Chapter 9A: Friendly Visits
Friendly visits aren’t always friendly… John and Jessie know the cops are dangerous, but they’re about to find out just how deadly they can be.
New here? Start with Chapter 1A
Gooooooooooooood morning Dyall’s Ford! Don’t you just love the smell of wood smoke in the morning? Yes, I know, the situation is deadly serious but then it’s been that way for a while now. So, please forgive the attempt at humour; it’s my way of coping with the horror.
The Voice have told me today is Tuesday. But honestly, who gives a damn anymore? Like I’ve said previously, my memory’s intact, but all these pronouncements have confused me to the point where I just really don’t care. I mean, it’s just a day, isn’t it? Who gives a crap what its name is! I think we’ve got bigger things to worry about.
As to the weather report. What a laugh! What do you fancy? If you don’t like what we’ve got right now, just wait five minutes.
First off, that firestorm that’s taken out a lot of the bush and even edged into parts of the town. Maybe not strictly weather-related news, but a direct effect of it.
And then, of course, the latest Flares, or simply the one big Mother of All Flares that visited us a day or so back. Those with functional memories claim it’s by far the worst we’ve had. Certainly is from my perspective, and there’s nothing wrong with my memory. Of course, that’s because I spend all my time cooped up inside trying to fix radio equipment and broadcasting…
Anyway, this particular Flashing occurrence certainly threw the town for a spin. An awful lot of deaths, looting and violence, shops, cars, houses, and other private property trashed and set alight.
The only bright spot seems to be the beating handed out to Gary Keemon, or should that be Field Commander Keemon? Before anyone starts feeling sorry for him, I can tell you — because I was there when it happened — that this so-called cop was threatening to shoot people at the time, people who were no threat to him or anyone else.
Anyway, apparently, he has recovered. Unfortunately. Now he knows what it feels like after the beatings his hired thugs give folks, including the one they gave me recently. That’s the trouble with rough justice, Field Commander, it has a habit of going in both directions!
I was almost forgetting the latest dust storm, wasn’t I? Heaps more deaths as a result of that monster. People with severely compromised immune systems or weakened lungs didn’t cope at all well. As usual, neither did the totally overwhelmed hospital.
Police and volunteers are in the process of removing bodies from streets to a mass grave behind the old cemetery. Yep, that’s what it’s come to, not even identification if you cark it now. You die and you’re not a person, just a rotting carcass and possible disease vector.
And so, we come to the final item in the weather section. Get ready for it: heavy rain forecast for the next several days! I’m not sure how Weather Guru Charlie Deering manages these predictions, but he’s building a decent track record for getting it right. So, batten down the hatches, folks!
Which brings us to the Roads Report. All that crap that came along with the dust storms will likely prove even more of a problem to drivers if we do get that rain.
It’s bad enough now; in some places, the red dust is an ankle deep carpet. That’s clogging up engines and causing pretty slippery conditions out there. A decent rain will just turn it to a mudslide, and Charlie’s convinced it’s going to be a thoroughly INDECENT period of rain!
So, double caution when you’re behind the wheel, if the authorities deign to let you drive at the moment, that is.
Okay, the Fires Report. Nuff said. As announced earlier, they’ve mostly burned out the patches of bush they started in. Greenery is getting a little sparse these days, except out along the North Road around some of the farms and a bit further beyond that. So, it’s a mixed blessing of course, but things should be somewhat quieter on this front, at least until the bush grows back, if it ever can.
Which brings me to the section that really gets my juices flowing: The Aliens and Other Worlds Report. Wherein I detail the latest results of my efforts to contact the outside world. And pay homage to those sad delusionals wandering about the place with tales of other worlds.
First, the good news. I’ve managed to pick up some Yanks on ham radio. It’s pretty patchy and faint, and at the moment I can only listen, no two-way interaction. I will continue to try my own short-wave broadcasts when I have some equipment issues sorted. Keep tuning in to be updated.
Now the bad news. It appears there’s more of those super scary insects appearing on the outer edges of town. You know, the gigantic mosquitoes or whatever they are. Hard to credit the stories unless you believe it’s possible to get sucked into some kind of wormhole and end up in a nineteen-fifties horror movie about out-sized bugs.
Anyway, the true believers claiming to have seen them are now calling them dragons, and in response to all your requests, I will be interviewing one of them as a guest next time. True believers, that is, not dragons, although that would be ultra-cool, wouldn’t it?
I can’t wait to hear more about these dragons. Maybe it’s not a horror flick, after all, just a case of our world being flipped into the world of Tolkien.
Well, honestly, can YOU take this crap seriously? It appears some of you can, hence the requests to interview these nutters. So, you asked for it folks, you’ll get your interview as soon as I can find a dragon fan who’s willing to come on the show.
And we’re not finished with the Woo Woo section yet. Along with the demonically proliferating Insectivus Giganticus — or should that be Insectivi Giganticii, my Latin always was lousy — comes a raft of new portals reports.
