Pipe Dreams (5 page)

CHAPTER 9

C
aptain Smith’s stained blue
shirt was incongruous with his gleaming, oak desk. Clean shaven and pink, the captain could have won a look-alike contest for Porky the Pig. Ramirez sat across from him and tried to keep his expression respectful. He had never understood how the wheezing bastard had climbed the ranks of the department. The man had no steel. A barrage of propaganda, insincere apologies, and thinly veiled condescension sprayed from the captain’s thick lips, along with droplets of spittle, as he explained that the chief had refused to accept Ramirez’s report on Vanessa Kovalic

Ramirez was disappointed, but not surprised. After his visit with Isaac Cohen the previous evening, he had no doubt the investigation was a crock. The old rabbi had been more than cooperative. Kindness and compassion oozed from every pore in his wrinkled face. The quaver in his voice and the stiffness in his joints did nothing to diminish the welcome he had made.

Early this morning, Ramirez had dutifully stopped by the apartments of the two individuals who had supposedly received illegal food allotments. What he found was typical; paperwork glitches easily explained. Vanessa Kovalic had simply been doing her job. Consequently, his investigative conclusion had been short, sweet, and to the point. No evidence of any subversive activity. Case closed.

As the captain continued his wheedling, a glistening bead of sweat gathered on his temple. Would it fall onto the polished surface of the desk or merely trickle down his fat cheeks and get lost in the other oily stains on his shirt? When the drop finally disappeared under
the captain’s collar, Ramirez refocused his attention.

“I
’m sure you’ve done an excellent job, Ramirez, but I have no choice. See?  The chief wants us to re-open the investigation. It isn’t personal, you know?  I just need to know you’re up to the task. If you aren’t, I’m confident the investigation can be reassigned to another detective. Obviously, he would be less qualified, but he might look at this as an opportunity to rise in the ranks. Of course, I wouldn’t want to do anything to offend you, but, well, I have to get the thing settled. You understand, don’t you?” the captain asked.

Ramirez nodded. Smith would get what he wanted, whether Ramirez agreed with him or not. As soon as he paused, Ramirez interjected his required excuse and expected apology. “I
’m sorry for inconveniencing you, Sir. I’ve been tired lately. It’s possible I was a bit hasty. I appreciate the opportunity to revisit the case. If you don’t mind, Captain, I’ll get a good night’s sleep and look at it with fresh eyes in the morning.” 

Smith
’s greasy lips curved in a smile and he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a pudgy hand. Ramirez pulled the file from the desk and retreated. In the corridor, he breathed a deep sigh. Talking with the captain was like taking a shower fully clothed. He always felt dirty when it was over.

The whole thing was bullshit. Vanessa Kovalic was an innocent, but she was going down. If the higher-ups wanted her, they would have her. His meager attempt to shield her had been worse than futile. It had rendered his complicity suspect. Cursing under his breath, he stormed out the door and onto the bus that would take him home.

The city lights cast a glow over the dusky streets. Here and there, ghostlike figures darted furtively between buildings. Outside the Zone, night came alive and brought with it a tingle of hope. People there still pitted themselves against the scourge of nature and the ravages of time. The Fallen had salvaged something from the destruction that made their survival nobler than his own. His stomach soured. In the green tinted window, his sickly reflection wore the unmistakable color of cowardice.

He opened the folder on Vanessa Kovalic and stared at her sad eyes. What world did he live in that made compassion a crime?  The magnitude of what had been lost overwhelmed him. All the richness, beauty, and even ugliness of human endeavor had been reduced to a pasty, gray pulp. The daily tramping of a society rendered automaton throbbed in his head like a never-ending migraine. Where were the teenagers, dope peddlers, prostitutes, and johns?  Where was music, a flashing billboard, or fresh paint?  In dull monotony and haggard fear, the people of the
NSO marched to keep marching – waking, sleeping, eating, and shitting without reason or drive, passion or tears.

He searched the blank faces on the bus for anything that might make living mean something and found only sordid complicity. The passengers sat upright, staring stiffly ahead or out the windows. Like him, they were single, older, and not part of the population permitted to inhabit the Zone. There was no touching, sagging, or resting of weary heads against cool glass. No one coughed, sneezed, or hurled a thick wad of phlegm onto the floor. In the absence of laughter and insult, babies wailing, papers rattling, and the bass beat of music playing loudly on different headphones, the bus was silent. The workers were drones.

