Please, Cast Your Votes! in the SDMB Weekend Flash Fiction Contest Anthology!!

Presenting the anthology of the SDMB Weekend Flash Fiction Contest. A quick recap of the rules -

At 9 AM EDT, Friday, May 14th, 2010, I posted a link to a photo (found by random means) and also generated three words, again by random means, and posted those three words in this thread. Writers still have until 9 PM EDT, Sunday, May 16th, 2010 to write an original piece of short fiction, no more than 2,000 words in length, based in some way on that photo and those three words. All interested participants will be working from the same compulsory material.

Writers - send your completed work to me (preferably in a .doc format) at sdmbpoetrysweatshop at gmail dot com before 9 PM EDT on Sunday, May 16th. I will verify that it is 2,000 words or less, and I will post it in this Anthology Thread. I will post the stories with the authors’ names in spoiler boxes.

At 9 PM EDT, Sunday, May 16th, 2010 a multiple choice poll will be established to determine the readers favourite story. I would also ask voters to choose those stories that have incorporated the compulsory material in the most interesting manner. At the end of a week, the poll will close and we will declare a winner of the PoeHenryParkerSaki award.

The poll, once established, will be a multiple choice poll. No one need ever know how you voted. I would, however, encourage everyone to please vote. You are providing an important source of feedback to the writers.

To recap the compulsory material -
The Photo

and the three words -

Pandemic
Sanctuary
Spy

And now, here are the stories that this contest has produced. I want to point out - the authors’ user names are in spoiler boxes at the end of the stories. Please do not be fooled by the fact that they appear in a reply sent by me - only one of these stories is mine.

Enjoy!

The view from the top was spectacular as always. He glanced over toward the sanctuary of Notre Dame, six kilometers away, and cursed that the wind was starting to rise. It hadn’t been a bad day weather-wise, being overcast and a bit cool for the season, but the temperature was dropping and there was only an hour left until sunset. It was curious - he’d never, in all the times he’d been up here, noticed such a big difference from the ground conditions. It was probably related to the heavy overcast, which was glowing a spectacular golden color from the incipient sunset. He scowled as another gust of wind threatened to blow him off his perch, and as he gripped the railing even tighter, he thought again about what he was doing there.
Down below, the finals of the 2006 Paris LG Action Sports World Tour were taking place. Somewhere amongst the competitors was his target. The top level of the Eiffel Tower had seemed like the perfect place to conduct operations, but this wind was making things substantially trickier. Headquarters was still trying to work out the identities of the courier and his contact. If all else failed, the courier was his responsibility. If there were a way to take the courier alive, his own expertise would not be required, and once again he would be delegated to the role of “precautionary measure”. But this wind … he pulled out his phone, and speed-dialed.
"Bryce? Connor. The wind up here is gusting too badly. I’m gonna have to move down. Any word yet
“None. We’re sure one of the competitors has it, but the transfer is still up in the air, and the destination is still unknown.”
“Merde. I’m heading down. Buzz me if anything changes.” People were queueing for the elevator, so Connor joined the line. These new elevators were faster than the originals, but he himself still missed the view from the crossover at the midpoint of the journey from the second level to the top. The cylindrical black map case he carried slung over his shoulder made him look like an engineering student studying the tower. The extended barrel of his rifle made it all but impossible to conceal in a briefcase. Ahead of him, the elevator chimed, and the doors opened. The new arrivals exited fairly quickly, and those bound downward shuffled aboard, thirty at a time.
The ride down was scenic, but uneventful. Disembarking on the Second level, Connor made his way to the east corner of the balcony. The air was much calmer at this level, but he was still a fair distance from the competition. He looked around. If he remembered correctly, there was a maintenance locker … there, by the stairwell entrance. He strode over, somewhat surprised and relieved at how quiet this corner of the platform was, and opened the door. Inside he found tools, a coffee-stained set of dark maintenance-worker’s coveralls, a hard hat, and – what he’d been hoping for – some small barricades. “Danger. Men at work. Do not enter. Closed for maintenance,” he mentally translated. Perfect. Just then, his pocket buzzed. He took out his phone and opened it.
“Connor? Bryce. BMX 172. LaMarche. Still no contact, though. We know it’s not one of the other contestants, but beyond that …”
“Merde!”
“Look, time’s running short. LaMarche’s start number is coming up, and we have no way of separating him from the others and taking him quietly. Once he’s through the course, we may lose him. It’s going to have to be you. What can you see?”
"I’ve got a good view of the BMX half-pipe. I can probably take him when he’s in the air. How long do I have?
“Five to ten minutes? Is that enough prep time?”
“It’ll have to be. See if you can get Claude to seal off the east stairwell for a few minutes. I’ll call you back in a minute when I’ve ensured my privacy.” Connor hung up, and took off his windbreaker, stashing it in the locker, and pulled on the coveralls. A little big, but they’d have to do. The coffee was dry – they’d probably been in the locker for a while. His pocket buzzed again.
“Connor.”
“Bryce. All ok? He’s getting ready to enter the course. Four ahead of him.”
“Still setting up. Merde. Call me back when he’s in the starting gate.”
Connor grabbed the chain that said “Closed for Maintenance” and fastened it across the doorway as he stepped into the stairwell and listened. No sound of anyone climbing, so he went down to a point where he had a fairly clear view of the field. He looked up, then around, confirming that he was mostly hidden from sight, and began pulling the components out of his map case. Shoulder strap. Plastic tube for a barrel. Plastic silencer, like a small perforated pop bottle full of cotton. Three plastic tubes and a pad that folded together into a shoulder stock. Plastic block assembly with a single integral round, trigger, firing pin, and safety, the size and shape of a laptop battery. Telescopic sighting scope with built-in laser rangefinder. Deftly, with the assurance of long hours of practice, he assembled the plastic sniper rifle, and attached the strap to it. Capable of but a single shot, it was little more than a well-machined zip gun … but then, one shot was all he’d need. He hoped. He looked at his watch, and wrapped the strap around his forearm. He would have to make do with the preparations he’d made and hope for privacy. He fiddled with the focus on the scope, and used the laser rangefinder to get the distance to the end of the half-pipe, then took a couple deep breaths to clear his mind His pocket buzzed again.
“Bryce. He’s in the gates.”
“How many on the course?”
“Two. Three, maybe.”
“I can’t see the gates from here, so you’ll have to tell me when he’s approaching the half-pipe. Better yet, tell me when he goes for his first trick. And tell me which side he’s on, east or west.”
“Roger. There he goes.” Connor sighted in again on the middle of the half-pipe. As the name suggested, it was a half-cylinder of plywood and trusses laying on its side, open at the top. As he watched a kid on a bicycle appeared and flew impossibly high above the top of the wall, swung his bike around, and dove back down the side. Connor knew that if he tracked him, he’d see a similar performance on the other wall. Instead, he adjusted his ranging, and looked for signs of wind. All appeared calm.
“He’s approaching the pipe. Heading for the … uh … east wall. He’s up!” Sure enough, a rider in an orange and black harness with the number 172 on his bib appeared over the top of the wall briefly, twisting his bike under him, before heading back down. “Building up speed, and up the west wall … now… headed back down and up the east wall again … now.”
As he heard the word “now” again, time seemed to slow for Connor. He felt his finger squeezing the trigger, felt the familiar impact of the padded folding stock against his shoulder, smelled the cordite from the chamber, heard the “POFFFF” of the silencer, and saw the helmeted head snap back and the hands let go, as the bike careened crazily into the air. He closed his phone, severing the connection, and then he was leaning back, disentangling his wrist from the shoulder strap, sliding the scope free of its mount, unscrewing the barrel and unfastening the shoulder stock. The silencer snapped off, and the various parts went back into the map case. He stood up then, and sauntered back to the locker, where he removed his coveralls and hard hat, retrieved his jacket, and put his sunglasses back on. He then headed to the west tower, to catch an elevator down. His pocket buzzed again.
“Connor.”
“Bryce. Still no word on the contact.”
“And the package? How long will it last outside a refrigerator?”
“Maybe twelve hours at room temperature. Though a lot depends on how cool it is where it’s stored”.
“Worst case?”
“Indefinite if it’s refrigerated.”
“And if it gets out?”
“Pandemic. Like the swine flu all over again.”
“Sometimes I’m glad I’m a specialist. That sort of investigation is someone else’s job. My elevator’s here. I’ll call when I’m on the ground.”
“It’s a zoo here. People everywhere. I’ll call you instead.”
“Roger.” Connor closed the phone, straightened his glasses, adjusted his map case, and stepped into the elevator.

Koryphos

Hugo listened. It was one of the things he was good at, and he could do it without drawing attention to himself.

It wasn’t really that Hugo enjoyed eavesdropping so much as he enjoyed not being noted. Listening in from the edges gave him a sort of feeling of engagement without any of the… well, risks active participation often brought.

The trick about this sort of inactive engagement was to understand that most people notice what they expect to notice. If you acted exactly like you belonged to the background in some inseparable way, like an extra mindlessly moving through a movie scene, that’s what they would make you in their minds. You might as well be papers on a desk. Or a small animal. One of those animals that aren’t cute or funny. Possibly an insect.

Right now, Hugo was a fly on the wall. Three lockers down, Caroline Brooks, the most perfect girl in school, was giggling with two other cheerleaders. Caroline’s voice sounded like music.

<One of the cheerleaders giggled about shopping, movies and boys> <Caroline sweetly chimed that she’d once wrapped her legs so hard around Brad Davies’ head she’d given him a nosebleed> <A cheerleader warbled about fast food and the cheer squad > <A cheerleader loudly chuckled nothing at all> <Caroline softly trilled a complaint about her teachers and West Park High School> <A cheerleader hiccuped and chirped about school projects>

As a counterpoint to the chirping, Hugo begins to explain to the travel agent the exact European destinations he absolutely must tour in order to round out his studies. “Lisbon,” he says, “Se de Lisboa. Madrid. Rome. St. Peter’s, the Coliseum. Florence.” At his side, Caroline exudes enthusiasm as each site is identified and worked into the itinerary. “Paris,” says Hugo.


Mr. Richardson’s AP History classes tended to range pretty far and deep into whatever happened to be on Mr. Richardson’s mind each day, so generally Hugo’s attention was to the front of the classroom trying to follow along. Today’s class however was along well travelled territory for Hugo.

Directly behind him, Brad Davies sat having a hushed conversation with Caroline Brooks. Hugo went into paper-on-the-desk mode.

<Whispering, Brad asked Caroline about her panties> <Caroline began to murmur tunefully about wetness and fellatio>

While the class continues, Hugo strolls along Rue du Cloiture Notre Dame. Caroline walks with him, both of them there on some sort of student exchange. It’s late spring, and he’s enthralling her with the architectural and literary importance of the cathedral. “My last name means ‘victor’ in French,” he works into the conversation as they approach the Pont Saint-Louis. “Hugo Victor, right?” They laugh and she drops her head on his shoulder like he’s seen women do, and they walk arm in arm through Paris.

“…one of the worst natural catastrophes in human history. The ‘Black Death’ killed 75 million people worldwide in the mid 1300’s and probably a third of the entire population of Europe in just six years! And this wasn’t the first or the only deadly pandemic …”

Hugo tells the story of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Caroline grips his arm as Quasimodo rescues Esmeralda and brings her to the cathedral. She weeps as the hunchback mistakenly repels the Truands, and she gasps at Frollo’s betrayal and Esmerelda’s execution…

“…Hello, hello! Mr. Vainqueur! “ Hugo shifted his attention back to Mr. Richardson with a start. “Thanks for joining us in History class this afternoon. We’re distinguishing between the effects of communicable and non-infectious diseases. Can you give an example of a significant disease affecting society that falls into the latter category? And be careful here!”

Hugo didn’t have to think. “Heart ache,” he said, and blushed, realizing his slip too late to correct it. The class erupted into hoots and a few derisive snickers.

“Heart disease, class, is indeed an illness that is not spread by infection. Heart disease is the leading cause of death in the United States, for both men and women. Ahead of cancer and other diseases. Even ahead of car accidents, Mr. Davies.” Laughter again, more subdued this time.
“ So, could heart disease be a pandemic? Why or why not? Miss Parker…?”

Behind him, Hugo heard Davies whisper “Way to go, Queervan,” as he felt a thump! under his seat. In counterpoint, a melodic feminine chortle sounded from somewhere close beside Davies. Hugo put his head down and focused on his open notebook, his ears burning.


Hugo slipped as he hit the first step down toward the parking lot. His right foot turned heel in and shot forward. He converted the motion into a spin toward his left, spread his arms out for balance and vaulted the two remaining steps. He’d turned a half circle in the air and landed facing back toward the school. On the top step, he saw the smear he’d made as he’d stepped onto what looked like dog poop. At least he hadn’t fallen.

Limping a litle, he went over to the grass strip bordering the path between the rear of the assembly hall and the lot. He began trying to scuff his shoe clean against the grass. The smell confirmed his guess about the origin of the slippery stuff.

“Hey Queer-van! Nice dog shit dance, douchebag.”

Caught. As soon as they notice you’re there, the invisibility trick stops working.

Hugo looked up into Brad Davies’ grin. Attached somehow to Brad’s jeans pockets, Caroline smirked prettily and rolled her eyes.

“You always that smooth, Ex Lax?”

Hugo maneuvers Caroline through the crowd watching the competition until they reach his crew, setting up amid a group of officials. “My equipment check out OK?” They give him thumbs up all around. “Wish me luck!” he tells the smiling Caroline as he pulls the bike around and…

“You hear me at all, doofus?” Brad looked slightly annoyed now, the grin slipping down around the edges. “You don’t want to try out, that’s fine, fool.” He turned toward the line of cars near the front of the lot. “See you in class, jack ass!”

Hugo watched them get into Brad’s car, a slightly dented but spectacularly red Camaro. He finished scraping his shoe and went to unlock his battered Schwinn chained to the bike rack.

Hugo speeds his personalized Mongoose BMX along the Quai Branly, hits the ramp and goes airborne. As he hangs high in the air, boats and barges on the Seine so far below, the Eiffel Tower stretching high in front of him, he can see Caroline in the crowd, smiling and waving. Soon, she’ll fall in love with him…

As Hugo pedalled out between cars parked along the front of the school, he waited carefully for gaps in the traffic. You had to be careful. You never knew when a driver might mistake you for leaves blowing on the street.

xenophon41

Mike was surprised that he didn’t even feel the bullet enter his head; the bullet that was going to end his life in less than a second.
He was also surprised to find out that old adage was true; your life does indeed flash before your eyes when you die. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but his mind was racing at the speed of light as he recalled growing up as a normal kid in a small town in Illinois, riding his bike with his friends and once getting naked in the woods with Kathy Jacobs; the smell of freshly cut grass and catching fireflies in the backyard; the family trip to the Wisconsin Dells before his mother died of cancer two years later and he cried for three days; moving to California with his dad to be near his rich Aunt Sally. It was Aunt Sally who paid for Berkeley and the beautiful days as he walked across campus with his best friends, Alan and Steve and of course, Jenny Wilson who was and is the love of his life. The flight to Europe after graduation and the excitement of being in a new country; taking sanctuary at Aunt Sally’s old farmhouse in the south of France with Jenny, both of them learning the language and trying the cheeses and that wonderful smell of fresh bread in the mornings and feeling Jenny’s warm body next to his as the rain pounded on the roof of that old farmhouse - feeling safe and then - not so safe when they met Paul at the café who befriended them and then convinced Mike to help him in the covert government operation to stop plans to release a toxic poison than could start a pandemic around the world. A simple plan, quick and easy – take the morning train to Paris then ride a bike, just like back in Illinois, and hand off an envelope to a man, most likely a spy, waiting on a bridge and save the world so he and Jenny could raise a family and she could continue to paint and Mike, as sole heir, would inherit Aunt Sally’s old French farmhouse. They would drink wine and grow old together and Mike smiled at the life that would have been his as his mind abruptly stopped racing and he didn’t feel his body enter the water.

