Angel’s Park proved to be pretty much what Ana had expected. The park itself was unremarkable; another little spot of green amidst the city’s grey, brown, and pollution. It was neither big nor located anywhere special, just a corner of the neighbourhood. It was, however, the site of the city’s newest homeless camp.

Ana reflected that if she’d had the ability to detach herself from it all this would have been an interesting anthropological opportunity. The differences between the makeshift camp and what she was used to dealing with were quite noticeable. Clothes were less torn and dirty, with nary a patch in sight, and the usual weary, pained bitterness was here replaced with a general feeling of shock and disbelief.

She walked past people seeking shelter from the rain beneath trees not entirely cut out for the task. Some hung coats or blankets from the branches, while others desperately tried to get cardboard to stay in place. Children cried, but they were the only ones showing any kind of passion. These people were new to homelessness, and the agony of it all showed more plainly than she was used to. The women despaired, and the men looked helplessly angry and crushingly ashamed.

No one had started a fire, and the park’s sole surviving lamppost provided all the illumination. Most were gathered within the reach of its cold, harsh light, and strolling in a single direction let her take it all in, if she counted the vague silhouettes on the edge of it all. A single figure was out and about, and on her return stroll Ana approached him.

The man had a similar look to him as the others here. He was new to this as well, but she got the impression that he was holding it all at bay by keeping busy. He had just finished asking a small family how they were doing when he saw her coming.

“You?” he said, semi-visible beneath a low-hanging pine branch. “How are you doing?”

“I am fine enough,” she said. “You know, you should stay dry. It is more important than you may realise. Especially if you don’t have another set of clothing on hand.”

“You’ve... you’ve been doing this for long?” he said awkwardly. He tucked at a blond beard that was just beginning to lose its neatness.

“Yes,” she said, opting not to correct him while technically still being truthful. “And I am serious. It is supposed to rain for several days. Try not to let your feet stay trapped in soggy socks and shoes for all that time. Your health is more important now than ever.”

“I’ll... uh...” He looked down at his feet. “I’ll try. My name is Kennis.”

“I am Ana,” she told him. “Kennis, are you a leader of sorts here?”

“I...” He shrugged. “Some of the boys here worked under me. Others are my neighbours. We used to have get-togethers. I’m just... trying to look after people.”

“That’s good,” she said. “Just mind you do it in moderation. If people become dependent on you it may very well break you, and if you do it wrong you’ll get resentment.”

He nodded a little, and looked off into the darkness. She couldn’t see his eyes for the shadows beneath his brows, but those shadows deepened.

“I’m just trying to do what I can.”

“Sure,” she told him. “Is anyone here hurt?”

Her medical bag rested against her hip, beneath the coat, but Kennis shook his head. She let out a subtle sigh of relief, then promptly felt ashamed for it.

“No,” he said. “Everyone is alright, I think. Just shaken.”

“Well, if anyone gets an open wound, they can have it looked at in Sanctuary,” she told him. “Please see to it that everyone knows.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Ana walked away, abandoning the main path onto which the light shone and let herself disappear into the darkened foliage. The raindrops sang their song on the leaves, and she lamented not being able to simply stop, close her eyes, and let the sound soothe her soul. She found herself a nearby side-street where she could lean her weary back against a wall and still keep an eye on the park.

The police came even sooner than she’d expected, with their lights and sounds and stomping feet and angry voices. She didn’t see or hear all the details from where she lurked, but she didn’t need to. The people were being driven out and nothing would prevent it. Any who felt like fighting would not gather enough numbers to stand up the long batons the cops had brought.

There was helpless rage, outraged shouting, more crying of children and some of the women, and a relentless push by a force of officers moving slowly and surely like old-time soldiers in formation. The great machine that was society and its masters ground on, pushing its undesirables out of public view.

In spite of it all Ana couldn’t work up anger. She had seen what she expected, and all she had energy for was a weary dread. No doubt she would be getting to know many of these people in the coming days. And Sanctuary’s resources would be stretched out even further.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

# # #

“Is this the best use of our time?” Myra demanded through her teeth. “Our resources? Our manpower? Our relationship with the citizens?”

Chief Matew beheld her from his side of the desk, unbearably calm and radiating confident authority despite leaning back in his chair.

“Please sit down, Myra,” he said.