The bus pulled to a stop near Ramirez’s building and he shuffled off with the rest. Little groups formed and drifted away. Left alone, he wanted cold, rain, anything that would break the tightness in his chest and make him feel alive.

Relishing the heat of movement, Ramirez did not stop walking when he reached his apartment building. Instead, he wound his way through streets and alleys deep into the bowels of the
inner-city. No ghosts stalked the shadows, no lurking eyes preyed. Blackened buildings, stark against an inky sky, were apathetic to his plight.

“Hey!” he called out. His voice echoed back to him and he tried again. “Hey!! I know you
’re there. Come out and get me! Come on you bastards!! Show yourselves!”  Like a footstep in new snow, the impassive night swallowed his rage. “Ahhhhhhh!” he screamed. “Ahhhhhhh!” Hot tears seeped from his eyes. Bent over, he sobbed under a pressure too great to bear.

When spent, he wiped the last drips of snot on his uniform sleeve and retraced his footsteps. Quiet now and sobered, the absence of people was jarring. Loneliness gripped him like a vise. Ramirez wanted someone to talk to, someone who would understand and not judge, someone who knew compassion. Suddenly, the rabbi
’s words came back to him and he knew where he wanted to go.

It took him slightly more than an hour to traverse the distance to Vanessa Kovalic
’s apartment. The dark streets were mostly empty, but in the distance he heard screams. He should have been afraid. Instead, he relished the little bit of company. The Fallen couldn’t do anything to him he wasn’t already doing to himself. That realization warmed the cold center of his heart.

When he arrived at Vanessa
’s building, he hesitated. Then, he pressed the buzzer inside the vestibule door and waited for a response. Finally, a small, scared voice came through the intercom.

“Yes.
”

“Ms. Kovalic, this is Detective Ramirez from the
Watch Tower. Please let me in. I have some questions for you I’m sure you would not want to answer at your office.” 

“How do I know you
’re a watcher?” Vanessa asked.

“You are Ms. Kovalic, age 25. You have been assigned as a sorter for the past year. You were recently observed consorting with one of the Fallen. Ms. Kovalic, you
’re under investigation and, if you do not comply with my request, I’ll be forced to note that in my report.”

Vanessa buzzed open the door and Ramirez climbed the stairs to the third floor. She met him on a small landing and bade him follow her into the cozy apartment. His heart skipped as she bent to turn on another lamp. She wore regulation pajamas. Thin and loose, the fabric barely concealed the curves of her body.

He was open mouthed as she offered him a chair and sat on the couch. Nervously twisting her thick hair into a bun, she waited for him to speak. He swallowed hard, avoiding the intense, intelligent eyes that burned in her soft, oval face.

“Ms. Kovalic, I
’m sorry to violate the sanctity of your home. It’s true they’ve opened an investigation on you and I’ve been assigned to complete the necessary reports, but I’m not sure why they feel compelled to look into your life. From what I’ve seen, the only thing you’re guilty of is a small bit of compassion.

I met last night with your friend, Mr. Cohen. He shared some of your history with me and informed me you
’ve been a model citizen. This morning, I questioned the two workers to whom you had extended rations without reassignment. It’s my belief that your decisions were reasonable and of great benefit to the NSO. The recording of your supposed interaction with the Fallen revealed only your good judgment and sympathy. To tell you the truth, I’m here because I’ve been told my report was unsatisfactory and you are to be more thoroughly evaluated. Please forgive my intrusion. I didn’t know what else to do except talk with you personally,” Ramirez said.

Vanessa picked up a pillow and held it across her stomach, squeezing it hard. Then she looked directly at him.

“Detective, I am too tired tonight to play games.”

“I
’m not playing games.”

“No? I
’m supposed to believe you came all the way out here because you’re concerned for my well being?  Please, don’t condescend to me.”

“I gave you my reason. You
’re under investigation. That should be enough.” Under her gaze, he stiffened, thrusting his chin defiantly.

“It
’s enough,” she mumbled. Standing, she began to pull off her thin top. Startled, Ramirez shook his head and motioned for her to sit.

“Vanessa, I mean Ms. Kovalic, don
’t!  You misunderstand me,” he said. She ignored his protest and removed the garment. In the soft light, her bare breasts were golden and smooth. Their fullness contrasted with the thinness of her body. She reached up to loosen the knot in her hair. The length of it fell like a river over her shoulders. Then she untied her pants. They dropped to the floor. Ramirez couldn’t help himself. His eyes reveled in her raw beauty. When his gaze eventually settled on her thighs, he hurriedly looked away from the raised, red welts that lined them. Vanessa had been recently whipped.