Jenny was surprised that she didn’t even feel a thing as she hung up the phone after hearing the three words, “Mike is dead.”
She was also surprised to find out that old adage was true; time did stand still when you heard devastating news. There was nothing but silence; even the cool breeze from the moment before she had answered the phone had stopped. How long had she been sitting there - five minutes, an hour, several hours? She felt nothing. It was as if a part of her had vanished with that last breeze that had passed through the old farmhouse. She glanced at the two plates still on the wooden table in the kitchen; she had meant to wash them and put them away, but now noticed the small remains of a baguette - on the plate that had not been hers that morning. Just that very morning, it had been warm and fresh; now it was cold and stale - to be tossed away and forgotten. Jenny picked up the small piece of bread from his plate and put it to her lips and closed her eyes. Just hours ago, held in his hands, held to his lips as well. She stood there, breathing slowly, trying desperately to feel something – to recapture that simple moment of just a few hours ago; the promise of days, months, years to come – with simple pleasures and knowing someone was there to share and care and wrap their arms tightly around you on rainy nights as you drifted off in blissful sleep. Jenny smiled at the thought of the life that had been hers. She did not yet know of the other life that had just started growing in her womb that very day. Suddenly, the flush of beautiful memories ended abruptly and she felt the water uncontrollably flowing down her cheeks.

Sally looked out the window of her estate in Malibu and saw the rain pouring down so hard she could not even see the ocean.
It was rare to have such heavy rain storms in California, but it seemed fitting on this day when everything seemed to be going so wrong. Damn. The plan had seemed so simple – sell the formula of the toxin to the highest bidder through a dummy organization, and then – after a few thousand people died – suddenly announce that her company had come up with a miraculous cure that she could then sell world-wide. Double the profit and come out a hero. The rogue nation that had stepped forward was paying an obscene price for it, with plans to annihilate most of western civilization. Fools! Did they seriously think the toxin and ensuing pandemic would not eventually make it to their own country?! It made no difference now. The US and French Governments had gotten wind of the plan. The paper trail was buried deep in her organization and could never be traced back to her; of that, Sally was certain. But somehow, in the cruelest of ironies, her brother Philip’s son, her own nephew Mike, had been recruited to ruin it all. She had given him use of her safe house in southern France for precisely that reason – to be safe and away from the toxin, once it was spread. By the time it had been released, she would have ensured Mike and his girlfriend Jenny had received the anti-toxin and then given him the job as representative of her company in all of Europe. He could have lived a very comfortable life in one of the most beautiful corners of the earth. Instead, for a few paltry dollars and some misguided notion of patriotism, he put himself in a position where she had no other choice but to have him killed.
Sally was surprised that the old adage, “what can go wrong, will go wrong” became so true.
Sally was also surprised at the sudden stinging sensation as the knife entered from her back. The last thing Sally ever saw was blood spewing from the point of the knife now protruding through her heart.

Philip watched as the blood flowed like a raging river from his sister’s body, turning her pristine white carpet a deep red.
He and his sister had never been close, but after his wife had died, it was Sally who offered sanctuary and suggested he and Mike move to California. It seemed like a good idea at the time – Mike needed a mother figure and Phil knew he would most likely never remarry. Besides, Sally had had the good fortune of marrying a man who owned one of the most successful pharmaceuticals in the US, and after he died in a car accident, Sally inherited it all. She had shown great business acumen and the company not only thrived, it grew exponentially. Sally had given Phil a decent job in the company as one of the dozens of her accountants, and he and Mike had been happy staying in the guest house, just down the hill from Sally’s Malibu estate. Mike had loved the beach and learned to surf, and he and his son had had time to heal the wounds of losing his wife, Mike’s mother. But Sally never let Phil forget who was boss, in both professional and personal matters. Phil resented Sally’s constant nagging and belittling him in front of colleagues. It was only by accident that Phil had discovered an odd financial transaction that didn’t make sense. He traced the money through a long list of further transactions, even enlisting the help of an old Army buddy, Paul, who now worked for the CIA. It was Paul who eventually caught on to what Sally was doing, but a few pieces of the puzzle were missing. They needed to get some information to a Minister in the French Government. Paul couldn’t do it. He was being watched. It was Phil who had suggested Paul contact Mike. He knew that if anyone could be trusted, it would be his own son. They both decided not to let Mike know everything – they wanted to be certain before they accused Sally of any wrongdoing. Wrongdoing. It had all gone so wrong. So horribly wrong. Phil got the devastating news of Mike’s death, and then Paul went on to tell him of a tape of a phone call Sally had made that proved she was directly responsible. Philip hung up the phone and walked up the hill to Sally’s estate, oblivious to the torrential storm.
Phil was not a strong believer in religion, but he did believe in the adage of “an eye for an eye” as he entered through the kitchen and took one of Sally’s knives from the butcher block.
Phil was surprised that he felt no remorse for taking a life – even his sister’s life. He was also surprised to find he felt absolutely nothing – even as he walked through the storm to the edge of the cliff in Malibu and jumped. And then, for one glorious moment – Phil felt happy – happier than he had felt in years - as he flew through the air towards the rocks below. He smiled, knowing that in less than a second he would be with his wife and son.

DMark

The Icelandic volcano was the final sign; I was certain of it. Sure enough, the morning after the eruption, I deciphered the message from the Swiss sanctuary. It is hard to describe the joy I felt in my heart - to have been chosen as a vessel for this mission was an honour I had never dreamed of. I was humming under my breath as I kissed my wife and children goodbye, explaining that I was likely to be gone for most of the next three days. I realized as I locked the door to our apartment that I was humming a setting of the Magnificat. “My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God, my saviour…” Mary had sung, and I now understood how she had felt.

First stop was my studio at the University, where I retrieved the vial carefully hidden at the back of the fridge.  The Conductor, my superior in the Order, had told me that there was no one would look for such a thing in the atelier of an instrument repair specialist.  He had been right; it was in perfect condition, as it had been when I had received it from our courier six weeks earlier.  

My mission had been clarified with the news that all the European airports were shut down indefinitely due to the volcanic ash.  I had thought this through many times in my meditations, as I wrestled with doubts and steeled myself to the task that lay ahead.  My first day would be spent ensuring that I myself became infected, as well as spreading the virus to as many different locations and people as I could.  Later, when I was sure that I had contracted the disease, I could station myself in public locations where I would maximize the effect.  Orly and Charles de Gaulle being closed, I would concentrate on cycling through the city, saving the train stations for tomorrow.

(Oh, they had been terrible, those questioning days - my shame at shirking my duty still haunted me.  Only long contemplation of Jonah, Mary and Jesus himself led me forward - if any one of them had denied his destiny, where would we all be?  No, just as Abraham bound Isaac to the altar without question that it was God's will, I must concentrate on the joy of my calling, and the glory of being an element of the Perfect Kingdom.)

I had a can of compressed air with an extra nozzle, to which I had fitted an old-fashioned 'one dose at a time' asthma inhaler.  I emptied the vial into the inhaler, stepped out into the early spring afternoon, and set off to bike along the Seine.  I was just another cyclist on a jolly day trip, except that every 20 minutes or so, I would stop to add some air to my tires.  After fussing with the can of compressed air for a moment, I would fire a shot into the air, as if to test it.  I would then pretend to add some to the tires and continue on.  No one seemed to notice that I seemed to be stopping where there were gatherings of twenty people or more...

By suppertime, the vial in the inhaler was down to its last ten doses.  It was at the Trocadéro that I spotted the crowd watching the kids on their stunt bikes.  It was an ideal place to wait and rest for a while.  I was almost overwhelmed - the sight of these angels without wings soaring above the ramps, silhouetted against the sunset and the Eiffel Tower was like watching souls seeking release from earthly desires.  They sailed, they leapt, only to be dragged back.  I yearned to cry out to them that their release was nigh, but I restrained myself.   Instead, I emptied the tainted can of compressed air amidst the spectators, and headed home for a well earned sleep.

My headache the next day confirmed what our industrial espionage had told us - there had indeed been a facility in the Congo involved in the manufacture of biological weapons.  Just as it was easy in 1994 to infiltrate Hydro Québec, our Order found a way to place someone in this facility.  From there, we had managed to obtain and distribute vials of a man-made virus throughout Africa, Asia, North America and Europe.  Ebola-like symptoms, spread by aerosol, 93% rate of contagion - I didn't have much time left.

Now was when I was to head through as many of the train stations as possible.  My task was simple - visit as many public places as I could to assist the spread of the disease.  By the end of the day, I was feverish and coughing up thick fluid, but I struggled to look like just one more person with a cold who should have been home in bed.

The next day, I could barely drag myself from bed, but I forced myself; I had one more task ahead.  This was a Saturday, and there was a matinee performance of Mozart's 'The Magic Flute' at the Paris Opera.  In addition to being an ideal place to spread the virus, this opera had always had a special place in my heart.  In dreams, I had always thought of myself as an initiate of Sarastro's Order, and it was my heartfelt wish to spend what was probably my last day on Earth basking in this sublime story and music.  

I made it, barely, to the end of the piece - my headache was by then unbearable, and I was drawing hostile stares from fellow audience members every time I coughed.  I was also starting to hallucinate - it was as though Sarastro and the temple priests were singing directly to me.  For the final scene, the backdrop was lit as a brilliant sunrise in red, orange and yellow, as Sarastro sang "The rays of the Sun have vanquished the Night" and as the ballet dancers leapt in exaltation before this magnificent tableau, they looked like the stunt bicyclists by the Eiffel Tower.  I realized that Sarastro was really The Conductor, and as I lost consciousness, he sweetly sang to me "Well done, good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."  Ecstatically, I released myself into the hands of the infinite, whispering "It is finished."

Le Ministre de l’au-delà

The golf course was normally crowded on a sunny July Saturday, but in spite of the good weather on this particular Saturday, few golfers were out on this one. That was good in one way, thought Jerry, as he sat on the terrace overlooking the eighteenth green, since he wasn’t so busy selling green fees and pro shop items that he couldn’t kick back and relax with a cold beer; but it was bad in another: it meant that people were taking the fear of a flu pandemic seriously, and his business was suffering.

His thoughts were interrupted by a jovial voice calling from inside the pro shop. “Hey, Jerry, you working today?”

Jerry turned around just as Buddy Rawlings came out onto the terrace. The two had known each other for years; Buddy ran the Shell station in town. “Jeez, Jerry, I knew business was slow, but three cars in the parking lot?”

Jerry smiled. “And one of those will be gone when that party—“ he indicated a group off in the distance on the eighteenth tee “—holes out.”

“Naw, you’ll sell them a couple of beers after, I bet. And you can sell me eighteen holes, too. And a couple of sleeves of Titleists”

“I can, but what are you doing here? Why aren’t you working today?”

Buddy laughed. “No business.” He paused. “Well, not enough that I gotta be there. I could leave the station in Jay’s hands.”

“You think Jay can handle it?” Jay was Buddy’s son, who was a good kid, smart in school; and as Jerry understood things, popular with the young ladies.

“He’s old enough.” Buddy paused. “But damn, Jerry, what the hell has happened?”

“It’s the damn flu,” Jerry said, getting out of his chair. “Everybody’s scared. Let’s get you set up.”

After Buddy had paid for his round, got his Titleists, bought a couple of beers to take with him, and walked out to the first tee, Jerry took stock. Business wasn’t great, but it was okay. The stuff in the pro shop was good quality, and it was mostly paid for—he had a good relationship with the bank, and his line of credit wasn’t maxed. He wasn’t the course pro, but he could play pretty well; and the fact that he owned the course meant he could play any time he liked. Problem was, he found that he also liked running the place.

That hadn’t occurred to him some years back. His father had always owned the course, and Jerry had grown up on it. But in those days, Jerry thought golf was an old man’s game, and while he played the game and played it well, he had his eyes on making his mark in more youth-oriented, extreme sports. He had done a lot of BMX bicycle stunting in his younger days, and even joined an exhibition team. His father had disapproved, telling him that the family business was golf, and he could get to the pro golf tour if he only worked on his game and left the damn bike crap alone. But Jerry figured his father was full of it, and went with the BMX team.

It had been an experience. They had performed in a number of cities, and Jerry could honestly say that he’d seen the world. Well, a good chunk of it anyway; he’d performed in London, New York, Munich, and Hong Kong, among other places. And Paris—behind the bar in the clubhouse, totally out of place at a golf course, was a photo of a BMX biker in mid-air before the Eiffel Tower. The biker was Jerry. The photo had made it into the pages of France-Soir, and was something he was proud of.

But then Jerry’s father and mother had died in a car accident, and Jerry was the sole beneficiary of the will. The will, of course, left everything to Jerry—including the golf course. Faced with the choice of selling everything and becoming a pro BMX biker, or continuing to operate the golf course, Jerry opted for the safe route, and kept the golf course. Maybe it wasn’t as exciting as his days of touring, but it was steady. It provided a liveable income, and at least he wasn’t slaving away at a nine-to-five job. He was still out in the fresh air, and answered to nobody.

Well, nobody except the golfers, of course, who wanted a good course to play on, items from the pro shop, and drinks and snacks. And his staff, who wanted their pay. And the bank. But as long as he kept all of them happy, it was a good life.

The group that had been in the distance finished the eighteenth hole, and wandered into the clubhouse. Buddy was right; they were looking for a couple of cold beers. One of them was munching an apple from one of the apple trees on the course.

“Careful with those; they’re not ripe yet,” Jerry told the golfer.

“Tastes okay,” the golfer replied. “Nice and tart. Northern Spy apples, aren’t they?”

“Sure are,” Jerry smiled. “Great for eating, for making cider, and for baking into pies. We harvest them in the fall and sell them. But it’s a little too early to eat them now—we won’t be responsible if you don’t feel well later.”

“Fair enough,” the golfer said, and joined his friends at a table.

The apple trees on the course–they had been his father’s idea. Apparently, he had once played a course that was built on some old apple orchards, and the course designer had incorporated the surviving trees into the course. His father had liked the idea, and so, had done the same. The trees had been planted before Jerry was born, and now were old enough to add colour by blossoming in the spring. They also added a little income by producing apples in the fall. That had been part of his father’s plan too.

They way things looked this year, Jerry reflected, the apple harvest would be a good one. Good enough to get the course over the lack of business caused by fears of the flu, anyway. And things were looking better on that front; the media had created the fear of a pandemic, but at least were reporting that vaccines were available, and were being distributed. Business would come back.

He went back to his chair on the the terrace, but only got to spend a couple of minutes in it before one of the golfers—now beer drinkers—inside wandered out and asked if they could get another round.

“Sure thing,” Jerry said, and headed inside.

As he was getting beer from behind the bar, he noticed another group wandering in from the parking lot. Two women and two men. The men were obviously itching to get on the course, as they headed for the cash register where they could pay their green fees, but the women were distracted by some of the clothing in the pro shop.

“Help you folks?” Jerry asked as he headed into the pro shop area.

“We’ll each play eighteen,” one of the men, who was holding a credit card, said.

“Do you have a fitting room?” one of the women, who was looking at a rack of shorts asked.

Jerry smiled. “One at a time. We don’t have a fitting room, but you can use the washroom over there—“ he pointed, “—and as for you, sir, let’s get that bit of business done.”

Jerry did the transaction, and the man and his group were ready to go, except for the woman in the washroom. She reappeared, saying, “I need a different size,” got another pair of shorts, and disappeared again. The men rolled their eyes. The other woman kept looking at things in the shop.

