It Was 2052 (3 page)

All three young hands moved to their guns and Eric said, “Move on Asshole.”

One of the men spit a nasty dark goo right at Eric's feet. The possessor of the sneer was suddenly rolling a pocket knife between his fingers.  Jackson was thinking that here was that confrontation he had avoided all this time, when a new figure joined the six of them.  From a nearby doorway, an imposing man with a holstered pistol on each hip, a rifle over his shoulder stepped out. The western style hat was no small piece of head wear and his pointed boots had a shine on them, his eyes invisible behind dark sun glasses.  He poked a finger, hard into the chest of the center man of the three, “Didn't I warn you not to be talking to or messing with any folks, par-tic-CU-lar-ly women folk, on these streets?” His voice was deep and had the tone of a croaking frog.

The man straightened himself, made an effort not to flinch, “Yes sir.”

“Unless you're missing them leg irons and the work crew, don't you let me so much as see you---
any
of ya'll,” his head turned to each of them, “even blinking at any females. Got that?”

The three just nodded and hustled away behind them, disappearing into the crowd.  The three young people let out a sigh of relief.  Eric stuck out his hand, “Thanks Sheriff. Those jerks are pure bad news.  Oh yeah, this is Jackson. He and I are the new carpenters at Brewer's. We're just out to do some trading, have some lunch.”

“Nice to meet cha'” croaked the man. “On about yer bizness now.” He was walking away but turned, “Kid,” he appeared to be looking Eric's way, “Shoot first, ask questions later.”

“Got it,” smiled Eric.

The big red lips flashed across the screen again, a sexy voice was amplified over their heads,
Come to Luciano Village and try a piece of my pizza,
then a smacking sound.  They all laughed, Rose put her hands through both of the man's arm, “About three blocks down. Let's see what shopping we can do and it's Pizza for lunch.”  The sun was making a valiant effort to shine and the demolition derby in the street sprayed murky water on the inhabitants of the sidewalks of Big D.

Chapter Two

Level Three

It was Dallas, not the sprawling Texas city of the early twenty first century but still Dallas.  He had to admit that he was a “country boy” because he felt amazed at the vast difference between his hometown of Unity and this place. The city was an eclectic mixture of things he had only seen in books or old movies. The fascinating visions he had often watched on the vintage television in the common room at the family complex; pictures of modern life before the event and stories that depicted characters very much like the cowboy sheriff he had just met a few moments before. 

It was well past lunch time when the three friends entered the pizza place on the lower floor of the Luciano Village.  They had gone in and out of several of the other villages, traded and purchased nearly all of the supplies Jackson and his helper needed.  The two men patiently waited on Rose as she looked through various offerings in the village markets.  Now Eric said, “Girl, it's way past lunch. I'm about to cave in. Let's find that pizza.” 

Rose gave up on her efforts to talk Jackson into buying a long sleeved denim shirt, similar to the one that Eric was wearing. She was unaware that the young man was being very cautious with his funds now that he knew he wouldn't get paid until the end of the month, she just shrugged. A pale colored blouse got placed into the shopping bag over her shoulder and she gave the clerk a few coins, pleased with the purchase.

The cafe smelled of all the Italian ingredients that create a pizza. They ordered,  sat at a small table with bottles of water and waited for a number to be shouted out. On the exterior wall of the village a big wood fueled oven heated the room and sent smoky aromatic smells through the heat as the pizzas baked.  Jackson looked around at the crowd that was sparse since it was late for lunch.  He had lost track of what Rose was chattering on about, just said
uh-huh
in courtesy. 
There---
at a table in the back corner, the light was dim but no mistake it was those beautiful big red lips.  Of course, not as big or as red but it was those pretty lips. The exotic young woman was thin and small, her glossy black hair was sleekly pulled up and away from a delicate face, a long ebony stream of it flowing down her back.   Large dark eyes caught his for just an instant and looked away.  She sat very straight in her chair and listened unsmiling to a man sitting with his back to them.  When the man turned up a bottle of beer, Jackson saw that it was the aggressive man from the street earlier. 

The large pizza was brought to the table. It tasted good and Jackson was trying hard to keep his attention on the conversation and company of his two new friends. His eyes kept wandering to the girl in the dusky shadows of the room.  She didn't seem to be happy, perhaps even frightened. Eric said, “So, how do you think we can get those shelves up from the basement. You think we need to take them apart and rebuild them in the mayors office or do you....” the voice faded into the background of Jackson's head as he saw the woman and man stand up.

