Hostiles

by Ethan Johnson

  And yet, she found herself surrounded by human obstacles to the things she wanted. People like Gabe and Hendricks started out friendly enough but turned on her in favor of their little Boys’ Club. Their ranks had been reduced with the elimination of Goodwin’s underlings—Diane took a moment to contemplate that word and decided it was appropriate—so maybe Gabe and Hendricks would be more… conciliatory. She dropped the unopened wine bottle on the floor and rubbed her temples painfully. She squeezed her eyes shut and saw words and definitions spread out before her like a map. Words glowed bright yellow and shot dazzling lines out in all directions to connect to other words.

  Conciliatory. Civil. Agreeable. Friendly.

  Yes, it was a good word, but… why hadn’t she just thought to use friendly? The word map shifted, and she saw a list of words gathering on the left that were unfamiliar and challenging. Words on the right were simple and easily chosen.

  “Officer Hendricks, that’s very conciliatory of you to ask me to partner up with you again,” Diane said aloud. She liked it. She sounded… smarter. In control.

  Diane fluttered her eyelids and the glowing words dissipated. She rubbed her forehead and tried to comprehend where they had come from, and why. She shot a glance in the direction of her dictionary and figured she had been studying it too much while Lyssa suffered at Trauma One. It had been years since she attended school, and dimly recalled her head hurting after doing her homework. She didn’t like it back then, but now, it felt good. In her view, she was taking charge and making up for lost time. Headaches and glowing words were worth the hassle if they led to a better life.

  As for Bertram, Scheltoff, and Sutter, Diane reasoned, they were minor annoyances compared to the Delaneys, who were directly responsible for keeping her separated from Lyssa and giving her so much time to study her dictionary. She crouched down and picked up the wine bottle. She raised it to eye-level and read the label: SAPPHIRE ONE. Diane tossed the bottle onto her sofa angrily.

  Sapphire may have scored a point, Diane thought, but the game’s not over. Not by a long shot.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Diane arrived at the Panther Division headquarters early Monday morning, intent on putting the weekend behind her and immersing herself in work to take her mind off her frustration. She slammed her locker door shut at the thought of being denied access to Lyssa by her parents. She only wanted five minutes to check on Lyssa and touch her. Maybe squeeze her hand, perhaps a quick kiss, something to let Lyssa know she was loved. Instead, the Delaneys maintained a constant watch over their daughter, ensuring Diane could not sneak in a quick visit.

  Diane straightened her name pin and headed for briefing room 1A. She sat alone for a few moments and stared at the podium. In twenty minutes, Sergeant Addison would give the daily briefing, then the officers would depart for their patrol cars with their assigned partners. Diane huffed at the realization she wasn’t paired up with anybody. Hendricks, her former partner, had paired up with Cade Goodwin, only to have their bond severed by a cruelly delivered bullet from Diane. Who would they stick her with next? Not Hendricks again, she thought. Not after the things he said about me.

  She closed her eyes and replayed the scene in her mind. The Masked Man had revealed how well Hendricks and Goodwin were getting along on patrol. Diane frowned at the jokes they made about her. She shook her head and sighed, letting the vision slip away. To hell with both of them, she concluded. She snapped her eyes open at the sound of footsteps. Three officers filed into the briefing room and chose seats at the opposite end of the room. She only remembered one of their names: Leonard. They gave her furtive glances and talked quietly amongst themselves. Diane had no use for them.

  Hendricks arrived three minutes before the briefing, followed a moment later by Gabe. Great, Diane thought, rolling her eyes. My least favorite people are here. A man wearing dress blues chose a seat in the front row. Diane squinted at him. He looked like Griggs, except he wasn’t wearing dress whites, and his rank pin seemed different. Another officer leaned over to set his coffee cup on the floor, blocking Diane’s view.

  Sergeant Addison stepped up to the podium at 0700 hours sharp. He looked around the room and smiled. “Wow, full house this morning. Good deal.”

  “Looks like school let out,” said Officer Banks. The room rippled with laughter. Addison nodded and signaled for quiet.

  “Yes, another batch of recruits has been cleared for takeoff. I told you guys the cavalry was coming soon, and here they are.”