“Might as well have a beer while we wait,” one of the men said, putting a bill on the counter. “Couple of Budweisers for me and my pal?”

“You got it,” Jerry said.

By the time he had returned with the beer, the woman had reappeared from the washroom. “I’ll take these,” she said, indicating the pair of shorts she was wearing, “and I’ll wear them on the course today.”

“No problem,” Jerry said, ringing up the sale. “Do you need a bag for the ones you wore here?”

“No, I’ll put them in the car before we tee off,” the woman said. She turned to the men. “You guys got beer? Why not anything for us?”

One shrugged. “Tell the man what you want,” he said, plaving another bill on the counter.

Two Bacardi Breezers later, the group went out to the first tee. People came to play golf, but if they wanted more, Jerry was glad to supply it. A pair of shorts was a good sale, and four drinks before the group even started was good too. They’d undoubtedly have more when they finished the first nine.

Jerry returned to the terrace and sat down. There were no golfers off in the distance on the eighteenth tee, but—he checked his watch—some would appear in fifteen or twenty minutes, if they played at the usual rate. So, nothing to see right now except the trees swaying in the breeze, and nothing to hear except the birds.

Not a bad day at all, Jerry thought. Yes, business was slow today, but the business he was getting was satisfying. Buddy had come by, and it was always good to see him. The apple-eater’s group had reminded him of the apple trees and the harvest that would help the course over the lack of business caused by the flu. The group that was just teeing off had provided some unexpected business, when the woman bought the shorts and they all had drinks.

And Jerry wasn’t so busy that he hadn’t had time to think. He missed his BMX days, and the exciting times he had, but he realized he was getting older. He couldn’t bike forever, but he could run a golf course. And with luck, he could run the golf course for a good long time. He had grown up with it, it was what he ultimately knew he would end up doing, no matter how much he denied it. He had thought little of it when he was younger, and poorly of it when he was travelling the world. But now, he was thinking highly of it. It would see him through, it was a safe place, it was home. In fact, Jerry reflected, it might even be his sanctuary.

Spoons

I ran. My pursuer growled as he chased me, and this fueled my panic as I crashed through the undergrowth. There wasn’t enough air to keep me from wheezing, and a stitch in my side burn hotter every step - at least until a tree root tripped me. I landed with a bone jarring impact, but it was soon forgotten when gray fur and sharp teeth boiled over me -

My scream still echoed in my ears as I sat upright amidst tangled sweat-soaked blankets. No neighbors shouted for me to keep it down, and only a full moon stared at me in disapproval. Moonlight or not, the hand that reached for a flashlight trembled in time with my still galloping pulse.

It was silly, I knew I was alone, but I still arched the light into every corner of the room, especially the ones were the sterile glow of the moon didn’t reach. Spit dried in my mouth as the beam hit the bulletin board. It was the photo that did me in: a boy on a bike forever captured as he hung in mid-air. An image from before, one happy memory worn at curled, coffee-stained edges, half hidden among leaflets about disease prevention and flyers promising safe harbors.

Slipping out of bed I loosened a mirthless bark of laughter as I thought about that dull tease - sanctuary. Those flyers were old, all from the early days of the disaster. Sanctuary had been one of the first casualties of the blight.

As I stood there and contemplated hard liquor, it had been 270 days since the lupine flu had been discovered, and 241 days since it had been declared a pandemic by newscasters whose doll-like masks of nonchalance had begun to slip with a wildness about the eyes. One had to wonder how many of them were out there now, no longer constrained by studios or uniformly hideous hairstyles.

People, if they’d still dare to emerge from their hidey holes to converse, would have argued about precisely when humanity had teetered at the blink before going over in an Alice-like freefall into utter chaos. Part of this stemmed just from no longer having the primetime lineup to fix internal calendars to, but the rest was because we’d each descended into a private hell on our own schedule.

For me, it had been 63 days.

  • Mom and Dad no longer kept up any pretense of being able to stand each other’s company by the time the contest rolled around, so I’d been sent as family representative 275 days ago, accompanying Max as he competed in Paris. The appeal of BMX biking was beyond me, but that didn’t stop me from cheering myself hoarse. Max won his class and the trip took on the air of a wholesome family film about trying one’s hardest and being rewarded for it.

We didn’t even realize anything was wrong until we got off the plane at Logan airport six days after we’d set out. Which isn’t to say that the French media had covered things up, I simply didn’t speak French. Instead Latin had fulfilled my college language requirement. Max used to tease me for not picking a more useful language, like his own barely passed high school Spanish, but the dead language had resonated with me. At the rate we’re going, all of them will be dead soon…

Anyway, the airport. There hadn’t been anyone there waiting. If you’ve ever been to Logan, you know it’s usually teeming with frayed tempers and poor drivers, but no one greeted the new arrivals. I’d shivered taking in the title and metal ghost town, at least until Max grabbed my arm and pointed at a TV that babbled on, unaware that it’d lacked an audience.

Men on screen howled as they were dragged to their execution by a foreign government. Given it was all going down in another language I didn’t speak, I was grateful for a bulleted list that patiently explained that these were the men responsible for the theft, spies who’d broken into a lab and taken the first thing they could find that was valuable, dooming us all though no one had known it just yet -

A sound. I’d been pacing as my thoughts ran through the same worn grooves, but froze when I thought I heard something outside my apartment door…a canine snuffling, a doggy chuffing, a death threat. Neighbors might not have minded my scream, but had something else been listening? When it didn’t repeat, I chanced moving to the chair, drawing up my knees as I sat, and wrapping my arms around them. It almost felt like a hug. Or I was forgetting what human contact was really like. Don’t do, just think, I told myself, slipping back into the fractured past.

  • Outside the airport there were signs of normalcy, taxis waiting. The driver of ours didn’t speak as the tires ate the miles, and gave off the air of someone impatient to return to something more important. Through the windows of passing houses I saw entire families glued to TV sets, and worried about what had happened. What had the executed men done?

I think Max and I both expected our parents to stop fighting long enough to explain everything to us, but the house was empty when we finally got home. We checked every room. At last we discovered a note set on the table. All it said was, “Jessie, Max, take care of each other. Mom & Dad”.

My brother’s eyes had gone wide just then, and he looked to me for answers. I might have been an adult, twenty-five to his sixteen, but I felt no less Hansel and Gretel abandoned than he did. We never did see them again, and by day 94 we no longer expected to.

I have my theory, as grim as it is: they killed themselves before things got bad. It was a more logical explanation than thinking that a couple that couldn’t go without bickering over breakfast had somehow decided to run away together. They’d both been government screws, and I’m sure they’d known which way the wind blew. Maybe I was wrong, and they were together somewhere, a cozy cabin, a white sand beach, laughing up their sleeves. But I doubted it.

Before newsmen no longer wore cheap suits, we all knew something about what happened. The lab those now headless spies had broken into in Babel had been birthed in the US before being outsourced like everything else. Bioweapon, a mistake, a plague waiting for just such an opportunity, no one knew that detail, but what followed? Yeah. Hard to escape that knowledge.

In the wake of the supposed swine flu the year before, preservationists prophylactically objected to the term lupine flu before the name even caught on, even with the clear presence of wolf in the deadly viral cocktail. Someone on talk radio jokingly dubbed it the “K-9 flu” and that’s what stuck despite the minor inaccuracy. Back then it was almost funny, but that was when it seemed like the illness that the spies had unleashed was going to be combated with hand sanitizer, face masks (for the most paranoid of germaphobes), and that we’d tough it out as we waited to see how long companies took to produce a vaccine for this flu strain.

Of course, this was before anyone’s neighbors grew excessively hairy and developed the disquieting propensity towards chasing prey by moonlight.

The first time Max and I saw the guy next door lope home with a bloodstained mouth (muzzle?) and glazed eyes was the last time either of us went anywhere on our own. Not that it helped in the end -

Snuffing again. Then scratching that reminded me of how joyfully our long dead husky has dug a labyrinth of holes in the backyard. If only it had been Blaze’s ghost visiting me. My eyes flew to the door as I considered my options. A bat under my bed, pilfered from Max’s little league days, and the gun, of course. I eyed the gun with a bitter resentment. It had been my grandfather’s, but the silver bullets had not come with it. So, I’d covertly ordered some, but not covertly enough.

Would the door hold, I wondered as the scratching set up a tuneless percussion, long enough to grab the gun? It did, even though I nearly fumbled it. But then what? Shooting through the door would be foolish, weakening it. But how quickly could it burst though? They had a fluid grace, these wolves at my door. There was nothing to do but check that the gun was loaded. It was. I’d known that, but I’d still had to check. You understand.

  • It had been Max’s idea to keep moving, but I hadn’t done that since ordering the bullets. Being nomadic had been a good strategy, as far as end of days planning went, but the only way to get the bullets was to freeze in place long enough for them to be delivered. And we did need them, that was becoming a surer necessity every day as wolves, wolves who used to be stockbrokers, housewives, and paper boys ripped through the populations of every town, both literally and blood-soaked, and in a figurative sense as the virus passed from person to person, or make that wolf to person…It was hard to know how many people shed their humanity every twenty-eight days because they still looked like us at times, but I think everyone got the sense that the world was drowning in fur, and we’d all soon be like them. Or dead.

People said, when people said anything, that silver bullets worked. But you couldn’t pick them up at Wal-Mart or even a gun shop, as many as there still were scattered throughout the northeast. To get the bullets we’d had to order them through a mail-order company, and I more than half feared that a lupine mafia would get wind of our sin, and come for us.

In the end I lost Max to people, not to the wolves.

Turned out that the silver bullet seller’s records had been compromised, supposedly without his knowledge or consent. It had been easy enough for the government to hack into things like that, especially with the Patriot Act, a declaration of martial law, the suspension of habeas corpus…we ordered bullets. They came for Max.

Conscription.

I guess they figured that anyone with the balls to hunt werewolves nee neighbors had balls enough to join the US military, even against their will, even if they were sixteen. I begged them to take me too, but lacking the necessary external gonads, they patted me on my pretty little head and promised me that he’d come home safe.

It’s been 63 days, seven hours, and 26 minutes since then. And I’m here still, someone to come home to. Please God, let him come home.

Behind the door the scratching became more frantic, and I knew that it was coming to a head. If I failed to act, Max would have nothing left, if he survived this unearthly draft. A sliver of wood gave way with a scream of protest, and through the jagged cut one xanthic eye gave me a baleful look, full of the promise of my red, wet death.

I fired.

Elfkin477

“Nice try, Icarus.”

Mumbling to herself, Jeannie LeCroix watched the biker descend and rise again, exchanging hard-earned momentum for brief moments of transcendence. The cycle continued for several minutes until the biker misjudged something about his approach and crashed.

How appropriate, Jeannie thought as she paused to spy on the bikers, the Eiffel Tower serving as a backdrop for their aerial exploits; a metaphor for modern humanity, haphazardly reaching for greater and greater heights, cognizant of the bounds of gravity yet defiant all the same. More specifically, a metaphor for herself; Jeannie’s ambition and drive had reaped enormous benefits, but now was threatening to undo the human race. Her research into genetic medicine and the use of modified vaccines to treat cancer had shown tremendous promise early on, and clinical trials were underway. But Jeannie wasn’t about to wait for approval, not when she knew that she could help so many…and then everything went wrong, terribly wrong. By genetically modifying the vaccines, Jeannie hoped to produce a powerful, precise weapon against diseases covering a much wider range than anyone else had dared hope for. Cancer, yes, but not just cancer; Jeannie was determined to find a solution for everything from chicken pox to the common cold. And she got close, very close to finding that solution. But like the biker, Jeannie had misjudged something in her approach, and what was produced was a super virus that had continued to mutate into an unstoppable destructive force, targeting not only diseases but the human brain and nervous system, within weeks producing dementia, hallucinations, convulsions and eventually death. At first it spread through the exchange of body fluids, often when one of the afflicted in their madness would attack others, clawing and biting in a brutal frenzy. Now, Jeannie feared, the virus had mutated again, had become airborne. When people talk about pandemics, they’re usually talking about a lot of people getting somewhat sick for a while, missing work and recovering eventually, save for the relatively few elderly or infants, or those with weakened immune systems who might die. This, Jeannie knew, was unlike anything the world had seen before, agonizing death and panic on a global scale. The Affliction had begun in her research lab in Arizona and would likely spread throughout the Americas before anyone could really know what was going on. On the other hand, she thought bitterly, no one was going to catch cold, thanks to her. Not bad for a twenty-four year old genius, eh?

So no, this was no leisure trip, no vacation, Jeannie’s flight to Europe. There was no safe haven to be had in North America; but she wasn’t looking for sanctuary, even if it could be found. She was on a mission, focused on a goal. Selfish, she knew; the right thing to do would be to tell the public exactly what was happening, and take responsibility for what she had done. Jeannie saw no point in that, however, as the virus would run unchecked and she herself would be dragged into hell soon enough. Better to use her last remaining weeks traveling and living it up; if the world was going to end, then sex, drugs and rock n’ roll were going to be on the menu.

Jeannie turned her attention back to the bikers. Her aerial champion, the walking metaphor she had watched before, caught her gaze and returned it. He was young, perhaps a teenager still, but he was lean and strong, and the sly smile he put on when he noticed Jeannie’s stare was almost enough to send Jeannie over the edge. She got up and walked over to him, the warm air filtering through her dark, shoulder-length hair and making her dress billow up to reveal her sleek, toned legs. The effect wasn’t lost on the biker; he left the others behind and met Jeannie before she reached the ramp.

“I…I was watching you ride, I hope you don’t mind…?” Jeannie stammered.

“American, eh?” the biker noted. “I do not mind, not if it pleases you.”

His English was clear, well-pronounced. But Jeannie wasn’t much interested in talking. “Take me somewhere…somewhere we can be alone,” she said. If the biker was surprised, he managed to hide it well. “Come this way,” he said, taking her by the hand, and off they went.

The sex was intense, pure animal lust and emotionless gratification. Jeannie had spent most of her life in school or in labs working, living a quiet, scholarly life. She had lost her virginity at one of the few school parties she had gone to, at the age of nineteen. She had taken three lovers since then, (four if you included her roommate Jessica, but a drunken one-time makeout session didn’t count, right?) and all of them had been rather timid in bed. Now Jeannie made up for lost time with the biker, riding him with an almost frightening intensity. She switched positions to kneel in front of him, eagerly pumping her hips backward to meet his thrusts. He came then, a shuddering climax deep inside her. Jeannie felt cheated; they would be done when she was satisfied, not before. She continued to rock back onto him, despite his rapidly deflating penis. Overtaken by anger, tears welling in her eyes, Jeannie turned and swiped at his face with her right hand, carving three bloody gouges across his cheek. His face took on a dumbfounded expression, so comical that Jeannie couldn’t help but laugh, adding to his shock and confusion.

She growled at him now, her face contorted and snarling, tear-stained cheeks illuminated in the dim light of the room. He scuttled backwards, pressing his back to the wall as she stalked toward him in a half-crouch, hands curled like claws, already dripping with his blood. Even in this state, she was beautiful; her athletic body, toned by countless hours of swimming, glistened with the sweat of her passion; her pert breasts capped by taut pink nipples barely swayed as she walked, her strong legs curving gracefully from hip to knee to calf to ankle. If not for the blood, if not for the deep growl emanating from deep within her… Despite himself, the sight reawakened arousal in the biker, though he could hardly notice anything other than the snarling, feral beast that was now stalking ever closer…

When she was satisfied, Jeannie washed herself in the shower and left the biker where he lay, bleeding and unconscious. It would take a few weeks for the virus to take hold of him, to begin to twist his mind and body into something subhuman. But by then, Jeannie will have moved on to the next city, spreading the Affliction as she was compelled to do.

