A Small Gray Dot

From the beginning, I didn’t like the feel of it. A bridge that spanned the gully around the neighborhood was a part of the road leading in, and the minute I started over it, the sky dimmed and my eyes began to sting. I might’ve turned around but I needed the money, and besides, turning back would’ve put Adam in a bind. His job of being a courier was doubly important after the mail system broke down, and it paid well. He’d found himself with too many deliveries at the same time and missing one would’ve meant a loss of revenue, so I was making the run for him.

I kept going, but I wondered why he hadn’t mentioned the eye-stinging substance in the air. There wasn’t anything like that during the Event but maybe the haze hanging high over the place was different.

Main Street was the road in and it passed through a gateway that sported a small stone guardhouse where two armed guards in tan uniforms wearing nametags that didn’t identify their employer, stopped me. They wanted to know my reason for being there and then they asked me to show some kind of ID.

Adam told me about that beforehand, explaining it was a gated community, a term that meant a lot more than it used to. No problem. Due to our diminished and understaffed police department, a number of neighborhoods operated in that fashion.

“I’ve made deliveries there but never to that particular address,” he said. “So I can’t give you directions but don’t worry, one of the guards will help you with that. They’re kinda of, um, standoffish, but they’ll tell you how to get there. Just don’t ask them anything else.” He also gave me the first indication of how shitty the place was. “You’re gonna want to walk to the address from the guardhouse.”

I frowned. “What? Why?” Not that I minded walking but I’d supposed I would be driving once I found out where it was.

“Streets are bad. Unless you want to take a chance on losing your undercarriage, you’re better off walking. Remember the time I told you about when I busted my oil pan? That’s where it happened, and I was lucky I didn’t also pop a tire or lose a muffler. The neighborhood’s not big so it won’t take that long to get anywhere in there on foot. Besides, they kinda advise you to walk. If I’d listened to ‘em the first time I went, I wouldn’t’ve damaged my oil pan. There’s a place to leave your car across from the guardhouse. It’s not paved but you can park there without popping your tires – or getting stuck.”

I spotted the small lot right inside the gate. If he hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve driven by. The only reason I could tell it was for parking was the sign that announced in red letters on a white background, “Guest Parking”.

I pulled into the unlined hard-packed dirt lot and got out of my Honda that was ten years old when I bought it right out of college. The last seven – going on eight – years had been rough on it, and wire, duct tape, and prayer was what was mainly holding it together. It rattled but most of the time it ran. I only used my jeep when the Honda wouldn’t go or when I went tracking. I planned on using the Honda as long as it held together but I wished I’d known about the bad roads before I got to Adam’s office; I could’ve taken the jeep. Still, I figured a short walk wouldn’t kill me.

The two oversized private cops in front of the guardhouse were watching me. One was taller than my six-foot-two, and the other was maybe a couple of inches shorter, but both looked as if they ate well.

Blinking my burning eyes, I walked over and greeted them pleasantly while handing over my driver’s license. Their nametags proclaimed them to be “Earl” and “Jim”. Neither smiled or offered me a greeting.

Earl, who took my ID, squinted at it, and then grunted and asked my business there. I explained I was filling in for the regular courier and that the big brown envelope I was carrying was for somebody that lived at 1209 Carter Street. I held the envelope up so he could see the address. It didn’t have a name, just the initials “SL”. He glanced at it with a slight frown then shot his eyes at his companion without saying anything.

My eyes were tearing up and I wanted to get on with it and get out so I broke the silence. “I’ve never been in this neighborhood before. Could you tell me how to get to that address, please?” And, since my eyes were burning and I noticed their eyes looked irritated, too, I casually asked, “Hey, what’s in the air? Is it there all the time?”

To my surprise, the guy tensed and his eyes narrowed. He snapped, “Come with me!” He snatched the envelope from my hand.

I thought his reaction was odd. I was real polite. I said “please” and hadn’t raised my voice. I opened my mouth to ask why, but he growled, “No questions!”