War on Terror?
“We are under siege.”
The major’s announcement at the next evening meal brought the same reaction as anything else he might say: silence. “Apparently, there are still large numbers of people roaming free about the city, and from reports I’ve received it looks like they have allied themselves against our efforts to restore order. Their motives are unclear, but we do not need to know their reasons. What is clear is that we face a systematic threat to destroy everything we hope to accomplish, and here is what I intend to do about it.”
I glanced at Karen. She had slept a fifteen-hour stretch after her sunbath, but her fixed stare on the major said she was as attentive as anyone in the room, maybe more so.
“Our patrols will consolidate to better seek out and disperse vandal strongholds.” He listed several others measures, but that was the one that mainly concerned me. He finished as always by asking if there were questions. Up to then, it had been a rhetorical inquiry. But now, up went Karen’s hand, as high as the Sun that so infatuated her, and when the major failed to notice, she called out insistently and stood.
“Major, ever since the moment we met, you’ve talked and talked and talked about your tireless pursuit of vandals, looters and arsonists. If there are so damn many, how come you’ve not yet caught even one of them?”
In the ensuing hush, you could almost hear the major’s lips crackle as he grinned his impresario’s grin. “They’ve all tried to escape. The patrols, you may remember, have orders to shoot if anyone resists or runs.”
“PJ here is in a patrol. He hasn’t even been issued a gun, much less had the need for one. He’s only seen one in ten days, and he was brought in alive.” She turned to the crowd. “Would he care to stand up for us now?”
“If we’re speaking of the same individual, I believe he’s still taking meals in his room.”
“Vandal rehab.” She began to move about the floor, addressing her fellow diners directly. Only a few had the nerve to look up at her. “Has anybody here seen a vandal? Is anyone here a reformed vandal?” No one was even breathing now. “The Moon will soon be leaving the night sky,” she declared. “Those who are ready for a higher form of entertainment may meet me under the flagpoles at six o’clock this morning. You will not believe your eyes.” With that, she returned to our table, picked up her untouched plate, and made her exit.
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