Cuckoorex

Raintra Four crossed his arms over his chest and drummed his fingers absently while the voice in his head continued to drone in High Speak. Silla Ceeka, occupying the cot next to him, was asleep; no matter. The voice would serve its purpose asleep or awake. The tape was approaching its end, and as the voice summarized its four-hour-long lecture on the language and customs of mid-twenty-first century France, K4 was squirted into the boys’ chestports and the chemical did its work, plunging both of them into a high-REM and carefully timed sleep. The organic portions of their brains did the rest. The monitor noted that Silla was low on one of the precursors to dopamine, and it arranged for a synthetic to be given on the boy’s next visit.

Minutes passed, and the K4 reverser routine was started. A minute or two after that, Raintra, not lacking precursor, woke up, his arms still crossed over his chest. He stretched, raised up on one elbow to look over at his friend. Silla was still asleep. Raintra reached between his legs and retrieved a small pillow that was there. The pillow was about four inches square and covered with red silk. Raintra threw the pillow at his friend’s head. It missed, striking the side of the bed and falling to the floor. Silla’s eyes opened unseeingly.

“Se réveiller, stupide,” Raintra said.

Silla took a deep breath, blinking a few times as his system processed the last of the K4 reverser. “Don’t call me stupid,” he said in French. “I don’t think I got enough K4 reverse.”

Raintra looked at a panel near the foot of Silla’s cot. “No, plenty there.” He wrapped a long piece of shiny red cloth around his naked form in a complicated way and slipped his feet into red-colored slippers. “How long will we have?”

Silla had managed to swing his legs over the side of his cot. “Twenty hours,” he said.

A square darkened on the blank white wall, and then an image appeared in the darkened area. It was the head and shoulders of an older man, white hair framing an unlined but stern face. “Four! Ceeka!” the man said.

“Sirrah,” the boys said reflexively and nearly in unison.

“Je vous veux les garçons pour obtenir quelque repos sur le prochain couple de jours. A de l’amusement et se prépare pour votre voyage, votre accord?” the man said. “Translate!”

Silla responded. “Sirrah said you want us two to get some rest over the next couple of days. Sirrah said we should have some fun, and get ready for our trip.”

“Four?” the frowning face said.

“Yes, sirrah?”

“Same you?”

“Yes, sirrah. Same me.”

“Good,” the face relaxed into a more neutral position. “Now, boys, this is important. As you know, you will be collecting formation about the big sick. La Maladie Jaune de Ciel, the Yellow Sky Disease. And why was it called that?”

Raintra glanced over at Silla quickly and took a step toward the screen. “Sirrah, it’s because the sickness coincided with a series of earthquake-related volcanic eruptions that caused a yellowing of the daytime sky. Ash with high sulfur content was distributed across Europe that summer.”
“Yahyah,” the man said. “Ceela, what was Yellow Sky Disease?”

“Sirrah: airborne respiratory viral disease of birds mutated to go human to human. High communicability plus a long, high latency during incubation made quarantine ineffective, and then was pandemic in about ten weeks,” he continued. “No effective treatment was developed, and about 99 percent of population died.”

“Good.” the face said. The image faded to black, and then the darkened square within which the image had appeared was gone.

“Tra-da,” Silla said, using the diminutive familiar. “From this how are we protected?”

“Mixon 14,” Raintra said confidently. “We both got full squirts today, and we’ll get another squirt in transit.”

“Oh, yah,” Silla said as he wrapped his own long piece of cloth, powder blue, around himself in the complicated way, and slipped into his own powder-blue slippers. Except for the color, his attire matched Raintra’s exactly. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, and the two boys strode toward what appeared to be a blank section of white wall. As they approached, a tall rectangle darkened, and then shimmered, revealing a doorway-like opening, and the boys stepped through it. It darkened, and then disappeared.

At the appointed hour on the scheduled day, the Raintra and Silla found themselves on the hoverwalk outside of Building R, not far from the city’s western edge. They stood there waiting for the tick, their tick, and when it came, a rectangular section of wall darkened, shimmered, and evaporated.

“Let’s go,” Silla said. The two boys, Raintra in red and Silla in powder-blue, walked through the opening, and it shimmered behind them, bricks reforming and solidifying.

They walked along a long, darkened hallway; a bright light shined from the distant end of the hallway; by virtue of the voice, both boys had the same thought: a train in a tunnel. They walked silently until Raintra stopped suddenly; Silla had taken another step before he realized that his friend was not beside him, and he turned.

“’Tra-da?” he asked. Raintra stood silently for a moment with his head turned away from the light slightly. Silla took a step towards him.

Raintra straightened his head and looked at Silla, nodding. “Josic comes now to complete the triad.”

“Josic?” Silla asked, turning and looking at the light. At that moment, the hinged panel on which the light was mounted opened outward, like the old-fashioned doors that Raintra and Silla had seen in museums. The light moved with the panel; as the panel completed its outward movement, the beam of light shone directly onto the left side of the hallway. A figure appeared in the opening; it was the same face that had appeared on the viewscreen in the talk-talk room, the same face that had advised them to have some fun and get some rest.

“Sirrah!” Both boys started walking quickly down the hallway toward the man. As they got closer, they saw a smaller figure behind the man.

The boys got to within arm’s reach of the man and stopped. The smaller figure, a long yellow cloth wrapped around him, stepped around the man.

“This is Josic,” the man said. “Josic is your Watcher. Your listener.”

“Espion,” Raintra said.

“Oui, il est notre espion,” Silla said.

“Yes! Good!” the man said. “He is your spy! Yours! Ours! You see it, yahyah. Josic will watch, listen, report!” the man said, smiling, his hand on the small boy’s head. “He has been fully talk-talked on the period, the language, on everything!” the man continued. “We’re very proud of him, yahyah,” the man finished, beaming. He knelt down to bring his eyes to the level of Josic’s eyes. “Little Sic-da, you listen, look, and remember. The Old Ones have granted you sanctuary. You, Sic-da. No worries for you this ride.”

“Sanctuary?” Silla said with surprise. “Sanctuary for a look-see-tell boy?”

The man rose, his face changed to its more customary sternness. “Yes, sanctuary! Protection from mistakes! Your mistakes! It’s necessary for this trip, Ceeka. It is the Old Ones. Question not!” He waved Josic into the chamber. “It is time. Boys, come well in now, and we’ll get you there, you jobbers. Job your job and return with Josic.”

“Sirrah.” Silla said with a nod. Raintra also nodded, but said nothing. They moved into the chamber behind the open panel. Inside the dim room were three comfortable-looking recliner-style chairs: one red, one powder blue, and a smaller yellow one. Each of the chairs had a matching-color single-drawer cabinet beside it. Raintra slid open the red cabinet drawer, pulling it to its full extension, to reveal a pair of jeans shorts, two ankle-length white socks, and a short-sleeved plaid shirt. Raintra unwound the long red cloth from his body and began putting on the clothes from the drawer. Soon he, Silla, and Josic were all dressed in period clothing, and the boys each settled down in their color-coded chairs.

“Illa-da?” Raintra said.

“Yah?” Silla replied from his chair, adjusting his ball cap, trying to find a comfortable spot for it as the chair’s drug crawler found his chestport and started the flow of chemicals that would prepare him for the trip back to twenty-first-century France.

“With Josic in sanctuary, we too will be hearing and seeing?”

“Yah,” Silla responded, smiling. “Hearing. Seeing too,” he repeated.

“It is good,” he said as the chemicals being fed into own chestport started taking effect. With his last bit of consciousness, he turned his head in the other direction to see Josic in his chair.

And in the next moment, the boys were seated on the pavement, breathing deeply and letting the world of the twenty-first century settle in around them. The street was crowded; some wore lightweight masks; all glanced from time to time at the pale yellow sky. Raintra raised his head first, looking up at the pale yellow sky; he could see the upper third of the Eiffel Tower reaching up behind the façade of the brownstone storefronts.

“Yes, it is Paris,” Raintra said in French to Silla as Silla was also looking at the curious yellow sky.

“You still sound like a southerner,” Silla replied in French, pulling at the ball cap he wore.

Josic had stood up and was walking directly toward a group of boys playing and the end of the street Several of them were on bicycles; the sort of bicycles that were used in this age by children to perform—or at least attempt—acrobatic stunts such as jumping from ramps and standing the machine up on its rear tire. “I look. I see,” he said absently in French as he headed toward them. Raintra and Silla looked at each other, and then scrambled up to follow. By the time they had caught up with Josic, he was already to the other boys.

“Hey, I can ride a bike!” Josic said to them in the French of eight-year-old boys.

“Who are you?” one of the boys asked.

“Maurice,” Josic responded. “Can I try it?” he asked the boy closest to him who straddled a bike.

“Okay,” the boy said as he got off the bike and and held it out to Josic. “What can you do?”

“I can jump up over the curb!” Josic said, swinging a leg over.

“Illa-da,” Raintra said soto voce, “What is that thing?”

“Une bicyclette, stupide,” Silla responded, his eyes on Josic as he pedaled it around in a tight circle. He launched it off the curb, pulling the front end up so that when the back tire rolled off the curb, as it did almost immediately, the front wheel was still in the air.

“Don’t call me stupid,” Raintra said. Josic was now riding the bicycle with the front tire balanced in the air, steering it around in the street; the other boys shouted and cheered. Some with their own bicycles pedaled around, attempting their own stunts. Josic was guiding the bike around until it was pointed to where Raintra and Silla stood watching; he let the front tire fall with a thud and pedaled over to where they were standing.

“These are the boys,” Josic said in Low Speak. “That one with the red shirt, he’s the one. He will be sick with the Yellow Sky disease for a month, but he will recover. He will tell me how!”

“Shh!” Raintra said. “They’ll hear you!”

“I don’t care,” Josic shouted in French as he pedaled the bike vigorously, “I’ve got sanctuary. Sanctuary! Ha-ha! Now is the revolution of the Old Ones!” The other boys were running around them now, watching Josic, shouting, blissfully unaware for now of the disease in their lungs and marrows that grew and developed and waited to strike.

A Man A Plan A Canal

They’re burning the city block by block. We can see the glow in the night sky through the plastic-covered windows. They say on the radio that the spores get into the woodwork, that they can lie dormant for years. The soldiers are all wearing hazmat suits. We’re staying inside, like we’ve been told, waiting for the evacuation vans.

Wren is here, and Jordan, and Frannie, and Book. And me, of course. We hardly knew each before three weeks ago, and now we all know each other much better than we ever wanted to. Three weeks inside, peering out through the hazy plastic, eating canned food, and then, when the cans ran out, pancake mix and tap water.

I really want a shower.

Wren is lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “When I was in girl scouts,” she says, “We used to boil pine needles to make tea. It prevents scurvy.”

“We don’t have any pine needles, and the gas is shut off,” Jordan says.

“I know,” Wren says. “I’m just saying. I’m just putting the information out there.”

Book and Frannie are in the back bedroom, fucking. Occasionally we can hear the thump of the bed frame against the wall, or one of Frannie’s soft moans. They don’t really like each other, but they’re bored and it’s something to do. Book tried to get Wren to go into the back bedroom once, but she called him a cocksucker and threw a chair at him. He’s avoided her ever since.

I hear an explosion somewhere far off in the distance. The wind shifts, and the smell of burning gets stronger.

“La-la-la-LA …,” Wren sings on the couch, rolling her head from side to side. “La-la-la-la-lalala-LA … .”

Jordan heaves his bulk up off the floor. “I’m going in the kitchen,” he says.

When the epidemic first started it didn’t seem like a big deal. It was in the news, sure, but it was just another bit of random noise. China, Peru, Kenya … faraway victims in faraway places. The numbers were piling up, but it didn’t really mean anything. Until suddenly it was here, all in a rush, and people were collapsing in the streets, and screaming, and trying to get away.

It kills very fast, the radio says, like flipping a light switch.

Book wanders in from the back bedroom. He’s shirtless and his pale torso is shiny, like it’s been oiled. He scratches his scruffy beard and glances around the living room.

“Hey bitches, what’s up?” he says.

“Nothing.”

“Any news?”

“Nothing.”

He settles into a corner, takes out his pocketknife, and starts playing with it.

“Man, if those vans don’t get here soon I’m gonna go nuts.”

And then Jordan is shouting from the kitchen, high-pitched and excited. We all leap up and pile in to see what’s happening. He’s up on the counter, his face close to the window. “There’s a kid! There’s a kid out there on a bike!”

We crowd around, but there’s nothing. Just an empty street filled with blowing trash.

“He was there! I saw him! I think maybe he saw me!”

“Was he wearing a mask?”

“He wasn’t wearing a mask or anything. He was just riding around in jeans and a tee shirt. He looked like he was maybe fourteen or fifteen.”

Frannie appears in the doorway wrapped in a sheet. She looks really, really tired. She listlessly brushes her blonde hair out of her face.

“What’s going on?”

“Jordan thought he saw a kid outside on a bike,” I say.

“I didn’t ‘think’ I saw him! I did see him! He just rode off!”

Book grunts. “Well, if he was out there, he’ll be dead soon. Stupid fucker.”

We watch for a while, but nothing happens. Eventually we all drift away, except for Wren. Three hours later, she’s still sitting on the kitchen counter, looking out. She’s still there when the sun goes down.


That night the batteries in the radio give out. We’re listening to the latest government report and the words get fainter and fainter. The last thing we hear is a woman’s voice, soft and concerned: “Stay indoors and stay calm … stay calm … stay calm ….”

Book throws the dead radio against the wall.

“Hey,” Frannie says, “Stay calm.”


The next morning Wren wakes me when it’s barely light. She’s squatting barefoot next to my palette. Jordan is snoring on the couch. She puts her finger to her lips – keep quiet.

“I talked to him,” she whispers.

“Huh? Talked to who?” I say softly.

“The kid on the bike. He came back last night.”

“What? Why didn’t you wake us up?”

“He says we have to get out of here. He says there’s not any plague. He says we have to get out of here before the vans come.”

“What? That’s crazy. The vans are the only way out.”

“He says he’s been hiding and spying on the soldiers. They only wear their suits when civilians are around. They take them off when they don’t think anyone’s looking. There aren’t any germs. It’s all a lie.”

“That’s … that doesn’t make any sense. Why would …?”

“He’s still alive. He’s been out there the whole goddamn time we’ve been stuck in here, and it hasn’t gotten him. Nothing’s gotten him.”

“Listen,” I say. “Maybe he’ll come back again. We can all talk to him … ask him more questions ….”

“Shhh. No time.” She looks at me very calmly and steadily. Her eyes are like ice. “I’m leaving in a few minutes.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I … I hoped you might come with me.” Her eyes narrow. “Or at least … not try to stop me.”

I run my hands through my hair. Wren is lacing her boots.

“Well … in or out?” she says.

“The kid might have some sort of freak immunity. And the soldiers … who knows what he saw? I can’t believe ….”

“In. Or. Out.”

I look away from her, toward the blank wall.

“Out.”

“Okay then.” Her mouth is tight. “Okay.” She stands, rubbing her palms on her thighs. She turns to go, then stops, and turns briefly back. Her eyes soften.

“You’re the only one I liked,” she says in hushed voice.

I nod. “Same here.”

And she’s gone.


“It’s like you let her OD or something,” Frannie wails. “You just sat there and let her commit suicide.

“She didn’t commit suicide …,” I say defensively.

“She’s gonna die out there. She might already be dead.”

“If the kid is immune, maybe ….”

Her eyes flash furious. “If there even was a kid! I didn’t see him! Book didn’t see him ….”

Book is standing in the doorway, shoulders hunched, hands in pockets. He shrugs.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “She did what she did. It just means the food will last longer.”


Jordan and I take turns sitting by the front windows. We don’t see the kid or Wren. The glow from the fire is brighter now, and sometimes we hear gunshots.