“I’ll stand,” she said stubbornly, in spite of her aches having healed little if at all, and her body’s desire for rest.

“Do you remember our talk the other day?” he asked and gestured towards the window they’d both stood at then. The one with the wide view of the city.

“Laws,” she replied in a clipped fashion. “Order. Bulwark. Business-as-usual. Yes, I remember.”

“Well, it all still applies, Myra,” Matew said. “The fundamentals of society do not change dramatically in a matter of days. We need rules, we need a system, and we need them more than ever to reach the other side of these awful times.”

“And what about humanity?” she said impulsively. “Basic humanity?”

He didn’t answer right away, and she chose to pretend to take it as an invitation to keep on going.

“I...” Despite her passion Myra found her words stalling. She wasn’t a poet. She wanted to throw her hands up in utter frustration but narrowly restrained herself from descending into utter childishness.

“People should be helped,” she finally said, opting to go with simple, personal truth. “People should be protected. That’s... that’s what I believe. Call me naïve but that is my nature, and why I serve. To serve. The rules... have their place, but now they’re just hurting people. This didn’t do any good, and the ill-will it earns certainly won’t either!”

She was tired, cranky, sore, and her energy suddenly felt depleted in the face of Matew’s unmoved demeanour.

“You speak of nature, Myra,” he said evenly. “And what about humanity indeed? What about the long-term issues with allowing things to run wild?”

You are wrong. She did not say the words out loud, but stared them at him. If the message got through he showed no sign.

“It is my nature to keep things orderly,” he went on. “To keep them as they should be, according to the rules. That is how society survives. That is what it is built on. So I must uphold the rules. All of them. To say nothing of the fact that I am in a position of responsibility.”

Myra wanted to scream in mindless frustration, with him, with herself, with the facts lining up as they did, with the city for being in the state that it was.

“And I know I’m not saying this for the first time, Myra, but your place is on the street. You reminded us all of that last night. That was the work of a warrior, driving those Hounds off with bloody noses.”

“They were bleeding from other places,” she said. “I don’t suppose bodies have been discovered in some back alley?”

“Not yet, at least,” he said.

She found herself in an odd attempt to not feel any particular way about that. She didn’t want to enjoy possibly having killed someone, but also didn’t want to consider those Hounds to be worth spit.

“On the other hand...” Matew went on. “No fatalities among those residents and no rapes, although it seems you interrupted at least one. You did good, Myra.”

“Please, no flattery, Sir.”

“It’s the truth, Myra,” he insisted. “You performed with speed, courage and steel.”

“And a bit of lead,” she interjected, for some reason.

She couldn’t help but wonder how many of those people who’d lost their homes and worldly possessions in the fire had sought sanctuary in Angel’s Park.

“Did you talk to anyone between the front door and my office?” he asked, still sitting calm and controlled.

“I did not,” she replied. “Well, a quick hello with Brown. I think he’s waiting for me by the stairs.”

“You did come at a bit of a jog,” he commented. “Myra, I don’t enjoy telling you this, but the Green Bomber has struck again.”

Myra looked to the side, her mouth moving silently, forming some primal curse word her heart knew even if her brain didn’t.

“Where? How? And what’s the damage?”

“He blew up a patrol auto,” he said, watching her over steepled fingers. “One hour ago. In Fields. We are down two officers. From what I understand there weren’t a lot of witnesses, but it seems you have another entry on that map of yours.”

“So it seems,” Myra said dully.

“How is it coming along, by the way?”

“It’s coming,” she said. “Just a little more legwork and we’ll be able to make some pretty solid assumptions about his movements.”

“Excellent, Myra,” he said. “Because we need this menace stopped. Above all else, people need to stop dying.”

He dipped his forehead ever so slightly, lending extra weight to his gaze.

“They will,” she said. “Sir. I will put a stop to this.”

“I know you will,” he said. “Because that is who you are.”

He gestured towards the door.

“Brown has the location and the details we have so far. Go talk to him.”

Moving sullenly on feet that felt heavy, Myra turned to the door.

“Go be a warrior, Myra. And end this nightmare for all of us.”

She left quietly, walked to the stairwell and headed down. Brown waited for her at the landing, leaning up against a rusty radiator.

“So, did he tell you?” her partner asked.

“He told me.”

Myra allowed herself a sigh, since he was the only one looking.

“Let’s go. Let’s try to make this the last disaster.”