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<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The meeting with Sheriff Kane was polite, formal, and an utter waste of time.<\/p>\n
Over lunch, Kane and James Wood discussed the Santiago Syndicate, Moreno Island and the New Gods. While the great man had demonstrated ample deference to James Wood\u2019s august position as a representative of the Public Security Bureau, and by extension to the power of the federal government, Kane revealed exactly nothing that the PSB didn\u2019t already know.<\/p>\n
Was the Sheriff holding out on him? Was the department\u2019s resources and intelligence limited? Wood suspected it was both. He might have been an islander once, but he had been away for so long he was a mainlander now. An outsider. In places like these, outsiders were never to be trusted.<\/p>\n
But there was still a place where he would always be welcome.<\/p>\n
Hopton had changed. A backwater town in a backwater island, it was less a town than an arbitrarily-defined parcel of land granted to a loosely-knit collection of settlers eons ago. Its sole claim to fame was its farmland. Acres and acres of fertile black soil, able to bring forth anything a careful and hardworking farmer planted and nurtured. Over countless generations, the farmers had steadily increased their holdings and dispersed from each other, meeting only for special events or to sell their goods in town, the only place that could truly be considered Hopton proper.<\/p>\n
Out in the backcountry, miles and hours separated neighbors from each other. A car was the only way to move quickly around here. A road car, not a gravcar. For one thing, there were few gravcar maintenance and charging stations on the island, and none in Hopton. For another, gravcars were high-profile, and this mission demanded a subtle touch.
\nWood, rented a road car and drove.<\/p>\n
And drove.<\/p>\n
And drove.<\/p>\n
Down winding forest roads bordered with untamed vegetation, cutting through unmarked trails that existed only in memories, passing by fields of sugarcane and tomatoes and corn, Wood drove on for hours, stopping only for the occasional toilet break and to reorient himself. During his first toilet break he sent a text message; he received a reply shortly after that. As the sun began to set, he rolled into Hopton.<\/p>\n
Hopton was once a small, cozy farming town. He had spent countless hours running these streets with Frank Matthews and his friends. In their boyhood they played hide and seek and chased each other down unpaved roads; in high school they counted cars and courted girls; when they became men, Wood left Hopton behind to find his destiny in the bright lights of Babylon.<\/p>\n
In the years between his departure and his return, the town had doubled in size. It had begun life as a giant market where merchants from the coastal cities could trade with farmers from the interior. Now he saw banks, chic cafes, electronics stores, even a cyber surgeon. They all bore the same brutal, utilitarian aesthetic that was the mark of the Maker.<\/p>\n
The original open-air market was gone, replaced by a hypermarket like any other hypermarket in Babylon. Where a row of tenement buildings once stood, there was now a massive construction site, the signs promising a train station, connecting Hopton to the rest of the island within the next five years. Old brick and mortar buildings, painted in warm earthy tones and mellowed with thousands of sunsets, were slowly being replaced by LED and concrete and interchangeable prefab units.<\/p>\n
At the town square, in place of the church that had cast a long shadow over Hopton, there was now a Shard of the Singularity Network. The church\u2019s husk remained, but the wireless signals, the logos and the floating holo ads proclaimed the identity of the new occupier. Even the school was gone, the century-old edifice replaced by a modern imposter of straight lines and glass and painted panels arranged in abstract patterns.<\/p>\n
This wasn\u2019t the Hopton he knew. His childhood landmarks were all replaced or paved over, old roads fed to new ones, and there were so many new buildings he couldn\u2019t recognize.<\/p>\n
So much had changed. He wasn\u2019t sure if it were a good thing.<\/p>\n
He kept driving.<\/p>\n
He followed the arterial roads that webbed across the town, watching residential buildings melt into markets and grocers and small-time commerce, in turn melting away into a high-tech commerce and medical area, before once again becoming yet another residential neighborhood, albeit newer than the one he had passed through. The last private home flashed past him, and then he was once again on the open road.<\/p>\n
There were streetlights now, a welcome addition, but they graced only the highways running through the island. The moment he turned off into a side road, darkness swamped him, forcing him to rely on his vehicle mounted headlights.<\/p>\n
As he drove, he kept his eyes peeled for animals, insects, anything that might spring out from the night or the woods around him. But there was nothing. No animal trails, no late-night calls, nothing that betrayed a sign of life. Not unusual, even in his time, but somehow the forest felt emptier than before.<\/p>\n
Lonely farms appeared by the road. Most of them were isolated barn houses and small dwellings, surrounded by fields of crops. He knew them all: the St Pauls, the Luciens, the Clays. But there were a few farms whose owners he didn\u2019t know. These had embraced technology, boasting climate-controlled greenhouses and grain silos, worker bots that tirelessly guarded and watered the fields, blocky homes and offices built not of wood and sweat but concrete and ceramic and strange alloys.<\/p>\n