“I saw this movie once,” Jordan says, “about three astronauts who were trapped in a space capsule. A rescue ship was coming, but they knew that they would run out of air before it showed up. So one of made up a story about needing to go outside to fix something on the capsule. Only, when he got out there, he cut his lifeline so he just drifted off into space. That way, the other two would have enough air to survive until the rescue ship arrived. He was a hero.”

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up,” I say.


That afternoon the vans show up. They’re long and white and they move slowly through the streets flanked by soldiers in spacesuits. The soldiers come with portable respirators, plastic bags that fit over our heads for the short walk out to the curb. Somehow Book and Frannie get separated. I can see him through the windows of his van, craning his neck around, looking for her. But she’s in my van, three rows behind me, already chatting with a stranger, oblivious. I don’t know where Jordan is, and I realize that I don’t care.

They burn the house. All it takes are a few meager squirts from a flamethrower – very efficient. There are a lot more houses to burn. As the vans move out the whole street is burning, soldiers standing guard with hoses to make sure it doesn’t get out of control. The black smoke rolls up into the spring sky, the orange flames reflecting off the clean white vans.

They’re handing out blankets and MREs. We creep past the parking lot of a burned-out Wal-Mart. It’s been turned into an open-air morgue – long lines of bodies, three to a parking space, covered with sheets. Right before we turn the corner, I think I see a familiar silhouette – a small body under a fresh sheet, boots sticking out. You live in close quarters with someone for three weeks and you really get to know what they look like. Picking them out of a crowd is easy, even if you can’t see their face – even if all you see is a pair of boots and a familiar silhouette under a sheet.

A flicker of motion catches my eye. Way off in the distance, there’s a kid on a bike. He’s pedaling as fast as he can, up a steep street, away from the morgue, away from the soldiers, away from the fires. I lean close to the window of the van straining to see. He reaches the top of the hill, pops up, catching air, an impossible amount of air, as he hovers, a black shadow against the orange sky.

And then he’s gone. Not dropping out of sight, just gone, like a memory of a dream, or something you glimpse out of the corner of your eye, or a story told by a dead man.

The Hamster King

I saw the boys again this morning. Three of them, out on the hastily constructed barricades on the Champ de Mars, using the massive concrete slabs as jumps and ramps for their bicycles. I’ve always had mixed feelings about that patch of land; for all of its meticulous beauty it has seen more than its share of horror. It was the location of the first massacre in the name of Liberté over two hundred years ago and the site of what may well be the last one in the name of fear and ignorance just last month.

It all began so recently, not more than a year or two ago. I would like to make this account as accurate as possible but I just don’t recall the specific chain of events and I have no reference material. Newspapers had been on the brink of extinction for years before it all happened; everyone relied on the web or TV for their news, but once there was no one to run the power stations the Internet went dark. I still have electricity here but how or for how much longer is a mystery; I have no idea where the generators are kept and, even if I did, I don’t know how to service them. My grandfather thought it was foolish of me to study French Literature in college. Even though he only had a rudimentary education and could write nothing but his name he was able to thrive after the war because he was a master of practical skills; there was nothing he couldn’t mend or build himself. When I was accepted to Kyoto University he asked if I was going for a degree in engineering, the only profession for which he had even a grudging level of respect. When I said I wanted to study postmodernism in Contemporary European Fiction he looked at me almost in disgust. “How will that help,” he asked, “when you wake up one morning to find your city in ruins?”

Enough with my melancholy ruminations! This is not about me, this is a statement of fact chronicling events for posterity in keeping with the orders given to me by the last commander of this shelter. (When we first arrived he was only a corporal, a skinny nineteen-year-old boy with terrible acne. He died the same way, only with the gold bars of Colonel pinned to the epaulettes of his uniform blouse).

When the first volcano erupted in Iceland it made headlines around the world, not for the devastation it caused but for the inconvenience. This was how we lived; our lives had become so insulated, we had become so coddled that holidays postponed for a week rose to the level of global catastrophe. That, sadly, came soon after.

When the other major volcanoes of Europe became active the initial reaction was annoyance, followed by the first inklings of fear for more than the economy. What, we wondered, would the effect of weakened sunlight have on crops? What effects will the particulate matter (how quickly we learned the jargon!) have on livestock? On our lungs? Each morning the skies grew darker and darker; the brilliant blue skies of early summer were soon replaced by a stinging, sulfurous murk that only added to the mounting displeasure.

Then it all got worse; far, far worse. People living downwind of the thickest plumes began to develop illnesses far more severe than simple smoke inhalation could account for. The first official accounts from all governments were vague, carefully crafted to convey as little real information as possible. When dozens, then hundreds began to die and die horribly the story grew too quickly to be suppressed any longer. Scientists isolated a hemorrhagic virus originating from deep beneath the Earth’s surface that was being delivered by the volcanoes. At first this seemed impossible, like the plot of some inane Hollywood blockbuster, but there had always been a theory that Marburg was spread by visitors (both human and animal) to a deep cave in Kenya and that it could be spread by airborne particles. A commentator on the radical fringe of the environmental movement saw this as proof the that the planet was indeed a single living, breathing organism that was fighting back for all of the pollution and destruction humanity had caused. He christened the virus Gaia’s Revenge and the name soon stuck.

I don’t know what credence the scientific community gave this theory, but what happened next certainly made it seem plausible. As one would expect, people began to panic and panic soon turned to riot; citizens in all of the most affected areas soon demanded to be moved to more geographically stable areas of the world. That’s when the true crisis developed; those countries that hadn’t seen volcanic activity in recorded history were now engulfed as well; mountains which had laid dormant for thousands of years exploded in billowing clouds of boiling death. Within months what had once been a trivial problem became a full scale pandemic with hundreds of vectors and no possible solution.

This is when I arrived here. Governments all around the world began, obviously far too late, to implement long standing contingency plans. High ranking officials were quickly and quietly relocated to secure, self-sustaining shelters all over the world. Here in Paris, as in all places, there was a hierarchy to the process, not unlike the one used to manage the court of the Sun King centuries before. The President, his wife and the inner circle were housed in state of the art surroundings; generals, business leaders and cultural icons were placed in only slightly less luxurious accommodations. We ended up here, in a windowless bunker far beneath the École Militaire, a nearly forgotten relic of the Cold War.

Why was I chosen? Who am I, perhaps one of the last men alive in France? Ironically, I’m not even a French citizen; I was given access as an example of diplomatic protocol, the sort of polite treatment I have been granted my entire adult life. Simply put, I am a spy, but this makes my function seem far too glamorous and romantic; I am no James Bond, have never even held a gun. I was a low ranking Cultural Attaché assigned to the Japanese Embassy, here to observe French culture and politics and report back as to how shifting opinion and the current state of affairs could effect the market for Japanese companies.

When we first arrived this didn’t raise any eyebrows; none of the guests or officers here were of significant importance to warrant any sorts of attention. (Rumor had it that a few in our midst were current or former mistresses of the President, but this is perhaps more salacious than significant). No one knew how long this quarantine (this is the term that was bandied about, another example of government’s love of euphemism) would last, but we never expected that it would be a one-way trip.

Within a matter of days Gaia had her revenge, and there was nothing to be done. At first, the spirit of camaraderie was high, perhaps due to the selfless example of the soldiers who were posted here as our caretakers. As I was one of the ones who remained healthy (at first I was one of the many, then one of the few, then, sadly, the one and only) I volunteered to help with the sick and dying. Now, as I am the last survivor, I am carrying out the final orders of the callow Corporal, leaving a record for whomever may come next.

I have been watching the closed-circuit monitors (our bunker is seemingly wired into the Paris surveillance grid) for other signs of life, and for the last few days I have seen three boys (or perhaps young men) out riding their bicycles through the now empty streets. They are wearing their full safety gear, helmets and pads, which I find both endearing and thoroughly pragmatic; there is no point in surviving a plague only to die from falling off a curb.

So I am leaving my sanctuary behind for the empty streets of Paris, hoping to find other survivors. No known virus has ever been one-hundred percent fatal so there is certainly a chance that I will find more companions than just these three boys. It is unlikely that I will ever see the land of my birth again (and, even if I did, Kyoto was completely obliterated by Mount Ontake) but this may be a blessing. I have spent my entire adult life as a guest of France, as an observer, someone who regarded life around him with a cool professional detachment, providing intelligence without any real understanding. Grandfather, I am now ready to work.

bazarov5000

When Sid was finished with his bike, it didn’t just gleam, it didn’t just shine. It shleamed. It glone. Its majesty was such to require the invention of two completely henceforth inextant words. It seemed, in Sid’s conception, to rival the aura of an entire concentration of heavenly angels. And if God himself deigned to glance down between the cushions of his cloud-seat, he might be caught, astonished, by the sheer strength of that spirited twinkle amidst the noise and clamor of so many Earth-bound, flashbulb souls.
Sid handled his bicycle the way Rapunzel brushed her hair, the way Jason fondled his fleece, the way Ebenezer transferred a warm, golden coin from one palm to another- with a strict sensual adoration of object. Some of his competitors were content to allow their bikes to wear the clothing of insufficient or casual maintenance, of indifference communicated to the world through the mute vocals of untended-to scrapes, of scratched and peeling stickers from such-and-such band, of mysterious-in-origin crusts and eely slicks of oil. Sid felt differently- about his bike, about its value, about the idea of riding anything unfit to be a prism for the eyes of God.
When the bicycle was suchly fit, Sid replaced the cap on the bottle of polish, slowly and methodically re-wrapped the rosary around the handlebars, crouched to gently brush his lips across the icon, then straightened and guided his steed into its stall: a special, narrow space constructed against the Eastern wall of the garage, draped with two soft movers’ blankets on either side. His bike slipped into its sanctuary like a record into its sleeve.
Inside, Ursula was eating cereal at the peninsula table and hunched over the newspaper. She looked up as he walked in, large dark eyes flashing like an owl’s. “Someone called for you,” she said, her voice, as always, flat and atonal, disinterested, “a guy, and I said you were out wiping down your bike for tomorrow. They said they’d call back. Didn’t leave a name?”
“I know who it is,” Sid said brusquely, sweeping like a gale wind through the kitchen, up the stairs. He re-dialed the number, a handful of threes and sixes. As he waited for the pick-up, he thought about how his bedroom sat right above the kitchen, and imagined his bed crashing through the floor and falling directly on top of his sister. The thought was shocking. He immediately crossed himself and issued a silent apology to God, his sister, his ancestors… Suddenly the phone coughed in his ear.
“Sid! You have my notes from the other day. Can you bring them over? Maybe all you’ve got to worry about is the fifth coat of polish on your Mongoose but I have an essay to write.”
“Shit, I forgot I borrowed them. I’ll be right there.”
Sid walked the six blocks to Andy’s house, the white plastic binder cradled underneath his arm, rather than risk besmirching the holy perfection of his newly-polished bike. He hated spending any time at Andy’s house because the confines were entirely dominated by his mother’s beloved and massive Amazon parrot. She had acquired him when she was 18 and the pair had been inseparable ever since- even now, 30 years later, the bird was as spirited as the day he broke egg. At some point during her tenure with the bird, whom she affectionately called “Laredo”, two small children had appeared within the confines of the house. Laredo had never forgiven her for this betrayal, nor the two small human siblings for their mere existence.
As soon as Sid crossed the threshold, the bird registered his presence with a loud shriek that more resembled the death rattle of a dinosaur than anything charmingly avian. “BRCKAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
“Jesus, Andy,” Sid ducked and peered around the corners of the ceiling, expecting a sharp beak upon his head at any time. He thought of Prometheus and his entrails. Entrée entrails. He never understood how Andy could feel any peace in his home whatsoever.
“Don’t worry, she’s caged,” said Andy. Mom’s in the shower. Let’s go out back.”
“BRCKAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
The two boys stepped out onto the back porch and Andy slid the glass doors shut behind them. The harpy cry of the bird could still be heard, but the sound carried through the doors like a bullet through the water- still coming, but without the clout.
“Here,” Sid handed Andy his white binder of notes. “I finished my essay two nights ago. I wanted to be clear-headed today.” Sid raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun.
“Finding a zen place with the bike, eh? According to Isaiah’s sister, it’s just going to be a massive game of GHOST.”
“I can do GHOST,” said Sid. The boys stood in silence for a moment. “GHOST I can do,” he repeated, more softly.
“Oh, I made something for you,” Andy said. He disappeared into the house, leaving the door open a crack. Laredo’s fussing carried from inside the house but distantly, like the siren of an out-of-sight ambulance. He peered at his reflection against the sliding glass doors. A vertical char of light hung down like an icicle, bisecting his reflected head. He took a step to the right to avoid it, ran his eyes along the outside of the house, the red-plastic hummingbird feeder dangling from the corner of the gutter, the line of sun-catcher crystals upon the window above the kitchen sink. A moving image beyond the far window caught his attention, and resolved into the naked pink back of Andy’s mother. Her arms moved, Egyptian-fresco-like, clasping a white cotton bra together underneath her shoulder blades. Sid stared, frozen, agape. Andy’s mother turned in profile, and Sid’s eyes blankly followed the white cotton swell on the front of her chest. It was a fairly modest bra, reshaping her breasts conical. He closed his mouth, swallowed dryly. Andy’s mother disappeared beyond the window to the left.
And then a small sound, something creaking behind him, and Sid whirled around, startled, wide-eyed, ready to attest to his innocence, ready for a verbal pummel from the now-dressed, familiar woman. And maybe her parrot. Her attack parrot. Or the angry face of God. God as the parrot. God IN the parrot. Oh boy.
But no; instead, Andy appeared on the other side of the glass, as if through water, and pushed a poster up against the door. It was a photoshopped masterpiece, a black Sid silhouette, midair, against a bright orange background. “It’s a poster!” exclaimed Andy, squeezing sideways through the doors. “I put it together last night. Early birthday present. I thought it would bring you luck.”
“Shit, Andy, is that me? And what’s that?” asked Sid, still breathless, a little twitchy, unrolling the poster and peering distractedly at a tower of scaffolding on the left-hand side.
“Oh,” said Andy, “that’s the Eiffel Tower, dude. They have a whole bunch of badass stock images in Photoshop 10. Want to be tricking above a pyramid instead?”
“I see London, I see France.” Sid felt unbalanced, laughed nervously. He spared a quick glance to the far bedroom window, but the figure had moved on. “I like France.” The sunlight glinted off the poster as he rolled it into a tube. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, man.” Andy grinned.
“Hey, I should go.” Sid turned toward the house, and thought better of it. He didn’t want to run into Andy’s mother, hair still wet from the shower, conical white bra barely visible beneath a cotton t-shirt. He didn’t want to hear the parrot brashly announcing his guilt from its perch. He wanted to leave. Now.
“Yeah, OK. Thanks for bringing the notes. See you in class tomorrow.”
“See you.” As soon as he was out of sight, he kneeled in the dirt, placed the poster in the grass beside him, and crossed himself. Twice. Three times. Offer an apology to God, he thought, to my parents, to my ancestors, to Andy, Andy’s parents, Andy’s ancestors. Then he slowly got to his feet and headed home, careful not to let the poster bend backwards from the force of his forward momentum.
As he walked home, still breathless and vaguely ashamed, he thought about his bike, precious and gleaming, shining, shleaming. Protected and as ready for use as a sword in a sheath, and how desperate he felt about the next day’s tryouts. All the myriad forces of Heavenly punishment began to occur to him, as well as the caprice behind the way God doled them out: locusts; plagues and pandemics; leprosy; the sacrifice of one’s son. He thought of tomorrow’s game of GHOST. Holy GHOST? Shit, there was no harm in being careful…
Hence, when he arrived home, Sid wrapped two extra rosaries around the handles of his bike—one white, one red—kissed both, and resheathed his instrument. He vowed to spend the rest of the day sinless: as clean as the robes on the back of God himself. Then he brought the poster upstairs, hung it on the wall facing his bed, and leaned back on his bed, staring into the scene. He closed his eyes and imagined himself airborne against a ravishing orange, the Eiffel Tower a strong, serenely protective background presence, and an entire concentration of conical-bra-wearing, parrot-winged angels bearing him high, and perfectly-positioned, into the fiery sky.

