Houston, 2030: The Year Zero

by Mike McKay

  Chapter 16

  They did not need to run. Less than a minute later, Jasmine was back – with a small plastic jerrycan in her hands. Following the girl, Rodrigo puffed along the trench. As an experienced landfill policeman, he did not jump after Mark, but found a safe way around. Behind the Sergeant's broad figure, curious faces of scav girls popped up.

  “Water, sir. Only, it's a bit rotten. We haven't no other water in here,” Jasmine unscrewed the cap and poured a thin stream on Mark's hands. The liquid was yellow, warm and had the inescapable landfill odor. Mark cleaned his face and partially – hands.

  “Oh, I remember you,” Jasmine exclaimed, “you're an undercover cop, right? You told me to go see the Police doctor, 'cause I had all these little spots – from the battery.”

  “I remember it perfectly. You called yourself Amelia Khan. Actually, I'm looking for you. It's about your sister Mel, and your stepbrother Nick.”

  Jasmine backed away, apparently trying to figure out how to whack Mark with the jerrycan and make her escape. Alas, with the trench aperture plugged by the Sergeant's formidable body, she had nowhere to run.

  “What about my sister? I don't know nothing! Nothing!”

  “Wait! Take it easy. Is there a good place to talk?”

  “OK, let's go.” She told a scav girl behind Sarge's back: “Mini, can you look after my basket? I'll be quick. Only show the gentlemen to the lake and fetch water. Our 'can is empty.”

  They followed Jasmine. The girl navigated a maze of trenches and holes, gracefully jumping over mud puddles. Mark was surprised her soles were pink, not black, and only slightly stained with mud. Her clothes appeared relatively clean too. The landfill did not stick to Jasmine! After seven hundred yards, they arrived to a pond, filled with the same yellow stinky water, as in the girls' jerrycan.

  Jasmine sat on the edge of the embankment, dangling her bare feet in the air. “At the dam, nobody can't hear us. But if somebody comes too close, I will go, OK? 'Fill people don't like if others talk to Police…”

  After a little hesitation, Mark rolled up his sleeves, kicked off his shoes, heavily plastered with mud, and sat next to the girl.

  He was not sure how to start the conversation. Technically, he was not supposed to talk to a minor without her guardian present. But Jasmine had no guardian at all, and no means of finding one. Mark considered if a female officer should be necessary, but dropped the idea too. All the officers in the 'Fill beat were male, and calling Liz from the South Mesa Slum would take too long. All-right. We could call it unofficial. Not much to present in court, anyway.

  “Is it OK if I disappear for few minutes?” Rodrigo asked Mark, “while you do your talking, I'll buy a snack. From all your falls, my adrenaline is too bloody high! And when I'm wound up, I always develop an appetite. Do you want anything?”

  Mark winced. “Thanks, I am fine.”

  “And for me – could you, please, buy one rice ball? If it's no probs,” Jasmine said.

  When Rodrigo left, Mark took a deep breath. “Well, Jasmine, I did not introduce myself. My name is Mark Pendergrass and I'm not from the Police, but from the FBI.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “I'm after a serial killer. Jasmine. Have you heard about Sheldon Butcher?”

  The girl shook her head. “This was not the Butcher! Not him. I'm sure, Joe killed them! Why did Mel listen to Nick first place?” She sobbed.

  “Look, Jasmine. Do you mean: Joe Vo? I don't think it was him. That's what I'm trying to figure out. Could you tell me about your family?”

  “What's to tell? We're from New York. Myself – I don't remember New York. We moved here when I was three. My Dad often sat me on his laps and told me wonderful stories! The Central Park and Museum of Natural History! When Houston Museum was closing down, Dad said: let's go, check it out. It was so exciting! But Dad said, the Museum of Natural History – so much better…”

  “I was told your father died in an accident.”

  “Yeah… He fell from scaffolds and broke his back. The doctor looked and said: he won't live. And Mom tried to save him, see? That's how it all began. We needed money! For the medicines, and everything. Mom sold her gold – not enough. So, she went somewhere and borrowed. Then, she went again. And again… But Dad died anyway. He lived… for almost three months. Didn't move, only breathing and moaning…” She started crying and suddenly buried her face into Mark's shoulder, smearing mud over her cheeks.

