bad road to the dead river - 25. the big city

by nick nelson

part twenty-five of thirty-two

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“all right, i think i get it,” ruby said, after two minutes of joanie’s attempt at explaining what a theoretical sociologist was. “you do?’ joanie smiled. “that’s great. not too many people think it is that interesting, but i do.” “what i get,” said ruby, “is that there is nothing i can help you out with with that stuff.” “oh.” “but i have something else i think i can help you out with.” “and what’s that?” joanie asked. she was a little disappointed, but not really surprised, that ruby was not really interested in sociology. “some kind of job?’ “a way to maybe make some money,” ruby said. “like what? trying to sell something? i don’t think i would be very good at that.” ruby looked around. there was no one else in the cafeteria except the woman behind the small display case, who was leaning on the counter behind her and looked like she was falling asleep. ruby lowered her voice. “ have you ever thought of trying your luck in the big city?” the big city! the “big city” was about four hundred miles north of the imperial city. it had, supposedly, at one time been the largest city not only in the empire but in the world. but it fallen on hard times, mostly as a result of gradually sinking into the atlantic ocean. now it was fabled as a lawless “wide open” town, the background of endless tv shows and trashy novels. and it could only be reached by traveling through the even more notorious “barbary coast” or “hell’s highway”, a place where, at least on tv, the sun never shone except to reveal, at dawn, the dead bodies and other detritus of the fearful night. “well?” ruby asked, when joanie did not answer right away. “um - it might give me some interesting material for a study, i suppose, “ joanie said. “but i don’t suppose that is what you have in mind.” ruby laughed. “i see you have a sense of humor, kid. no, what i have in mind is this - me and a couple of pals want to go to the big city to see if we can hook up with a carnival.” “a carnival?’ “yeah, one that would work the barbary coast maybe, or maybe up north, in the bad lands. carnivals and traveling shows are big up there, where they don’t get such great tv reception.” this sounded even scarier to joanie, but after all it was just talk, they were sitting safely in the young ladies hostel in the imperial city, so she just asked. “where would i fit in? i don’t know anything about carnivals, i am not even sure what they do.” “no, honey, you have the one thing the carnies are always looking for and can’t get enough of.” joanie thought she knew where ruby was going, but asked, “and what might that be?” “looks, kid, you got the good looks.” and, ruby did not add, the innocent good looks - the stuff dreams are made of. joanie took a sip of her tea, which was almost cold. “these pals of yours,” she said, just to be saying something. “what do they do? do they have good looks?” “ha, ha! they have looks all right, but not exactly good looks.” “wait! are they - are they men or women?” “oh, they are women all right, don’t worry about that.” ruby glanced over at the woman behind the display case, who looked sleepier than ever. joanie felt relieved. not that she was really interested in ruby’s proposal anyway, but the idea of traveling up the barbary coast with a couple of men - or even one man - that would have been totally beyond thinking about. 26. barbary coast

