Subject:
Iʹm keeping my people on point, but circulate all our fugitivesʹ descriptions to state, local, and federal law enforcement. We have to keep them from getting wherever it is theyʹre going. But I might have some good news for you soon.
***
Melville was bored. Bored bored bored bored bored damn hell stupid bored.
ʺYou ever been to Las Vegas?ʺ They were traveling along the I-15, which Isaiah had chosen as the most logical route to follow based on the fact that their prey was going to head east and was going to want to hurry.
Or Melville guessed that was what the guy was thinking. His travelling companion hadnʹt said a single word to him the entire trip thus far, and after several hours it was getting old.
Melville thought about playing with his phone. He had a totally cool phone he had taken from one of his lovely corpses, filled with games and even a reading application that would let him look at just about any book on the planet. But the games never really excited him after heʹd done some good killing. And though he was thrilled about the reading application–a good man was always well-read, after all–he had yet to actually use it.
Actual words in actual books always bored him. Just having them at his disposal was quite enough, thank you.
What was reading, after all, when you lived an adventure more exciting than any some novelist could come up with?
Besides, the combination of book ownership and life experience was certainly enough to qualify him as well-read. Certainly.
Still, if reading was out and games were a bore…what to do now?
ʺYou gonna talk to me, Father?ʺ he said.
Isaiah said nothing.
ʺWe could be traveling a while. A little chit-chat could make it go faster. Unless you wanna get into a game of Slug Bug.ʺ
Still nothing.
Melville sighed. ʺYouʹre mad at me, I get that. But really, whatʹs the point? The old dude was old. He was gonna die soon anyway. And the retarded girl….ʺ Another sigh. ʺWhat can you possibly see in something like that?ʺ Then he understood, and slapped himself in the face. He hit himself hard, so Isaiah would know he was properly apologetic. He didnʹt really care that much about his mistake, but if they were going to work together it might be helpful to make nice. At least until he waxed the dude.
ʺI get it. Youʹre screwing her. Makes more sense that youʹd–ʺ
ʺShut UP!ʺ
The scream was so forceful, so loud and–
(powerful, frightening)
–surprising in the carʹs confines that Melville actually screamed.
No, just a surprised shout. Like when a friend jumps out at you around the corner and you both laugh at it. Just good times. A little excitement.
And how I love excitement.
He turned the scream into a laugh and punched Isaiah in the shoulder. ʺOkay, not that. No diddling the dumbtard.ʺ He paused. ʺWouldnʹt blame you if you were, though. Sheʹs kinda dishy.ʺ
Isaiah looked like he was going to scream, and Melville was tired–
(and a little scared, Melville, buddy, admit it)
–of that, so he held up a conciliatory hand. ʺNo, donʹt freak out, Padre. I just want us to be friends. So tell you what. Letʹs play a game.ʺ He pulled out his phone. ʺItʹs time for me to check in.ʺ
He dialed. A voice answered. ʺYes?ʺ
Melville didnʹt know the voice. He never did, but he knew they were Mr. Dominicʹs people. He just knew.
In the final analysis, everyone was Mr. Dominicʹs. One way or another.
ʺChecking in.ʺ
ʺAre you unharmed?ʺ
ʺFive by five.ʺ
ʺExcellent.ʺ The phone disconnected.
ʺHey, would you stay on for a sec?ʺ Of course the line stayed dead, but Melville never minded talking to dead things. It could be fun, it could be exciting, and in this case it promised to set up a game that would be both. ʺI need you ready for some orders.ʺ He paused as though listening to a curt, efficient response. Then: ʺThanks.ʺ
He put the phone face-down on his lap. Turned to Isaiah. His fellow assassin had eyes forward, looking more robot than man. But Melville knew he was present and ready, one hundred and ten percent. Men like this–men like them–always were.
ʺBack to the game. Iʹm going to ask you some questions. Ready?ʺ
Isaiah ignored him. Which was expected. Only instead of being boring, now it was so…so…exciting.
Melville had to suppress a giggle.
ʺYeah, thought so. Youʹre the strong silent type. Very sexy.ʺ Melville couldnʹt wait to get this guy into his place, eyes open and unseeing, body stiff and cold. Such excitement, such a life.
