Immortality (54 page)

This was the second step to special order Twelve-Eighteen.

“I sure as hell can’t fly,” said Hendrix. “And there ain’t no doorway in that fence.”

“That slant-eyed fuck’n gangbanger isn’t worth the trouble,” said Roy Burton.

Bobby Williams got back on the bullhorn.

“This is your final warning. Lay down in the road now or we will open fire.”

“My wife’s hurt!” yelled the man. “We need help.”

“Yeah, right,” said Hendrix. “He’s probably the one that hurt her. This bugger gets any closer and I’m taking him. There’s no way I’m letting some bastard with a gun walk up to me.”

“You can’t,” protested Sarah.

“This son of a bitch isn’t giving up,” said Bobby Williams. “We got a perp that is armed and approaching the line. Can you make out the gun, Roy?”

“Sure as hell looks like a piece to me,” said Roy Burton.

“Okay,” said Bobby Williams. “Any one want to volunteer?”

“I got it,” said Roy Burton.

Sarah was dumbfounded. They were going to legally murder this guy. She ran to the trunk of her car. What she was about to do felt surreal. She opened the trunk.

“All right,” said Bobby Williams. “The checklist is complete. I’m green-lighting this situation.”

“Do it and you’re dead!” yelled Sarah.

She had the M16 pointed at Roy Burton’s head from less than a foot away. Half the weapons shifted from the perp to Sarah. She could feel each spot where a bullet would puncture her body if they opened fire.

“What the fuck are you doing, Officer Mayfair?” yelled Bobby Williams.

“Let him go,” snarled Sarah.

“You’re losing it, Officer Mayfair,” said Bobby Williams. “Put the gun down.”

“This quarantine’s a lie,” yelled Sarah. “This guy’s not a threat to anyone.”

“Screw off,” said Roy Burton.

He fired a shot. Sarah jumped but didn’t pull the trigger. Roy Burton started laughing. Sarah looked through the fencing expecting to see bodies on the ground. The man was still standing. His eyes were locked on Roy Burton. An unmistakable rage was in his stare. The shot had gone into the ground a few feet in front of him. Wordlessly, the man started to back away with his wife in his arms. Roy Burton fired another shot into the dirt. The man held eye contact with Roy Burton while continuing to back away. He reached the far shoulder then after a moment began to trudge east. He stared back their way a few times with a kind of defiance. The weekend warriors kept their weapons aimed at the man. Sarah guessed the stooges dressed up like soldiers were waiting for a counterattack.

“Mayfair, you pussy,” said Roy Burton. “I knew you wouldn’t shoot me. Hey, you know, this was a real Kodak moment. Shame we don’t have any photographs of other things I can shoot.”

Sarah thought about the picture of Ralph with a gun sight drawn over him. The sneer on Roy Burton’s face said it all. He was the one who had left that death threat picture. Roy Burton blew her a kiss. In a single fluid motion, Sarah reversed her grip on the M16 and swung the rifle stock into him, hitting Roy Burton in the center of his face with all her rage. He went down.

“You bastards!” she yelled. “Stay away from me… All of you stay away from me and Ralph.”

After failing to respond to repeated orders to return her patrol car and report to the duty officer, Sarah pulled into the Richmond barracks. She parked in a marked off space blocking the walkway to the entrance. The headlights of her cruiser flooded into the lobby of the building. She popped the trunk and removed from a recorder a digital video tape which documented her patrol; then as an afterthought, she grabbed a blank tape and hid the real tape on her person. All cruisers were equipped with automatic video recording systems with front and rear-facing cameras. The tape was her bargaining chip. She had no illusions of changing anything in this sewer. She just wanted out. Her mind kept jumping between the image of a scared man carrying his injured wife and the death threat photograph in her pocket. She knew Captain Dupont was in his office. She walked past his night secretary and pushed the glass door open without knocking. The room was a mess, a pigsty befitting the racist pig who dwelled there.

“I want a transfer to a different part of the line, in a different state as far from here as possible,” said Sarah.

“Do you not believe in knocking?” said Captain Dupont in a tranquil southern voice.

Sarah felt an urge to shove her gun down his mouth and demand that he give her what she wanted.