  Unsure what to do, Mark gently touched her forearm and waited.

  “And then, Joe Vo came to see Mom. In the night. I pretended asleep, but listened to everything. Joe said: I gave you the loans, Madam; how do you intend to pay back? Mom said: I will pay, but not at once, can I pay little-by-little? And Joe said: it's not what we agreed upon, darling. Little-by-little will not do. The good news, Madam, I'm willing to accept your two daughters as an in-law payment.”

  “In lieu payment? That's what he said?”

  “Yeah. He told Mom: Amelia is fourteen – I give her a job right away. Your second – what's her name, Jasmine? She is eleven, but I can wait for a year. I am no monster, jus' business. In 2033, I erase all your loans, Madam, no sweat.”

  “Did you understand, back then, what Joe suggested?” In the FBI, they had tons of similar stories, – a part of their mandatory training on organized crime. The Bureau had a special abbreviation for this: SLIP – Shark Loan Into Prostitution.

  “Back then – no. I understood later. Joe said: it's not about the loan, Madam. I offer you a business opportunity! My employees train your daughters into profes-nals! In 2033, your girls can go priva-tear, install chips, and turn a good profit, all strictly legal. Do we have a deal? Mom cried and said, I can't give you my daughters. Can I go work for you myself? And he said, yourself, Madam? Must be a bloody joke! Who will pay for you – more than three hundred? I understand your santa-mens, and I give you two months. If in two months you bring me the money, – no hard feelings, and this chat never happened… And he left.”

  “And then?”

  “Mom started coughing blood. She had bad cough for some time before, but didn't see doctors. She was saving every dollar. Our neighbor asked one doctor to come and check Mom no-pay. The doctor said: lung cancer from as-best-oz. Do you know as-best-oz? The doctor said: not much time left. While Mom was dying, Joe didn't show up. We forgot about him. Mel started going to Day-Pay. I and my brothers went collecting food scraps from the neighbors. After Mom's funerals, Joe came again. He brought good food and Moonshine. He talked only to Mel, but I heard. You, Mel, he said, now the eldest in the family, you're responsible for your mother's loans. I feel sorry for you, but business is business. Either find the money, or you and Jasmine go work for me. Mel said: no way! And Joe said, like, easy going: OK, baby, a ‘no’ is a ‘no.’ You will regret your decision soon enough. Mel said, good riddance…”

  Jasmine bit her lip and wiped her tears.

  “One week later, we came home from the 'Fill. Had a lucky day. Mel got hired for a week, and Bertie found good scraps. Lucky… Right! They were waiting for us. In our house! Five men. Dragged us inside and locked the door. Put electric tape over our mouths. Me… with me, they did it only twice. I was bleeding. The third man looked at me and said: better leave the maggot alone, or she kicks the bucket. With Mel… They made her a Merry-Go-Round, like in Beaumont Arcade. Over and over again. Then, their boss told Mel: did you enjoy it, bitch? Tomorrow – do whatever. Call Police, I don't give a damn. But the day after tomorrow – all four of you will come to see Joe, at ten AM, sharp. Understood? If you don't come, we will be here again, but this time, I invite very different guys. They haven't taste for no girls, but make love with little boys. Think about your brothers' cute bottoms, and decide yourself…”

  “So you went to Joe Vo?”

  “What else? Our neighbors
called Police in the morning. They came, inta-rock-gated everybody. Made pictures. Took swabs for DNA… from down there… But then, they said, the DNA is canceled. Too expensive… Mel took us to see Joe. Joe looked at me and said – no freaking good: skin and bones! His ‘boys’ took Bertie, Millie, and me straight to the 'Fill and sold to rag barons for three thousand dollars… But barons are OK, they don't hold slaves for life. They don't need no adults. After you're fourteen, – that's all, you may go… About me – Joe had plans. He wanted me to grow up, before making me a hooker.”

  “Three of you. And Amelia?”

