Houston, 2030

by Mike McKay

  “So the kids were left orphans?”

  “Ah, yes. Two girls and two boys… Amelia, she is the eldest, now nineteen, I reckon. She is from Rae-Ann's first marriage, before Rob. Then, the second daughter, Jasmine. She is about fifteen now. And two boys: Milton and Albert. They are ten and twelve, if I am not mistaken.”

  “Ten and twelve? I wonder how they got themselves into the AFCO database? You, sir,” he turned to the old man, “you said, they went to register?”

  “Yes, they went to register, young man! If I tell you they went to register – they went to register.” He obviously was a bit aggravated that his daughter told the officers about his poor eye-sight.

  “Ah, it must be the local AFCO initiative,” Kim confirmed, “it started recently. A bit like a boy-scout thing, runs once per month. The kids are not doing anything like military, and they feed them a free lunch. The real purpose is to make sure they have all the names for the potential draftees as the boys grow up.”

  “OK, never mind. You, ma'am, could you recall anything about the dual rape case three years ago?”

  “Sure! How can you forget such a horror? The Police asked us the last time, and recorded everything… We didn't know much at all. Early in the morning, Bertie, that's Albert, he came, shaking like mad, and said the girls were raped during the night. We called 911 right away. Both Mel and Jass were raped, yeah! There was a whole gang – five men. The boys were relatively unharmed. The men tied them up, but nothing else. Mel – she got most of the whack. She was raped at least ten times. Strangely, we did not hear anything unusual. It was quite a normal night… Anyway, after the men were gone, Bertie struggled himself out of the ropes and ran for help. It was pretty much all we knew. The rapists were never found. There was no court. Mel forbade Jass and the boys to talk about this…”

  “You said you did not see the family recently. For about… a week?”

  “Yes, that's about right. But I could be mistaken. They use this little solar-power lantern, – it is very dim. Maybe, they were at home, but I didn't see? They're usually very quiet. Keeping for themselves. The boys and Jass – I only see them on Sundays. I can tell you only about Mel. She leaves home every day around lunch time. Always says hello. I haven't seen her for a whole week, and this is strange, as I said earlier…”

  “Are the boys at school?”

  “Yes. I am sure about it. They have books and uniforms, and Mel makes sure they look neat and clean. Although, I think they go to work somewhere after the school and till the late evening. Despite it's illegal.”

  “Which school they are in?”

  “No idea, sir. Never asked.”

  “And Jasmine Hobson? Does she study or work?”

  “She works. The usual: on the 'Fill, sir.”

  “About the 'Fill: they told you or you guessed?”

  “Guessed. I saw her with the tools: the wooden planks for the feet and the garbage hook – have you seen some of those? And also, one of her eyes is all white, and there are several tiny scars on her face. She said: from a chemical burn. This often happens at the 'Fill.”

  Soon it became clear the neighbors knew nothing else of importance. Mark left completing the interview formalities to Kim and gave a call to Natalie. “We found the name of the female vic,” he informed the CSI. “Hobson, Amelia. May also be registered under surname Khan or Han, or similar. Born in 2011 or early 2012. She had three known step-siblings: Jasmine, Milton and Albert Hobson. For these three – exactly this surname. The address is… Well, in this slum, all the addresses are relative. Ready to write? The GRS, third Korean ward, second turn from the South Lake Houston Parkway. I can make a GPS fix and e-mail to you, if it helps.”

  “Please, sir. The fix would be very useful. By the way, I am truly impressed, how quickly you and Kim cracked it. I discussed the database results with Sarge. Before he went home to sleep. He was not too optimistic about the search. He estimated, it would take at least three days, sir.”

  “Well, once in a while, even the FBI can work fast. In this particular case, although, the breakthrough had nothing to do with Kim and myself. Actually, correction! It has everything to do with our Deputy. He found himself a girlfriend who is par with Sherlock Holmes in her deduction capabilities. And she did the rest.” While saying it into the phone, Mark smiled to Kim, who flushed red once again.

  “How interesting, the girl's surname is Hobson,” Natalie remarked.

  “Absolutely! I believe, she and Nick Hobson were somehow related. Amelia's parents were from New York. And Nick Hobson was also from New York. Amelia's dad and mom both passed away – in 2024 and 2026, respectively. Their names were Robert and Rae-Ann Hobson. OK, maybe, Rae-Ann was also using ‘Khan,’ or ‘Han’ for the surname… Please, try to dig something in the databases. I will be back to the office in the afternoon, so we can discuss…”

  Mark and Kim spent another two hours going from dwelling to dwelling. The neighbors did not tell them much beyond the facts the detectives already learned from the Desert Storm veteran and his daughter.

  “I can come here after dark and check if the Hobsons are back home,” Kim offered.

  “Only not too late. You will be off-duty tonight,” Mark pointed out. “Besides, my gut feeling is telling me your trip will be useless, – you will find nobody home. If my hypothesis is right, Nick was trying to pull the family away from the Vo's gang. When he and Amelia were killed, Jasmine had to assume it was Vo and his ‘boys.’ So the kids are unlikely to come home – at least for a while.”