The man put a rough hand on the woman's arm and they moved farther back into the cafe, towards a door.  He tapped on the door, it opened and the gray haired man that was visible looked familiar, he allowed them to slip through the narrow opening. 
Is that the man from Brewer's? Half of the old couple that came from the second level stair entrance?

Jackson said, “Sorry to interrupt, man.  That thug on the street, what do you know about him?”

Eric and Rose looked around the room, “Why? Is he here?” said Eric.

“He was, sitting over in the corner with a woman.  They went through a back door. You know, I would swear that the man who opened the door was that old guy from Brewer's. The man from the couple that asked Rose's uncle about lunch.”

Rose said, “Really, that's a little odd. I don't actually know the old couple. Guess the man could be here for any number of reasons.”

“All I know is that the guy from the street is a real piece of crap. He's connected in some way to  the shady stuff that goes on in the villages.  I think he would slice your throat in a blink,” said Eric.

“The woman was young and really pretty. Wonder what she would be doing with that sleaze-bag,” said Jackson.

“My uncle is always warning me.  Not everyone is here in the city of their own free will. I think some folks, especially women, do what they have to in order to survive.”

He tried to push down his curiosity and also not show that this dark side of the city was damn unsettling.  “Well, okay.  Let's head back to Brewer's and figure out how we're going to handle those shelves.”

Looking at a clock on the wall, Rose said, “Oh, my gosh---yeah, we gotta go. I need to be in the pub in a couple of hours.”

***

The third level of the Brewer's Village was a copy of the fourth, various size rooms and two large bathrooms for residents between the ages of thirty and fifty.  John took off his work boots. He splashed just an inch of Brewer's Bourbon in a glass and sat at his table by the window, placed his socked feet in the second chair.  Being a maintenance man would probably never entitle him to one of the sparse rooms with a private toilet. That was okay, he hadn't always just swept floors, repaired plumbing and replaced light bulbs. Being here and close to his niece was just fine with him.

John had taken on the responsibility of Rose when he was just thirty years old. He remembered a little of the world before the event, but mostly had known the world after.  When his older brother, Rose's father and her mother died of a virus, there was no one left of family other than himself to take care of the feisty red headed six year old.  He quickly grew to love her like she was his own daughter. 

Even though it was twenty years after the catastrophe, the world was very unstable and many bad people roamed the countryside.  John led a strong and effective militia for several years and the rural area that he and Rose lived in stayed reasonably secure. He never had time to marry, as a matter of fact, their country home was in an area that was still very scattered in it's population.  This had a lot to do with his decision to move he and his twenty one year old ward to Dallas. He felt like she needed to have more people in her young life.
Who knew?
He was only forty five years old, perhaps he would find a companion in the big city.  So, two years earlier, they had arrived at Brewer's Village and so far, he hadn't regretted his decision. 

Just one more little shot and I'll go down the hall and shower.
  He was glad that Rose had met Eric. He was a good man and it took some of the burden of worry from his shoulders to know that she had someone to watch out for her. She was a tough little gal; he had made sure that she knew how to protect herself and she was capable.  This was a big city and there was more than a few things that troubled him, however. 

He didn't want to put the heavy boots back on, he slipped his feet into some canvas shoes and gathered some clean clothes to take to the showers.  Not a man that you would turn around and stare at, he was a pleasant looking person. Rose looked more like her pretty mother than his brother, with her stunning red hair. Like his brother, his hair was a dark brown, now just touched with gray at the temples. He did have hazel eyes that leaned to the brown hue like his niece, his smile came easy and he had a good sense of humor. Lean and of average height, about six foot, he was stronger than his casual appearance indicated.  On occasion a pair of non prescription reading glasses sat on the end of his nose. He had been home educated like so much of the population the last thirty five years but was intelligent and loved to read. 

Looking out the window, a thoughtful look on his face, he remembered the conversation that he had earlier in the day with an old friend. About a month before, a man that he served with in the militia came to town. He was just a little older than himself, in reality had been a friend of his brother's. He knew and trusted the man and put in a good word for him. The friend was accepted into Brewer's and worked with him on the maintenance crew. The man could've lived on the lowest residential level but had requested the third floor.  The two of them had been repairing some plumbing in an unoccupied room, he said, “John, I want to talk to you about something. You know that I completely trust you and that's why I'm going to tell you some things.”