bad road to the dead river - 24. joanie

by nick nelson

part twenty-four of thirty-two

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joanie smith had been the prettiest girl and most popular person in her high school class, class president, and was voted person most likely to succeed. the class had not been that large - only thirteen students, nine girls and four boys - and the town itself - morrisvillle in the west central district of the american heartland - was not that large. but even so, joanie was disappointed that she did not find better success when she made her way to the imperial capital after graduation. after taking a room at the imperial young ladies hostel, joanie decided to seek a job as a waitress in one of the large restaurants in the city. she had waitressed for six years when still in school in morrisville, so she thought it would be a stress free job that would support her while she pursued her real avocation as a theoretical sociologist and wrote her first book, which would make her famous. joanie was shocked to find that there was intense competition for even such jobs as waitressing. on her first day in the city she went to a employment agency and was told to leave her name and phone number and a resume and they might call her back in three weeks at the earliest. after some hesitation she complied with this outrageous request, quickly tapping out the “resume” on her phone. she did not apply to another agencies. she decided to bypass the agency and go directly to restaurants and apply directly for jobs. but she dd not have much success. most of the restaurants told her they only hired through agencies and in some places the person she talked was nice enough to give her the name of the agency they used. the smaller places often told her they were family owned and did not hire non-family members. for some reason joanie found this particularly discouraging. joanie began to feel downhearted. per imperial edict, she could only stay in the young ladies hostel for twenty-eight days, and she had already used up half of them.. she began to wonder if she could make it in the imperial city, and if she would ever fulfill her dream of becoming a world famous sociologist. the ladies hostel had a small old fashioned lobby with big padded chairs and potted plants, and a small cafeteria which sold coffee, tea, and pastries and was open all night. most of the inhabitants of the establishment spent their time in their rooms with their phones and tvs, but a few spent time in the lobby or cafeteria and after her first week joanie began joining them. after a particularly discouraging day, joanie was sitting in the cafeteria sipping a cup of oolong tea, and not nibbllng on a raspberry tart she had decided not to spend money on, when she was joined by a young woman she had not seen before. not seen, and not just not noticed. because she would have noticed her. “hello, the young woman said. “my name is ruby.” “hi, i’m joanie.” it was understood that if you sat in the lobby or the cafeteria that you were open to such direct approach. it was what the lobby and cafeteria were there for. even groups of two or more might be interrupted by strangers introducing themselves. ruby was covered from head to foot, including her face, with tattoos. her shirt and pants also had tattoo-looking pictures on them, so it took joanie a couple of seconds to realize that she was in fact wearing clothes and was not naked. “i haven’t seen you before, “ ruby said. “just get here?” ’no, i’ve been here for almost two weeks,” joanie said. “but, um, most nights i’ve been too tired to do anything but go up to my room and sleep. looking for a job, you know?” “a good looking girl like you? you should find work easy. “ joanie sighed. “well, i haven’t, i don’t know what to tell you.” ruby took a sip of the coffee she had brought with her. “what are looking to do? actress? model? can you sing or dance?” “no, i was just looking for a job as a waitress.” “ a waitress! honey, that’s stupid. every slob and nonentity wants to be a waitress - it’s what you do if you can’t be anything else.” joanie blushed slightly. “i thought i could waitress to support myself while i followed… while i did what i want to do.” “yes, that’s what they all think. if they lived in the woods with the bears. you come from a small town, honey?” “yes, i do. pretty small.” she gave ruby a very brief description of morrisville. ruby shook her head. “whatever. but like i started to say, it doesn’t work that way. starting out slow, taking your time. whatever you want to do, you have to just go for it. go for the jugular,” “you are probably right,” joanie agreed. “but what was it that you wanted to do? you still haven’t said.” “i want to be a theoretical sociologist.” “a what?” 25. the big city

bad road to the dead river - 23. the slip

by nick nelson

part twenty-three of thirty-two

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watching the kid was a lot tougher than pablo had expected it to be. he felt like everybody knew what he was doing. how was he supposed to watch the kid without anybody noticing? he couldn’t look directly at him - for what, eight hours? - without somebody noticing, could he? but if he took his eye off him, for one second, how did pab;lo know he would not disappear. pablo had followed people before. he was an old hand, though not particularly good at it. he figured that was why mister brown had hired him. but he had never done anything like this before. first off, following a little kid gave him the creeps. second, the kid hardly moved. and third, and worst of all, pablo really had no idea who or what mister brown was. at least with the toughest, meanest guys you sort of knew where you stood. he had only been “on the job” for a couple of hours and it felt like twenty-two. he decided to finish the cup of coffee in front of him, take a whiz - surely the kid wouldn’t disappear while he did that - and then take a little walk around the block, before coming back and finding a new spot. a new spot where his two thousand dollar coffee card wouldn’t be good, but he didn’t care. that was another thing - the more he thought about it, he decided mister brown must be a complete idiot, a) for calling attention to him and b) for tying him down to one spot. it was almost as if he, pablo, was being set up. but he wasn’t worth anybody’s time to get set up! if there was one thing pablo was sure of, it was that. then again, if mister brown would pay two thousand dollars for the card, maybe that meant he had so much money two thousand was like two cents to him… pablo made up his mind to get up as soon as the last few drops in his cup were gone… a long black limousine pulled up to the curb in front of the kid, obscuring pablo’s view of him. nothing special there. there were a lot of limos on the street as they were only a few blocks away from the imperial compound, and several had already stopped and bought the kid’s [aper. but this one was taking a long time. finally it pulled away. and the kid was gone! and his papers, and his tarp, and his rock were all gone! he must have gotten in the limo! after his first shock, pablo was almost relieved. maybe this was the end of the job, and good riddance. mister brown had told him what to do. not looking like he was in any hurry, pablo took out his phone and texted the number he had been given. he had also been given some simple code words. manny just quit his job. the message came right back: wait until four. jerry might call. that meant he should wait - maybe until four - six more hours! - until somebody from mister brown came along , to relieve him, take him somewhere for a new job, or give him new instructions, he decided to take the whiz and that he deserved a walk around the block - just a quick one. a young woman came into the coffee shop just as pablo was getting up from the counter. he thought she looked familiar. 24. joanie