Chickie

“Why the bicycle?” Hauptmann Hartmut Engel was sufficiently flabbergasted.

“I asked myself the same question, Captain.” Major Konrad Schiffer extinguished the butt of his latest cigarette on the corpse’s leg and flicked it to the ground. “But answering it is your job, I think. Frankly, though, it is a waste of your talents: I don’t care what these free-shooters and partisans do to collaborators. A dead traitor is a boon to both sides. They’re welcome to every one of their countrymen they can kill.”

The corpse hung by its neck from a base support of the Eiffel Tower, the toes of its boots two feet off the ground. Someone had unimaginatively splashed the Croix de Lorraine across its jacket in red paint. The most striking feature, however, was the bicycle strapped obscenely between the man’s legs, and whose handlebars were lashed to his hands. It dangled backwards, forcing the body into a canted pose which, viewed as a silhouette in the Parisian twilight, nearly suggested the attitude of a man discovering that he has ridden his machine off a cliff.

Engel studied the dead man’s face. “Can we be sure that this is a Frenchman, Major? I perceive he has been hanging here for some time – the features are so bloated as to be indistinct. Maybe there is something Gallic in the cheekbones and nose, but I could with equal confidence claim this man a German, or even a Jew.”

For answer, Schiffer drew a thick envelope from his coat. “His papers. Those, along with the scant particulars of the case and some points of interest discovered by our agents. And with that, Captain, I take my leave of you, and this stinking country. The staff car that I see coming along the wharf will contain my replacement, a Major Heinrich Fuchs. You will like him. He has been most successful in the French campaign, even so far as to win a personal commendation from the Führer himself. Stick with him and follow his directions scrupulously, and you will go far. Now I have a few dispatches from Berlin to attend before I depart, but this time tomorrow I will be doing cheap Italian whores in Naples. Good-bye!”

Schiffer left in a hurry; presently the vehicle he had spoken of deposited Major Fuchs at the foot of the tower. He was a tall, thin man – his Wehrmacht uniform gave the impression of fitting only loosely – with an aquiline face that gazed imperiously from beneath his peak cap. He carried a leather briefcase. Engel saluted; but Fuchs brushed off the gesture with a grunt of irritation.

“Do you know, Captain, that you have already begun this enterprise badly, by allowing a possible spy to escape?”

Engel boggled. “A spy? What could I know of that? I have only just been briefed by Major Schiffer.” He was so shocked that he quite forgot that he was addressing a superior; fortunately, Fuchs seemed not to care.

“You were given a summary at headquarters, were you not? The more outré details should have said something to you immediately. But never mind. Perhaps I have had an inflated impression of your abilities from your handling of the case of that Gypsy in Brussels.”

Engel, remembering his place, did his best to ignore the rebuke. “Yes, Major. I had a summary. But in my experience it is an error to theorize in the absence of data. I always abstain from drawing conclusions until I have witnessed the particulars firsthand.”

Fuchs laughed. “You have a point! I’m sorry if I have seemed harsh. In war, Captain, treason is pandemic. You would do well to be always on your guard. This one time, I think, you have slipped. In fact, I respect your reputation as a detective, but I am afraid this case will be no fertile field for your talents. I have already solved it.”

“Indeed?” Engel smiled dolefully. “What did you make of the bicycle?”

“That! It could be a reminder that, in the streets of Paris, partisan justice can outmaneuver German tanks. Or perhaps the criminal was Dutch.” Fuchs allowed himself a laugh. “But I have reason to believe that it is a blind, a strange feature added to the crime for the sole purpose of attracting attention. Your attention, Captain Hartmut Engel. You are being targeted.”

“What!”

“Your success in rooting out partisans has marked you. The Resistance in Paris is better organized than you imagine, and it has seen fit to draw you here with an eye to eliminating a threat to its covert operations. There is more I would tell you, but not here. Let us walk to that hotel I see across the Champ de Mars. I have arranged with the proprietor to give us a private room.”

“And leave the body?”

Fuchs seemed to notice it for the first time. “Yes, yes. It is unimportant. A crew will be along shortly to cut it down. Come! You would not remain out in the night and fog? Let us seek our sanctuary elsewhere, and get this farce behind us. We can have one evening of comfort before you are sent back to Berlin: the hotel has many fine vintages yet unspoiled. The French were wise to capitulate. Imagine how many bottles would have been destroyed in the battle for Paris!”


At the hotel they were greeted by the concierge, who pressed an envelope into Engel’s hand. “A Major Konrad Schiffer left this urgent note for you, sir. He left only moments ago.”

Engel opened it quickly. The message was a single sheet, barely legible, hand-written in appalling haste. Emergency, Schiffer wrote. Dispatches intercepted. There is danger, cannot tell now. Go nowhere, but meet me Station Six at once.

“Your Schiffer has learned something that disquieted him,” said Fuchs. “You needn’t worry. I have already ordered his arrest. Waffen-SS will have him within the hour.”

Again Engel was stunned. “Are you telling me that Schiffer is a traitor?”

“Not necessarily. Only, at the very least, that his incompetence has necessitated his removal. Which I suppose is as good as treason in the Führer’s eyes. Be glad I have saved you from going to meet him. Even if he did not kill you himself, your going to him might make you a suspect, and perhaps soon the SS would have had reason to question you as well. Schiffer may yet prove a traitor, when he has been questioned enough. But I do have reason to believe that the Wehrmacht in Paris has been infiltrated by at least one agent of the partisans. They call him Le Renard” – Fuchs sneered – “and it is he who engineered this ridiculous murder.”

“A member of the resistance in the Wehrmacht? Impossible!”

“Do you remember what I said about the organization of the Resistance? Don’t underestimate them. Your very presence here is a sign of their power. Did you not think it strange that you would be specially dispatched to look into the death of a common, disposable spy? And a Frenchman, at that?”

“The thought did cross my mind, Major, but I thought it better – ”

“To follow orders without question. It is well that you should. Obedience is the greatest quality in a soldier. But you must obey with open eyes, and be prepared to report treason wherever you find it. Come, Captain. I promised you sanctuary, and wine, but I have something to show you as well.”


There was another corpse in the room. A middle-aged man in dirty civilian’s clothes, he was spread on the floor in a smear of blood, with a single bullet hole in his forehead.

Engel whistled. “Another collaborator? Or is this one of the resistance?”

“A double agent. I shot him myself less than two hours ago. It was this man who led me to Schiffer. His documents are on the table, though I do not propose we waste any more time perusing them. I already know all that I need. I have forwarded copies of everything relevant to my superiors. Unfortunately, I could not stop Schiffer getting to them first; enough is known now by all parties that I think it no longer matters whether Le Renard continues in hiding.”

Fuchs put his briefcase on the table and took off his peak cap. “So we come to the crux of the matter. I was not entirely honest with you earlier. I did not, in fact, solve the problem of the hanging bicyclist.”

“No?”

“I killed him, and had him strung up in that fashion precisely so that I would have a pretext to bring you here, under my nose. Do you follow?” Fuchs eyed him with a cold smile.

“Yes,” said Engel, and suddenly he knew that he stood in the presence of a very dangerous man. He would play his game carefully. “In fact, Major, I had read your file before I came here. I knew your thoughts on the case before you gave them to me. In the brief time of my investigation this evening, I had formed and cemented my conclusions. I regret to inform you that you are wrong about some very important things.”

Fuchs raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“In short, Major, you have been deliberately misled. No doubt you think you have done great service to the Fatherland tonight. You were right when you said treason is pandemic in war. But this man on the floor was no double agent. And the man on the bicycle was no French collaborator. I knew and worked with both before this day. While your office was indulging itself with its usual incompetence, I had already taken the liberty of tracing their particulars. I found a trail of secret documents and evidence of direct correspondence with Berlin that has been of inestimable value to me. In particular, this man was a German, and he took his orders from Prince Albrecht Street.”

“SS headquarters?” Fuchs blanched, staring at the dead man on the floor. “My God. You mean he was one of ours?”

“No,” said The Fox, picking up the Major’s briefcase and drawing a pistol. “One of yours.”

Stealth Potato

A broken man once told me that selfishness is a pandemic from which love is the only sanctuary. And I hated him for saying it. I hated how hindsight somehow turned him into something other than the hypocrite that I so wanted to despise. Shining a harsh light on my own hypocrisy just added insult to injury.

How could he ever deserve my love or forgiveness, no matter how selfish it made me to deny him?
How dare he lay there dying in that bed, trying to snuff out the anger that had propelled me through the past 10 years of my life? He wasn’t doing me any favors, at least not any that I could see through the hot, stinging tears that burned down my cheeks as I stared at the specks of green in the hospital floor.

“I just didn’t know how to tell you…either of you”, he said, licking his parched lips. “I know it wasn’t fair, but I just couldn’t break your hearts any more than I already had by being away so much.”

I found myself squeezing my fist in time to the beeping of his heart monitor, so I started pacing instead.

“Where are they?” I croaked.

“Paris. Julien is quite the photographer. Really great stuff. I think you’d like him.”

His voice was raspy and low. The same voice that used to read to me when mom thought I was already asleep, a lifetime ago.

I turned my back to him, shaking my head. Paris. Now even my fantasies of world travel would be clouded by his secrets. I used to pretend he was a spy when I was a little girl. That he was traveling to exotic places on secret missions instead of stuffy sale pitches. I used to dream that once I was all grown up, I could travel to Berlin, or Paris or Rome to see him briefly in dark corner booths over clandestine café au lait and fancy pastries. After he had finally walked out on my mother and I completely, the thought of traveling the world on my own had become a galvanizing goal of independence. Each stamp in my passport would be a testimony that I didn’t need him to live a full and rich life, or to have my worldly adventures.

“What do you expect me to do?” I asked. “Sit here and watch you die, just like mom, and then go find your other broken family? To tell them what? That you’re gone and you’re sorry for what you’ve done to them too? Somehow I think the irony of sending me, of all people, with such a message might be lost in translation.”

He chuckled, and it turned quickly into a painful cough. I stepped closer in spite of myself and placed my hand gently on his heaving chest. My jaw clenched as he caught his breath. Our eyes met for just a moment before I looked away and reached for a cup of water. I held the straw to his lips while he drank. I came closer to knowing with each breath that came harder than the last, that I would never get a chance to tell him anything.

“God damn it, dad.” I smiled weakly through my tears as I touched his cheek. “Why do you have to be such an asshole?”

                                                                      ###

The flight to Paris was a blur that tasted distinctly like vodka and tonic. My agent had sprung for first class as a sucker-punched-by-bereavement present.
“Trust me.” she had said as she snapped her phone shut back in New York. “Alcohol paired with the privilege of being horizontal is the only way to navigate your way through grief or the Atlantic.” She then proceeded to grab my head in both hands, her gaze slicing intently back and forth between my eyes as she searched my face.

“You are going to be fine.” she assured me. “Just promise me that you are not going to let that damn city soften any of your rough edges. The paint and canvas need them. You need them. I need them. I’ve seen enough talent go there only to evaporate. You can’t do that to me.”

“Um…ok?” I had managed to mumble before she was out the door of my studio and halfway into a cab.

The plane started to descend and my queasy stomach brought me back to the present. The plan was to check into my hotel, take 2 advil and drink some water, and then sleep for 2 days. Once upright I would try to find Julien’s trail at Parsons Paris School of Art and Design. Dad had lost touch with both he and his mother 5 years ago, but knew that Julien had attended classes at the school.

The city was indeed beautiful, but just like back home my eyes were drawn to the mundane, to the dirt and the grime and those rough edges that I was somehow compelled to notice and occasionally to paint.
I barely noticed the atrium of the hotel, but I was keenly aware of the three-legged cat giving itself a bath on some cement stairs across the street.

                                                                      ###

Julien had been easier to find than I had expected. He was listed as a Graduate Student and was even teaching a few classes at Parson’s. He had my father’s smile, and took the news, all of the news, much better than I had.

“My mother knew about you from the beginning. She tried to get him to reach out to you, many times.” he said as we walked slowly through a park near the campus. His English was quite good, and I swallowed the rising itch of envy at the idea of dad having been the one to teach him.

“They fought about it a lot. It is why she left him. She is a good person, my mother. She loved him too. We loved him…but he was not always easy to be around.”

“It’s just…” I fidgeted. “This is still such a shock to me. You know? We’re practically the same age, Julien. How could he have kept such secrets and still come home to my mother and me every few months?”

“I cannot speak for him. I do not know. I just know that it pained him not to be in your life.” We walked in silence for a few minutes.

Julien stopped and caught my gaze, “There is something I think you should see. Will you meet with me again tomorrow? It is only 20 minutes from here on the metro.”

“What is it?” I asked warily.

“It is another part of him that you do not yet know, but you are a part of it.” he replied. “I have another class in an hour to prepare for. Just come again tomorrow. Please?”

                                                                     ###

The train smelled remarkably the same as a New York subway. I closed my eyes and tried to trick myself that I was on the F train on the way to my studio, instead of to God knows what my father had waiting for me…again.

Julien reached into his coat pocket and fumbled with keys as we climbed a narrow flight of stairs. The unmistakable smell of oil paint wafted over us as he led me into a large studio space. His footsteps echoed through the room as he approached an rusty electric box and turned on the lights.

“Whoa… these are amazing.” I stammered as I circled the room moving from one oversized canvas to the other.

“Was he a collector? Who is the artist? They’re brilliant! Are they in Paris?” I demanded as I pulled a dusty tarp off of a few pieces at the back of the room. I stared in disbelief at my own face looking back at me through time, flecks of white animating my eyes over my chubby toddler’s cheeks. I tasted blood and realized I had bitten through my cheek.

“Julien…” I stammered and took a few steps back.

“Your mother sent him a review from your first show in New York. It must have been just before she died. It was the only contact she ever made with him, through his old publisher I think.”

I covered my mouth with my trembling hand and walked again through the room looking at the art of my father for the first time.

“He was fascinated by what he saw in your paintings and started taking classes. It was amazing to see him paint. He would stay up for days at a time, transfixed.”

I realized that Julien was also crying as he looked a particular painting half hidden in shadow.

“This one is different than the others” I said as I pulled it further into the light.

Julien smiled as he wiped a tear from his face with his thumb, “It is from one of my photographs. My first real job for an extreme sports magazine. I saw it for the first time last night. I had not been in this studio for many years. I wasn’t sure if he still used it.”

I stepped closer and took his hand in mine.

ComeToTheDarkSideWeHaveCookies

The only thing that Devin Partlan understood was that he had to keep pedaling.

He didn’t know how he kept getting mixed up into this kind of thing. Just because his brother-in-law was some kind of spy, and Devin had accidentally found out the truth behind the ‘cover’, which suggested that Charlie wasn’t really that good at spy stuff, but so what? Devin suspected that there were other CIA agents whose family members knew some details about their jobs, and those family members weren’t constantly getting drafted and inveigled into missions. It just wasn’t at all professional.

On the other hand, after this kind of thing had already come up three times, possibly Devin should have thought better of planning a trip to Paris on the second anniversary of his and Kelly’s wedding. He’d thought twice about it, more about the money than the possibilities of French counterspies putting his life in danger, but - well, his dear Kelly had wanted Paris so badly.