  “And how do we find them, sir?”

  “Two possibilities, Kim. One: they are gone from Houston. In five days, they could be any place in Texas. Or even in the near-by states. In such case, we will be exceptionally lucky if we ever find them. Possibility number two: they are still around, but prefer not to come home for a while. Let say, they have no money for an inter-state trip, especially at such a short notice. Which means we may find Jasmine at her place of work. Remember, the lady said, the girl has a damaged eye and facial scars?”

  “Yes.”

  “About three years ago, I have heard all three names: ‘Jasmine,’ ‘Amelia’ and ‘Khan,’ from one garbage girl at the Day-Pay. And the same girl had the damaged eye and the chemical burns – from a battery explosion. This all together could not be a coincidence. First thing tomorrow, I will pay a visit to the McCarty Road Landfill. If I am unlucky tomorrow, we will repeat the visit on Monday. Perhaps, the girl takes Sundays off? But if she is still in Houston – we will find her, no problems.”

  As soon as Mark returned to the Station, his telephone started playing a melody reserved for the private calls. He pressed the pick-up button.

  “Mark, darling,” Mary's voice crackled in the speaker, “Mike is just back from the 'Fill. Guess what? He's got a draft notice! Can you come home earlier?”

  “Draft orders you mean? Must be a mistake… Sure, I will come. Leaving right now.”

  Without changing from his office clothes, Mark jumped on the bike and rushed home. Despite the busy late afternoon traffic, he managed the ride under fifty minutes.

  At their cul-de-sac corner, about a quarter mile from their house, he caught up with William, Clarice and little Davy, who were returning from their daily Loop. In accordance to Clarice's strategic plans, Davy was trained into the role of the blind beggar's guide. For his twenty months of age, the boy could walk exceptionally well, but still had trouble maintaining the desired bearings. On average, he would happily move towards any object which interested him within the last half a minute. Because there were so many interesting things around, maintaining a single course was totally impossible. In the family, they often joked about Clarice's ambitions, suggesting that she had to wait five years or so before trusting Davy to bring his Dad around the Loop. Clarice boldly replied that the scientific evidence was such that dogs' intellect did not exceed the one of a two year old child, but dogs could be trained to be a blind person's guide. She insisted it was not the dog who
guides the blind person, but the blind person who orientates himself, using the dog as a sensor instead of the non-functional eyes.

  Clarice started to play this little game with her son after William came back from the Dumpster. “Show me – Daddy's hands!” Clarice would ask. And the toddler would wiggle his own fingers in the air. “Here are Daddy's hands! Now show me Daddy's eyes!” And Davy would point to his own eyes. “Here are Daddy's eyes! Now show me Daddy's legs!” And the toddler would smile and slap his hand on the Dad's knees. “Right! Here are Daddy's legs!” The boy understood perfectly that his Dad had two legs of his own, but as for the hands and the eyes – he would have to provide ones for his armless and blind Dad. The optional ending part of the game, Mark did not particularly enjoyed watching. “Show me the Daddy's medal!” The boy would point to the Purple Heart. “Here is Daddy's medal! Now show me Daddy's donation bucket!” No problem, Mommy. Here is Daddy's donation bucket (as a part of the game, Davy learned to locate the Salvation Way bucket and place its rope over the Dad's neck.) “Well done, Davy! Well done! Now tell me: who is your Daddy?” – “A vet!” Davy would respond proudly. “And where do we go tomorrow?” – “Do the Loop!” “And what do we say on the Loop, Davy?” – “Change for Vets! Change for Vets!” At this point, Clarice would hug and kiss Davy: “Right, Davy! Change for Vets!”

  Today they were trying the Clarice's latest invention: recently she went to a flea market and purchased a child leash. To the harness ‘reins,’ she attached a textile loop, which William was supposed to hold by the remnants of his left arm. As Mark was approaching them, the loop slipped off the stump, and Davy immediately realized the freedom by happily tumbling towards the neighbors' mail box. Clarice, with her heavy tummy, followed to catch the escapee.

  “Navigation trials again? Any progress?” Mark asked dismounting from the bike next to William.

  “Is it you, Dad? The progress is excellent, Captain,” William reported, imitating some science fiction spaceship engineer. “Today we made two hundred yards in ten minutes. Course niner-zero. Some minor technical problems: the umbilical keeps disconnecting, and the sensor keeps running away. Considering that here I can maintain the direction by myself, and at much faster speed, we can call this space trial a success, but – only partial.” During his blind walking exercises with Clarice, William had learned this part of the road and was quite proficient at using the concrete sidewalk for maintaining direction.

  Besides the mandatory red bucket over his neck, his attire today was radically different from the one from the funerals' video. He was with bare chest, dressed only in knee-length Universal Camouflage Pattern shorts and a pair of flip-flops. When William and Clarice just started collecting for the Salvation Way program, William was always wearing his full uniform and his Purple Heart. Now he would get his uniform and his medal only on special occasions. On a normal day, he preferred something simpler. William often joked that his missing body parts provided sufficient proof of his service at a battlefield: “The Purple Heart is for those who cannot show the real battle scars.” Indeed, the government distributed so many Purple Hearts in the last ten years that wearing this medal every day made little sense.