bad road to the dead river - 22. the phone

by nick nelson

part twenty-two of thirty-two

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the lawyer, anne greenleaf, and her client, rutherford b hayes, returned to the interrogation room much sooner than taft had anticipated. “so soon?” he asked pleasantly. “yes,” greenleaf said. “i think we might be able to clear this up pretty quickly.” “how so?” taft asked. “just how sure is this - officer -“ she nodded towards grundy - “that mr hayes here is the man he encountered previously and acted in what the officer regarded as a suspicious manner?” “i am not at all sure,” grundy answered, before taft could get a word in. “in fact, the more i think about it, the more i think he wasn’t the guy i saw at all.” “well, then, i guess there s nothing more to say, is there? i think we can all go home now, or go about our business, can’t we?” taft knew when he was beaten. he managed not to look at grundy, whom he felt like beating with a stick. “well then,” greenleaf said, “imy client and i bid you a good evening.” “there is just one thing,” taft said. “and what is that?” taft addressed rutherford b hayes. “don’t you want your phone back?” “um - oh yeah, sure.” greenleaf stared at taft. “well - why don’t you just give it back to him?” “i was not sure how cooperative mr hayes was going to be, or ” - taft glanced at grundy - “how easily the situation would be resolved. so i sent his phone to be copied. which i have the authority to do, under regulation -“ “whatever,” greenleaf interrupted him. “do you want to wait around for it?” she asked rutherford b hayes. “um - i am not sure;” “we can have it sent to you ,” taft said. “if you don’t want to wait.” “uh - that might be best, ” rutherford b hayes said. “what is your address?” “send it to me,” greenleaf said. “to the legal assistance office, to my attention - anne greenleaf.” taft was astonished, and showed it. “are you sure?” “positive.” * when greenleaf and rutherford b hayes were gone and the door closed behind them, taft turned to grundy. “grundy, what have you done?” “i don’t know - you tell me.” “how weird was that - having the phone sent to her?” “who knows?” grundy seemed amused by the whole thing. “maybe they are old pals. maybe they fell in love in room 24 and can’t wait to find a motel and get serious. i don’t care. do you?” “but - the whole thing is crazy. crazy from start to finish. and we let him slip through our fingers. the captain isn’t going to like it when i make my report. he will want answers from both of us.” grundy stood up. “we can sort it out with the captain tomorrow. right now, my mom is probably worrying about me. good night, lieutenant.” * a few minutes after grundy left, a tech returned with rutherford b hayes’s phone. “that was easy,” she told taft. “what was easy about it?” “there was nothing on it. no stored data, not a single phone number stored, no texts or e-mails.” “like it was brand new? was it registered?” “it was registered to mr kenneth kangaroo, of carlsbad new mexico. but no mr kangaroo is listed as living in carlsbad new mexico at this point in time.” the tech laughed. “we could try to trace him. do you want us to?” “let me think about it,” taft said. “leave the phone with me.” 23. the slip