Too much had changed. He could no longer rely on his memories. Instead, Wood navigated by map and compass. Sure, the car had a built-in GPS, but only the New Gods knew if it were feeding unwanted data to them. The first thing he did after claiming the vehicle was to sweep the vehicle for trackers and disable the GPS. Civilians would call it paranoia.<\/p>\n
In his world, it was simply good tradecraft.<\/p>\n
Eventually he arrived at his destination. At least, the map said it was his destination. In his memories, he saw a white-painted three-story house with attached garage and toolshed, presiding over an acre of mixed-use crops and a small grazing area. Now, the farm had quadrupled in size. There were greenhouses and parking lots, animal pens and silos, a motor pool and smaller buildings whose purpose he couldn\u2019t quite divine.<\/p>\n
A pang of sadness caught in his chest. His family must have done well for themselves. They had intimated as such over emails, phone calls, and the few times they met in Saint Lucile for day trips and meals. But he hadn\u2019t personally seen it for himself.<\/p>\n
While he was busy killing armed criminals and terrorists and horrendous things from Beyond, they were busy growing and feeding and cultivating new life in this world. Here they knew nothing of man-eating horrors and soul-destroying gods, and baring a catastrophe, would never need to fear such monsters.<\/p>\n
Had he gone wrong? Had he made a mistake joining the STS? Why\u00a0had<\/em>\u00a0he left this all behind to chase dreams of guns and glory in Babylon?<\/p>\n To protect everyone, of course. But he was only one man, and he couldn\u2019t stop the infiltration of the New Gods. He felt like he was holding back the tide with a shovel. Was all the pain, the bloodshed and the sacrifice worth it?<\/p>\n Yes, he decided. It was worth it, because his family was safe and well. Because he kept the worst predators of Babylon from coming here.<\/p>\n Anyway, it was too late now for regrets. As Yuri Yamamoto had once told him, all he could do was walk his road all the way to the end.<\/p>\n Rolling up to the gate, he sounded the horn. A short, sharp blast, enough to announce his presence without overly-annoying everyone. The gate silently slid open of its own accord, allowing him in.<\/p>\n Wood blinked. His family was no stranger to technology, but even the gate had been automated. Interesting.<\/p>\n The door of the main house opened, revealing two figures silhouetted against warm white light. Wood parked his car at an empty lot just by the door and stepped out.<\/p>\n \u201cHey Mom, hey Dad,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cJim! It\u2019s been so long!\u201d Mom said.<\/p>\n \u201cWelcome back,\u201d Dad replied.<\/p>\n The years hadn\u2019t treated them kindly. The sun had blasted and crumpled their dark skins until they took on the texture of tough leather. Their hair, what was left of it, had gone white. But they were still strong and hearty, dressed in simple rugged clothes, and laugh lines graced their eyes and cheeks.<\/p>\n \u201cCome join us for dinner,\u201d Mom said. \u201cI\u2019ve got meatloaf.\u201d<\/p>\n Nothing in the world compared to Mom\u2019s meatloaf. It was moist and tender and juicy and firm and springy. It was the closest he had ever come to a slice of heaven on Earth.<\/p>\n \u201cThat sounds great,\u201d James said.<\/p>\n The three of them gathered in the dining room. Under the warm light of a shining new chandelier, Mom served up plates of meatloaf and string beans and mashed potatoes.<\/p>\n James tried an experimental bite of meatloaf. It burst with flavor, ground pork and hardboiled egg and cornmeal and carrots exploding over his tongue and melting his belly.<\/p>\n \u201cAs delicious as ever,\u201d James pronounced.<\/p>\n She smiled. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou should come by more often,\u201d Dad pronounced. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing in the world like it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI try,\u201d James said lamely.<\/p>\n \u201cBut it\u2019s been eight years since you last came home,\u201d Mom chided.<\/p>\n He shrugged. \u201cWell, here I am now.\u201d<\/p>\n Sure, he made a point to visit his family at least once or twice a year, but he only ever met them in Saint Lucile or in Babylon. Not at home proper.<\/p>\n \u201cYou seem to be doing well for yourselves,\u201d James added hastily.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not just us,\u201d Dad said. \u201cBob and Terry helped out too.\u201d<\/p>\n His younger brothers. Where he had gone to the mainland, they had chosen to stay on the island and follow in their ancestors\u2019 footsteps.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere are they now?\u201d James asked.<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re overnighting in town with Dorothy and Velma. Their kids are upstairs, in bed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDate night?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNah. Work. We\u2019re going to upgrade our digital infrastructure soon. The boys say it will improve crop monitoring, control of equipment, bookkeeping, all that good stuff. They\u2019re going to ink the deal with the Shard and learn how to use the new platform.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe Shard? You mean the Singularity Network?