Targets

I was watching the three-dee with Kelly when the programme was interrupted.

“Uh-oh,” she said.

I gripped her hand. “Don’t worry.”

She turned and stared at me, the hologram pulsing on her forehead.

I stared at the three-dee in the corner. The frame was empty; then a tall man in a black suit appeared.

Kelly began to weep.

The suit said, “Citizens, your son, Edward, has been selected by LAPD for immediate targeting. Please make an appointment at your closest LAPD clinic within the next five days. I will now return you to Sunny Days in Idaho…”

Kelly jumped up and crossed to the bedroom door. I joined her, staring in at our sleeping son. He was curled up, warm and dreaming. Innocent.

“Was I a fool, Joe, for thinking…?”

I scratched my forehead where the hologram was. “We both hoped, Kelly. We dreamed.”

I wondered at the chances of the child of two targets being selected. A statistical anomaly, I told myself.

We killed the three-dee and went to bed.

I couldn’t sleep. At two, with Kelly sound asleep beside me, I rolled out of bed, dressed quietly and left the apartment.

It was a risk. Venturing out after dark was always a gamble for people like me and Kelly – and for Edward, now. But I needed a drink; more, I needed to talk.

I kept to the shadows, skulking like a rat. I knew where the night cops usually patrolled, but you could never be sure. Sometimes they liked to ring the changes, to keep people like me on their toes.

The bar wasn’t signed. It was underground, literally. I crept down the steps, entered the code on the door and slipped inside.

It was like coming home.

A dozen people like Kelly and me, holograms glowing in the semi-darkness, sat quietly drinking.

I ordered a beer and drank. Thirty minutes later, I ordered another. I felt a little better then. At three, Al came in, fresh off his night shift.

“Hey, my friend.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

I told him about Ed’s selection.

He pulled a face. “Hey, that’s tough. I’m sorry. How’s Kelly?”

I shrugged. “Cut up. What do you expect?”

“That’s life, Joe. We gotta learn ta live with it.”

“Yeah,” I said, and bought a couple of drinks. “Shit.”

A few beers later, I staggered home. I kept to the shadows, but I wasn’t afraid now. Dutch courage. Let the cops shoot me. Only tomorrow, when I’d sobered up, would I regret my foolishness, regret potentially making Kelly a widow at twenty-three.

So we took Ed to the LAPD clinic, and a blank-faced nurse zapped our son with the laser and a neat, round hologram target implanted itself in the centre of his forehead.

Our life changed, after that. No more risks. With Ed’s welfare to think of, we imposed a curfew on ourselves. Never go out after sunset, only during the day; keep to busy areas. Avoid patrol cars, and don’t ever go anywhere near police stations.

We got by.

Ed was bullied at school, of course. I remember the time I’d been singled out for the hologram on my forehead, and I felt powerless to help him. Words were useless. He had to learn to look after himself, just as Kelly and I, and all the others had done.

He grew into a great kid.

One day – he was around seven, eight – he came in after school and said, “Dad, I want to be a teacher when I grow up.”

I could have wept. “That’s great, Ed.”

I glanced into the kitchen to see if Kelly had heard. She was facing the sink, her back tensed.

He’ll forget the ambition in time, I told myself, move on to something else.

That night, in bed, Kelly said, “You gonna tell him he can’t be a teacher?”

Years passed. We survived. I got a little heavier. My job at the landfill was steady. Kelly moved from Walmart to Safeway.

We began to think about what Ed might do when he left school at fifteen. I had a word with my boss, trying to get him a place at the landfill. Kelly’s boss said there might be an opening stacking shelves in a few years.

One night, I was late back from the landfill. Just twenty minutes, but it nearly cost me my life. I was turning the corner to my block when I heard an engine behind me. The car was crawling along. My belly flipped.

I didn’t turn, just walked faster.

The car drew alongside. A cop car.

Oh, Christ…

The driver said, “Stop right there and turn around real slow.”

I did that.

The fat cop grinned. “Hey, look what we got ourselves here, Gene. If it ain’t a fuckin’ target.”

His partner leaned forward, took a long look at me.

The driver said, “ID.”

I passed him my card.

He scanned it, passed it back. I could see him calculating. Shoot me now, through the head, or have a little fun, let me run and get me in the back…?

“You work at Macready’s landfill?”

“That’s right, sir.”

He said to his buddy, “We ain’t stiffed no one from the ’fill in years, have we?”

“Don’t think we have at that,” Gene said.

He passed me my ID. “Off you go, boy.”

I turned, shaking, and began walking. I thought of Kelly, making dinner at home. I thought of Ed, and the girl he’d been seeing lately…

I tensed myself for the bullet. Just make it quick, I thought. In the head…

The cop car started up. Caught up with me and drove alongside. The driver laughed. “Your lucky day, boy! You thank your fuckin’ god I ain’t in the mood.”

They drove off, laughing, and it was all I could do to stop myself yelling obscenities after the bastards.

Ed was thirteen when he came home one day and said, “Dad, it’s unfair.”

I shrugged. “Life is unfair, Ed.”

“But why…?”

“The country’s overpopulated, Ed. The cops need to meet their quota.”

“I suppose I meant… why me? Why us?”

I didn’t like the whine in his voice. I shrugged again. “Why not? Life’s a lottery. You take the good with the bad. It’s no good complaining.”

“But…”

“There’s nothing you can do,” I said. “End of. Learn to live with it. Do you hear your mom complain? Me?”

“I just wish…”

I sighed. “Try not to wish, Ed,” I said. “Just accept.”

Life wasn’t that bad. We had the apartment. It was warm in winter, cool in summer. I had the job, my friends down the bar. Every month, I took Ed to a game. I felt safe in the crowd. I had Kelly, a woman who loved me, and a son who was growing into big, kind, bright young man.

I watched the news, but didn’t take much notice. There was nothing I could do to make anything better. The way I looked at it, the world had always been going to hell in a handcart – so why worry? Just accept.

Ed left school and got a job at Safeway. He walked in every morning with Kelly, and came back with her at six. The extra income bought us a few luxuries: takeaways at the Thai place that had just opened along the block, and a subscription to one of the big cable channels

I was fifty, and I’d never been happier in my life.

One day, Kelly and Ed were late back from work.

I tried not to worry, but they were never late.

I called Kelly’s cell phone. No reply. The same with Ed’s.

Six-thirty came and went, then seven. I tried calling them again.

I turned on the three-dee, tried to watch a documentary about the Arctic.

Jesus… Eight o’clock.

They’ll be fine, I told myself. Kelly’s just got herself some overtime, that’s all, and Ed’s helping her, and they’re so damned busy they haven’t had time to call.

Then the image of the Arctic faded.

I stared at the guy in the black suit, my heart racing.

He stared back at me. I told myself he was just a virtual construct, not a real person with feelings. But that didn’t stop me hating the bastard.

“I regret to inform you…”

I interrupted.

“Who?” I said. “Kelly, or Ed?”