2043 A.D. Page 3

  And now he believed they’d finally come for him. They were at the door. He knew it was gonna happen sooner or later, and he'd always vowed that he would die on his feet before he'd live on his knees. He was actually surprised he'd gone this long without being taken in. He knew he set a "bad example," and in this new age where appearances and impressions were everything, he wouldn't be tolerated for very long.

  Charlie insisted on using an old-fashioned handset. He had called the phone company shortly after moving into his house and requested a repairman to fix a problem that he would not give specifics about. When the repairman arrived, Charlie told him to disable all of the microphones in the house and to put in a regular phone that he could hold in his hand.

  After some disagreement and squabbling, the repairman finally agreed to remove only the microphones that weren’t legally required. He could take out the auxiliary mics that enabled hands-free communication from anywhere in the house, but the rest were required by the Orange County Homeland Security and Charlie couldn't pay him enough to mess with those.

  Now he stood next to the counter where he kept his wireless handset charging cradle. He took deep breaths, trying to build up his resolve and courage to face what he believed was an inevitable confrontation. Every day he wondered if that would be the day they would come to take him away.

  "A VISITOR IS AT THE DOOR!" the autohost sounded at a much higher volume. Sensors told the host that Charlie, or someone, was home, so it was determined to announce the visitor until it got a response. If it had not detected Charlie's body heat and motion it would've informed the visitor that no one was "available" and offered to take a message. If Charlie didn't answer very soon the autohost would call paramedics and police after one more announcement and an extremely loud alarm that might scare off intruders who were preventing him from answering. He had not given the house a Do Not Disturb request, and in the absence of a DND, it was assumed that the resident would want, and possibly need to be informed of visitors.

  Charlie took a quick look at the phone and silently said goodbye again to his daughter. The moment had arrived and he was going to face it like a man. He went to the fridge and opened the door. He had removed all the shelves and drawers to make one large storage area. In the space where a crisper drawer had been, there sat a few cans of beer, a jar of mayonnaise, lunch meat, and a 12-gauge shotgun.

  Charlie closed the fridge and opened the freezer door above. This was almost a ritual he had performed to calm his nerves whenever he was spooked or feared that the cops were on their way. Now he performed it one last time in preparation for the real thing. He took the lid off the box of shotgun shells and placed it next to the box and shut the door. He would invite the officers into the house and offer them a drink if they were going easy on him, or he'd beg to take his medication before being put in cuffs if they were playing hardball. And then he'd make his final stand for as long as it lasted. Reaching into the freezer for reloads, and maybe, if he lasted long enough, sipping a beer while waiting for re-enforcements to arrive.

  Charlie took a deep breath and walked to the front door. He puffed up his 61 year-old chest and breathed life into his lean, old muscles. He was ready to die a free American. One of the last, he imagined. He put his hand on the doorknob and thought to himself, "Don't tread on me, you sons of bitches!" and pulled the door open just as the autohost blasted its klaxon alarm.

  Charlie jumped and let out a small scream at the sound of the alarm. The boy on the porch also screamed and then ran away. Charlie watched him go down the street about a block and a half before he finally slowed to catch his breath and think about whether he wanted to sell any more candy bars this day.

  "PLEASE RESPOND. YOU HAVE A VISITOR. PLEASE RESPOND NOW."

  "Oh, Jesus," Charlie said with a sigh, and closed the door.

  Six

  Kathleen Young got off the phone with her father and wondered where her son had disappeared to. If it wasn't one man in her life giving her worries, it was another. And of course her son had to be just as difficult and eccentric as her father. Deron took after Charlie in many ways. Not being where he was supposed to be at a certain time was just one of them.

  If he'd had any friends, Kathleen would have assumed he was visiting with someone after school, but Deron almost always came directly home after school, went to his room and absorbed himself in a book. Kathleen would never understand her own son or what was wrong with him. She forgot to ask Charlie if he'd heard from Deron, but he probably would have mentioned it if Deron was coming over to visit.

  She wasn't used to coming home to an empty house and the silence bothered her. She had always hated being alone. She spoke to the empty room. “Front blinds, open.” The Venetian blinds turned sideways until they were completely perpendicular to the window, allowing as much light into the empty room as possible. She walked over and looked through the slats to see if anyone was walking down the street, working in their yards, or even driving by. She just wanted to see someone somewhere to break the feeling of loneliness.

  It occurred to her that even if Deron had been home right now, the house would be just as silent with him in his room reading. She started to wonder why it mattered so much that he wasn't here when there'd be no noticeable difference anyway. Not wanting to be alone with her thoughts any longer, she turned on the television to clear her mind.

  "...is expected to meet with approval by the assembly and be signed by the County Administrator into law. Phil Harkner, a spokesman for the remnants of the American Tobacco Coalition says the measure will unfairly stigmatize adult smokers and cause a dramatic increase in crime if it becomes law. Assembly leader Nancy Nguyen said...."

