It Was 2052 (5 page)

People went in and out at a steady pace. Then he saw her, she exited and moved clear of the doors, leaned up against the building. Something was wrong,
is she sick, is that why she's here at the clinic? 
Her hand went to her mouth and he could see that she was very upset, shaken.  He stood and moved past a couple of people leaving the building. He put his hand on her arm, “Are you okay?”

It was as if he had stabbed her, she pulled away and shouted
no.
She seemed to melt away from his hand and wilt to the hard surface. Jackson knelt down, regretted that he had touched her, not sure what to do.  He sat and pulled her up against him, “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean---you looked---god, what can I do?” No one paid attention, as a matter of fact the people of the street very carefully did not acknowledge the two of them. The same as they had ignored the sheriff and the foot shot man, eyes averted, flowed past them like they were invisible. She pushed away from him, sat with her knees bent in front of her.

The glasses had fell to the ground, her face was washed with tears and those beautiful lips spoke in a soft and trembling voice, “You can't do anything for me.” She took the glasses that he handed her and actually caught his eyes, “You didn't
do
anything. Thanks for stopping.”

“Why don't you let me walk you home or take you for coffee or something. You look pretty shaky,” said Jackson. “We could go over to the Brewer's cafe, that's where I live.”

“No, not Brewer's.” Anissa knew that was the village where Pendelton lived. She sighed deeply, “Can't go home yet or to work.  There's an old park about a block away, by the river. Would you mind if we just went and sat for a while?”

As he reached down to help her to her feet, he felt the tremble that was still in her hand.  He stopped in and got them two chilled cups of juice and they sat on a mossy old concrete bench, the brown tinted water of the river flowed a few feet away.  Was there a connection from the very beginning with the couple or was Anissa just weary and frightened?  She poured out her story to the young man who she had just met less than an hour before.

She had been born here in the city, lived with her parents who came for the work.  Her mother had died about five years ago and her father was not in good health. She only had him now, and Lee. “Lee is my son, he is two,” she said.

“You're a young mother,” said Jackson, assuming that she was close to his own age.

“We lived at the Luciano Village.  I met this man, after mother passed away. I thought I was in love with him. Big blue eyes, strong, he wasn't the most affectionate person but I was young and infatuated. We saw each other for a few months and then something happened to him. I don't even know exactly what, he was just gone.  Then Dr. Pendelton...”

“
Doctor
Pendelton?”

“Yes, he lives in your building,” she said.

“I didn't know that he's a doctor,” said Jackson.

Her eyes looked away and the lips looked set and down turned, “The son-ofa-b---h has the title, he is some type, not medical. A research scientist of some kind.”

“That's interesting. So, what about him?”

“I soon knew that I was pregnant. The doctor was always around the village. He came to me and told me that the man, the father of my baby was gone and he would not be returning. He said that he could offer me work that would earn much more money than working in the pizza cafe.”

“After all, with your father's health failing and a new baby,
how are you going to get along?”
I was feeling desperate and he knew it.

Now that Anissa's heart was open, her plight keep spilling out. She told him how she had taken the work. The doctor had said that if she would be the madam, manage the “girls” that offered their affections for a price, she would never have to do the favors herself. That was true,
most
of the time.

She was quiet for a while, he noticed that on the inside of her wrist was a small star shaped tattoo or was it a scar?  “Can't you quit, get away?” he said.

Her laugh was a sound of complete frustration, not joy. “You've no idea how evil and ruthless these people are.” She rubbed the spot on her wrist and looked at him now, “Obviously, the doctor not only values my service, he believes that I know things that he wants others not to know. Today, he called me to the lab. When I got there, he said he had heard that I might be leaving and that would be a mistake.  He had my son and my father there and there was no mistake about his threat to them, if I was thinking of quitting.”

“And you believe him?” asked Jackson, listening, letting her talk.

“Oh, I've seen proof of his sadistic nature before. The thing is, I probably don't know as much as he or his conspirators would think. Perhaps I'm not all that smart.  I'm sure there is some destructive plan in the works, I've no idea of the purpose or nature.  It's got to be more than the whores, the drugs or any petty thugs they have working for them, something much bigger than crime in the city.”

The running water and the tree that shaded the bench gave the air a slight cool, he looked at the true delicate beauty of her face and he reached for her hand, “There has to be someone to help. I'm going to figure out something, I promise.”

