a year before—a random act of meanness
“I THINK YOU’RE about to learn a harsh lesson,” Major Douglas Bowdler whispered as he watched the little boy. He paused on the sidewalk and pretended to adjust the buttons of his jacket as he waited for his chance. Sure enough, the boy put the large box down on his lawn and went back inside the house.
“Careless,” Bowdler said. That was the problem with the world. People were careless. They lacked discipline. Their minds were weak. Nobody took responsibility for anything.
Bowdler walked to the edge of the lawn, where it was bounded by a waist-high chain-link fence, and looked into the box. Toy soldiers. Hundreds of them, each no bigger than a child’s thumb. Obviously, this was the boy’s treasure. It was nice to see that young people still admired soldiers, even if they didn’t understand discipline.
He was pleased that he’d been in the neighborhood. He was looking for a location for the lab. The place he’d just checked out wasn’t right. Too close to other houses. Too many large windows. No basement. He’d had his doubts about the suburbs, but his partner, Thurston, had insisted on exploring various possibilities.
Bowdler was sure the city would provide better choices than these outlying areas. Everyone minded his own business in the city. Not that it really mattered, since the lab would never be used to contain a human subject. They were hunting for something that didn’t exist. He wasn’t troubled by this. They were being well paid. Even though the property wasn’t right, the trip wasn’t a total loss. Not now that he’d spotted a target of opportunity.
He scanned the perimeter in search of a way to dispose of the toys. There were always storm drains. But he found something much better. Traffic had backed up at the light. A concrete truck was right in front of him. Perfect. Bowdler hesitated for a fraction of a second as he imagined losing his own priceless collection of military relics. But sympathy was for losers and empathy was for the weak. And he would never be as careless as this boy. He leaned over the fence, snatched up the box, took five steps to the curb, flicked his wrist, and sent the toy soldiers into the slowly rotating muck of sand, gravel, and cement. Five more steps and he replaced the empty box.
He didn’t bother to stay and observe what happened when the boy discovered that his treasures were missing. The immediate reaction—the wailing and crying—wasn’t important. What counted was the lesson. The lost soldiers would make an impression. The boy would learn responsibility. Maybe even grow up to be a soldier. It was possible to mold young minds into any shape one might desire.
Pleased that he’d made the world a better place, Bowdler walked back to where he’d parked his car.
OVERHEARD AT A CONSTRUCTION
SITE LAST JUNE
GUY # 1: Hey, what’s that in the concrete?
GUY # 2: Looks like some kinda plastic.
GUY # 1: There’s a bunch of it. Should we tell someone?
GUY # 2: You want to pour the whole job again?
GUY #1: Noway.
GUY # 2: Me either. Besides, it ain’t a problem.
GUY # 1: Yeah. Once this stuff sets, nobody will ever know.
look it up
EVERY MEMORY AFTER that moment when I got shot in the neck was a fractured piece of a fever dream. Fragments and snatches. All in that same room I’d just escaped from. I pushed the past from my mind and turned my attention to my present problem. I couldn’t face the bank. At first, the guy at the news stand wouldn’t give me change. I finally got him to give me three dollars worth of coins for a five dollar bill.
When I got back to the phone, I called 411.
“What city?” the operator asked.
“Spencer.” I was glad I remembered that.
“Name?”
“Martin Anderson.”
“We have no listing for that name.”
Shoot. I realized the phone wouldn’t be listed under his name. “Are there any Andersons in Spencer?”
There was a pause. Then she said, “Thirty-five.”
“Thanks.”
As I started to hang up the phone, I heard another voice from behind me.
“Move the marble, Eddie.”
I dropped the phone and spun around. The gorilla threw a shower of sparks in my face. “You’re starting to displease me.”
I blinked hard and he vanished, leaving behind the smell of cinnamon. Even though my head was clearer, I still wasn’t completely a citizen of the real world. I needed to get off the street and rest for a little while. Somewhere safe. Somewhere quiet where I could think. And I needed information.
I knew my way around Philly well enough to find the library. It was just a couple blocks north, and then across Logan Circle. There were people at all the computers, but that wasn’t a problem. I spotted one guy who was obviously just killing time playing an online game, so I pressed some random keys. Then I made the mouse stick on the mouse pad. After that, I pressed a couple more keys. I was just about to play with the monitor’s brightness controls when the guy muttered something and walked away.