In the outskirts of the City, there was a quiet suburb called Oak Lawn. It was your typical inner ring suburb, ringed with oak and pine trees, a flat and sprawling high school, modern and upscale chain stores and restaurants, winding and quiet streets. There were ranch houses, and a creek ran through the center of it. Bikes were laid safely on front lawns, yellow buses took children to school and brought them home to parents waiting for them to be dropped off again. And there was also a street there, Oak Haven, a street that looked just like all the other streets, for the most part.
It was a quiet street, shaded, peaceful. Nothing ever was out of place here. The streets were wide, and serene, broken only by the occasional vehicle driving through or children playing games. It was far from the rotting inner core of the City. One could live here, and come to imagine that nothing from the City would ever escape, would ever come to this nice, quiet place. This was a
safe
place. Things made sense here. The old order still stood.
On the front lawn of one of the houses on that street were two wooden lawn chairs.
The wooden chairs were arranged such that a couple could sit out there on a cool summer evening, and have a drink, and say hello to anyone who might pass by. The couple could say hello to the Hollisters up the street at 117 as they pushed the twins around in the stroller. The husband could go inside and pour more Hendricks and tonic, and when he returned the wife would be having a conversation with the retired couple from 218, who had just fed the ducks at the little manmade lake around the corner.
"Oh hi, Bob," he'd say when he got back, handing the drink to the slender blonde woman who was his wife. "Hi Alice. Wonderful night tonight."
"Sure is," Bob would say. "How's it on the force? You keeping safe there in the City? I bet you must see some
things
down there."
They always said that. Everyone always wanted to hear what it was like being a police officer in the City. Like it was a God damn movie or a TV show. As if he wanted to talk about it at the end of a long day, when he was safe back in the suburbs, where the wind blew cool through the leaves, and the shadows grew long waiting for the moonlight.
"Yeah," he said. "Never the same day twice."
******************************
And that's what they were doing, having a drink silently on their front lawn, when the Lexus pulled up. Just John had driven in from the City to pay a visit to the officer and his wife. He'd been making periodic trips out there for the last couple of months, nothing much, just an evening every couple of weeks or so.
John stepped out of the Lexus, and stretched himself out in the fresh air. He looked over at the couple, and gave a little wave. He crossed the lawn towards them. The wife looked up from her Hendricks and tonic. She smiled. She waved.
Her husband did neither of those things. He just looked at John as John crossed the lawn towards him and his wife on a cool, suburban evening.
"Hello, Rex," he said to the husband, who was now clenching his drink so hard that his knuckles were white. "Hello, Amanda. You look wonderful tonight. You never disappoint me."
Amanda blushed at the compliment, and brought her drink to her lips to hide her pleasure at the compliment, the bubbles of the tonic tickling her nose.
John stood there for a couple of moments, looking at them both in the face, first Amanda, then Rex, then back again. They looked about how he had thought they would. She was pleased to see him; it was easy to see. And why not. They had become very close lately.
Rex, though, was a different story. He seemed stressed, upset. The hair on his forearms were stiff despite the warm weather. He fidgeted in his chair. Rex looked like he wanted to say something, but just couldn't find the words.
"Take me inside, please," John asked them.
The husband and wife got up from their chairs, and all three of them moved wordlessly towards the front door, the husband leading, then Amanda, followed by John. The three crossed over the bushes in the white gravel pathway, and made their way to the front door.
Amanda opened it up. No need for keys here.
She stood there, holding the door, inviting John inside their split level ranch house. The air conditioning escaped, cool and sharp.
John looked around the neighborhood before he entered. No one was outside, he didn't know why he bothered. Nothing looked out of place. It was just a friend visiting a City police officer and his young wife. What could be more normal than that?
John's eyes focused on something.
"Rex, you've left your drink on your chair in the front lawn."
Rex and John looked at each other for a brief second. Rex looked confused, angry still. Amanda just smiled in the doorway.
"Go get it, Rex."
Rex frowned, and turned around to go get his drink.
John stepped past Amanda, and into the couple's home.
*****************************
When Rex arrived, he found John and his wife in the kitchen. Amanda was pouring John a glass of Hendricks over ice, and then she filled the glass with sparkling tonic water.
"Would you like a lime, John?" she asked.
"I'd love one," he told her, and she pulled a sharp little knife from the drawer, and cut a fresh lime into eight perfect little wedges. She squeezed one into John's drink, and handed it to him. John took it and swirled it around a little in his glass.
Amanda didn't step away. She stood by John, close to him. Closer than one would expect. She stood by John, almost as if waiting.
Rex was clutching his own drink, his ice all melted, his brow furrowed. He was at this point openly glaring at John.
"We don't want you here," he said finally, choked, almost as if he had to force the words out.
John took a deep drink of his gin and tonic, his eyes meeting Rex's, looking deep into them.
"Your wife does," he told Rex. "You, I don't care about. What you want, or don't want, doesn't matter now, and is going to matter even less by the time I leave here tonight."
"Why are you doing this to us?" Rex yelled. Amanda shrunk from the anger in his voice, stepping ever so slightly towards John in her fear.
"Shut up," John hissed, and Rex fell silent. "Shut up and keep your voice down, you fucking asshole. Your wife is trying to enjoy her drink- she doesn't need to hear any of your stupid outbursts. You understand me?"
Rex nodded.
"The reason I'm 'doing this to you'? What difference does it make? I'm doing it, it's happening, and that's really all you need to know. There's nothing you can do to stop me at this point."
John walked out of the kitchen, and to the living room. He knew his way. He'd been here before.
He waved for Rex and Amanda to follow him. They did.