“Detective Ramirez, what do I need to do?” she whispered. The hurt behind her pleading eyes went on forever. Part of him wanted to take her in his arms and hold her. Part of him couldn
’t ignore the desire her nakedness had inflamed. She took a step toward him and the sight of her swaying breasts snapped him out of his indecision. Mumbling an apology he rose from the couch and ran out the door, leaving her alone in the small room.

On the landing, Ramirez took a deep, ragged breath. Vanessa had stirred something powerful in him. Already moved by the compassion she had demonstrated, he had found himself at her apartment looking for the kind of human connection he had missed for too long. Seeing her vulnerable, and so gloriously naked, made him feel like a man for the first time in years. Couldn
’t he take her away, lavish her with affection and keep her safe?  Wasn’t that what people did, care for each other, love each other, and share their lives?

If he left now, he would not talk privately with her again. If he didn
’t, how would he resist the urge to take what she so willingly offered?  Finally, he stepped back into the apartment. He had no choice. The little beauty left in the world demanded protection.

Carefully averting his eyes, he rushed down the hallway and into a bedroom, where he grabbed a sheet off the bed. Returning to the living room, he came up behind her and draped it over her shoulders.

“Cover yourself now,” he said. She did as he instructed and he walked around to face her.

“Vanessa, may I call you Vanessa?” he asked. She nodded slightly, but kept her head down. “Vanessa, I am not here to trade with you. I am not here to hurt you. I am here to help you. Do you understand?” 

Ramirez took her hand and led her back to the couch. Still holding onto her, he sat down next to her and lifted her chin with his other hand so she looked directly at him.

“Vanessa, someone is trying to hurt you. I don
’t know who and I don’t know why, but you are being targeted for non-compliance and you are in danger. I’d like to help,” Ramirez said.

“There is no one who can help me, Detective. Would you like me to tell you why?” 

CHAPTER 10

Ramirez was a small man
with bright, quick eyes and mellow, brown skin. Under his uniform, his body was tight and muscular. His kindness was sincere. Though scared by what he had told her, she was relieved the time had come. Yesterday, her driver had exacted much more than usual. Now, she faced investigation. She was the last of the original assistants and knew too much.

Looking around her grandmother
’s apartment, her eyes rested on an old, black and white photograph. The picture showed family she had not known. In it, uncles, aunts, great-great grandparents, and cousins stood next to her grandfather as a boy. Like him, she was the only survivor of a holocaust, the last of the Kovalic line. If someone else knew the truth, would it make a difference?  Could part of her endure?  She couldn’t carry the burden alone any longer.

“You won
’t like my story, Detective, but I’ll tell it to you anyway. I’m tired of secrets. You see, the whole damn thing is a lie. The NSO was planned a long time ago. There’s a group, known as the designers, and they’re convinced people are fundamentally flawed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lust for power. Greed, ambition, pride. They’re the original sin.” She glanced at the photograph of her grandfather on the coffee table. Of all the men she had known, he was the least susceptible to this truth. She pulled on her lower lip and met Ramirez’s eyes. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he nodded his head thoughtfully.

“Who are the designers?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But they’re the ones who did this. Do you remember right after the rebellion was quelled and the establishment started dying?” she asked.

“Started being murdered, you mean. Fucking People
’s Protest! Of course I remember. All those bodies swinging on the light posts, dressed up in fancy clothes. I’ll never forget it. I had to cut my doctor down.” Ramirez winced at the memory.

“Right. Well, about the same time the administrators implemented the first purge, they decided they weren
’t safe staying in one location. If the purge didn’t get all the rebels, they were prime targets. Remember?” She glanced at him and he shrugged.

“Yeah, and?”

“Well, I was working for Harry Rose then. He refused to go along with the rest of them and Lewis was furious. They had a huge row because Harry kept copies of important records and Lewis didn’t think they would be safe.” Vanessa paused as Ramirez plucked a loose thread on the sofa. Her grandmother had always covered the worn arms with lace, but she didn’t bother. What was the point?

“The records were inoculation records. Kids
’ inoculation records. I was listening behind the door when Lewis started screaming about what would happen if the records got into the wrong hands. I don’t understand all of it, but from what I heard, the designers had slipped something called Priscilla into regular vaccinations before the rebellion. It was a virus and it mutated them, Detective.”