And that was why Devin was cycling desperately away from the bad guys, trying to remember how to get to the one CIA Sanctuary that Charlie had ever told him about south of the Pont D’lena.

At least he’d kept on biking ten miles a day, six days a week, since marrying Kelly.


It started with that man in the tuxedo who walked up to them in Notre Dame Cathedral.

No, that wasn’t really it, not a satisfying beginning. As he raced down the street, pumping the bike wheels along furiously, Devin decided that it had really started when they were packing for the trip. Charlie had volunteered to help Kelly arrange things - probably he was at loose ends because he was between missions or something and didn’t have anything to do for his cover job, but he wasn’t really being helpful. In fact, he was goofing around.

Beyond Charlie ‘goofing around,’ Devin didn’t really know how the melted candle wax had gotten all over his favorite navy sweater.

He’d been too busy to care, with all the other last-minute details to attend to. And to give him credit, Charlie had been honestly repentant over whatever-it-was and had done his best to make amends. He’d volunteered to take the sweater to ‘his dry cleaner’, (which was probably a top-secret CIA cleaning service that had to deal with powder burns and bloodstains on a regular basis, for all Devin knew,) and Devin knew that he wouldn’t need to worry about the cleaning bill. And when Kelly started to go on about how much she wanted to get a picture of him in a nice sweater in Notre Dame Cathedral, Charlie had volunteered one of his own. It was certainly a snappy-looking garment, though there was something distinctive about the pattern that Devin hadn’t quite been able to identify.

And so Devin put on the sweater on the day that they took the tour at Notre Dame, and Kelly got her picture, (actually she took nearly a dozen of them,) and a man in a tuxedo walked up to Devin when they were almost ready to leave, handed him one of those tiny little computer memory thingies, said “Piedmont,” and walked away.

“What the hell?” Devin exclaimed, and chased after the guy in the tuxedo, though part of him was already suspecting what was happening, and that he wouldn’t be able to stop it. “What is this?”

“Please, Agent Intersect,” the man in the tuxedo whispered. “Don’t make a public scene.” As soon as the man mentioned Charlie’s CIA code word, Devin knew that he wouldn’t be able to get any more answers out of him.

He called Charlie from the hotel, and Charlie wouldn’t tell him anything over an unsecure line - which was also an ‘of course.’ Arranging a secure connection without Kelly figuring out that something was strange took a little doing, but when a strange guy showed up at their door pretending to be some kind of long-lost high school friend, and asked if he could take Devin out for a quick drink, Devin was fairly quick to play along. Kelly did ask to come along and get to know ‘John’, but a bit of fast-talking delayed that intimacy until lunch on some unspecified day before the Partlans left Paris. ‘John’ led Devin to a small room in a building only half a block away from the hotel, and he found himself facing Charlie and some blonde spy girl over a videophone.

“Piedmont is a biological weapon, capable of triggering a pandemic virus,” Charlie explained once Devin had told him about the encounter at Notre Dame. “I’m sorry that you were brought into this. I picked up that sweater during a mission in Yangon, and it’s one of a kind. Apparently it’s mentioned in my file, so when you were spotted wearing it in Paris, somebody assumed that you were me. The memory card probably contains invaluable intelligence on the development of Piedmont, or somebody who might be trying to use it. It is imperative that this information be delivered safely into friendly hands.”

“Right… so what does this mean?” Devin asked, grumbling about it already.

“Just don’t go anywhere without the card. I trust you to keep it safe, but your hotel room could be broken into, even the vault in the lobby. Summer here,” and Charlie gestured to his lady friend, “will be travelling to Paris immediately, and she’ll make contact with you. Just give her the card, and your part of the mission is over. Anybody else who asks you for it or tries to take it from you… well, do whatever you can to keep it safe.”

“As long as it’s not a choice between keeping the card safe, or your sister,” Devin pointed out. “Which reminds me, the time for my drink is about up. I should get back to her.”


Devin didn’t need to wait for the guys in the shades to ask him about the card to recognize them as the ones who wanted it. Somehow he could just tell - maybe he was developing some spy instincts of his own. And it was a good thing that the bikes were just sitting there next to the riverfront barrier, unlocked. Well, it would have been best if there had only been one bike, but he’d lost the two guys in shades who’d tried to catch him on bikes easily enough. They weren’t even amateurs, just cyclists of opportunity or something like that.

The car that attempted to intercept him had been harder to shake, and this one guy wearing ray-bans on the skinny little Japanese motorcycle was just about impossible to shake, no matter what Devin tried to do. He had tried to dash across one of the bridges near the Eiffel tower when a deep black limousine pulled to a stop right in front of him. Unwilling to stop, Devin had tried to jump around the limo, and had ended up making a spectacular jump straight off the bridge and out over the river.

Hitting the water was the last thing he remembered for a long time.


“I was so worried about you, Devin.”

“I’m glad you’re doing better than I am, Kel,” Devin answered before he’d even worked out how bad he was doing. He seemed to be lying in a hospital bed, but didn’t appear to have broken bones or, as far as he could tell, have just come out of surgery. “How long is it since…?”

“Only six hours or so. Why did you bike off like that in the first place? Just couldn’t resist an opportunity for a race? You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“Umm - I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“And those men that you were racing with - I don’t think that they’re very good sports or something. One of them tried to steal your wallet after the ER doctors gave me your things.”

“Oh, no. Wait, ‘tried’ - so have you still got it?”

“Yes, and I had hospital security throw them out. And to think that I told Charlie that French people were civilized.”

“Could I take a look? Just to make sure that our credit cards are all accounted for, and so on?”

“I already checked everything, but yes.” She handed him the wallet, which had been her birthday present to him three years ago. “Cash, credit cards, hotel key, everything’s there. And what pictures did you think were so important that you couldn’t leave the film card in the hotel?”

“Pictures… oh, on the digital memory card?” Kelly nodded. “Sorry baby, that just slipped my mind. I had to swap out cards when we were in the Louvre, right? And so I put the old card somewhere that I knew it would be safe. Completely forgot to drop it in the wall safe in our hotel room last night.”

“Oh, okay.” Kelly sat down beside him and took his hand. “Wait - I had the camera the whole time we were at the Louvre.”

“I… maybe it was somewhere else, I’m not sure,” Devin muttered. “Do we have to figure it out right now?”

“No, no, of course we don’t.”


Everything else worked itself out reasonably well. Just as Devin was signing his discharge papers from the Paris hospital, he heard Kelly telling somebody else the story of how two Parisian teenagers had spotted his bicycle falling off the bridge and taken a boat out to look for him. “Oh, hi honey. Did you ever meet Summer Cooper? I don’t think that we ever crossed paths back in Brooklyn, but it seems Charlie told her to look us up while she was in Paris.”

“Summer, yeah, I think I saw you at Jeff Lester’s housewarming,” Devin muttered, taking the names out of thin air. “It’s so nice to see a familiar face, after the day that I’ve had.”

“I can believe it,” Summer said, offering her hand for Devin to shake. It wasn’t hard to palm the memory card to her, and she took the offering smoothly and transferred it to the pocket of her tight designer jeans.

That was about it. Devin and Kelly had dinner with Summer, which was reasonably convivial since all three of them knew Charlie well and could laugh about his mannerisms and pretentions together. Then Summer disappeared into the Parisian night, taking all trace of Piedmont with her, and good riddance.

And the first thing that Devin did when he got back to New York State was to head over to Charlie’s apartment and give him back his sweater. Just in case something else should happen with the damn thing if he forgot it for a few hours.

chrisk

The phone rang at 4:15 am, and as usual I picked it up. At some point I’d surrendered to the inevitable, maybe because I grew up in a family where you didn’t let the phone ring more than twice, and you always took messages, and where you were unfailingly polite even to the rudest stranger. Plus, in 1974 my phone didn’t ring all that often, and you never knew.

“Hello?” I mumbled.

“Odette,” shouted a man’s voice, gravelly old, his tone dense with suspicion. “I can’t find my pills. When you left my house did you take anything with you?”

“I’m not Odette,” I said patiently. “For that matter I’m not even a woman, at least not the last time I checked. Can you please stop calling me?”

A long pause. “You aren’t fooling me a goddamned bit,” he said finally. “Over here spying on me and taking my pills. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not Odette.” I hung up on him and rolled back, staring up at the ceiling. The calls had started a couple of months before that, coming at random times in the early morning (or the late night, depending on your perspective), two or three times a week. His story often changed and was confused, but he unswervingly called me Odette, and he didn’t seem to care about me getting any sleep. I was young, but not so young that I could afford to go into work tired.

After college I’d moved to Pittsburgh from a little Ohio town a few years before that, taking an apartment in Squirrel Hill to be close to the big city. I’d gotten a job with the post office and spent most of my day walking up and down streets, sliding mail through door slots or dropping it into rusted boxes screwed into old door frames. The neighborhoods I worked were decrepit, but when I’d taken the job I’d thought it would be different: I saw myself whistling my way down a comely suburban street, waving at friendly people as they waved back, and getting gifts of chocolate chip cookies every Christmas. But the reality was that the Pittsburgh of the mid-70s was slowly dying from a pandemic of mill and foundry closings, all the kids who had any chance going off to colleges in other cities and never coming back home. Most of the houses I looked into were dark, windows smudged with handprints, and nobody was ever there to greet me with cookies or even a friendly wave.

“Do you think I give a damn about your sciatica, Odette?” the man shouted at me a few nights after that. “You know you can get up here and see me when you want, and don’t let that stupid husband of yours tell you otherwise. You rode your bike all around the Eiffel Tower ten years ago, you can come down to the goddamned farm for an hour.”

“I’m not Odette,” I said patiently. “And I don’t like riding bikes.”

Ohio had been gone the same way as Pittsburgh, but the death of industry had come a little earlier, with some of my family moving up to Flint where they knew they’d find some sanctuary in jobs making cars, and others had gone south to work in service jobs. I wasn’t sure why I’d picked Pittsburgh of all cities, but it had seemed like a big place full of people to me, and I’d moved there almost on a whim.

I’d been there two years now, and I hadn’t made a friend.

“They came in tried to take all my furniture Odette!” he shouted a few nights later, sounding excited. “I stood them off with the shotgun!” He paused, and his voice dropped. “Did you send them, Odette? You’re not taking my goddamned furniture. I nailed the chifferobe to the floor with cement nails, and you’re not getting it.” He paused again. “I’m a little scared,” he added.

“I don’t want your chifferobe,” I said, briefly wondering if he’d actually stood off someone with a shotgun. “You can keep your furniture,” I said before I hung up.

I remembered that particular conversation because the next day I was dropping mail through the slot of one of the more dilapidated houses on my route, an old white Victorian with peeling paint, and through the sidelights I saw a battered chifferobe in the hall. I paused on the porch feeling suddenly disoriented, thinking about the late-night calls and how hot it was, and wondering what the hell I was doing in Pittsburgh and why I didn’t leave, and hearing a jet moving off in the distance, all those things muddled together in my head. It was late July and the cicadas were rattling in the trees, and suddenly I felt dizzy. As I leaned my forehead against the door I looked down from the chifferobe and realized that the mail had piled up on the floor for at least a week, and then I smelled an awful smell and stepped back from the house. I hadn’t smelled anything like that before, but nobody had to tell me what it was. I staggered off the porch and called the police from a gas station a few blocks away. They kept me for a while to fill out a statement and to make sure I was okay.

“You seem a little shook up,” one of the cops told me, eyeing me with disinterest. “Maybe shock.” I’d just broken into a partial grin thinking about my dream of whistling my way down the street, and then I’d become confused and teary.

“Maybe shock,” I echoed. “You bet, sport.” The cop shot me a suspicious look, but still they gave me a ride home. For some reason I was bone tired and I went to bed early that night, but I found myself in a half-sleep, drifting in and out, waiting for something.

At 3:37 the phone rang. I sighed and sat up, my hand on the phone, and took a deep breath before picking it up.

“This is Odette,” I said. I heard a light intake of breath.

“Well…it’s about goddamned time you admitted it,” said the man finally. “Now Odette, will you please talk to me?”

“Sure,” I said. “Let’s talk.”

Maserschmidt

Sal Winslow and Frank Semmes had been best friends since kindergarten in Amarillo. They loved bicycling, and they loved to travel. They’d talked for years about cycling across Europe, and right after they graduated from UT Austin, it seemed like the time to go. They saved up their money and took the cheapest flight they could find to Spain. On June 6, on a pebbly beach just outside a little Galician town, they dipped their tires in the Atlantic Ocean to mark the official start of their trip.

“Moscow,” Sal said. “We should at least get to Moscow to be able to claim we’d made it across Europe.”

“To hell with Moscow, buddy,” said Frank, who was only slightly more adventurous than Sal. “We should go all the way to the damn Pacific!” Sal knew better by now than to try to talk him out of something so he just laughed.

The boys biked across the northern half of Spain before ascending the punishing heights of the Pyrenees. They stopped in for a peek at Andorra (“So small it could be carpeted,” Frank joked), but wisely decided against climbing Pico d’Aneto, the tallest mountain in the range (“We may be dumb, but we’re not suicidal,” Sal solemnly declared), before turning north. Crossing the border into France was no particular trouble, even in these security-conscious times, and as the days passed Toulouse, Limoges, Vierzon and Orleans loomed before them and then fell behind.

They hoarded their funds and spent money only when they had to. Sal was naturally frugal, and appointed himself treasurer. They slept in hostels and even did some careful dumpster-diving when they had to (not that they mentioned that in their postcards home). Sal was almost hit by a truck north of Vigeois. Frank got the trots from what must’ve been a bad baguette in Chateauroux – or was it Vatan? – but eventually made a full recovery, despite Sal’s jokes about the likely stench of his bicycle seat. Once, in a driving rainstorm near Limoges, they found sanctuary under a bridge, but only after they were already soaked to the skin. Still, they had a blast.

They took their time and enjoyed the sights, when they could, and found their high school French improving enough that they could actually be understood by the natives without resorting to their now-dogeared French phrasebook, a gift from Frank’s parents. They found that, by and large, the country which hosted the Tour de France delighted in disproving all of the usual stereotypes of Gallic hostility and rudeness, especially for cyclists from abroad with very little money.

It was a steamy late August afternoon when they finally reached Paris. They found their hostel in Neuilly-sur-Seine and, exhausted from fighting Parisian traffic on their way into town, collapsed onto their flat and rock-hard beds. They awoke just after dawn, ravenous, went out and found a nearby café. Sal got out his wallet, and hey splurged on strong coffee, hot, flaky croissants and a copy of the International Herald Tribune. It been almost a week since they’d seen a paper, and now they greedily read everything in it, eager to catch up on an unexpected resignation in Washington, a pandemic in Zaire, a Cabinet shakeup in Jerusalem, a spy scandal in South Korea, and a coup in Fiji.

Just as the caffeine was hitting their bloodstreams and all seemed right with the world, a young woman in racing spandex came through the back of the café, pushing along a sports bike, a helmet under her arm. She saw them and their bikes, and smiled. “American cyclists, eh?” she said in accented but easily understandable English. “Tell me, how is your breakfast?”

“Fine, thanks,” Sal said, a little surprised by her directness. “But you’re not our waitress.” Frank just looked at him and winced a little.

“No, but it is my father’s café,” she said. “So I want to make sure you’re pleased with the fare. I’m Anna. Where are you headed today?”

“Uh… I’m Sal. No place in particular. Just thought we’d ride around.”

“Where would you suggest?” his friend asked, being a little quicker on the uptake when beautiful young girls in racing spandex, French or otherwise, were involved. “I’m Frank, by the way. It’s nice to meet you, Anna.”