bad road to the dead river - 21. must be awkward

by nick nelson

part twenty-one of thirty-two

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when he returned to the interrogation room and was introduced to his lawyer, the man calling himself rutherford b hayes requested to consult with the lawyer in a private room. taft had no choice but to agree. “it’s not getting any earlier here,” grundy told taft, when the lawyer and the man had left. “can i go home?” taft hesitated. “no, the lawyer might want to ask you about your identification. you better stay.” “but i already told you, i am not sure about him.” “tell her whatever you want. it might just drag things out if she wants to talk to you.” “can she ask him anything?” corelli put in. “this is not a courtroom.” “i don’t really know,” taft admitted. “but i just want to move things along. the captain won’t like it if we get bogged down in a lot of back and fort.” “then why not just let the guy go, and move on?” corelli asked. “i think we are too far along to do that.” “but can i go home?” corelli asked. “what do you need me for?” “yes, you can go home. i will call the front desk to send a replacement for you.” “thank you.” “wait. before you leave, have a copy made of this.” taft handed corelli rutherford b hayes’s phone. “and everything on it?” “of course. why else would i have it copied?” “you want me to wait for it?” “no, no, just tell them to do it double quick and send it back to me.” * the room in which the lawyer, anne greenleaf, and rutherford b hayes found themselves was the size of a closet, with two hard chairs and a small table, and had a single small high window. it was much closer to rutherford’s idea of an interrogation room than the large windowed room he had been brought to by taft. “all right, let’s get started,” greenleaf said. she switched her phone to record and put it on the small table. “i am anne greenleaf, an attorney for imperial city legal assistance. my id number is 78-628-h-52. and i am speaking with mr rutherford b hayes -“ “excuse me. that is not my real name.” “ah. all right.” greenleaf showed no surprise. she switched off the phone. “why don’t you tell me your real name and then we can start over.” “i don’t have a real name. or any name.” “well, that must be awkward. “ “yes, it can be sometimes.” “I tell you what, why don’t i turn the recorder back on and you can tell me about how and why the secret service picked you up. then we can go back later, and sort of fill in the blanks.” “all right.” the man no longer calling himself “rutherford b hayes” or anything else briefly recounted his encounter with taft and grundy. “and that’s it?” greenleaf asked when he had finished. “you have no idea why they picked you up? none at all?” “no, i do not.” “tell me… rutherford .. you don’t mind if i still call you rutherford…?” “it’s as good a name as any.” “do you suffer from … blackouts… do you suddenly sort of wake up and not know where you are?” “no, i don’t think so. it is just that i don’t know my name or who i an or where i came from.” “you must get through the days somehow. you don’t even look like a bum. much. ” “somehow is right. and i am not a bum. or a psycho or a criminal or a fake or a bad person. i am not any of those things.” “you don’t have to convince me. i am sure you are not.” 22. the phone

bad road to the dead river - 20. the lawyer

by nick nelson

part twenty of thirty-two

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“how’s the coffee, gabby?’ taft asked the man in the blue jacket. The man had taken the blue jacket off, revealing himself to be very much in fighting trim. “It’s very good, thank you. the donut is good too.” “i am glad you like them. feeing a little more relaxed now?” “yeah, a little.” “well, in that case , while we are waiting for your lawyer, maybe we could get started and you could tell us a little bit about yourself ? just so we could fill out the preliminary information - your name, and such, and we could save a little time.” taft picked up the man’s cell phone again. “we don’t want to have to bother breaking into this, do we?” “i really think i would rather wait for the lawyer - since we have waited this long already.” “whatever.” taft did not show his annoyance. corelli yawned. grundy fidgeted in his seat, and looked out the window. “i have to go to the little boy’s room,“ “gabby” announced. “that’s an old-fashioned expression,” taft said. “i don’t think i have ever heard anybody actually say it, maybe read it in a book somewhere.” “i’m an old fashioned guy.” “i guess. all right, but corelli will have to go with you. you understand.” “yes, i understand.” when corelli and gabby were out the door, grundy laughed out loud. “having second thoughts, lieutenant? how long are we going to wait for this lawyer? did you even really call for one?” “yes, i really called for one. and they should be here by now. and no, i am not having second thoughts, i really think there is something strange about this fellow.” “what, like saying ‘little boy’s room’ ?” “that, and other things.” “you know what i think, lieutenant?” “no, grundy, what, based on your extensive knowledge and experience, do you think?” “i think you should let the guy have bill johnson, if bill johnson will have him.” “that’s a great idea. why do you think that?” “i just have a feeling.” “about what?” “i think this is going to get weird, maybe get in the news, and you’ll wish you gave the guy every break.” taft was surprised. he had been thinking sort of the same thing, but before he could think of something to reply to grundy, his phone beeped. “that has got to be the lawyer. “ he stood up. the door opened, and the officer outside allowed a young woman to enter. “hello,”she said, “my name is anne greenleaf, and i believe you are expecting me. i am from legal assistance.” “we are glad to see you, miss greenleaf,” taft told her. “have you handled cases like this before?” “i advise interrogated citizens of their rights, if that is what you mean. it is what i do all day - and sometimes night. i have to say i have never dealt with the secret service before.” “i understand.” the lawyer looked at grundy, who had remained seated and was staring at her. “is this my client?” “ha, ha. no, grundy here is a secret service man, just like myself. your client is taking a little break - accompanied, of course.” “well, i hope he is not making a break for it. “ taft laughed politely. “may i sit down?’” “of course. would you like some coffee?” 21. must be awkward

