SNAFU: Survival of the Fittest

Gomer stepped into the room from the kitchen. “Since when did Rehor become a warlock? If that’s the case, it’s the difference between a grenade and a nuclear bomb.”

I nodded. “It does make him a much more dangerous adversary. For all we know he was taught by Crowley himself. Hell, if I can learn, he can, too.”

“But why not just kill me?” Everett asked.

“I’ve been thinking about that. I think he needed information from you and it used the bone demon to get it.”

“What kind of information?”

“Anything. Everything.” I shrugged. “Have you checked all the wards on The Grove?”

“I was so busy with screening people, I wasn’t able to get to all of them.”

“Isn’t tomorrow the big day?”

He gave me a look, then lowered his head. “I need to go check them.” He looked at his suit. “Let me go change first.”

“I’ll have Burgess join you.”

Everett got up, then headed toward the bedroom.

Gomer came in and sat where Everett had been sitting. “Do you know why else Rehor could have used the bone demon?”

I shook my head.

“Maybe he’s still looking for his brother.”

“But Everett wouldn’t know that.”

“But you do, don’t you?”

I stared at Gomer as my mental blocks slid into place. “Think he’s here for me?”

“At the very least, you’re the cherry on the cake.”

“He could also be here to take someone hostage. Who’s the most important person who’s going to be here this weekend?”

“President Nixon.”

“He has his own warlock from Special Unit Division.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t a target.”

I slapped my knee with the flat of my right hand. “Damn! It could be anybody.”

“That’s what makes this so much fun,” Gomer said.

“Right. Fun. Oh joy.”

MONTE RIO

July 10, 1970

Morning

Burgess and Everett didn’t get back in until three, but that didn’t keep me from waking them up at seven. After a shower, coffee and breakfast, I sent Everett and Gomer out to The Grove to provide security for the welcome dinner set-up and the Cremation of Care Ceremony. We needed each and every piece of equipment, furniture, caterer, vendor, and contractor checked for supernatural taint.

I kept Burgess with me. I had him plot the locations of the four local catering services and run local background checks to see if there was anything that wasn’t in the files, while I called back to the office and had the remainder of my officers check the caterers in San Francisco and San Rafael. Not that we knew what to look for, but my men were skilled in observing the supernatural, and if there were clues to be had, they’d find them.

It’d been a long time since I’d thought of the Zdarsky family. While Boniface Zdarsky was merely a sociopath, his brother Rehor was a complete psychopath. If he was a warlock as well as a Spring-heeled Jack, we might be in some serious trouble. Our only hope was to find him before he could do anything.

We had to wait two hours, twiddling our fingers until the businesses opened at ten. Everett had taken his own car, which left Burgess with me. He checked our pistols to make sure we had rounds. It wasn’t often we used them, although we carried them all the time. The last thing we needed was to need them and have them not working.

“I didn’t know we had a detention facility,” Burgess said to break the long silence of waiting. “What sorts of prisoners do we have?”

“Sorry, kid. That’s on a need-to-know. It’s a special duty assignment and you have to be read on to the program first.”

“Damn. What about these Spring-heeled Jacks? What kind of powers do they have?”

I glanced his way and made a mental note to have my men review 77’s cryptid database, something they’d clearly been slacking. “They’re exceptionally strong. They’re exceptionally fast, they can leap great distances, and they can live forever if they aren’t killed first.”

“Does that make them evil?”

“In their case, evil was a choice. They decided somewhere along the way to use their powers to gain advantage.” I shrugged. “I think it’s probably impossible to have superpowers and not use them to gain an advantage sooner or later. That’s probably why Superman is a comic book.”

“He’s also an alien,” Burgess said. “Which could be the reason he doesn’t have the desire to commit mortal or venial sins.”

I jerked my head around and stared at him.

“What? Didn’t you know Indians read comic books too?”

“No, I just didn’t think you were Catholic.”

“Oh that? I’m not. We just had a lot of missionaries come to the res to try and convert us. We only showed up for the free food and stuff.”

I nodded because it made sense. “You’re right, of course.” Seeing his blank stare, I added, “About Superman. It’s the fact that he’s alien. But I think also that the Zdarskys are as alien. Not that they’re from another planet, mind you. There’s something that makes them not human, therefore they have decided not to follow our laws or morays. Superman could have taken that direction but he chose not to.”

“He might have,” said Burgess, “Had the Kents not raised him. They raised him to be human so he acted human.”