Face of the Enemy

A science fiction mystery, I wrote the short story "Face of the Enemy" using three separate scenes that initially made no sense to me. Once that task was finished, the job was to figure out what it all meant and how the three scenes would fit a common story. Presented here are the first three scenes of the story. For how it turns out, look for it in the 2002 Winter issue of Futures magazine.

The man at the front said, "We gather here to pay final respects to Jeremiah Cooley."

Jeremiah Cooley, in the crowd to the speaker's left, wearing black for today, almost laughed. He caught it, and put his hand up to fake a cough. He continued listening to his eulogy, standing on the damp ground near the open pit, his casket next to it and ready to be lowered. The crowd around him mourned. Jeremiah worked hard to keep from smiling.

__________

Four days earlier. Jeremiah sat at the diner's bar and took a bite of his hamburger. Just the way he liked it. The burger, a slice of cheese, the bun, and nothing else. He was about as plain-jane an eater as you could find. No ketchup on those fries, no condiments on his burger, nothing that could ruin the flavor.

Halfway through his sandwich, he felt a poppy seed stuck in the space between two of his upper teeth. He tried to fish it out with his tongue, had no luck, and saw a small canister with tooth-picks near the front counter. He started to get up, told the cute waitress as she walked by, "Don't take this away yet. I'll be right back." He said this with as closed a mouth as he could, trying to keep her from seeing the poppy seed in his teeth.

"It won't move," she said with a smile. It was a great smile.

He walked over, got the tooth pick, started to head back to his seat, and decided he might as well hit the head since he was up. He walked to the bathroom in the corner, went in, and started to do his business.

That's when he heard it, massive flechette fire. He zipped up, pulled his handgun out from his shoulder holster under his jacket, and crouched low out the door. The firing had stopped, and Jeremiah got there just in time to see an air car outside lift and head out.

The windows were completely shattered, all the furniture and tables were sliced through. And everyone inside was dead. Jeremiah saw the cute waitress splayed in an impossible pose, blood pooling beneath her. She had a look of surprise on her face, a cleaning rag in one hand.

He shook his head. Saved by a poppy seed stuck in his teeth and a small bladder.

Jeremiah wondered how on earth they'd found him.

__________

Four years earlier.

"Malcolm, what are we doing here?" Jeremiah asked.

He'd followed Malcolm to this secluded spot in the back alleys of an already run-down section of Luna Alpha, and the old guy hadn't given a hint to their purpose.

"Malcolm, it's Christmas Eve. The bad guys are probably home having eggnog and singing carols."

"Not these bad guys," is all the old man said.

Jeremiah shook his head. They'd been partners all of one month, Jeremiah finally having made the jump from doing a beat in Luna Gamma to a detective slot in Alpha. And they gave him this dried-up, grumpy old excuse for a detective. The man barely spoke, just wandered and made Jeremiah tag along like an unwanted dog.

They continued through the alleys, twisting and turning. Jeremiah wondered who had designed this whole place. Whoever it was must have been drunk, or having a whole lot of fun at taxpayer expense, or both.

"Jeremiah," Malcolm finally said, "we need to talk."

"Wow. He speaks," Jeremiah said.

Malcolm gave him a look.

"Yes," Malcolm said, "it's Christmas Eve. But the Syndicate doesn't take holidays. And I've got tips this up-and-comer named Xerox, guy I've been tracking for a while now, will be around."

"Xerox? What kind of name is that?"

Malcolm stared at him.

"So what'd he do? Kill your partner?" Jeremiah asked.

"Yes."

Jeremiah got quiet. He said, "I'm sorry. I thought…I mean…I heard it was a drug bust that went bad."

"That was the surface, yeah. That's what it looked like. But Xerox, and the Syndicate, were behind it."

"Why? What'd your old partner do?"

"Killed Xerox's partner."

Malcolm pulled a cigarette out, lit it, took a big draw. He said, "Xerox and another guy were rising through the ranks. They were like brothers, best of friends in youth. Came up from the bottom and worked their way to the top. My partner got involved in some of their business, it went bad, Xerox's partner got offed. Xerox evened the score. Now I finish it."

"And then what? They take you out, then I have to take them out, and so on."

"No. It ends here."

Malcolm checked his watch and said, "Look, you wait here, I'll come back after it's finished. If I'm not back in half an hour, it was a drug bust that went bad."

"Yeah, right," Jeremiah said.

"Just remember, I didn't ask for your help," Malcolm said.

Malcolm headed off, Jeremiah following.

They came along an alley bordering a long, low warehouse, boarded up and seemingly abandoned. They climbed the stairs, entered through a broken window, and waited in a shadowed recess. Some men started coming in, talking and laughing. Another group came in, anti-grav storage block being pushed along.

"Syndicate?" Jeremiah whispered.

"Syndicate."

"What are they buying?"

"Arms. Drugs. Christmas presents. What does it matter?"

Then another man walked in, and Jermeiah knew this was Xerox. He looked young, and had a confidence that wasn't at all swagger and spit-shine, but rather a fierce intelligence. It was clear he was in charge. It was also clear he'd been through a lot in his young life. Jeremiah knew he would remember this face.

"Wait here. I'm going to get a better vantage point," Malcolm said.

Jeremiah watched as Malcolm quietly slipped along a catwalk. The man got around for his age. Now Malcolm was just above them.

Malcolm shouted, "Xerox, this is the police. You are under…"

Mistake. Jeremiah saw it as soon as he saw Xerox. This was a man knew how to stay alive, and he instantly pulled a gun out and fired up. The others scattered, and also started firing.

Jeremiah didn't waste time, just starting firing, taking out a few of the Syndicate members. Malcolm ran along the catwalk, shooting as he went. Someone below threw a smoke bomb which filled the room.

Jeremiah jumped onto some crates, then jumped onto the ground. "Malcolm, I'm on the ground," he yelled.

Jeremiah looked up and saw Malcolm through the haze pulling out a bee-shooter, saw him load a clip. It was a good thing he saw it. Jeremiah shut down the charge on his flechette pistol just in time. The bees shot out and honed in on flechette power sources, buzzed toward them and exploded somewhere in the smoke. Jeremiah heard several screams.

Smoke started to clear, and Jeremiah crept forward. Several Syndicate members lay dead, a few others alive but screaming with hands blown off and face and chest burns. In the distance, Jeremiah saw the gleam of a light as a door was opened. Xerox. And Malcolm was already down and chasing.

Jeremiah took off after him. Two Syndicate guys popped out of nowhere, fired and missed. Jeremiah dropped and shot back, hitting them both in the head. They dropped like sacks.

He jumped back up and ran toward the door.

He was blinded for a second, the outer dome lights bright after the darkness of the warehouse. Jeremiah looked up and saw his new partner shot, dropping as three bullets tore through his chest. He caught a glimpse of Xerox aiming around a corner, and ducked just in time behind a corner as bullets struck near him. He powered his pistol, fired a few flechette rounds, and took off sprinting as he saw Xerox start to run off.

Then there was a flash behind him. It was so bright, so white, that it reflected and lit up the inside curvature of the dome high above.

Jeremiah turned around, saw a column of light in the far distance, like a zipper had been unzipped and energy was spilling out. A wave of energy expanded out in a sphere, coming his way. Jeremiah starting running, trying to get away and behind something. He looked back and it was there, just behind him.

He couldn't help thinking the energy looked weaker here, farther out, but that was his last thought before the wave hit him and he blacked out.

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