Chapter 14: Bad Men

Diner 47, the diner that had been one of the favorites in this town before the interstate highway was built, was now an empty shell of what it used to be. It was named after the county highway that used to be the main highway through town until the interstate became the more popular road to take. Diner 47 closed, due to lack of customers, and sat empty for a long time. After the chemical attack, the military needed a place for the rations to be prepared and shipped. They turned Diner 47 into a Food Production Facility, and I got a job there. The pay was crappy, even compared to my police officer salary, but I wasn't about to complain, since I was grateful I had been able to find a job after my unfortunate termination.

Walking into the diner after parking my truck in the lot was a sad sight to behold. The once lively, colorful booths where giggling families and lovestruck couples used to sit were covered in dust and dirt. Some overturned chairs lay injured on the floor tiles, unable to hold themselves up any longer due to their legs being uneven and cracked. The walls, although still a somewhat perfect pattern of beautiful cheery tile at the top, were gross and grimy underneath from years of neglect. The floor surprisingly had held up well, although it wasn't as bright as it used to be since it had dulled from the lack of regular waxing.

As I made my way through the extremely dim hallway to the back of the diner, where I actually worked, I found myself wondering why the military had decided on making the little storage closets look like jail cells. It would have made more sense if this had been the old police station or something, but it was completely out of place in the back of an old diner. I had been working here for a little over a month, and still, every day on my way to my station, this hallway always made me cringe. I couldn't help but have my imagination run away with me at times, wondering if this place wasn't just the place where rations were packed, and if some sort of wierd activity happened here that no one but those in charge knew about.

I rounded the corner to the assembly line and saw that my co-workers were already there. Everett was standing at his station with his chin resting on his hands, looking bored. He was nice, and just like me, distrusting of most things the news tried to placate the public with. He used to be a firefighter until they shut that department down, so we essentially had the same problem that caused us to end up working here.

My other co-worker, Tiffanie, was crouching down by some of the baskets that were lined up near the wall, sorting out some of the rations. She was an older lady, with grey strands of hair speckling her darker pieces. Laugh lines crossed her face, which were evident of happier times in her life. She was usually quiet and kept to herself most days, only talking to Everett and I if she needed something work related. Our boss usually stayed upstairs in his office, but we knew he was watching because he would sometimes come out to stand on the balcony and look at us doing our work.

I made my way to my station and looked at the sheet of paper that told me how many rations and bottles of water to put in each box, as well as the corresponding addresses. I worked all day, and it was tiring. My stomach grumbled, but I kept pushing through. Lately my stomach was doing that more and more often. I don't know who made the laws when it came to working in an assembly line type of environment, but it seemed like they could care less if we employees were hungry. I found it ironic considering I had food right in front of me, yet I couldn't eat. I hated that the post-apocalyptic world I lived in had caused things to turn into a rather organized chaos. I didn't understand why things like labor laws all of a sudden just went out the window, but I guessed since this Food Production Facility was a new place built after the attack, that it was subject to the new world order of whoever was in charge these days.

I still didn't believe that the military was in charge because of the strange way they behaved that night they took my gun away. Our soldiers fought for good and defended our country, and took orders very seriously. I could only conclude that they were being given orders by someone who didn't have the country's best interests in mind. I wondered how many other things would become worse when or if, this "person in charge" decided to rear their ugly head. As I finished sealing up the last box on my station, I looked up and noticed the clock read five, signaling the end of my work day.

As I drove home, I thought about calling Gerard so we could discuss a plan to search for Iliana. I had been using my cell phone, and it was fine, contrary to the military's orders that they were dangerous. I had a hunch they were bluffing about that too, and my suspicions were confirmed when I found a small wiretapping device attached to my land line phone. It turns out the real reason they confiscated cell phones and issued everyone land lines was because they wanted to keep tabs on everyone. They were able to get away with it because most people didn't know their phones were tapped.

Gerard came over after about ten minutes, since he was off work as well and he didn't live too far from me. As he came into my house, he sat down on one of the arm chairs. I joined him in the living room.

"How was work?"

"The same old, packing boxes. You?"

"Patients are still coming in with side effects of the attack. Most of them are usually homeless, and too far gone to get better. It's depressing, really. By the time the symptoms occur, the chemicals have already wreaked havoc at the molecular level. Anyway, let's not talk about that. Do you have any ideas about how we should go about looking for Iliana?"

"Yeah, do you have a picture of her? I mean, it's not a great plan, but we could go and ask people if they've seen her. If she was taken from your house, and dumped somewhere, it's possible she's been squatting in one of  the empty businesses."

"Why wouldn't she just try to make her way back to mine and her house then? You know?"

"Well, she could have been injured when she was taken, so it wouldn't be in her best interest to try to walk home."

Gerard hung his head, and I realized that I might have just said something quite insensitive to him.

"Sorry, I don't mean like gravely injured, ah, crap, I'm not making things better, am I?"

"No, Francis, it's okay, I know what you were trying to say, I just worry about her. Sometimes the thought does cross my mind that she- might be... It doesn't really get any easier, I mean it's been a month and two weeks, but it doesn't hurt any less than the night it happened. I do have a picture of her in my wallet, so let's use that and see what we can do. I like your plan, it's doing something, at least."

I grabbed my keys, leaving my house with Gerard. We got in my truck and I drove to the middle of the city, which used to house the large shopping district. I parked at one of the meters, and scoffed a little at the irony that I would have been one of the people to enforce parking, but with the way things were now, parking fees were of no concern to anyone. Heading into one of the buildings, I believe which used to be the town's most popular mall, we encountered a lot of homeless people, some who were sleeping, some were trying to find food, and others who were trying to start a fire so they wouldn't be cold at night.

Gerard and I headed over to two people who were tending to a fire, and they looked apprehensive as we approached them. The man looked like he might run, but stood his ground, probably because he had nowhere to really go, and also since he most likely wanted to look tough in front of the woman he was with. The woman remained huddled behind the man, afraid of us as well. I raised my hands in the air, the universal sign of surrender, and nudged Gerard to do the same. The people looked a little less afraid after we did that simple gesture.

"Hi, we're not here to harm you. We're just looking for our friend."

Gerard pulled the picture of Iliana out of his wallet, and held it out to the man.

"Have you seen this woman anywhere, either around here or somewhere else you might have gone?"

The man looked at Gerard for a minute, probably gauging whether he should help or not, and then he gently took the photo from Gerard. He studied it a little, scratched his head, and then shook it from side to side. He turned around and showed it to the woman, and her eyes grew big, as if she might have recognized Iliana. She looked scared after that, and swatted the picture away. The man handed the picture back to Gerard.

"Did you see her? She's my wife, I need to find her, some people took her."

The woman continued to look scared, but she finally spoke. The man turned around to mind the fire again as she talked to us.

"I saw her one day. I was here, and I saw her get out of a car that the bad men drive. She went into the building across the parking lot."

"The bad men? Who are the bad men?"

"I- I don't know, but sometimes, bad men come out of the car and they take some of the girls away. They don't take me because I always have him around me."

"Okay, thank you for your help."

The woman nodded, and then turned back to the man, joining him in warming her hands over the fire, while Gerard and I left the building. When we got back outside, I looked at the building that the homeless lady had said she saw Iliana go into that day. It was one of those buildings that had retail space on the bottom, and apartment space on the top. I didn't want to believe it, but all those things the homeless woman said, 'Bad men,' 'take some of the girls away,' Iliana being dropped off at someone's apartment, all of the signs screamed that she was stuck in some sort of prostitution ring.