  Banks leaned back and chuckled. “Good, ‘cause those parking tickets don’t write themselves.”

  Addison gave Banks a knowing smirk, then tried to maintain a dispassionate exterior. “It’s all about the needs of the division. Yes, there’s still a lot of crud to clear out after Arbor. Even now. If we want to make the city great again, we’ve got a lot of grunt work ahead of us. It’s not all shooting bad guys around here.” He was looking directly at Banks when he said that, but Diane tensed up as several officers shot dirty glances at her.

  Diane inhaled to speak, but Addison arm-pointed to the front row. “But shooting bad guys is part of the package in this day and age, and we’ve got a transfer in from Buffalo. I haven’t had a chance to review his whole file yet, but what I have seen is… well, unbelievable, I’ll be honest. But if he’s half as good as his rep, well, things are either going to get a lot hotter, or much quieter out there in the coming days.”

  Diane craned her neck to see who Addison was pointing to. After the disaster Cade Goodwin turned out to be, she was wary of any more Golden Boys. Banks chuckled again. “Buffalo? Is there any animal name they didn’t use when they came up with these divisions? What was wrong with precincts?”

  Addison gave Banks a hard stare. “Not the division, dummy. Buffalo, New York. It’s been around a long time. You might have heard of it.”

  “Hey, great wings,” Banks said. “Are you going to introduce this guy, or is he going to mingle later?”

  “Yeah, short and sweet, though. We’ve got crime to fight and a city to patrol. Give everyone a quick hello, Lightning.”

  Diane sat up. Lightning? Oh God, she thought, it’s Cade Goodwin all over again.

  A brown-haired officer stood up and waved to the room. “Hey, my name is Noah Hathaway. Like he said, I’ve been up in Buffalo since, well… not to be a cliché, but Arbor Day. I saw a recruiting poster and wanted to make a difference. After blowing through the academy, I’ve been running patrols ever since.”

  Banks rubbed his chin. “Lightning, huh? What’s that about?”

  Hathaway shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just a stupid nickname that unfortunately followed me here, looks like, with all due respect to the Sergeant.”

  “Well, you guys can bond over that story on your own time. Let’s wrap this up,” Addison said, giving Hathaway a dismissive wave. “Oh, speaking of, we’ve had a bit of a staff shake-up lately. You’re going to be seeing some new faces in new places, and some people have been given rank adjustments after, uh, recent events.” Addison looked at his watch. “Anyway, let’s blow this popsicle stand. Get your new partner assignments on the way out. Not another Arbor.”

  Diane rose from her seat amid groans and complaints from the rank and file. Officer Banks declared to the room that he wasn’t riding with anyone but Officer Williams. Diane cringed as someone behind her said they’d resign on the spot if he had to ride with her. She glanced over her shoulder but didn’t catch sight of him as the officers cleared out. Diane lined up to pat a neatly framed photo of the old Sixth Precinct building. “For Milton,” she muttered, and wiped a tear from her eye with her knuckle.

  The man in dress blues stood at the exit, handing out documents to each officer. Diane took her copy, then looked up at Griggs. She gasped at the sight of him. He gave her a hard stare. “Keep the line moving, please,” he said curtly.

  Diane nodded and hurried from the briefing room. She caught a glimpse of his insignia. He no longer sported the single bar
of a second lieutenant. Now he wore the double bars of a sergeant. Her eyes widened. People like Griggs seemed to advance regardless of their abilities. She thought of Bertram. He’d probably become the head concierge and be Kernan’s boss someday. People like him always were. Diane squeezed her fists at the thought and crumpled up her patrol assignment form.

  She stepped aside and leaned against the wall as a crowd of officers shuffled past her. Diane smoothed out the document and looked for her name. She prayed under her breath not to see HENDRICKS or HINAJOSA beside it. She wondered if everyone with an “H” last name had it in for her. She remembered Lee Harper and decided he was alright, though she rarely saw him these days due to their differing work schedules. To her surprise, she was paired up with another H name: HATHAWAY.

  Diane found him standing beside the entrance to the parking yard. He squinted at her name pin and took a step forward, extending his right hand. “Pembrook?”

