking feeling. In an overcrowded camp where there was no privacy or free space, she was amazed by the lack of people around. The lack of witnesses. She walked for another dozen steps and then tur
ned around.

  She looked him straight in the eye. He stared back. There was nothing in his eyes, no spark, no warmth. She tried her luck. “Where are we going?”

  He raised an eyebrow and gripped his weapon tighter. “I like that you think you have a right to question me, detainee.”

  “Please.” Mariposa fought back tears. “I know you’re going to rape me, but please. I have a son. You don’t have to do this.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” He shrugged. “You’re not going to be raped. But you should start praying to whichever god is your thing.”

  “No!” Her eyes widened. Ten minutes ago she’d been talking to her friend, now she was facing her end. She fell to her knees, prostrating herself before him as tears flowed down her face.

  He sighed. “Get up.”

  “I have son! I don’t want to die, you bastard! There’s no reason for this. I have a son!”

  She’d lost it all. Her job, her freedom. Her son. The thought of Juan growing up without her was devastating. She collapsed into the dirt and couldn’t stop the sobs. She struggled to breathe. Her chest hurt. She wanted to talk, but no words came. She gripped the small crushed rocks on the pathway, grabbed a handful and threw it at him.

  It didn’t help. She knew this was a one way trip.

  ACT III

  CHAPTER 15

  At a morning tea with State Guard troops wounded in the line of duty, President Morris, Administrator Hall and a number of cabinet secretaries celebrated three full months without a terrorist attack on American soil. President Morris presented each of the wounded men and women with a newly struck medal, the Peace Cross, noting that America has pushed through the darker clouds and that rays of sunshine were ahead. Administrator Hall was unavailable for comment.

  Federal Emergency Management Agency

  News Release

  Callum squinted and shook his head as he looked down from the guard tower with his binoculars. He could see Micah Hill walking alongside a detainee, down the same path he walked every day at about this time. This detainee looked young, a scrawny twenty-something with a shaved head. Hill gripped his shotgun casually by his side. He was headed for the motor pool, where the prisoner would be hauled into a van and off to his death.