  Kathleen picked up the remote control and changed the channel. If she knew what channel she wanted, she could have just told the TV, but she had never memorized the channels, and she didn’t know what was on right now. Since it was on a 24 hour news channel, Deron must've been watching it before leaving for school.

  She didn't think it was normal for a young boy to be so caught up in watching the news. She certainly had no interest in national or world events as a child, or even now, and she couldn't understand why her son did. It must be more of her father's influence on the boy.

  She wondered what type of man Deron's father would have turned out to be and if he could have possibly been a better influence on her son than her own father had been. She supposed he probably wouldn’t have been a good parent. After getting Kathleen pregnant at a party when she was fifteen, he offered to go with her to get an abortion. When she declined, he disappeared. The irony of the situation was that she had nothing against abortion – she had just thought that with a baby, she’d never be alone again. And now here she was, a young mother of a teenager who never wanted to do anything fun and preferred to be by himself.

  She sat down on the couch and undid the loose knot she had tied her hair into for her job as a maid, and as she shook it out, letting it fall down her back in long blonde waves, she let her thoughts fall away from her as well. She resumed channel-surfing until she found a popular game show and relaxed in the more comfortable mental state she began to slip into as her mind focused on the smiling, woman spinning a large horizontal wheel.

  She had one last thought about Deron’s absence before she got completely caught up in the phrase-puzzle that three contestants were competing to solve.

  Seven

  Deron dreamed that he and Michelle Granger were on the top of a tall building. Michelle was a junior at George Washington High and one of the few people with whom Deron associated. They had grown up as next-door neighbors, had been best friends throughout their childhood, and had almost become romantically involved at one time. Presently, Deron had mixed feelings about her, but those feelings were not present in his dream.

  He looked over at her on the roof-top with the skyline behind her filled with the outlines of taller buildings contrasted against the setting sun and he was momentarily distracted by her stunning beauty. He wish
ed they could just relax and talk and forget about the two young men who were chasing them.

  "Go, Deron. You've got to hurry! They'll be here any minute."

  "I know," he said. He suddenly felt an awful and overwhelming sadness. He loved her so much, and even now, with two strangers chasing him for some mysterious reason, and not knowing what his future held or if he'd ever see her again, he didn't feel safe telling her what he truly felt. He wanted to reach out and embrace her, knowing that his love for her was so strong and so intensely powerful that no words would be necessary. She would simply feel how he felt about her, and if the world were a sane and just place, she'd reciprocate his feelings. He turned in a slow circle, scanning the rooftop for the best possible escape route. He had to address the more pressing problem just now. This wasn't the time or place to tell Michelle that he was in love with her.

  He took her hand and rushed to the edge of the building. A three foot stucco wall lined the edge of the roof all the way around except for a gap where a metal ladder descended to the fire escape on the top floor. Deron and Michelle looked from this opening to the matching one on the next roof over, both of them thinking the same thing. Deron would have to jump across the seven foot span. It was his only chance for escape.

  "You can do it. I know you can, Deron."

  "I'm gonna need a running start. What will you tell them when they get here?" In the non-sense of dreams, he imagined her answering, "I'll tell them that I love you."

  "That depends on what they ask me," she said with perfect, awake logic. "You better hurry or you'll be here when they arrive," she added. He took one last look at her face, her hair, her eyes. God, she's beautiful, he thought, then he turned and took several steps away from the edge of the roof. He mentally prepared himself for the jump. If I don’t make it I'll never see her again.

  He looked at her one more time as he readied himself to defy death.

  "You're gonna be okay, Deron. You're gonna be just fine," she assured him.

  He had seen her lips moving as she said this, but the voice wasn’t hers. The incongruity instantly awoke him. He opened his eyes and saw a young blonde woman standing beside the bed he was lying on. "There you go, sweetheart. It was just a dream. You're okay. Are you hungry?"

  His mind was swirling, rapidly sifting through various thoughts and images, trying to put reality back together. He didn't know where he was or what was real for a second as the pieces of the real world gradually fell into place. It was like a curtain had risen in a theater before the props and actors had gotten in their places and he was looking at the stage before it was ready.

  Suddenly everything clicked and he recalled his last waking moments and what had happened and he asked, "Where am I?"

  Eight

  It was the beginning of June and the sun was starting its late, summer descent. Drake Austin sat in his car across from the convenience store at an intersection of a residential and a commercial street. He looked to the west to gauge how much longer before darkness would fully set in so he could get to work.

  He had just followed two young women from Westminster Community College until they turned onto this street. He pulled over to the curb and watched to see if they would pull into a driveway, or if they’d turn at the other end of the street, forcing him to try to catch up with them. His luck was in. They pulled into the seventh driveway on the right side. There was another car already in the driveway but it was a purple Mazda RoseZetta so he didn't think a boyfriend or husband lived with them. He was sure the RoseZetta belonged to the girl in the passenger seat.

  Now he was just waiting for the sun to finish setting. The anticipation and excitement were driving him crazy. The day had been another hot one and he hoped the driver didn't go directly into the bath or shower. He hoped she would eat first or read her mail or something. He needed just a few more minutes until it would be dark enough for him to get into position.