“Knock this!” she said and slapped the blank video tape on his desk. “Do you know what your little piglets were up to?”

“Are you referring to an attempted legal prosecution of a section Twelve-Eighteen this evening out by Esker’s Pond that was prevented by your psychotic episode?”

Sarah felt some of the wind being stolen from her by his nonchalant response. It was no real surprise that Dupont knew about the incident but he seemed so confident. What did he know that she didn’t? The I64 line was covered by video cameras. Incriminating parts of tapes were probably being erased at this very moment but he knew she had her own tape.

“There was nothing legal about the murder Burton almost committed,” said Sarah.

Captain Dupont leaned forward in his chair, his southern genteel still in evidence. He appeared calm, but something about him reminded Sarah of the coolness of a snake before it struck.

“You, missy are pure trouble. You are not only difficult to control, but you are infecting others with your attitude. That little bedmate of yours, Officer Breaux, refused to make an arrest today. Said the couple just strayed across the line. Strayed twenty miles and kept on going, I dare say. Well, I guess, what should one expect from a Cajun like our Officer Breaux? They’re all just hillbillies with a funny little accent.”

Sarah bit back what she wanted to say. There was no point in letting this get out of hand in that direction. She had no love-lost for Alex after his betrayal, but Dupont was such a racist pig. Was he baiting her? She was suddenly aware that Captain Dupont probably considered her a mixed breed. Her skin was probably a bit too dark for his genteel tastes, her features a bit too non-European. She looked directly into his eyes without blinking. There was a condescending lilt to his expression. In that instant, it all became clear: he was prejudiced against her. That’s what had been going on since the beginning.

“I want a transfer,” said Sarah. “You want me gone as much as I want to leave.”

Dupont smiled, his little black eyes gleaming.

“You will not get a transfer, young lady. Do you think I am a stupid man? Do you think I do not know of your little escape from New Jersey? You are in no position to make demands. You will give me everything I want, when I want it, and you will get nothing in return. You will be a slave. That will be my compensation for your disrespectful behavior.”

Sarah felt ill. Her skin was too warm. There was a dizziness like a fever. She was suddenly and completely off balance.

“What you’re talking about never happened in New Jersey or anywhere else,” she said weakly. “Even if it had, that CDC fax I saw means it’s no longer a crime.”

“Missy, we both know what happened in New Jersey, and Boarburg, New York State, and here too. I have had everything investigated and documented. You know as well as I do that the law is sacrosanct and not open to individual revisionist history. Were that not the case, we would be allowing anarchy. Now, you are in no position to issue demands upon me. Here is what is going to happen. You are fired and you are blacklisted. This department has already filed charges against you for felonious assault on an officer of the law, our upstanding Officer Burton to be specific. I understand in your psychotic episode you knocked three of his teeth out. My, my, such a violent young woman. Maybe it is your exposure to the plague affecting your mental capacities? In any event, there will be no trial. You will sign a confession, and in return you will be granted parole, and you will leave here in disgrace. Your transgressions will follow you for the rest of your sad little life. You will never work as an officer of the law again. You will never work at any decent job again. You will be a convicted felon.”

Sarah wondered if she could shoot this snake and escape before they captured her. Killing him would be a service to humanity.

“Now, I am not without some compassion for your predicament,” said Dupont. “I have had my secretary, Helen, go through the trouble of typing up some paper work for you to volunteer as a test subject for the CDC in Atlanta. I understand they are looking for creatures the likes of you. People who have survived in the midst of kill zones and such. She has typed up a nice little report detailing your unnatural experiences in New Jersey and Virginia Beach. Now, don’t thank me. It is unnecessary. Even though the state pays me a small finder’s fee, I am offering you this opportunity out of Christian charity. I just felt that since you could no longer hold any kind of paying job, other than prostitute and such, that you could do something worthwhile with your life by serving as… Oh, what is it called now?… Oh yes, serving as a laboratory test rodent.”

“Fuck you,” said Sarah. “You self-righteous pig. I will turn this video over to Major Frank Warton and CNN and everyone else I can come up with. I will see you screwed!”

“Of course you will my dear. Every one will be so eager to listen to the vengeful and insane shrieks of a convicted felon; especially when she is hawking a tape that includes a lovely vignette of her brutally assaulting a fellow officer.”