bad road to the dead river - 19. never!

by nick nelson

part nineteen of thirty-two

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“i really appreciate this, al.” “you should. it’s just because i am such s sentimental slob. but even so, i can only give you twenty minutes, so let’s get with it.” rebel roussel had her phone ready, set it to record, and put it on the coffee table between herself and capone. they were seated i the “red room” of the imperial palace, which capone’s predecessor, john dillinger, had converted into a library, mostly containing old books about western gunslingers, samurai warriors and world war flying aces. capone did not use the room much. two secret service men were the only other occupants of the room. they stood stoically at the window, looking out at the night, and not expressing their annoyance at this slight extension of their long shift, which had begun eighteen hours ago in the south pacific. rebel also took out a small old fashioned paper notebook and a pencil. capone noticed this and snickered. “i just like to jot a few things down,” rebel said. “makes me feel like a real reporter.” “like in the good old days. is that what you want to talk about, the good old days? like a human interest story? if that is what you want, i am happy to oblige.” “no, not at all.” reb checked the phone to make sure it was recording, and raised her voice slightly. “i am here in the red room of the imperial palace, with president al capone. thank you for seeing me, mister president,” “it is always my pleasure, reb - ms roussel.” “i would like to ask you, mr president, about the rumors that have been circulating in the empire, and in the world, about attempts by entities from other galaxies or other universes - aliens, if you will - to contact the peoples and the governments of this world.” “well, reb, i have always known you as a hard nosed reporter with a passion and an instinct for hard facts, so i am a bit surprised to hear such a question from you. but i will answer the question as best i can. as i am sure you know, such speculation has been around for centuries, at least since the time of mr wells and monsieur verne, and has spawned a kind of industry that has its ups and downs - like bike riding or football or other things that keep people amused.” “that is all very well, sir, but it is the case that these ideas have suddenly taken hold and taken on a new life. not just here in america, but all over the world, most particularly in europe and the middle east, and with a somewhat new twist. “well, reb, it does not surprise me too much that such ideas are floating around europe, as i know from my own experience that chancellor hitler is somewhat partial to entertaining them. but tell me, what is this somewhat new twist you speak of?” “the new twist is that there is more than one set of aliens, and that they are attempting to play the empires of the earth off against one another.” “i have absolutely never heard of such a thing. our tireless and patriotic intelligence services - the finest in the world - have never so much as hinted at such a thing to me. i repeat, i have never heard of such a thing, not even in the movies.” “so you do not think it possible that we might see war break out among the empires, each of them fighting side by side by some army or other from outer space?” “what a question to ask! especially to someone like myself, just returned from a peace conference in paris, where great and hopeful strides were made toward finally reaching the eternally elusive goal of world peace.” “would you ever consider sending american troops into battle, against any of their fellow humans, with creatures from the depths of outer space as our allies?” “never! the thought is totally repugnant to me. i wonder at the sort of mentality that could even conceive of such a thing.” “thank ypu, mr president. no one can accuse you of giving a wishy washy answer. i think we can move on. since you have so graciously allowed me a bit of your valuable time, may i ask you how your children and grandchildren are doing.” ‘very well, thank you, reb. thank you for asking.” 20. the lawyer