Ramirez looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“It changed them. Once they hit puberty, they stop feeling. It’s like they don’t register greed, hate, or even love. They’re not like us. And it’s hereditary. Their kids won’t feel either.”

“Why? Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know. This, I suppose,” Vanessa sighed.

“This? You mean the
NSO?”

“From what I heard, they wanted to make a utopia. I think they used the rebellion to put their plan in place. I mean it
’s perfect, right? The outside world is dying and can’t interfere and they’ve got all these infected kids. So they put their government in place and let the kids grow up unmolested. Pretty soon, everyone else is expendable and they have this new race of people who won’t fight, or be jealous, or anything.”

“That
’s impossible!” Staring at her in horror, Ramirez placed his hands flat on the couch as if they would stop the world from spinning. She shook her head, sadly.

“You
’ve seen them, Detective. You know what the new workers are like. They don’t rebel, complain, or act like any teenager I’ve ever known.” She watched Ramirez carefully. He studied the plants in front of the window. The panes reflected the lamplight, blocking out a view of the Zone.

“Do they know you know?” he asked.

“If they did, I wouldn’t be here now. Can you imagine what people would do if it got out?”

“Then why the investigation?” he asked, turning to face her.

“I’m not sure. I’m the last of the early assistants. The rest are dead or disappeared. I’ve checked. I think maybe they’ve been getting rid of us slowly like they do the other workers. They couldn’t do it all at once because the kids needed training, but this is the first year all the assistants are teenagers. I’m guessing they kept me around until the training was complete. Someone had to know how things work. Now they don’t need me anymore. At some point, they won’t need you,” Vanessa said.

Ramirez looked through her like she was vapor. She pitied him, but did not regret her choice. Her thighs ached and sitting was difficult. The monotony of terror had worn thin her fragile shell of self-preservation
and, for the first time, she would rather face the streets than the consequences of this investigation. Until the detective rejected her offer, she had not known this. Tired of pretending, tired of doing the NSO’s bidding, and tired of life, she had only known she was ready to die.

Now, she felt something
else. Ramirez’s leaving had been unexpected, but his return was more of a surprise. How long had it been since someone, besides Isaac, had cared?  When was the last time a man had looked at her with lust and not acted on his desire?   Until now, her only hope had been the outside world would recover and destroy the NSO. Ramirez’s small act of honor had lightened her heart.

Watching him absorb the information, she wanted to touch him, but if she did, he would shatter like glass. He rubbed a hand through his hair, hollow
-eyed.

“I have to go. I
’ll come back. I just have to think. Is that okay, me needing to think?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he stood and shuffled out of her apartment like an old man.

Vanessa pulled the sheet tighter, suddenly cold. It was strange to have a man asking for
her permission, but it didn’t matter. She had to go. It wasn’t safe here any longer. With Ramirez’s kindness no more than a sweet memory, she picked up the picture of her grandfather and kissed it. Setting it down, she blew out the candle and grabbed her journal. In her bedroom, she donned old clothes – jeans, a tee shirt, and sneakers. From the top shelf of the closet, she pulled down her daypack and set it on the bed. She rummaged through drawers and cabinets, assembling what she thought she would need. As an afterthought, she retrieved a bundle of family photographs and her grandfather’s knife. The knife was precious and she had kept it well hidden. She threw everything into the pack. There was no food. The administrators had planned well, requiring all meals be taken communally in the cafeterias. The small bits she had managed to steal were for Hercules.

Vanessa hesitated before dropping the meat on the fire escape. Chances were another creature would eat it. Hercules would come to the window in the morning. When she did not appear, he would meow and wait. Eventually, he would stop coming, knowing he had been abandoned. Like her, he would have to fend entirely for himself.

She closed the window, crossed her small living room, and walked out the door. Outside, all was quiet. Where would she go? What bare room or dank basement would she now call home?  How would she find food? The problems she faced were staggering. Vanessa knew nothing of survival. For lack of a better option, she headed toward the park. It was, at least, familiar. She no longer cared about the dangers lurking there. Dangers lurked everywhere.

Moving into the trees, she found an open space that smelled of growing things. Easing her sore body onto the soft grass, she used her blanket as a pillow. Tree branches intermingled above her, their green bounty blackened by the night. She gasped, lost in the mesmerizing fabric of the star-filled sky. Awed by the infinite possibilities spread before her, she contemplated what life would be like outside the carefully ordered lines of what she had known. Now, one of the Fallen, her fear receded. Once again, she belonged.