ʺHere are the rules. Iʹll ask the questions, like I said.ʺ He tapped the phone that still sat on his lap. ʺFor every wrong answer, for every answer I donʹt like, for every lie, for every single time I think youʹre holding back, Iʹll have my people cut off one of your sexy little girlʹs fingers.ʺ
ʺYou–ʺ Isaiahʹs face grew red. Which was interesting to Melville, because he hadnʹt known that could even happen to black people. Before his death his dad had always said black people had no sense of shame. Maybe heʹd been wrong.
Fun.
ʺShhhhh….ʺ He waved the phone. ʺIf we run out of fingers, we start on toes. Then move slowly up her legs. Weʹll leave all the important pieces, of course, just in case we need them for, you know, later.ʺ He waggled his eyebrows lecherously. ʺStill, thatʹs a lot of room for wrong answers. We should get where weʹre going before then.ʺ
Isaiah was quiet, but now it was a different kind of quiet. Melville liked it. Liked how the big manʹs shoulders slumped just a bit. Silence could be full of noise. The sound of defiance, the scream of terror crammed deep in a chest.
The invisible deflation of a spirit in defeat, of hope in retreat.
He smirked. Big men were just little men in big bodies. He saw that once on the social media he frequented. He liked social media. Memes and the quick blurbs there, he had found, contained the sum of all truth if you knew how to look for them. If you were smart.
Melville was very smart.
ʺFirst question….ʺ He looked out the window. The fog that had followed them through the course of the trip was still out there. Creepy. Isaiah had turned on the headlights some time ago, which weirded Melville out. Who drove around the I-15 with headlights on in midmorning?
We do, today.
He looked back at the priest. He preferred to focus on things in his control: personal hygiene, weapons upkeep, who he would kill that minute or that day.
ʺGot it.ʺ He snapped his fingers as though to make a big show of figuring out what he was going to ask. He had known from the first, but this made it more fun. A bit of drama to increase the excitement of the game. ʺWhoʹs the dummy? To you, I mean.ʺ
Isaiah clenched his teeth. Long silence.
Melville raised the phone to his ear.
ʺIʹll answer,ʺ said the priest. Melville was delighted to hear a crackle in the big manʹs voice, the promise of tears to come. ʺJust…itʹs hard.ʺ
ʺYeah,ʺ he said in a voice that he knew was friendly, even loving. The voice he reserved only for the bodies most special to him. ʺI knew it would be. Go ahead and let it out.ʺ He added a line heʹd seen on an internet thread: ʺYouʹre in a safe place.ʺ
That line did it. He knew it would. The guy was putty in his hands. Theyʹd be friends for a long time. Maybe Isaiah would even smile when Melville killed him. Thatʹd be cool.
Mr. Dominic would have been pleased.
ʺI killed her parents.ʺ
That surprised Melville. He knew the guy next to him was a bigwig hired gun. Beyond that he didnʹt know much–other than that he himself hadnʹt been first pick for this job, which irked him. He knew a lot of killers, though, and none of them had much affection for the children of people they killed.
ʺSo they were targets and, what, you felt guilty afterward?ʺ
Another silence. Melville didnʹt
bother waving the phone, though. He knew the priest–if he was a priest, Melville was going to ask about that, too–would answer. Putty.
This was so cool.
Exciting.
ʺNo. Not targets. Iʹd been a priest–ʺ
ʺSo you are a priest! For reals!ʺ Melville laughed and clapped his hands with glee. ʺThatʹs so cool!ʺ
Isaiah was silent. This time Melville suspected the man was hoping theyʹd gotten off track. He shook his head. ʺKeep going. Howʹd you kill them?ʺ
ʺI was messed up. A long time. Nicholas–ʺ
ʺThe old dude?ʺ
Isaiahʹs teeth gritted again. Melville wondered if maybe he wouldnʹt smile so much when the end came, after all. ʺYes. He got me out of…out of a bad life. And I followed him, all the way to the priesthood. Seven years after my ordination a girl came to confession. She confessed that she had unclean thoughts toward her father. I told her the usual things, be clean, gave her penance. Turned out she was being molested by him. She killed him, then killed herself.ʺ
Isaiah stopped. He licked his lips and looked stricken. ʺGo on,ʺ said Melville.