More specifically, folks falling into these portals and returning, as opposed to those who simply vanish into them never to return. The ‘Returners’ claim there is a whole new world at the other end.
Again, details are sketchy and I’m a bit sceptical. Well, in fact, I’m completely bloody sceptical! But yes, once more, bowing to pressure from my adoring public, I am in the process of arranging a guest appearance for one of these Portal Returners to give specifics of their experience.
Who knows, if the portal does go to other worlds maybe we can hook up with other ‘hamsters’ in the US, pay them a visit in person even? Now, that would turn me into a true, and enthusiastic believer!
* * *
John ambled to the practice target to retrieve the arrows he’d just shot into a neat pattern clustered in and around its golden centre. He loved archery and took pride in this instinctive knack for mostly hitting the bullseye.
The bow had been a gift from someone; he couldn’t remember who or when. That was one of the reasons for shooting it, an aching hunger for reconnection to his entombed past. And, like the farmwork, it provided distraction from all that was going on.
As he pulled the shafts and inspected them for damage, a Rhino pulled up softly on the gravel track outside Jessie’s house. The cop everyone called Friendly got out and waved. John had seen him strutting about town and observed people melting away from his cheery approach.
Friendly sported a mop of curly black hair and almost permanently wore a mouth-upturned-at-the-corners grin, so that he looked a bit like one of the swivel-headed laughing sideshow clowns you pop a ball into to win a prize. But as much real warmth emanated from Friendly as the swivel-head clown; his prey-bird eyes picked apart what lay before him as though he’d already begun devouring it. In the real-life horror movie of present-day Dyall’s Ford, this clown sent children screaming.
What the hell does he want, John thought. It can’t be good.
Friendly smiled all the way down the hill and when he spoke it was in the characteristically affable manner responsible for his nickname.
“Nice bow, John. Did you take up archery because your name is Bowman, or did you just change it to Bowman because you like using a bow?”
His smile broadened as he made the joke. Both of them knew what he meant: that John had taken a fake name when he moved into town. It was common enough for people to do that; these days the less people knew about you the better, at least that was the way many saw it. But of course, as with most other things, changing your name wasn’t legal around here anymore.
“No, that’s always been my name, officer. A happy coincidence, I guess.”
“Well, maybe you’re just lucky.” A short, humourless laugh. “Anyway, I’m sorry to say discharging firearms within the town limits is an offence. I’m going to have to confiscate this weapon of yours.”
“You’re kidding? A bow, for God’s sake? Since when was it illegal to own a bow?”
Friendly’s face switched cold.
“Maybe you haven’t quite remembered yet how to listen when you’re being spoken to. That’s understandable; we know about your disability. Anyway, it’s now an offence to own such a weapon, and if it isn’t, I’m making it one. And I said discharging, you know, shoot the thing? That’s a double offence right there.”
John’s knuckles clenched around the bow handle. The local cops wasted no time finding out about someone who’d just moved into town. They clearly knew about his memory loss, although that ‘disability’ was so common these days it may have been a guess. Nonetheless, the barb struck home.
“So, you guys just decide what the law is from moment to moment now, do you? Has this been run past Caspar De Saunt?”
The frosty smile slid back across Friendly’s face like a beguiling sheet of ice glinting in sunlight.
“No, but if you insist, I’ll have Field Commander Keemon tell him at the next Voice meeting. Caspar doesn’t make the laws we enforce; we do.”
“Well, that’s another new one on me. Things move fast around here, don’t they?”
The cop reached for the bow. “Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he said as he wrenched it from John’s hands, “you know we do our best and it’s a hard job.”
He stepped back and placed a hand on his hip, just over a holstered revolver. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to squabble, but to make you an offer.”
He tapped the revolver butt with one finger.
“How about you come down to the next Squad Night at the station and we’ll show you how to shoot a real weapon?”
John pointed at the pistol. “What, that thing?”
“Sure, why not? Actually, not this particular baby, we’d have you shooting standard-issue automatics. I just happen to like carrying a revolver. I really appreciate what you might call the trigger feel!”
“Seriously? Me? You take away my bow and offer me the chance to shoot a police handgun? I don’t get it.”
“Well, you know how it’s been with us lately. Members going missing for one reason or another. We’re always on the lookout for new blood, so to speak. If you can shoot and we all like you, maybe you get to try out for the team!” Friendly grinned broadly.
It was the most insane thing John had heard since moving into town, and he’d heard some beauties. It didn’t make sense that Friendly was actually being friendly to him unless there was some ulterior motive. Jessie had told John about the rivalry between Friendly and Keemon; so maybe because Keemon hated John’s guts, Friendly was going to use the squad night to piss off his rival. But even that didn’t quite fit. The offer made his skin crawl.
“Okay, sure. Yeah, sure. Just let me know when the next squad night is, and I’ll be there.” And I’ll be anywhere fucking else, he thought.