She pulled her hand away, looked all around them nervously, “No, Jackson. Don't you tell a soul that you know me, if you see me somewhere, don't you even look my way? You understand. You stay away from these people.” Standing up, “I have to go.”

“Wait, I understand. But, Anissa, I would like to see you.”

“What's today? Thursday, it's Thursday.  If I can, next Thursday, I will be here at 1:00.  I can't promise. If I'm not, try the next week. It's all I can do.” She put the sunglasses on and hurried away. He was left sitting alone on the bench, trying to sort through the whole last two hours; what he had learned, what he didn't understand, what could he do?

***

Anissa and her father would not discuss anything that happened on Thursday. By the time she was able to come to their rooms that evening, she was composed. Her father was well aware that in the past she did and would continue to do whatever she must to keep the boy safe. She wouldn't tell him of her chance meeting with the young man. It was best to try to forget the young man. He would only be put in danger by any association with her. There was no one that could save her from her situation. As the boy slept in her lap, she knew she must stay away from Jackson and do her job.

In his head he could hear his gram's voice, “Boy, you don't look so good,” she would've put her hand to his brow. Jackson wiped away the steam and looked in the mirror in the big common bath room. It had been three days since his encounter with Anissa and very little sleep had found him. He wasn't a coffee drinker but he was going down to the cafe and have a large mug and some breakfast. The hours and days had plagued him with questions about what he knew and what he could do.  Finally, he had made a decision, not a solution but at least a plan of action. 

As he hoped, John and his old friend sat at a table in the cafe. That attractive lady that was often with John wasn't there this morning,
good. 
Jackson approached the table and said, “Excuse me, John. Would you mind if I join you? I really need to discuss something with you.” The friend said
morning
and rose to leave them. “Um, would you stay? This might be of interest to you both.”

Breakfast and that mug of coffee ordered, he first apologized that he had overheard some of the private conversation between the two men, that day in the basement. He then told them the story of Anissa and the incident. “That woman really needs help. I have no idea if the local law would be who to tell or would help her. More importantly, she believes that something very bad is brewing around here and has reasons to know. She asked me not to go near any of this but I can't let it be. I can't tackle this on my own, I need advice and help. I just have a lot of pieces in my mind that I can't seem to make fit, it does seem like that creepy old man has a lot to do with it.”

John said, “You did good, coming to us.  I've been saying that there's a bunch of dots that don't connect, some are starting to, though.” He spoke quieter, “Pendelton has everything to do with whatever is going on, in my opinion.”

The friend said, “I think that local cowboy sheriff is on the up and up, not one hundred percent certain yet.  Let's hold off on pulling him in. There's enough intel for me to take to my government contact. Give me a little time and let me see what I can come up with. It'll take a few days to make contact and go through the channels.”

The mug was nearly to Jackson's lips, “Government? Are you from the American government, sir?”

The friend smiled, “Not exactly. I'm damn sure a friend of our government. We'll meet again soon. And kid, keep your head down.”

“Yeah, Jack. The woman is right, don't get into this. If you go to the park, you be extremely careful. From what you've told us, she may not be able to make contact safely. I'm sorry to ask this of you but don't say anything to Eric or Rose.  They might eventually have to know some of this, let's keep it tight for now,” said John.

“I can do that. I'm so damn relieved to have you two in on things.”

***

The supplies from the Salvage and Lumber Village had been delivered the day before. To his relief, everything was as it was supposed to be and the mayor was good with his procurement and the cost. Plenty of supplies and no lack of work to keep him and Eric and John busy.  He really liked Eric, it was a bit tricky, not discussing any of the events that seemed monumental to him. This was no game though, he was convinced of the seriousness of
whatever it was.
As much as he would like to tell Eric about Anissa he would keep his mouth shut. They had work to do and he enjoyed his growing friendship with him and Rose.

One thing, Jackson was eating an awful lot of pizza. “Good Lord, Jack!” said Rose as they walked down the street towards Luciano's. “Can't we eat something different for lunch today? I like it, too, but I'm getting tired of having pepperoni breath.” Her glowing ponytail flounced around, it was too hot for anyone's long hair to be sticking to their neck. 

He gave her a big kiss on the cheek, “Next time, I promise Rosie.”