  “That’s me,” she said. “Noel, right?”

  “Noah. Like the ark,” he said. Diane cocked her head. “You know, two-by-two? Big flood?”

  “No, it doesn’t ring a bell. Anyway, ready to see some action?”

  Hathaway patted his chest and smiled. “I’m always ready.” Diane smirked at the sight of a flak vest. It was much bulkier than her sleek body armor that she only wore when she was putting in her time working for the Masked Man and his mysterious organization. She looked at the floor and wondered if she was standing over him.

  Diane patted her sidearm. “Me too.”

  “So, I uh, figure you drive, and I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any criminal activity. I’m new in town. It doesn’t make any sense to have me driving around with no idea where anything is.”

  Diane shook her head. “I can’t drive. Maybe they made a mistake.”

  Hathaway frowned. “Wow, you can’t drive? I’m surprised they let you go out on patrols. Back in Buffalo, if you couldn’t drive, you didn’t serve. Not as a beat cop, anyway.”

  Diane bristled, but thought of Alexa and gave him a tight smile. “Well, Officer Hathaway, you’re not back in Buffalo. Things are different here at Panther.”

  Hathaway raised his hands defensively. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I can drive, but you’ll have to be my GPS, okay? I’m still learning what’s where.”

  Diane pushed the exit door open with a huff. “Fine, we’re late enough as it is. Let’s move out.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Hathaway said, pausing to check Diane out as she walked away.

  Diane and Hathaway rode together in silence for several blocks. Diane found herself falling into her old routine from when she was paired up with Hendricks: scanning the streets for potential threats while keeping an ear out for a summons from central dispatch to a crime in progress. Hendricks knew the city, which freed her up to focus on keeping watch over the streets without having to give verbal navigation cues as well. Hathaway pulled into what he perceived to be a left turn lane. Diane turned to him sharply. “Did you mean to take us to Mitchell Point?”

  He cocked his head. “Huh? No, I thought this cut through to Ferry.”

  “Ferry’s nowhere near here. Did they tell you where we’re supposed to be patrolling?”

  “No, they didn’t.” Hathaway pulled back into traffic with a sigh. “They didn’t really seem to know what to do with me, to be quite candid.”

  “Oh? Why’s that, Lightning?”

  Hathaway’s features hardened. “All due respect, Pembrook, you haven’t earned the right to call me that.”

  Diane gave him a sidelong stare, then returned her gaze to the sidewalk to scan for anyone on the Most Wanted list. “Well, excuse the hell out of me, then. Turn right up here, then another right at Branford.”

  Hathaway took the first right a bit too sharply. Diane jostled in her seat and grabbed her overhead handle for support. She swore under her breath. Hathaway took the next right much slower. Once the car was heading southbound on University, he took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “It’s just… you don’t know me. If we’d been partners for long enough, I’d roll with it. But it would be like me calling you ‘BD’, I think.”

  Diane felt her ears redden. A sudden surge of anger swelled up from deep within her. She fought against it and gritted her teeth as she gestured to an open parking spot. “Pull over here.”

  Hathaway did as he was told and took the car out of gear. Diane chose her words carefully as she glowered at him. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Hathaway seemed genuinely mystified.

  “BD. Who told you?”

  “Wuh… well… nobody told me, exactly, it’s just something I heard after the briefing. A bunch of guys were reading their assignments and joked with each other about being stuck riding with ‘BD’. One of them said the new guy was the lucky winner, and I assumed that meant me.” He shrugged. “Right?”

  Diane sank into her seat. This wasn’t what she needed right now. After everything she had done for Panther and for the city, to be reduced to a crude nickname because she loved Lyssa and because Cade Goodwin was the lowest scum-sucking toad to ever wear the uniform filled her with a blend of sadness and anger.

  Diane wiped her eye with her knuckle. She hated showing weakness to anyone, but especially at work to an unfamiliar fellow officer. She took a few deep breaths and composed herself. “I’m sorry I called you Lightning. It was wrong of me. It won’t happen again.” She hated every word in every sentence as she uttered them.