“Well, actually, that’s why I’m here. Taking your bow was just something that happened because I found you out shooting it. So, the next squad night is tonight. Just after dusk; that okay by you?”
“Well, um, okay, sure.”
Friendly smiled one last time before he backed up the hill cat-like, the younger man still skewered in his vision.
“Well, I’ll be off then. See you tonight.”
“Yep, will do.” John answered and waved.
Right after I have a fucking lobotomy…
* * *
“He said what? Friendly invited you to the cop shop tonight to learn to shoot a gun? I don’t believe it.”
Jessie wondered if her boyfriend had lost his mind. On the face of it, the proposition made no sense. Both he and she were high on the list of the cops’ most hated, even though they’d only been in town a short while. Some of that was down to their attitude, but mostly it seemed to be their association with Dylan De Saunt and Hugh Godswold.
For John’s part, he could never be entirely sure what his mind was up to and as for this development, he could only share his girlfriend’s astonishment.
“Honestly, that’s what he said, almost word for word. And he sure is creepy. Seems to have a thing for weapons. You should have seen him patting his six-gun like some old-time movie cowboy! Said he likes the ‘trigger feel!’
He couldn’t tell if it was disbelief, revulsion or both that contorted Jessie’s gaping-mouthed face. Then her jaw shut firm and her eyes narrowed.
“You don’t know why he packs that revolver, do you?” she said. “Let me bring you up to speed. They have a cell down the back of the cop shop, I’m not even sure if Barry Morden knows, I just heard about it from folks at the DRC.
“Keemon and Friendly interrogate people there. Friendly likes to use the revolver. He loads one chamber and leaves the others empty, then he sticks the barrel in the prisoner’s mouth and asks questions. Every answer he gets he doesn’t like, he spins the cylinder and pulls the trigger. He calls it ‘Friendly Roulette.’”
“Sweet Jesus, Really?”
“The people who told me don’t lie.”
“Shit. Jess, I don’t want to be here tonight.”
“Couldn’t agree more. We’ll make ourselves scarce for the evening, find some excuse in case they come back again asking why you didn’t show.”
John ruffled his hair with both hands as he walked about trying to think. Long strands fell across his nose and he swept them back past his ears. He scrunched his face.
“Yeah, that works for me. Trouble is, what excuse? Visiting sick relatives won’t cut it.”
She shook her head. “No, it’ll have to be better than that.”
“Okay, so what, then?” He played with the hair again. “What about we get out of town and sleep in Miles tonight? That’ll give us time to come up with a story by morning.”
Jessie repeated the headshake. “I’d rather we went back to Hugh’s. I think it’s time to be getting the Band of Friends together. We may even need to join them, leave this place for a while.”
John looked out the kitchen window for a solution. “I don’t know. I just really don’t know. Another shit day in Shitworld. That bastard took my bow! That, at least, was one connection I had to my past, I was starting to remember things when I shot it. I mean, it’s not so much the bow, that’s just a symbol of what’s gone missing. We’ve lost our entire world!”
He turned back to Jessie. “How long has it been since we had proper outside communications? What happened to the city, we have no idea if they’re okay or just a pile of smoking rubble.”
She came up and slipped her arms around him. “We’re not in the city; we’re here now and this is where we need to concentrate.” She lay her head against his chest and hugged him.
He drummed his fingers gently on her back. “Sure. I’m just rattled, not having a past to cling to. You’d think it would be easier not knowing what you’ve lost, like you could just make a clean start, but it’s not like that at all.”
Jessie murmured, “Anyway, how do you know about the city? Is that more stuff coming back?”
“Maybe. Like I said, shooting the bow jogged my brain. Or maybe you or someone else mentioned the place. But I remember the buildings and going down there to visit. More a feeling than actual details. It always felt special, but I could only stand the place for a day or two.”
She leaned back to look him full in the face. “Wow, that sounds like the Big Smoke! I really think your memory IS coming back!”
She stepped away to pick up her car keys. “But one thing’s for sure, we can’t afford to freak out. So stay cool, honey. We need to plan. And get ready to fight. I know we moved back into town for safety, but it hasn’t turned out that way. The so-called protectors are just as much threat as anything or anyone out of town. That Keemon character, he’s a killer, I can see it in his eyes. So is Friendly.”
She started raiding cupboards for stuff to take. “So, we need to get proper arms to defend ourselves with, not just bows and knives. And we need to be prepared to kill, too.” Her eyes looked up from packing. “What about it honey, do you think you can kill someone like Keemon if they come to kill you or me?”
“I don’t know. I guess I could kill animals, I even have dreams where I’m hunting, like I’ve done that in the past sometime. But kill a human? Not sure if I could do that. I guess I’ll just have to find out when the time comes. Could you? Kill someone?”
“In the situations we’re talking about, you bet. I’d kill a bastard like Keemon or Friendly in a heartbeat if they proved a threat to me or you, or anyone I cared for. And you need to grow that attitude too, I’m depending on you! Anyhow, let’s get out of here before those psychopaths come back.”
***