“Don't call me Rosie, you butt.”

“Don't call me Jack, sister,” he grinned.

“Children, children. Here we are, it's Pizza.” Eric held the door open for them. 

As usual, his eyes discreetly scanned the cafe, wishing for just a glimpse of ebony hair and red lips.  The three sat and waited for their lunch, having familiar banter and talk of the pub, the work and when was payday again. A large mirror hung on the wall across from Jackson, pictures of vegetables painted on the glass. In a small clear area, he caught the large dark eyes peering at him, there was a hint of smile on the lips below.  He inhaled and tried not to spin around in his chair. As he did turn, saying “Where is that pizza, I wonder?” he saw the slim hips as Anissa went out the back door.

The previous Thursday, the woman had not been in the park. He sat on the bench for two hours, hoping that she would show.  He left disappointed and worried that she was not able to come. Not ready to give up, he refused to think about the possibility that she didn't want to meet him.

Before another Thursday came around, he would be in the park for a related reason. John had told him that the old friend made his government contact and he thought the park would be a good place to meet and discuss the information he had.  They would be able to talk without any eyes or ears at Brewer's being around. 

By mid morning, Jackson and the newly allied friends of the government sat in the park. What was the aged scientist up to? That was a question that all of the new partners in espionage wanted to know.  Hopefully, this meeting would make some connections between the floating pieces of information. The youngest man was becoming increasingly anxious to know some answers and to have a plan to rescue his elusive Anissa.  He waited impatiently for the old friend to tell them what the government agent had offered.

Chapter Four

Lovers, Friends and Foes

Mamie lounged on the narrow single bed in John's room and hummed an old tune, one that he remembered. Wearing nothing but the big hoops in her ears, the sheet was pulled up over full breasts and her ash colored hair looked like she had been caught in a windstorm.  John stood at the small counter in the hazy moonlight from the window, filled two glasses with a splash of bourbon, an ice cube from the tiny freezer compartment and water. The fan buzzed, he only had on his briefs and it felt great when he opened the fridge and a wisp of cool floated out. 

He returned to the bed and squeezed her over, they both leaned against the wooden headboard. The lovers sipped the drinks and didn't speak for a bit. These days, there was rarely a crystal clear sky, since the moon was full tonight, even in it's milky haze it was bright and stars blinked here and there through sheer clouds. He gave her a light kiss and she smiled. The word
rubenesque
came to his mind.

Though he had been a young boy when the catastrophe brought America's way of life to an abrupt halt, his parents loved music and art and there were shelves of books in their home. He and his older brother actually studied thoroughly the big hardback book with colored representations of famous art. As if they were doing something naughty, they joked and laughed at the soft and curvy naked women in the Ruben's paintings. Even as he grew older, he often perused the book, the Flemish painter's women were always appealing and fascinated him. And Mamie, well she was as close to his long held fantasies of Ruben's voluptuous ladies as he'd ever seen.

She sat up straighter, bent one leg and pulled the other up under it. “So, my old lover. Are you going to tell me what's going on around here?”

He slid from the bed, moved to fix himself another drink, she still sipped hers.  “Old?” He pulled up the easy chair, sat with his feet on the bed and the new drink in his hand, “I don't know what you mean---are you interested in the toilets I replaced this week?” The window glow exposed one of his pleasant smiles.

She took the last sips of her drink, leaned forward, giving him a tempting view and pushed her empty glass toward him. While he moved to the counter, she stood and slipped into her long lightweight robe. She took the drink from him and flounced back on the bed, “It's possible that your buddy isn't the only
friend of the government
in town.”

No smile now. He sat up in the chair, hands on his knees and his eyes searched her face. She looked down for a moment and touched his knee, “John, my reasons for coming to the city were pretty much the same as your old friend.  There was a strong militia in my hometown, too. I was always active in it. Our struggling US government needs allies. They're very concerned about this evil network that seems to be gaining strength and they are desperate to get information.”

He stood up, pulled on a pair of jeans and walked to the window. 
Well, I'm real sharp. Spies everywhere it seems, right under my nose---right in my bed.
He felt a little stupid, a little offended
for some g'damn reason.

The hands slid around his middle and her head rested on his back, “Look, Hon. We're on the same side, right?”

He brought the hand up to his lips. “Yes, we are.” She turned him to face her.