She laughed, and both Texans’ hearts skipped a beat. “Likewise. Now follow me and I’ll take you to a good Parisian destination. If you can keep up, that is.” And with that, she strapped on her helmet, climbed on her bike and raced off through streets still clogged with morning commuters.

Sal threw a few more Euros than he ordinarily would have, plenty for breakfast and the tip. He and Frank were on the road and following Anna in no time flat.

Although she was fast, they were mostly able to keep up; several times Frank noticed her looking back over her shoulder, never going so quickly as to risk losing them. They wove in and out of traffic, drawing a few irate horn honks but managing not to cause any accidents. They almost caught up to Anna at two stoplights, but she always made it through ahead of them. Above the skyline they could see the Eiffel Tower, that landmark of a thousand movies, looming ever closer.

Finally, nearly winded, the boys arrived on the Champ de Mars, to find Anna grinning triumphantly. “Not bad for a couple of out-of-towners,” she laughed. “Now see where I have brought you? Not what you would expect to find in the middle of Paris, am I right?”

Behind her was the gate to an impressive skatepark. Dozens of in-line skaters, skateboarders and, yes, bicyclists were zipping and forth, up and down the many ramps, tubes and slopes.

“This is great!” Frank said. “But I don’t think our bikes are, you know, right for it.”

“You can rent sports bikes right over,” she said, pointing to a nearby booth. “Come on. I know the owner; I’ll get you the discount.”

“What discount?” Sal asked.

She winked at him. “The American Friends of Anna discount.”

Sal looked at Frank, who met his eyes, then smiled and shrugged. When in Paris, with a beautiful girl…, they both seemed to think simultaneously. Sal dug out his wallet again, not too reluctantly, and they rented the bikes.

Maybe they’d only get as far as Moscow after all, and maybe not on their original timetable, such as it was. But to those two American boys at that moment, far from home, Anna seemed worth missing a glimpse of the Pacific.

Elendil’s Heir

“It’s a goddamn pandemic, is what it is.”

Four mossbacks were at gin rummy in the shade of the picnic shelter. Up for discussion was the motley troupe of skaterboarders and BMX’ers who were plying the new skatepark across the green. Jack leaned back from his proclamation with an old man’s sanctimony. He looked to his companions for reactions; John and Jimmy were studying their cards but nodding absentminded agreement as a matter of habit. Wade was still turned away, looking over his shoulder at the teens in appraisal.

“Don’t you think so, Wade?”

Wade turned back slowly.
“I dunno,” he said, “I don’t pay ‘em much mind. They ain’t hurting nobody, leastways.”

Jack blanched with disbelief.
“Ain’t hurting nobody, hell. They’re hurting me, for one. Hurts my goddamn feelings to see ‘em running around looking like that. Britches hanging half off their asses and rings in their fucking eyebrows and goddamn tattoos running all over ‘em like a kudzu hell.”

He was serious and pinned Wade with a narrow stare as he finished up. Wade looked to the others for support. John was awaiting his reply with a half-concealed smirk; Jim was still in his cards and was startled to see Wade looking at him when he glanced up.

“My play?” He asked, checking the faces around the table to gauge how far behind he was.

“No, Jimbo, it’s my play,” Jack said, “but I ain’t making it till your cousin here makes his case for that pack of skatepunks over yonder.”

Wade sighed.
“I ain’t taking their part; I’m just saying they’re just boys, is all.”

“Just boys my ass.” Jack snorted. “Look at that fat one going there-he’s what? About 16? When I was his age I had my own damn milk route. Up at 4 in the morning, lifting them heavy cans up in the bed of a truck chest high. And what about that big buck there-” He indicated a young black man standing atop the ramp with his helmet off, adjusting the strap. “That son of a bitch is 22 if he’s a day. I’d already seen a war and had my own family at his age. And so had you-” He pointed at Wade’s chest accusingly. “Hell we all had, ‘cepting John here, but he’s too young for the war.”

Jimmy looked up again, having heard his name.
“What’s that?” He said. He was pulling a card but smiled sheepishly and tucked it back in at Wade’s subtle nod.

“You never could keep up.” Jack said, shaking his head with fraternal disgust. He brightened suddenly. “Hey, while we’ve got your attention, why don’t you tell us what you think about them kids.

“Which kids?” Jimmy asked.

Jack nodded irritably by way of indication and went on-
“I think they’re a goddamned disgrace to the town of Paris, Tennessee. Wade, on the other hand, thinks they’re fine young men and he’d be proud to have any one of ‘em for his own.”

Jimmy had turned to look at the boys and his eyes widened as though he were seeing them for the first time. He turned back to Wade earnestly.

“You said that Wade?”

“No, I never said that.”

“He all but said it.” Jack said. “What do you think of that?”

“I don’t know what to think, but I don’t think Wade ever said that about them boys.”

“But do you see anything wrong with ‘em? Like the way they’re dressed?”

Jimmy considered this and turned to look at the boys again, carefully. After a time he turned back to say, “It don’t look like they got any clothes that fit.”

“And?” Jack said, nodding him along.

“And…” -he stretched the word to fill time- “and they’re plumb ate up with tattoos. It looks like they’d itch.”

At that John, silent to this point, loosed a bark of laughter. He cut it off short and sat jiggling silently, his face screwed up with mirth. When he got settled down again he tapped out a cigarette and lit it with his 3rd Army zippo. He took a deep drag and looked at Jimmy and said, “Itch,” and started jiggling again. He expelled twinned jets of smoke from his nostrils, then leaned in confidentially.

“Well, nobody’s ask me, but let me tell ya’ll what I think about them boys-”

“I think those hoods-and that’s what they are-should be lined up and shot.”

“Oh come on,” Wade said. “Shot? Over what?”

“Over common fucking decency, that’s what. Look at ‘em. City built ‘em a new facility here in the park and what do they do right out of the gate? Come in with their rattlecans and graffitied up the whole damn place. That’s my tax dollars-and yours-right there and they don’t even have the common decency to keep it clean.”

Wade was about to reply but there came a tremendous thrum-thrum-thrummmm from the entry road and they turned simultaneously to watch an import with blackout windows and aftermarket skirts pull in to the lot abutting their shelter.

The din quieted and the driver got out. A gangly kid in an enormous white t-shirt and a flat-brimmed ballcap. Jack called to the kid as he went by with his board in tow but he seemed not to hear. Wade spied an earbud amongst his multiple earrings but Jack’s face had already darkened at the perceived slight and Wade thought better of offering his explanation.

The youth joined a clique in the halfpipe with a complex but spontaneous seeming array of knuckle bumps and gansta hugs. Wade watched and as he did a boy on a bike came whipping through his field of vision and hit the spine at full go and was airborne with the replicated tower in the background sunset

The sun glinted off his chrome chain cover and Wade blinked against it and found the scene burned into his eyelids like the afterimage of a flashbulb. Ascendancy arrested.

He remembered once as a boy standing atop a low hill, astraddle the neighbor ladies’ Schwinn appropriated for this stunt. And below his brother 3 years older and 60 years dead was antic and calling older brother’s dares off from the side of the plywood and cinderblock ramp set close to the little creek and the six foot drop to the alluvial spit upon which he was to land. The proper taunt was called and he was off, nine year old legs pumping and the wind in his face and then the unsteady ramp grumbled and he was free.

Looking back he thought he’d spent his first twenty years testing physical law, searching for loopholes or to undo the underpinnings of a ready made world, for anarchy flourishes nowhere as in a young man’s heart. And somewhere along the way he’d changed, and ever since the change he’d been seeking sanctuary from the anarchists who followed, alike him in all ways save the generations removed.

Maybe that’s what it meant to become old. To come to be irrationally attached to a world that hadn’t suited you in your youth.

“Wade?”

Wade turned back. It was Jimmy, grinning like a catbird.

“Gin,” He said.

Incensed

I still remember the last ordinary day.

“Est-ce que vous avez un… euh… une…” I break off, trying to think of the word for crowbar. Weapon. Tool – all right. “Un outil?” I ask. “Pour casser les fenêtres?” The man in the plague doctor’s mask nods, and after rummaging in the boot for a few moments, reappears with a heavy wheel spanner. Good enough, I think. We start off for the shop across the road, back to back, doing the looking-in-all-directions dance of those who have lived long enough to learn.

The sky was tangerine. It was like a fairy tale. It was like a fairy tale even then, before anything had happened. Springtime, in Paris, the evening breeze blowing scents of apple blossom, bakeries, perfume. I had decided that one could not have been in Paris without having seen the Eiffel Tower, and had left the rest of the tour drinking in the hotel bar (students, apparently, start the night early. Or did), to hunt it down. This was not difficult, even without a map, and after a few false starts I spied the landmark hiding at the end of an avenue and headed, feeling like the heroine of a romantic mystery novel, in its direction.

The shop is one of the very best kind, one of those where the proprietor had enough warning to lock up, but did not think of pulling down the steel shutters. Steel shutters are not beyond our abilities, but not worth the bother of tackling on an ordinary tinned-goods run like this one. Shops that have been already broken into, on the other hand, are a no-go zone. Remember that zombie movie where the heroes didn’t get ambushed in the ransacked convenience store? Me neither. We keep to the ones where we can be sure we’ll be the only customers.

I must have been travelling north-east, because I had walked under the tower itself before seeing that they had set up ramps and half-pipes all over the Parc du Champs de Mars. The tower, in the way of most things that you’ve seen on television a thousand times before seeing in reality, was a bit of an anticlimax. It’s not that it was smaller than I had expected; it wasn’t. It was great, it was Eiffel Tower-ish, but it didn’t fill me with an overwhelming wave of Frenchness or whatever it was that I’d thought it would give me. I once read somewhere that there’s a special psychosis, like Jerusalem syndrome, that Japanese people sometimes get when they visit Paris. Why the Japanese in particular I have no idea, but it seems that they’re expecting something and they don’t get it. Or else they do. Either way, it makes them go a little odd. I, on the other hand, don’t expect anything.

When we get to the shop, M. Bonnier, he of the pointy plague mask, breaks a window for us with his wheel spanner, smashing until every bit of glass is gone from the frame. Why risk cutting yourself when you don’t have to? The first thing we do once we’re inside is to take a shelf and shove it against the open window. We each grab a couple of baskets and set out foraging. I have a shopping list of sorts, a few items that the people back in the church have particularly asked for. I probably won’t find many of them this time or the next, but if I come across a bottle of 1988 Krug, a tin of baby artichokes or a jar of cerises au marasquin, it’s coming home with me. In the meantime, I pick out several tins of peaches and all the sardines I can find. Bonnier is filling his basket with packets of flour. The flour won’t be fresh, but it won’t poison anyone. It’s been almost three years.

I found out in Jerusalem, while not going mad, that it’s not the things that you expect that punch you straight in the heart. In the sanctuary of the Holy Sepulchre I didn’t find what I was looking for. That arrived later in a parking lot, surrounded by buses. And when I remember Paris in the fairy-tale time before the pandemic, it isn’t the Eiffel Tower I think of.

As Bonnier and I leave the shop, I’m the first to see the nightmare figures lurching down the street towards us. My French fails me, as usual, and I yell “Pardon! Au secours! Attention!” at Bonnier.

What I remember best about that magical evening under the tangerine sky is a single frozen image. I had wandered about under the tower for a minute or so, realised that this was probably not the best vantage point from which to admire it, and walked out into the Champs de Mars. That was where the extreme sports tournament was going on. The park was full of equipment, ramps and half-pipes as I mentioned before, and crowds of people were watching the competitors. There were also a number of TV crews, dragging around cameras and recording equipment. What they recorded that evening was something else…

We’re practiced enough at this that I could shout “Perceptive dartboard! Platypus!” at him and it would still work. He drops his baskets of flour and spins around, wheel spanner still in one hand, and pulls out a pistol with the other. I don’t trust anything more subtle than a shotgun, and I’m already blasting away at them by this stage. Only one makes it close enough to be a real danger. I don’t know whether it’s my shotgun barrel or Bonnier’s wheel spanner that finally takes it out, but it goes down in a horrible spray of blood that splatters both of us.

But you all know about that. What’s important is my moment. I had moved back far enough to see the tower properly, and just in front of me was one of the BMX ramps. I was supposed to be looking at one of the world’s best-known landmarks, and instead I was watching the biker kids practicing tricks. There was one boy, looking about twenty, doing jumps. And that’s my moment. Kid on BMX, in mid-air, silhouetted against a tangerine sky, in front of the Eiffel Tower. And that’s what I was doing when the Zombie Apocalypse began.

This is the reason for Bonnier’s plague mask. In the first months of the pandemic no one knew whether the virus was airborne or not, and some people made up elaborate masks with HEPA filters cannibalised from vacuum cleaners and things. These were unwieldy and needed a power source, and the masks gradually evolved into coffee-filter and cotton-wool filled cones that remind me of the masks worn by mediaeval plague doctors. The people who wear them look just like the characters from Spy vs. Spy, a long beak for a face with goggles sticking out on top. Of course the masks wouldn’t have saved anyone if it really had been airborne, but they’re useful against blood spatter and have become something of a tradition. I personally prefer a simpler approach: your basic bandit mask and goggles.

So we hop back into the car and head for home. I found home,and I’m bloody proud of it. When there are zombies around, what you need is somewhere strong and fortifiable, preferably made of stone, with nice steel-reinforced doors, one big room so nothing can sneak up on you. And a tower so you can see them coming from miles around. And I found it, too. Sanctuary.

PsyXe

PARIS (May 12, 2010) – Sir: Have acquired locale of suspected international spy, codename “Freewheeler,” and continue tracking him even now. He has returned to Paris, as per his pattern, after his last reported sighting in Zurich. Our man there “went missing,” as Le Monde so drolly put it, the day before Freewheeler’s scheduled flight back to Orly. His whereabouts and movements coincide with the eight assassinations of our agents both in Europe and the States over the past 21 months.
Once he is safely in Paris, Freewheeler does a splendid job of leading a mundane life. His activities would seem to most professional observers consistently droll. However, he does on occasion give his adrenalin as much exercise as he dare in the public eye. As you’ll see in the accompanying snaps, he was even spotted – in full garb, mind you – participating in a BMX competition out at the Eiffel. He appears to be incredibly comfortable in his “home base,” but this could ultimately work in our favor. If he continues to push his luck out in the open air of his chosen sanctuary, we are sure to catch him during his next assignment drop. Since we missed him by only a day after he received what turned out to be instructions on causing the malaria pandemic in Bogotá, I know we and the Prime Minister are more determined than ever to stop him before he disappears from Paris again.
Respectfully, I must repeat my request to engage Freewheeler. I understand the need for discretion, but I feel that my history of undercover assignments make me an ideal candidate to get close to the bugger, and wrapping him up ahead of schedule. I’ve done quite a bit of extreme sports in my day, as you well know, and I believe it may take but a few well-executed flatspin 720s to capture Freewheeler’s attention. If he believes I am in his class, and perhaps even a rival, this will surely bring about an opportunity for me to get close. In fact, if I work the bike well enough, it may even be cause for Freewheeler to engage me, which would eliminate even more suspicion!
Please advise.
F.

LONDON (May 13, 2010) – F.: Do as you see fit, but do refrain from pushing too hard. It is not our intent to test Freewheeler’s temperament, or to see what it takes to make you his ninth victim. Keep your eyes open on this one, F. This is a professional in every sense. We will authorize your BMX activities and expenses, but only so far as it gains us ground. If you do not make any significant form of contact within the next several days, we will pull you back. The object is to get close enough to garner information, but if you cannot accomplish this, it is pointless to make our target familiar with your face!

LONDON (May 15, 2010) – NOTATION ON “OPERATION FREEWHEELER”: F. has missed his last two appointed contact times, and we must assume the worst. Have briefed K. on the case thus far, and dispatched him to Paris. Family of F. informed.

redPen