ʺI should have understood. I knew her, knew her voice even in the dark of the confessional. I should have understood, not what she was saying, but what she meant.ʺ
Melville sighed. This was kind of an okay story, but it was a bit off-subject. ʺHow does this get us to the answer to my question?ʺ
ʺI was upset. I went out that night and I fell off a wagon Iʹd been on for a decade. I drank. I got drunk. I hit a car.ʺ
Melvilleʹs eyes widened and he inhaled in sudden understanding. ʺThe girlʹs parents?ʺ
Isaiah nodded. ʺAnd the girl. The parents died. Not immediately. The girl would have seen them in the car, mangled and dying practically on top of her.ʺ
ʺAnd the girl herself?ʺ
ʺThe girl…ʺ Isaiah clenched his jaw again. Melville resolved to get him the name of a good orthodontist. He could use one of those night-time braces for tooth-grinders.
Then he remembered he was going to kill him.
Ah, well, itʹs the thought that counts.
ʺWell,ʺ Isaiah finally said, ʺyou saw her.ʺ
ʺWhatʹs wrong with her?ʺ
ʺBrain damage. She was in and out of a series of comas for a year, when she finally came out she couldnʹt care for herself. Not vegetative, but nearly nonresponsive. She sees things, we think, but she canʹt talk, she canʹt dress or feed herself and can barely even move.ʺ He paused. ʺShe likes cartoons. She likes going on walks. She likes to be read to.ʺ
ʺUgh.ʺ Melville shuddered. The cartoons were okay, but it bothered him that a retard would like reading. Reading was for well-read men. ʺThen what?ʺ
ʺWhat do you mean?ʺ
ʺHow did you end up killing people?ʺ
ʺI had to pay her hospital bills.ʺ
Melville shook his head. ʺNo, it doesnʹt work that way. You donʹt go from drunk driving to cutting people down for a living. There was something else. Thatʹs psychology, itʹs elementary really.ʺ He liked that last line. He heard it in a movie once.
Isaiah swerved slightly to avoid a dark shape in the road. It was large. Could have been a large coyote–did they have them out here?–or maybe something else. Melville thought he glimpsed a spiny back.
He didnʹt like that. That was kind of exciting, but mostly messed up.
ʺI was locked up.ʺ
ʺAh,ʺ said Melville. ʺAnd jail screwed with your head, huh? You got diddled in the laundry room? Some Aryan Nation guy with swastikas tattooed on his ballsack turned you into his girlfriend and made you hate the universe, huh?ʺ
Isaiah laughed bitterly. ʺI wish.ʺ
That was a surprise. ʺNot many people wish for that, my friend.ʺ
ʺWeʹre. Not. Friends.ʺ Isaiah looked at him long enough that Melville worried they might crash. The highway was mostly long stretches of nothing, straightaways with only scrub on either side. Still, they were going over ninety in a dense fog, and flipping over sounded a bit too exciting.
ʺOkay, okay. Ease up. Eyes forward, man.ʺ Isaiah looked back at the road. The speedometer needle edged down to sixty. ʺSo what happened in jail?ʺ
ʺNothing. I was out too quickly for anything to happen. I was charged with vehicular manslaughter and related charges. Open and shut, so the case came up fast. I pled guilty.ʺ
ʺHow long did you serve?ʺ
Another grim laugh. ʺI walked out the day of my trial. The judge liked priests, he liked me, and it turned out the girlʹs parents were scum.ʺ
ʺScum?ʺ
ʺDrug runners. Mid-level dealers the police had implicated in half a dozen murders. No one was going to miss them. So the judge actively looked for mistakes by the arresting officers and the lab techs who did my blood work. I was released on a technicality.ʺ
Melville shook his head. ʺWait, you plead guilty and they just let you go?ʺ
ʺYeah.ʺ
Melville chuckled. Then he laughed. Then the laugh grew to the point that he doubled over in his seat.
ʺWhatʹs so funny?ʺ
Melville couldnʹt answer for a moment. He wiped tears from his eyes. ʺJust…just I looked for so long, worked for so hard, for what someone just gave you on a silver platter.ʺ
ʺWhat are you talking about?ʺ Isaiah spat the words. Melville didnʹt mind. He was in too good a mood. This was just too funny.