  Hathaway reached over and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Hey, no harm, no foul. You didn’t know. Neither do I. So, let’s get back to business, huh?”

  Diane forced a smile and nodded. “Definitely. Hang a left when you get to Court Street. That’s usually where the action is.”

  Just then, to her shock and dismay, a liquor bottle stuffed with a flaming rag sailed in a high arc and shattered a police cruiser’s windshield. A street gang bunched together, assailing the fiery cruiser. Diane directed Hathaway to pull over just outside of the hot zone. They exited the vehicle and drew their weapons. Diane thumbed her safety and looked for the gang leader in the crowd.

  Before Diane had a bead on the first hostile she saw, Hathaway was already firing. Three quick shots popped from his sidearm. Diane watched in disbelief as three hostiles reeled from fatal gunshot wounds to the head and chest. They dropped to the ground and landed haphazardly. Hathaway marched directly into the fray and put six more bullets into six more hostiles. Diane shot one in the arm as he pulled it back to launch another bottle. The bottle broke on the pavement beside him and set his pants on fire.

  The last two hostiles looked at each other fearfully. They raised their arms and dropped to their knees. Hathaway rushed forward and held his gun to the back of the closest one’s head. “Pembrook! Cuff the other one. I’ve got this one neutralized.”

  Diane staggered forward in a daze. Eight hostiles dead, and I only hit one of them? She couldn’t believe her eyes as the hostile she had shot writhed around, consumed by flames. His screams made her blood curdle. This wasn’t the clean kill she was famous for, and certainly wasn’t what the Masked Man had been drilling into her. She forced the last hostile onto his stomach and pulled his arms behind his back to snap on her cuffs. She forced the man to his feet and marched him toward their cruiser. As she did, she passed the flaming cruiser and saw Officer Banks lying beside it in a pool of blood.

  Diane shook her head in disbelief. Hathaway had taken out most of a street gang without a second thought. He was fast. Faster than her… and then she understood her partner’s nickname. Diane looked over her shoulder at Hathaway, who forced a cuffed hostile to his feet and ordered him to walk to the car.

  Lightning!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Diane and Hathaway marched their prisoners up to the Panther intake desk. Sergeant Parcells lowered his tablet and looked up at the cuffed suspects, then at Diane. “Who the hell are these guys?”

  “What’s l
eft of the punks who killed Banks,” Diane said, and pushed her suspect forward. The man bent over and grunted as his chest met the countertop.

  Parcells turned pale, then red. “Banks? You’re telling me these low-lifes are cop killers?”

  Hathaway nodded and pushed his suspect forward in kind. “Yes, sir. They surrendered peacefully, for what it’s worth.”

  Parcells gave Hathaway a hard stare. He looked down at his name pin, then looked Hathaway squarely in the eyes. “Banks is dead, is that right?” Hathaway nodded, and Parcells continued with a voice like steel. “Then these pukes are going in the blackest cells we’ve got. Officially, and for the record, the firing squad will finish them off, but by that time there won’t be much left to shoot at, you get me?”

  Hathaway took a hard swallow. “They deserve their day in court, same as anyone else.” He reached into his pocket and furtively palmed something metal. Diane caught a glimpse of it in the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t make out what it was. She changed hands to prepare to draw her sidearm if provoked.

  Parcells’ lips curled into a sneer. “Listen, meat, I don’t know how they roll wherever you crawled in from, but you’re in our house now. We look out for our own here in Panther.”

  Diane felt her suspect’s breathing speed up as the men faced off. Hathaway took a step forward, keeping his eyes fixed on Parcells. “Does that mean running a death squad, Sergeant?”

  “They killed Banks, didn’t they? Seems to me, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. We’ll just take our time with these two. Sends a message, you get me?”

  “I get you. The wrong one.” Hathaway raised his hand and pressed a button on a dull metal device. “I’m shutting this down. On behalf of the Anti-Corruption Task Force, you are hereby relieved, pending administrative review.”

  Parcells turned redder at this, then gave Hathaway a thin smile. “You and what army, pal? You think that do-gooder crap has any stroke around here? Think again. This is Panther. You’re jerking around with the wrong guy. And believe you me, we’ve got room in the back for rats like you.”