“I thought I could be more effective, maybe find out more if I was on my own. Like my friendship with old lady Pendelton.  I've noticed that Dr. Pendelton hasn't been in to work in about two weeks. Mrs. Pendelton is getting downright aggravated because the man not only isn't doing his duty in the market, he's been out many nights very late. She told me yesterday.” She micmicked the elderly lady's sharp voice, “
If that old impotent sack of s—t wasn't so decrepit,  I would accuse him of having a girlfriend.
”

Mamie, with her usual humor thought it was funny. “Good god, who else would want those two old farts?  Does make one wonder what the codger is up to, doesn't it? I know that your friend is going to make some report to his connection. Might be a tidbit to add to his information. I would like to be in on what your friend learns from his contact, I think it's time for him to be aware of my purpose. If we're to fight this, we need an alliance.”

Silence from him, he stood holding her and inhaling the scent he so relished. Mamie pushed back, “I'm going to the showers. You think about all this, sleep on it.  Come to my room in the morning for breakfast. Night, my love.” She sat down her glass and swept out the door.

***

The loud old bus growled away from the station. John's friend, Bud peered out the dirty window, lost in memories and his own jumbled thoughts.  He thought of John's brother, his old high school friend.  Only months before the s—t-hit-the-fan happening, their class had made a bus trip to the big city of Dallas.  Their senior class had earned a trip to see the Dallas Cowboys play football in the much bragged about new stadium in Arlington, Texas.  That stadium wasn't so far from his destination today. 

He could still nearly hear that crazy laugh of his old friend as they exchanged lewd remarks about their teenage girl classmates, the “Hooters” restaurant that they passed by, all the typical young men bulls—t.  The big city and it's sprawling suburbs looked very different then. Today, once the bus left the wild and unusual city villages, instead of the miles of housing, shopping malls and stores, restaurants, schools and car lots that seemed endless to a young man; the bus passed through miles of decaying relics of those things.  Occasionally, there were inhabited areas, small communities. Nothing even close to the amazing views that had flown by the windows, thirty five years earlier.

They had a huge good time on that day, all those years ago.  He was feeling reckless because as tempting and exciting as the taste of the big city was, he had pretty definitely made his decision to join the military. His parents, good hard working people weren't very happy with the choice. The wars were prolific overseas, in the middle east. Lots of volatile areas of the world. They were afraid for him and he admitted it was a frightening choice to make.  What would he do, otherwise?  Work on an assembly line in a factory, like his father?  He wanted more.  If he could survive military service, he could get college money.  Maybe he would get to the big city one day, but it would be for a good paying job. And aside from that, his parents were loyal and patriotic Americans, they raised him that way. It seemed to him that the country was facing more and more serious threats, he wanted to be part of the defense of freedom. 

The teenage Bud, on the edge of becoming a young man had no idea that day and no one else going about their lives could've known what was ahead.  He never imagined that the war he would someday be a part of would be the battle for survival on his own home soil. His reverie was ended when the bus brakes hissed to a stop.  He stepped off and a couple got on the bus. Three old faded benches squatted nearby, trash and dust tumbled along, the filtered sun wet the back of his t-shirt. His head was totally back in today.

No one really in sight, other than some figures at a blurry distance. He checked his pistol and the small gun in the leg of a boot under his jean's leg. The compass from his pocket settled on
south,
he started walking in that direction to his next destination.  His watch said 11:30, he would just have to keep a steady pace and count on covering a mile in approximately twenty minutes, look for the landmarks.  Completely soaked with sweat, twenty five minutes from the bus stop, he spotted the outcropping of white rocks, searched around the base and found the small yellow star painted on. He flopped to the ground. From a small pack at his waist he got a drink, took a knife and cut pieces of an apple, waited.

The vintage dark green car came slowly into view, it eased up to his location and idled, “Need a ride, buddy?” the driver leaned down on the wide bench seat and spoke to him.  Bud opened the heavy door and slid in, the car rumbled on. “How ya' been,” said the driver.

“Pretty good.  How about you?”

The driver smiled, “Oh, you know, livin' like a mole and doing my patriotic duty.”

“Right,” said Bud.

