Zeke looked at his watch again. The rich dark of night was seeping away and small streaks of light heralded the dawn of a day Zeke wasn't looking forward to.
He pressed his ComDat and it hissed into life.
"Unit Two, it's Zero-Four- Fifteen, you have the lead."
"Unit One, lead confirmed," came the reply.
"Unit Three, confirm your position."
"Unit Three, in place. Go get some sleep Zeke," another voice answered.
"Unit Three, agreed. Back at fifteen-hundred hours."
Zeke turned off the ComDat, checked his watch again, then his rear-view mirror and drove off. As the sky grew ever lighter, he drove back to his apartment, his journey unimpeded, due to the early hour. He drove down the ramp, parked in his usual spot and then got out, checking that the surveillance cameras were still out of action. He reckoned that he had about eight hours till they were fixed; long enough.
He opened the boot and stowed his headquarters pass-card and his electronics, except for his other phone. Zeke had a quick scan of the empty parking area, checking he was still alone and then removed his service weapons, covering them over with an old rain mac. Feeling confident that he was un-trackable again, he closed the boot lid and started back up the ramp on foot, grateful for the track shoes on his feet. He had a long walk ahead.
Five miles on, daylight having replaced the useful cover of night, he recovered his grey jeep from under a tarpaulin.
"You're early," said a voice from behind, followed by a familiar wet, hacking cough.
"Early bird and all that, Arthur. Any visitors?"
"Good. Let's hope it stays that way."
"Aye..." Arthur replied, "She gave me this." The old man handed over a hand drawn map.
Zeke took a quick look at it. "Back in a couple of hours."
Arthur nodded at Zeke and then went back to the small cottage.
Zeke climbed into the vehicle and headed out the way he had trekked in, via the rear service entrance, the jeep handling the unmade road surface just fine. On the main road, he headed back for town and the suburb of Servilla. Slowly, the city was waking up and a quick look at the clock told him it was approaching six o'clock and his agreed rendezvous time. Very soon, the park appeared on his right, so he pulled the jeep over to a space clear of obstructions, an easy getaway if necessary.
Once out of the vehicle, he went to its rear and opened up the spare wheel cover and fished around the base of it until he found what he was looking for. The revolver he discreetly placed in his holster, obscured by his black jacket, then putting his phone and money into his inside jacket pockets. He locked up and headed along the path that ran alongside the park, one of the rare, green open spaces left. He walked through the wrought iron archway; lush, green vines gently entangled around the rusting metal and cautiously approached the warden's empty hut. A sign out front read –Servilla memorial park. No Flawed allowed. Warden present 7am-7pm.
The park laid out before him, was a throw-back to a generation which enjoyed the open air, a population that enjoyed a slower pace of life. The remains of a children's adventure playground, took up one corner, the equipment now broken and vandalised. In the far right corner was a large pond in need of dredging. To his left was a band stand that had seen its last music played a long time ago and in the centre, the meeting point of several small paths, sat a large statue. Zeke headed towards it.
YOU ARE READING
The NumberedScience Fiction
Imagine the second you're born, a consultant removes you from your mother's grasp and runs a battery of genetic and physiological tests on you. Thirty minutes later they give you a score out of one hundred which denotes your level of perfection. If...