John had laughed, put down the wrench he was using and said, “What is it, bud? Have you fallen in love with me?”

The man slightly smiled, “Sorry, you're not my type.” He continued, “About three months ago, a man contacted me. Said he was from the government.”

“The government?  Don't hear much about them anymore,” said John.

“Yeah, well there has been a big movement the last few years to re-establish our government and to help in restoring the country.  Not moving very fast, are they?  Anyway, the man said that they have become increasingly concerned about the bad elements that still seem to be strong, especially in the big cities.”

“As if,” said John, “there would ever be a termination of evil on this planet of humans.”

“True. This government agent said that it has become evident that this is more than just a few thugs or criminals scattered around.  They believe that the cities are the headquarters for a highly organized network, a growing and determined group that wants to rule and dominate our recovering society.  They participate in the usual nefarious activities to mask a much more complex and destructive objective.”

“You mean gangs---what was it they used to call organized crime---a mafia?”

The man picked up the wrench and worked a bit more on the sink plumbing. He wiped a towel across his forehead, turned on the water and checked for leaks. Washing his hands and drying on the towel, he said,  “Here's the weird thing, old friend. The government guy said that these aren't exactly normal human bad guys.”

“Not
normal
or not
human
? What then---aliens? zombies? Little green boogers?” he was amused.

“Maybe not exactly. The people that are running these organizations are extremely ruthless, sociopaths and totally dedicated to their goals.  The government believes they were bred and trained,  possibly genetically engineered to follow the imperative of ruling the new America. I was asked to come here and see what I could find out about the network operations here in Dallas.  It's thought to be a very important hub.”

John gathered up their tools, “I'm not sure what to think or say.”

“I need someone to trust, John. Someone to have my back. I'm just asking that you keep your eyes and ears open.  Maybe it's just paranoia, your run of the mill everyday dirt bags.”

“Sure, I'll be watching my own back and yours, friend. Just promise me that you'll let me know if you think there is any danger to Rose.  For now, I'm not giving any more than the typical cautions that she is used to me giving. Not going to alarm her or Eric.”

Now all of this conversation replayed in his mind as he padded down the hall to the bathroom.  A pretty short exchange but it could have very long time implications. If there was anything to this government theory, this country that was finally beginning to get back on it's feet could be pulled to it's knees before an evil dictatorship.  He actually didn't completely understand what “genetic engineering” was, he had read some old books with mention of it.  It sounded to him, though, that some genius was not merely trying to determine the color of the hair or eyes of a person, but possibly attempting to create a robotic like army that would obey orders without conscious. There was no way that this could be a positive thing for the citizens of a country that was founded on freedom and human rights. 

A misty haze floated from the shower area, the numbers showed one to be open.  Quickly, he stepped into a stall, disrobed and wrapped a towel around his waist.  He moved through the steam, the sound of running water in his ears, searched for the unoccupied shower.  His scantily clad body squished up against a soft covered figure, a towel turban spiraled on the head below his chin, his bare foot jammed into toes. “Ow-w,” said a feminine voice.

“Oh s—t! I'm sorry. I didn't see you.”

The figure limped away, “It's okay---it's kind of thick in here.”

He quickly found a free shower and washed away the day.  When he emerged,  a woman stood in front of the row of mirrors. Her long loose robe nearly reached her ankles above bare feet with flip flops wedged between her toes. She vigorously rubbed on smoky brown hair that twisted and curved to below her ears. Long lashes swept over round blue eyes that peered at her own reflection, a face without wrinkles or any makeup.

John cleared his throat and said, “Mam, if it was you I stepped all over, I apologize again.”

The woman reached in a robe pocket, pulled out a skinny pair of glasses and placed them on her slightly tilted up nose, “Not mam---it's Mamie. Don't fret, these old toes have been stepped on before.”

He smiled and she returned it, reflected in the mirror. “I'm John, nice to meet you. I assume you live on level three or do you just come down from the young people's loft to shower?”

She rolled the big eyes, “I live way down at the end of hall. Just arrived last week, I work in the market.” When she turned from the mirror the robe swished around her, she peered over the glasses and looked him up and down.