Not more than a couple of miles the car crawled over a rise and pulled up to an old set of iron gates, tall fencing with razor wire extended as far as you could see from both sides. The driver punched a button on the dash of the car, nothing happened.  “Damn piece of crap!” he cursed. He backed the car up a couple of feet and jabbed at the button again. This time the big rusted gates creaked open, slowly closed behind them after they were past.  Decaying wooden barracks buildings floated by them, once the ugly and plain multi story structures had housed hundreds of young reserve troops.  Bud saw a sign that was barely readable, Enlisted Men Club
. Bet that was a rowdy place, in it's day.
On the distant horizon, a blue stretch of water was visible.

The two men exited the car next to an old brick building. They made their way through scattered and piled up desks, furniture, even metal bunks and lawn care equipment.  Bud's companion pushed on a tall and wide bookcase, crammed with old manuals and books; it slid away. He opened the metal door behind it and pulled the bookcase back in place as they entered a hall. That hall led to a steep metal stairway that stretched down two stories to another door.  When the two went through that door, Bud's eyes reflexively squinted at the bright, modern underground activity. It was busy and it was noisy.

He wasn't sure why all this subterfuge was necessary. Of course, he never actually reached the time to serve in the military, there was obviously plenty of things that he didn't know.  A good deal of the last thirty five years he spent in the defense and preservation of his home and small community.  No covert action had been needed, it was a straight forward struggle for survival.  The biggest conflict he had experienced was the time that a gang of about thirty, ruthless and on the move had tried to move in. It was an all out battle in the small town park that left nearly all of the invaders dead and two of his community residents.  Since coming to the big city, however, he had started to believe that a large and organized threat might be growing. That was why he was here.

Right before the man opened the door of the large office, he said “I assume you won't return to the city until tomorrow morning. Come over to the bar,” he looked down his watch, “about 1600. We'll share a cold one.”

“Sure,” said Bud. He was ushered into the room, the man gave a salute, turned and left.

Behind a shiny desk, the tall woman with dark skin and hair, offered her hand and a hint of a smile, “Nice to see you, Bud. You have something to share with us today?”

He shook the woman's hand and sat in a chair in front of the desk. As coherently and accurately as he could, he passed along the pieces of information he had gathered. He even included the seemly insignificant piece of gossip that John heard from Mamie, the grumblings from Pendelton's wife about her husband's frequent absences.  “Like my trusted friend said,
lot's of unconnected dots.
”

The woman said, “We knew the old scientist, Pendelton, was in Dallas.  Years ago, before the event he worked on a project for the government.  It was an attempt to create a super soldier. The doctor was known for his successful genetics research and work.  The project was not the first or the last of that kind to be cancelled, considered to not be viable.”

“Super soldier?” said Bud.

“The military consistently tried to find a way to build a super army, an unmatchable force of strength and ability. It was thought that if a soldier could be bred through genetic manipulation to be bigger, stronger and more durable, that army could be built.  If they could produce that perfect soldier, perhaps cloning could be implemented.  I don't know if you remember. In the early part of the twenty first century, when sports and athletic teams were so popular, a huge problem developed with the athletes using performance enhancing drugs. Instability was a big side effect.   The thing was, even with the genetic engineering, the instability was a weakness, a flaw.  In order to be a loyal and unbeatable soldier, a high degree of lack of conscious is necessary.  But, when a being has no conscious, it's as likely to turn on it's friend as it's foe.  Every project failed.”

He tried to absorb the phenomenal things he was hearing, “You mean the military, the government actually created some of these super people?”

“Not ever successfully,” she said. Her eyes looked away.

“You think Pendelton is still trying to do this?” he said.

“We're gathering more intel all the time. America is finally beginning to grow, to restore some of it's way of life. The government is attempting to rebuild not only it's own framework but it's ability to help in the restoration of the country. What we think is there's an organized movement whose goal is to take control before we can grow strong. They want the resources, the riches of the land that have been laying dormant but still exist.  This network wants to rule and we see no indication that it would be free or democratic leadership.  Pendelton could very well, still be attempting to create his super army without a conscious. My study of his personal file indicates that he was a cold and hard man, very little conscious of his own is my guess.”

Bud breathed in deep and exhaled, “I know this world is crazy but, mam, it's a lot to take in. Super people?  Take over of America? There's a lot of citizens still out there that fought hard to survive all these years.  I can't see them just being run over. They are tougher and more determined than you realize.”