  “He told her to stay. Three months later, – she got a belly. Joe laughed and said: no probs, shit happens… Sorry, I mean: he said it like this. Joe's ‘boys’ brought Mel to see a doc, and the doc pulled her baby out. Mel said, piece-by-piece! Also, the doc cut something inside her, so she can't have no kids. After that, Joe said: Mel, darling, the 2033 is no more! I in-vested in you so much, now you and Jassy are my slaves forever. The good news, Jassy will get stiro-lay-zation – on the house! ‘On the house’ is a special word, like he can pay his money. Anyway, after the operation, they allowed Mel to go home in the morning. They called her ‘already screwed.’ Damaged inside, nobody wants her for a wife, and no place to go. Later, Joe told Mel: Jassy is ready to start her career. Go to the 'Fill, tell the barons: I want my slave back. Rag barons can't say nothing against Joe. But I got lucky!”

  “Lucky?”

  “Lucky! The battery exploded! Mel brought me to Joe. He looked at me and said: what a waste! Never trust those barons again! Gave them an in-vest-man and got back a one-eyed freak. OK, Jassy, your career is over, back to your stinky 'Fill! Get lost, he said. But I went to the 'Fill, like, dancing! For me, I'd better scoop shit… Sorry, – poo from latrines – than to be a hooker…”

  Rodrigo appeared at the dam, out of breath, holding a banana leaf with four rice balls and a Walkie-Talkie. He stuffed the leaf into Jasmine's hands, and reported, panting: “We got a roll-call. Something big: three dead, five injured. I'd better run.”

  “Do I need to come with you, Sergeant?” Mark asked.

  “Nope, thank you. Not an FBI's jurisdiction. The usual, shit like this happens here every day. Oh, my rice ball…” He picked the bitten rice ball from the banana leaf and rushed in the direction of the landfill. Sergeant Inspector had high adrenaline again. With such a stressful job, – too easy to gain weight!

  “Would you like a rice ball, Mister Mark?” Jasmine offered. “They're yummy.”

  Mark hesitated, but took the treat. Strange, but the landfill smell had disappeared. Whether it was due to the little breeze at the dam, or because Mark was already saturated with stench, and his brain refused to register it. The rice ball was surprisingly tasty.

  “So, I got a white eye, and wasn't a slave no more,” Jasmine said after making a tiny bite of her rice ball. “Auntie Kun… Really, she is not my auntie. The barons call it so: they're all ‘aunties’ and ‘uncles.’ So Auntie Kun said: you're a cripple now, so here is your tin, go begging, ask for food scraps, whatever. I see you at Day-Pay, – you're dead meat! The barons have such a rule. If you lose an eye or a finger, or if too many scars, you can't go to Day-Pay no more.” It would blow their cover, Mark thought. Three years ago, if any girl with Auntie Kun had an acid burn, he would send the freaking handler straight to jail – without questions!

  “But I met you at the Day-Pay.”

  “I went with the tin, but couldn't collect much. I'm not a vet, and have two arms and two legs. Who would give?”

  Say NO to beggars, Mark recalled the Salvation Way window poster.

  Jasmine bit her rice ball and continued: “So I said: Jassy, you're a spec'list! Find a job yourself! Auntie Kun just pupped a baby, and wasn't at Day-Pay, good deal! I got a job almost right away. One nice lady hired me to work in her gang.”

  “As a battery girl?”

  “A pit-checker. Do you know rot-pits?”

  “Sergeant told me today. Is it like a huge pimple in the ground?”

  “A pit-checker must be very light and very brave. I was light – like steer-of-foam.”

  “Styrofoam, Jasmine. And brave?”

  “Brave? Oh, I was shit… I mean: very scared. Sorry. These words, – at the 'Fill, we use them all the time, but they're bad! So, yeah, I was very-very-very scared. But didn't show it! Then, everybody in the gang said: Jassy, you never miss a rot-pit, stay in our gang peer-ma-neatly. It's a special word. Means: ‘all you want.’ My new boss bought me a fake paper, like, I'm already fourteen. They paid OK, so we pulled Millie and Bertie out of that stupid re-circled paper shop.”