ʺI wished for the longest time that I could do anything I wanted. Anything at all. And for the longest time I couldnʹt. But you…you waltz along and kill people and maim little girls and the law bends itself to let you off.ʺ He dissolved into laughter again. ʺSo…damn…funny!ʺ
Isaiah didnʹt join him in laughter. But that was all right. Melville understood now that they were brothers, and brothers didnʹt always laugh at the same thing.
ʺYou didnʹt go to jail. Then what?ʺ
ʺI went a little nuts. I realized there was no justice. At least, none that I could count on.ʺ
ʺSo?
ʺSo I decided to provide some. I quit the priesthood. I didnʹt believe it was helping anyone, and I only ever had one other skill: hurting people.ʺ
ʺNow weʹre talking.ʺ Melville punched Isaiah on the shoulder again. Good buddies. Pals. He wouldnʹt say it out loud, because for some reason Isaiah got all nutso when he did, but he was really groovinʹ on their connection. ʺSo you killed people?ʺ He grinned as the final piece fell into place. ʺBut only people who deserved it. Like a bitchinʹ avenging angel.ʺ He socked Isaiah on the shoulder once more. ʺYouʹre freakinʹ Batman, brother! Iʹm gonna have to call you The Black Avenger.ʺ
Isaiah nodded, face taut in the dim illumination of dash lights and the headlights reflected off fog. ʺYeah, thatʹs me.ʺ
ʺAnd the money goes to take care of the reta–I mean, the girl.ʺ Another nod. ʺDonʹt hospitals usually get weird about strange men taking care of people?ʺ
ʺMoney takes care of a lot of things.ʺ
Melville looked carefully at the other man. Shook his head. ʺIʹll give you this one because weʹre getting on so well. Donʹt leave stuff out or you can start calling the girl Stumpy.ʺ
Isaiah sighed. ʺI adopted her.ʺ
Melvilleʹs jaw dropped. ʺSheʹs your daughter? How the hellʹd you manage that?ʺ
ʺMoney takes care of a lot of things.ʺ
This time he believed his friend. He laughed. ʺThis is awesome. You have led a really exciting life, man.ʺ He wiggled the phone. ʺOne more question. You said you quit the priesthood, so why the priest outfit?ʺ
Isaiah answered quickly, like heʹd been waiting for this one. ʺBecause once I represented God in this outfit. Iʹm not sure there is a God anymore, but I still represent what I wish there was of Him. I come to protect the good souls, and send the damned on to Hell.ʺ
He looked at Melville. ʺAnd I send them on as early as I can.ʺ
Melville suspected that was supposed to be a threat, but he just laughed and punched the priest again. This was so cool. Just awesome.
Exciting.
His phone rang. Isaiah glared at him. ʺYou said you had someone on the line.ʺ
ʺI lied. Folks like you and me do that sometimes.ʺ He picked up. Spoke to the new voice. Always a new voice. That was kinda exciting, in a boring way.
After a few short words he hung up. A grin stretched across his face so far he could feel it in his earlobes.
ʺWhat is it?ʺ said Isaiah, aka The Black Avenger.
ʺWe got ‘em.ʺ
BALANCE OF JUSTICE
From: Director
To: FLASH LIST
CC: POTUS
Sent: Friday, May 31 10:42 AM
Subject: RDD/DefCon SitRep
FLASH ALERT:
At 10:39 hours, EST (14:39 UTC/GMT), an explosive device was detonated in Tehran. It is too early for definitive reports, but early analysis indicates it was likely an RDD (see Attachment A, info sheet 1, common radiological disbursement devices).
Based on the blast radius, it appears likely that the device was brought into the city via rail and detonated near the Tehran Station (see Attachment B, map 1). Explosive base was probably ANFO (see Attachment A, info sheet 2) or ANNM (see Attachment A, info sheet 3).
Winds are currently high, with unusual meteorological patterns rendering prediction as to radioactive fallout difficult. Analysts will provide information re projected casualties as it becomes available, but first area of impact likely confined to several square blocks (see Attachment B, map 2). Secondary area of impact has potential to encompass the entire city and possibly spread to surrounding areas (see id.)
Syrian forces began mobilizing immediately, though no formal or obvious targets have been apparent. IDF is involved in corresponding buildup, though Israel has already issued a statement denying culpability.
Analysts anticipate India and Pakistan will likely increase their military activities (see Attachment C, timelines A through F) in the wake of these events.
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