  Clarice finally caught up with her son and picked him on her arms. “Hi, Mark! Today we almost got it right. Davy performed perfectly. I will need to attach another loop to the ‘reins,’ so they can't slip off.”

  “Would it be easier asking somebody to do the Loop with William while you are sitting with the newborn?” Mark pointed out.

  “Yeah? And give this ‘somebody’ half of our collection?” Clarice disagreed. “Never mind. We still have time – will figure this out somehow before the baby is due. By the way, why are you so early today?”

  “Mary called,” Mark explained, “apparently, Mike got his draft orders.”

  “They must send him straight to the Air Force!” William laughed. That was a common Army joke. The continuous shortage of the aviation fuel, spare parts and new aircraft reduced the Air Force activities down to flying the President in his Air Force One and some other big shots from the Government and the Pentagon in their few remaining executive jets. The air bases and ground radars were either abandoned or manned with cheaper civilians, so the chances of getting into the Air Force for an average draftee were next to none.

  “Must be a mistake,” Mark mentioned, “if I remember correctly, the family members of a disabled vet should not be called for the active duty. Perhaps, this will be some basic military training, – several weeks in a boot camp, that's all. Anyway, stop your ‘space trials,’ and let's run home.”

  “I also believe we have done enough navigation for today, Ris,” William nodded. He kicked off his flip-flops. “You and Dad can take Davy for a bike ride. I will get home on my own.”

  “Sure you can do it on your own, William?” Mark asked.

  “No problems, Dad. Thanks to my wife's persistence, I learned this cul-de-sac better than the palm of my hand. Whatever place my hands now are, ha-ha! Honey, take the bloody bucket and the 'flops.”

  Clarice relieved William of the donation bucket and inserted her feet into the abandoned flip-flops. Today she was without shoes. Since the beginning of the year, Clarice frequently did the Loop in bare feet, and Mark suspected that she was trying to delay the inevitable purchase of the new footwear. Her only pair of sneakers was recently fixed by the market cobbler, but was quickly approaching the end of its useful life. Next time, there would be nothing to fix, the cobbler said. Somehow, every time William and Clarice managed to amass enough money, something more urgent would pop up, and the new shoes would have to wait once again.

  On several occasions, Mark tried offering Clarice money to buy a spare pair of sandals, and every time she would childishly wave her hand and refuse. Sometimes she pointed out that walking barefoot was good for her spine health, the other times she joked that she always had a dream of being ‘barefoot and pregnant.’ William told Mark that Clarice secretly visited the Thrift Store supervisor, but retuned upset. Obviously, she was told that the ‘Social Optimum’ could not provision for such a luxury as a free pair of second-hand shoes for the vet's wife.

  Clarice lifted Davy off the ground and sat him on the bike's cargo platform. For the little boy, sitting on any bike was the best treat. Mark was pushing the bike, and Clarice was holding Davy to prevent him from falling over. William followed them quite confidently, feeling his way along the sidewalk with his feet.

  Chapter 12

  At home, Mary and Mike were at the dining table, studying an officially-looking paper. David-senior puffed his usual pipe at the porch.

  “Is it the one?” Mark asked from the door pointing to the paper in Mike's hands.

  “Yep! The draft orders, Dad,” Mike replied in brave voice. “The AFCO dudes were around our shit-pile today, giving these to everybody of the right age. Mine is for the Infantry.”

  “Just a boot camp, I hope? The basic infantry training only?”

  “Nope. Apparently – a full-blown active duty. Check the freaking letter. Three years. Deployments – for sure.”

  Holy shit, Mark suddenly felt sick in his stomach: they kick me out of the FBI, Mike goes to the Army for three years. What income would they have? Mark's carpenter shop was just a distant dream… Mike might send few thousand a month, but not while in the boot camp… William, with his donations… Stupid. William and Clarice had nothing more than the damn ‘Social Optimum’… Mary's vegetable beds at the backyard… Few ‘unnecessary’ things they might sell at the flea market… It looked uncomfortably tight.

  “But – your brother has served already, and he is a disabled vet. Did you tell them? You even don't need to tell them such stuff. They should have a database record, no?” Mark asked.

  “Oh, the AFCO explained, why William doesn't count. He's married already. Technically, he is not an immediate family member anymore. Besides, there is a new set of rules this year, so even if he wasn't married, I would be serving a full-te
rm. Read here.”

  Mark took the paper and read from the place Mike's index finger was pointing to. “It says: you may be eligible for the active duty exemption if (a) two or more of your immediate family members have been killed in action while in the US Armed Forces in the last fifteen years, (b) two or more of your immediate family members are disabled military veterans, with disability levels at or exceeding 35%, (c) one of your immediate family members is a disabled military veteran, with disability level at or exceeding 90%, and (d) if you are a single parent or guardian of at least three children less than fourteen years of age… What a..?”