Dupont got up from his desk and walked over to the fax machine in his office. She noticed he was wearing a snub-nosed pistol in a belt holster. He had the CDC volunteer paper work in his thin little hands. He looked so pleased with himself. Sarah knew this was all part of some carefully planned revenge. How could one human being be so despicable?

“Why don’t you sign this little CDC application and we can fax it together. Wouldn’t that be nice? All we have to do is drop it into this slot and it’s on its way like magic. Get an early start on your new life as a laboratory test rodent. I’ll have Helen bring in your confession lickety-split so that you can sign that also… Get a clear conscience and all.”

Sarah stalked up to Dupont and snatched the paperwork from his fingers. She had a small pleasure when he flinched. She was leaving and nobody was going to stop her. Her brain felt like it had been scrambled. She was furious and wasn’t thinking clearly. She fantasized about pistol whipping him as she turned and then walked, with as much control as possible, toward the door of his office.

“Well, you are very welcome, my dear,” said Dupont. “I guess you are leaving. Have a nice trip now and do write. Oh and don’t worry about that confession. I will have someone sign it for you in the perfectly matching style and grace of your lovely penmanship. I am sure I can find someone in my jails with the necessary skills. Please write me if you would like a copy for your personal records.”

~

Sarah stared at the house she had lived in since coming to Virginia. Rain was starting to drizzle down. The sun was disappearing. Another dismal end to another dismal day, thought Sarah. The backseat and trunk of the tan colored Buick Riviera were packed with her belongings along with several things she had taken from Alex’s home. The classic ‘72
Boat Tail
Buick also belonged to Alex. He loved this piece of collector’s junk which he’d just bought and was restoring by hand. One of the high-beams was burnt out, the rear fender was dented, the carpets were disintegrating, the electric windows kept sticking, and it had an eighth of a tank of gas, which was no surprise considering how fast this gas guzzler could drink a tank. She wondered just how far she would go in the car before replacing it. She could have
borrowed
a different car, but it felt good to be striking back at Alex. She had no illusions about him. She was certain he’d been a critical source in Dupont’s investigation.

Her fingers lingered over the ignition key. She thought about how she’d repeatedly gone after Dupont. Had there been a kind of twisted wish fulfillment goading her? Calling him names to his face, pushing him, almost daring him. Why hadn’t she just quietly left days ago? Had she wanted to be forced into it? She gazed down the empty street. The deepening pools of shadows made her uneasy. The wind gusted with faint whistles through tree branches.

Sarah turned the key. The starter motor whined for an eternity before the huge high performance engine stuttered to life. The engine had just been rebuilt with racecar parts. Alex claimed the big block put out four hundred horsepower. She adjusted the rearview mirror. The glass was cracked. The mirror began to slip back to its original angle as soon as she took her fingers away. Alex’s first priority for the car had been the engine. Ralph sat upright in the passenger seat. He sniffed at the dashboard and then sneezed.

“Dirty, huh?” said Sarah.

Ralph looked at her and then flopped down onto the seat.

“Well, I guess this is the beginning of another great adventure.”

Her chest felt empty. She pulled out of the gravel driveway and onto the road. After stopping for gas, she turned off a surface road and onto Interstate Ninety-Five heading south. As the miles grew, Sarah began to remember all the bad that had happened: the threats, the cold shoulders, the deceit. She focused on Alex. She could see his face. She remembered his touch. The empty space inside her was filled with resentment. The void was like a tiny world of hate that attracted more of the same to it, building and feeding on itself. How could he have treated her like this? She gave herself to him. She’d trusted him and he exposed her.

“We’re better off gone,” she told Ralph.

The rain started coming harder. She turned the wipers to high. The blades left streaks of water across the windshield. The road went through a series of large dips. Some of the boxes in the backseat shifted. Sarah glanced back to check. One of them had tipped on its side. Cartons of cigarettes had spilled from the box. Out of spite, she had taken everything Alex had of value, including his horde of cigarettes which amounted to two full cases. In the new world, Marlboros were worth more than gold. She’d left behind the death threat photograph torn in half and thumbtacked to Alex’s front door. She wanted there to be no doubt who’d taken his stuff.