  “From the barons?”

  “Yeah. I came to the boys one evening and said: don't sleep. After the master is gone, count to twenty thousand in your head, get up real quiet, climb over the fence, and I'll be waiting for you outside.”

  “Did it work OK?”

  “Not hundred pur-scent OK. On the first night, I was waiting and waiting, and they didn't come. Millie was counting – and fell asleep! But on the second night, I gave him a pin. Said: stick into your arm every five hundred! And our boys got out. The barons couldn't do nothing. If kids aren't hungry, the barons can't do nothing at all!”

  “Your brothers went back to school, did they?”

  Jasmine replied with proud smile: “Yeah! Mel sent them back to school! She came, told the Deputy Headmaster: such and such, our parents are dead, but we can pay the school fees now. Millie and Bertie are two years behind, but no probs.”

  “And after school, do your brothers work at the 'Fill?”

  “Four hours a day. Our boss pays them one quarter of a day-pay…”

  “OK. Tell me about Nick.”

  “I don't have much. Mom and Dad never talked about him… Nick showed up in Houston one year ago. He was still on crutches. Without a leg, do you know?”

  “I was at the crime scene.”

  “Yeah. He was in Venezuela, and they sent him to this boat… a floating hospital. He called it ‘Dumpster,’ so weird. I always thought ‘dumpster’ is like a big garbage box. Long-long time ago people gave their garbage to landfill no-pay, do you know?”

  Long-long time ago. Back in 2021, Houston still had a garbage collection service. Once a month, a truck came to their neighborhood to take away solid waste. But people knew better, and almost all garbage was processed and reused on the spot. Food leftovers – to the compost bin, or for the poor, anything burnable – to a fireplace, metals – to local blacksmiths, old electronics – to repair shops. More often than not, their dumpster was empty. Eventually, the truck stopped coming.

  “When Nick landed in Galveston, he decided to come and see his Dad's other family. He called us like this: ‘Dad's other family.’ Weird, is it? He and Mel went to the parents' graves… Mel told Nick everything. How Mom and Dad died, and about Joe Vo, and how she became a slave hooker. So Nick said: gimme one year. Now I'm no good – a cripple on crutches. But I get myself a new leg, and help you out of this mess. And then – he used his free pass for a military charter and went to New York…”

  “Nick returned to Houston three weeks ago, is it right?”

  “Yeah, about three weeks. I was so impressed how he learned to walk on his new leg. You wouldn't guess it atre-ficial. Only, if you look at his bike. He brought a bike from New York, with a bracket… Oh, and he had a plan.”

  “How to get you four out of here?”

  “It was only about Mel. Millie, Bertie and me – we could go any time. We're not slaves! But Mel – no, they would start looking for her. By one PM, Mel had to be at work. One time she was late, so Joe told her: I won't touch your pretty face, darling. Your skin is too precious. Giving you a black eye, he said, is like pulling money out of my pocket and throwing at Day-Pay. But your sister Jassy – oh, she will pay for you! Dearly. This time, no big de
al, – we give her a beauty spa with a hot shower. But once again you come late, he said, I'll send my boys to the 'Fill to give your Jassy a proper nose job. Do you know what it is, Mister Mark?”

  “Cut your nose off?” Mark saw such a gangs' mark, many times – on photographs, and twice – in real. Not a pretty sight.

  “Yeah! Joe said: after a nose job your one-eyed Jassy can be a queen of the 'Fill…”

  “What is the beauty spa?”

  “They find a latrine, so it's almost full, and push you through the hole, head first. Straight into sh… Poo! You try to get out, and they say: wanna hot shower? Stand at the hole and pee on you.”

  Mark swallowed. He was aware of this punishment too, only under a different name: show our guest to the bathroom and let him wash his face. “Did they do this… to you?”

  “No. Thanks God! Mel begged Joe to leave me alone. But she was very scared. About the nose job, Joe wasn't joking. Mel saw how they made a nose job to one priva-tear. ‘Priva-tear’ is a special word, means: a legal hooker, with a chip, who doesn't want no pimp.”

  “And what plan did Nick come up with?”