\u201d<\/p>\n Dad nodded. \u201cYeah. They may be weird, but their tech is outstanding. They helped us with the greenhouse, showed us how to use farming bots, and how to use ecommerce and accounting software. All at reasonable prices.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou do business with the New Gods?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course,\u201d Mom said. \u201cEveryone<\/em>\u00a0does business with the Shard and the Guild these days.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTell me more,\u201d James said.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you\u2019ve heard about the Shard,\u201d Dad said. \u201cThe Guild sold us a new kind of new fertilizer and some seeds. We\u2019ve seen a thirty percent increase in yields. They also built the new sheds, greenhouse and office outside.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOffice? You have one now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure. House is too small to do the paperwork, what with the kids running around and all. So we built a new office, close to the farms. We also use the office to monitor the bots, track our crop growth and inventory levels, that sort of thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI see. Do you actually worship the New Gods?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe ain\u2019t much into that religion business ourselves, you know that.\u201d Dad paused. \u201cBut your brothers, well\u2026 they\u2019ve been attending meetings at the Shard and Guild pretty often these days.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re believers?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTheir wives are. Dorothy is part of the Network, Velma is a paid-up member of the Guild. But Bob and Terry, they say they go to meetings so they can network and gain business opportunities.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think that wise,\u201d Mom opined. \u201cYou don\u2019t go worship a god just to make money, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo kidding,\u201d James said.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, the boys aren\u2019t doing anything wrong and they haven\u2019t offended anyone,\u201d Dad said. \u201cThere are worse ways to live.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI guess\u2026\u201d Mom said. \u201cBut enough about us. How\u2019ve you been doing? Still working in Public Security?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d James said guardedly.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you do?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSame as before.\u201d<\/p>\n Mom\u2019s voice dropped an octave. \u201cSTS?\u201d<\/p>\n James nodded. \u201cI\u2019d appreciate it if you don\u2019t spread it around.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI heard STS members cannot worship any of the New Gods,\u201d Dad said, \u201cor have any kind of affiliation with them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOur job is to uphold and enforce the law. Human law. To do our job properly, we cannot allow even the slightest bit of influence from any outsiders or foreigners, including the New Gods.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat makes sense. But Dorothy and Velma\u2026 they\u2019re good people. Harmless. Not like the Husks we keep reading about in the news.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure they are,\u201d James agreed, \u201cbut rules are rules. They\u2019re not direct family and I don\u2019t have contact with them much, so the brass is willing to bend the regs a little. But not much. I\u2019d rather they not know too much about what I do.\u201d<\/p>\n Mother and father sighed simultaneously.<\/p>\n \u201cVery well,\u201d Dad said. \u201cNot that you can tell me much about what you do anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s for the best.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSpeaking of work, is that why you came home?\u201d Mom asked.<\/p>\n James shrugged. \u201cWell, I do have work to do on the island. I spent the day working at Saint Lucille, then I figured I had time to kill, so why not visit.\u201d<\/p>\n She laughed. \u201cCome on, James, you\u2019ve been away for eight years and you came back on a lark? We know you better than that.\u201d<\/p>\n He sighed. \u201cWell, yes, it has something to do with work too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re hunting Husks?\u201d Dad asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m hunting a source of Husks.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve heard of the Green Bliss?\u201d<\/p>\n Dad\u2019s face darkened. \u201cEveryone\u2019s heard of the devil\u2019s fruit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s made its way to the mainland. Fastest-growing addiction in recent times. But it has a side effect, one that isn\u2019t publicly advertised.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d Mom asked.<\/p>\n \u201cIt turns psis into Husks.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDamn,\u201d Dad said.<\/p>\n Mom just shook her head.<\/p>\n \u201cFrom what I understand, there\u2019s only one source of Green Bliss in the world,\u201d James continued.<\/p>\n \u201cThe Santiago Syndicate,\u201d Dad spat.<\/p>\n \u201cYou got that right. I\u2019m trying to find more information about them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou won\u2019t find that in town, that\u2019s for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh? How so?