Wizard’s World War: Dispatch 2- Hurry Up and Wait

Tweet of the Day: How to Tell if Background is Boring

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Intro – Dispatch 1 – Dispatch 3 – Dispatch 4 – Dispatch 5 – Dispatch 6 –Dispatch 7 – Dispatch 8

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Detroit, MI, July 2nd, 8:54 a.m.

Army officers along side state troopers are meeting with Dearborn community leaders over the proposed expansion to the regional detention center in downtown Detroit.

I switched the TV off.  As if the community, any community had a choice in the matter. The Army just wanted the local imam to point fingers. They done the same in other towns, going to churches and synagogues and asking the local clergy to point fingers and name names.

Bullshit!

I looked up. Over my workbench a map of the greater Detroit  metro area loomed. Over a hundred little pins marked the location of such things as army posts, known wizard dwellings and safe crossing points into Canada. It was dangerous to have such information around, in case the enemy raided our safe house, but I needed to see the big picture, or at least know what was going on around me. This was my way of keeping track of things. Besides, it was nothing than a simple lighter could not fix.

Grunts from Samara and Ricardo’s sparring session echoed against the walls of the abandoned factory.

Crack!

A wave of satisfaction hit my brain. Samara had connected a good hit on Ricardo and her power broadcasted her emotions.

“Alright! I’m done,” said Ricardo. “Hey boss, I’m going out to get some supplies, be right back,” he yelled.

“Sure, be careful out there,” I said.

“Yes, mom!” he said. I knew he had his nine millimeter tucked in his back holster plus half a dozen knifes. Not to mention a few imps on his shoulder.

Samara came over and sat on my lap. “Kicked his butt again, didn’t you?” I said

She pulled on the rubber band that held her long black hair in a pony tail, “He tried the ‘I like to tap that’ trick on me again. It only worked once.” She looked at the ends, “Time to chop it off, it’s getting too long.”

“I like it like that,” I said.

“I know you do, but it’s hot and one of these days somebody is going to yank on it and will be the end of me.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“That’s sweet,” she reached for something on the workbench. “So how’s work on the rifle going?”

“It’s going. I still have some problems with the receiver, but aside from that, everything else is in order. Should be done in two days.”

“Well, I need a shower, care to join me?”

“And what would your father say if he heard you say that?”

“Say, nothing I like to repeat. Probably drag a priest in to have us marry and then lock us in a room until you got me pregnant. But he is not here and even if he were, I wouldn’t let him.”

“What a shame.”

“Really? Is that what you want Arthur, babies ever after?” She looked away. “Maybe, one day, after this is all over, if it over, well you know….”

“I know. But right now a shower sound great, specially after you put your sweaty ass on my lap.”

She sprung up and walked slowly to the showers. “I’ll be waiting.”

One of Ricardo’s imps appeared on top of the workbench. Needle like teeth grinned at me, reminiscent of his master’s unnerving smile. It growled something unintelligible, drop a small cylinder and with a stretch of leathery bat wings, disappeared back into the ether.

Someone had delivered a package in one of the designated drop points watched by the imps. This one was a roll of microfiche wrapped in a piece of paper which read:

MRCS-S-LV

A simple trick, words without vowels. Good for simple messages. Nobody could figure it out without the proper reference and anyone who knew about ciphers would expect something more complicated.

But I knew the reference. I also recognized my father’s handwriting.

MaRCuS-iS-aLiVe

My brother was alive.

Things just got complicated.

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