  “He decided to find a job in Houston. From time to time, he would come to Joe and buy Mel for a full night. As if he was only a customer. Joe didn't know Mel had a stepbrother, and they didn't look alike, so Joe would never guess. Nick wanted to do this few times, so Joe thinks Nick is a regular of Mel. The hookers often have regulars, right? They also decided to go to the woods, like Nick doesn't like sex in a share-room. This happens too. Then, Nick would buy Mel for a whole week, and we've plenty time to get away from Houston.”

  Heck, this plan might have worked, Mark thought. Only if they would not meet the Butcher on the very first night!

  “It was a good plan, Jasmine. Nick and Mel were just unlucky. It was Sheldon Butcher, and not Joe. FBI has special methods how to distinguish a serial killer from copycats. Joe sent his pass girl to the cemetery, for Nick's and Mel's funerals: to check who was actually killed. Consider, if he himself ordered to kill them – would he bother sending someone? Do you think Joe will not leave you alone after Mel's death?”

  “I was afraid it… It was Joe who killed Mel and Nick. So I told Bertie and Millie: we'd better sleep at the 'Fill. Spending the night at the 'Fill is ab-so-lutely prohibited. ‘Ab-so-lutely,’ it's a special word, for the guards. It means we have to pay them fifty bucks instead of five.”

  “You may sleep at home now.”

  “With Joe – you never sure. Now he is pissed off his slave is dead and his in-vest-man – became ugly… Am I ugly?”

  “Just the opposite, Jasmine. You're very pretty, trust me. Joe has wrong standards. He doesn't understand human beauty. He's not a human himself, that's why…”

  “Joe may send his ‘boys’ to give me a nose job, just for fun. Or, they do something bad to Millie and Bertie. Brake the fingers, so they can't work or study. We'd better sleep in the trench. I can pay fifty bucks. Ab-so-lutely.”

  It would be so nice to make a manly face, stick out your square chin and say: I'll be back! – Mark fantasized. His imagination drew how he, together with Sergeant Investigator Zuiko, bursts into Joe Vo's lair. For an incomprehensible reason, Joe was sitting behind a huge computer screen, like a typical villain in a spy movie re-run. Mark clutched two Uzi guns, spent cartridges flew in all directions, and Vo's ‘boys’ got peppered with neat bullet holes. Joe wet his pants. With an audible crunch, Sarge broke Joe's vertebrae… Finally, Mark returned to the dam, slightly wounded and a bit tired, and said: You may go home, Jasmine. Joe has no time for you. He has a little trouble – with his neck…

  But Mark was a mere FBI agent, not an action hero. They lived in prosaic 2030, not in the Schwarzenegger-Wallace-Eastwood 1980-s. The Uzi one could borrow at the Station weapons room, but only with due approval, which Benito Ferelli seldom gave, considering their perpetual ammo shortage. The borrower had to account for every spent cartridge. The Police had a sad joke that any officer should always leave the last bullet in the gun. After finishing your operation – shoot yourself in the head, and no problems. Much faster and way more enjoyable than to fill paperwork.

  Instead of I'll be back, Mark told Jasmine, “I have a plan. Have you studied Chemistry?”

  “I've only four grades. Income-platted. Didn't finish the last two months. No good?”

  “Never mind.” Mark got up and dialed a mobile of Frederick Stolz.

  “Can you give me a favor, Fred?” Mark asked after the greetings.

  “For you, Mark, – anything!”

  “At your plant – is where a place to sleep? Three teenagers, for a couple of weeks? Consider it under the FBI Witness Protection.” That's how we do the Witness Protection nowadays, Mark said to himself. The FBI had no budget for it anymore, so they had to improvise.

  “Three teens? They can sleep in our office. Only – no particular comforts. The ‘office’ is a much glorified name. You may call it anything, the shack remains a shack. But if your teens are fine sleeping on the floor, we can improvise something. Our night watchman should be happy. He can send the kids to fetch water or look after the boiler.”

  “Fine, we will be at your place in twenty minutes. Please, don't be scared. I'm a bit… muddy. It looks as if I have been digging garbage all day long.”