  He pocketed the slim camera that sat beside him on the seat and removed a spare battery and a memory card from the glove box. He would not risk taking these types of photos with his communicator’s built-in camera. He didn’t know what happened with the data on that device, but he suspected the authorities could scan it anytime they wanted since it was permanently on the city-provided Wi-Fi network. He pressed a button and the car windows went up.He got out and locked the car, then to waste a few more seconds, he put his left foot on the fender of his car and retied his shoelace. Then he did the same with the other shoe. He stood up straight and brushed imaginary dust from his pants as he surveyed the street. There was a woman walking her dog but she was heading in the opposite direction, so he didn’t expect her to be a problem.

  From force of habit he patted his right pant pocket and the breast pocket of his coat, confirming that he had both his e-cig and his spare battery. He looked at his reflection in the car window and wished again that he had kept a spare set of dark clothes in his car.

  He’d been in the middle of a simple repair job on the college’s wireless cable signal when he first spotted the brunette coming out of a class and heading to the parking lot. He stopped what he was doing and followed her as if he had no volition of his own. It would have been better to wait until he had scoped out her house, found out if she lived alone or not, and how frequently she had visitors, what her routine was, et cetera, but he was so stricken by her that he threw all his regular habits out the window and just followed her like an automaton.

  When she reached her convertible Volkswagen, the other girl was already sitting in the passenger side waiting for her. The two girls talked, laughed, and looked around as they drove home, never looking at the gray sedan that followed them. Neither of them had any reason to notice the man with the dark gray hair behind the wheel. He was as anonymous and plain as his car. Both girls were young, healthy, and good-looking by anybody's standards. They wouldn’t have noticed him even if they had been looking for single men.

  Drake was forty-seven years old. He wore his gray hair unkempt and without any kind of part or style. It hung down on all sides at various lengths from a dirty baseball cap, more so in the back where it was the longest. His dress shirt was thin and old, translucent without a tee shirt beneath it, and it was permanently stained a light brownish-yellow below the armpits. The coat he wore looked like it came from a suit purchased long ago and had received little care or washing. His pants were a navy blue khaki that resembled the type that might’ve been worn by attendants who used to put gas in cars before he was born. His shoes were a nondescript black.

  He definitely wouldn’t attract the attention of two good-looking college freshman on their way home on a warm summer night. Drake knew he wasn't very attractive with his plain, featureless face. He was aware that his regular alcohol consumption was beginning to take its toll. His skin was looking a little bland lately; his nose always appearing as though he had just vigorously blown it. And failing to shave for a week didn't make him look at all rugged or sexy.

  He'd never been married, and at this late stage didn't ever expect to be. In his more lucid moments he acknowledged that he was an ugly slob unlikely to ever have a real relationship with anyone - unlike the one he was about to begin five houses down on the north side of Maplewood street.

  Nine

  The woman who might have been a nurse ignored Deron's question as she repeated her own, "Are you hungry, Deron?"

  Deron didn't even know if he was hungry. It seemed that he couldn't recall having eaten for some time, but that hardly seemed important to him right now. Food was one of the last things on his mind.

  "I'd like some ice water and some answers. Can you please tell me where I am, and why I’m here?"

  "There's a pitcher of ice water on the table beside your bed. You're in an equality rehabilitation center, and I don't know exactly why you were brought here. My job is to make sure you’re physically well-taken care of," she said, answering all of his questions to the best of her ability.

  Deron rose up on one elbo
w and poured iced water into a paper cup and took notice of his surroundings for the first time. It looked pretty much like a hospital room to him. Sort of like a bare-bones motel room but with a tile floor.

  "Why am I in an equality rehabilitation center?" he asked her after draining his first cup of water.

  "I'm going to have to let someone else answer your questions. If you'd like some food, I can bring it to you now, or you can touch the call sensor when you're ready for it. Would you like anything to drink besides water?"

  "No," he answered. She was nice but clearly wasn’t going to give him the information he needed and wanted. "When can I speak to someone who can tell me what's going on?" He almost felt guilty for the tone he was taking with someone who was obviously only trying to do her job, but on the other hand, he felt he was doing a good job of holding back his temper under the circumstances.

  "I'm sure the doctor will be in to talk to you as soon as I leave." She glanced up at a hidden camera, then looked around to make sure she wasn't leaving anything undone and then slowly headed for the door. She turned and faced Deron once more as she reached for the doorknob and said, "Don't forget. Just touch the call sensor and I'll bring your dinner." And then she was gone.

  Deron quickly pulled the covers off and swung his feet onto the floor. He was wearing the boxer shorts he had put on this morning, or was it yesterday morning? He didn't know how long he'd been here or what day it was. The room had no windows or clock so he didn’t even know if it was day or night. In the far corner of the room he saw a sliding wooden door and assumed he'd find his clothes behind it. He walked over, slid the closet door open and saw nothing but a white wall, an empty shelf, and a few bare hangers.