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSon, they run the streets at night. In the daylight hours, they hide in their holes, but after dark, they flood the streets and push their dope. They\u2019ve had more than a few dust-ups with the Sheriff\u2019s deputies and the New Gods, but they keep coming back. The Santiagos have the townies scared. They know that if they spill the beans, the Santiagos will come for them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSounds like they\u2019ve got a stronghold in the area.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Dad pursed his lips. Mom shied away.<\/p>\n \u201cThe Santiagos aren\u2019t just dope dealers,\u201d James said gently. \u201cThe Green Bliss turns ordinary people into man-eating monsters. I\u2019ve had to put down a few of those myself. I\u2019m trying to stop the violence, but I need help.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou said the Bliss turns psis into Husks, huh,\u201d Dad said. \u201cYou know, we haven\u2019t had Husks around in Hopton, ever. Until three years ago, when the Bliss came here. The last time we had a Husk, it damn near tore up half the town before the Guild and the Shard put it down. If what you\u2019re saying is true\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019ll only get worse until the Santiagos are stopped,\u201d James finished.<\/p>\n \u201cWe don\u2019t know anything about the Santiagos,\u201d Mom said.<\/p>\n \u201cEvery little bit of information helps,\u201d James insisted. \u201cIf you don\u2019t know anything, maybe you know someone who does.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI haven\u2019t seen anything with my own eyes,\u201d Dad began.<\/p>\n \u201cBut\u2026\u201d James coaxed.<\/p>\n \u201cBut the Clays, about two weeks ago, when I visited them for a beer, they had an interesting story for me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did they say?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTheir youngest boy, Roy, he and his friends went fishing at Grass River after school. The catch was poor at their usual spot, so on a lark, they decided to go deeper into the swamp.<\/p>\n \u201cNow, I\u2019m not too concerned about those boys. They\u2019ve grown up around the swamps and they\u2019re familiar with it. But about two, maybe three miles down the river, they were ambushed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAmbushed?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA man carrying a rifle stepped out of the woods. He told them to stop and put their hands up. He forced them down on the ground and covered them. A few more men showed up, searched the boys, then told them they were trespassing on private property, and ordered them to leave and never come back. The boys ran off, and told their parents.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s\u2026 odd,\u201d James said.<\/p>\n \u201cVery odd,\u201d Dad agreed. \u201cThe maps show there\u2019s nothing but unclaimed swamp for miles around. And here\u2019s the kicker: the guard they saw, he wasn\u2019t no survivalist. He was wearing a military uniform. Camouflage and all. And he spoke into a radio. His buddies had the same kit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWere they military?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere are no military bases in the area. And when the Army runs exercises around here, they make sure to tell us well ahead of schedule.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cInteresting\u2026\u201d James muttered.<\/p>\n \u201cWas it useful?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s more than what I had this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you going to investigate?\u201d Mom asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t comment on what I may or may not be doing.\u201d<\/p>\n Dad sighed. \u201cYou government types\u2026 Well, whatever you do out there, you never heard it from me, ya hear? Santiagos have eyes and ears everywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you stay safe, okay?\u201d Mom added. \u201cYou do what you have to do, then come back home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood boy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust one more thing,\u201d James said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d Dad asked.<\/p>\n \u201cHave you heard of \u2018Aruk\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n Dad\u2019s face hardened.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere did you hear that from?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe mainland. Rumors and whispers, for the most part. What\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSon\u2026\u201d Dad rubbed his temples. \u201cMy granddad told me a few things when I was little. There are old things in the swamps, things older than Babylon or the Cataclysm. It\u2019s best not to speak their names too loudly.<\/p>\n \u201cI haven\u2019t seen any of them myself, but he has. And one of them is Aruk.\u201d<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n While an ordinary man conducting an investigation has its charms, if you like superheros duking it out with supervillains, you’ll love my next book,\u00a0Hollow City<\/em>. Check it out on the Heroes Unleashed Kickstarter\u00a0here<\/a>.<\/p>\n![\"Cheah](\"https:\/\/steemitimages.com\/0x0\/https:\/\/files.steempeak.com\/file\/steempeak\/cheah\/nzjlzcwx-CheahGitSanRed.jpg\")
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