Schism

delivery trucks, motorcycles and convertibles zipped along side streets, up and down boulevards, on to and off expressways.

Many of those cars ran on standard gasoline, some drove on hybrid systems using electric engines and batteries. She saw a few that even looked as if they were steam-powered.

In any case, her ride brought her to the stadium, a decaying horse-shoe shaped football arena built in the late 1930s. She paid the driver and exited, adjusting her rifle as she strolled toward the 'West Plaza' gate where big letters welcomed: Miami Orange Bowl.

Three older men and a younger one sat under an awning at a portable table playing a game Nina first mistook for cards before realizing it to be dominoes. They gave her a passing glance as she approached the ticket window, interested more in another round of 'muggins' than they were in the pale blond woman with the big gun and ponytail. A thin man with a gray mustache put aside a newspaper and grudgingly welcomed her at the ticket window. 'I have this,' she slipped the voucher under the security glass. 'No game today. Practice,' he returned the slip.

Nina did not know what to do other than retreat. She stepped backwards and nearly bumped into the chubby belly of one of the domino players who, apparently, had actually taken an interest in her after all.

The man's breath smelled of sweet liquor. Small beads of sweat peppered his forehead below the brim of a baseball cap. He eyed her but not in the way most men eyed her. She felt certain he did not inspect her form but, rather, her person; evaluating her on some level.

His tightly-pinched lips suggested he did not feel comfortable with his next move, but he held out his hand anyway. She gave him the voucher. He spoke to the ticket-taker behind the window in a fast voice and in a language beyond her comprehension, probably Spanish.

The man behind the glass acted surprised, shrugged his shoulders, said something defensive in the same language, and then sighed.

The chubby domino player ripped the stub on Nina's voucher and pointed toward the window again before returning to the table and the dominoes. Nina's second trip to the window resulted in a hand-written 'ticket' giving a row and seat number in 'Section C.'

She walked the empty halls of the stadium's infrastructure, watching the stenciled symbols until finding her section, then ascending the concrete vomitory into the late afternoon sunshine again.

Orange seats arranged in two tiers swept around a finely-trimmed football field, enclosing the stadium except for the east end. There stood bent and damaged support pillars that, she figured, once held a scoreboard. Further off through that opening she saw the relatively intact skyscrapers of downtown.

Nina found her seat and became the only spectator in the stands although several kids and coaches gathered on the far side line. The players-about thirty-wore white practice uniforms and helmets. Different coaches worked with different groups of players.

A kicker used a tee to boot a field goal through the east goal posts from the five yard line. A boy no more than eight retrieved the football for him. The kicker moved the tee to the fifteen yard line, and kicked again. The process repeated for several minutes as his field goal attempts grew more challenging. He missed from the twenty and the forty-five but hit everything else in between before beginning the process again from the five.

About mid-way through the kicker's second go-around and as the quarterbacks started throwing to receivers running out and up patterns, a man took the seat next to her. He wore rugged tan pants and a gray golf shirt. His eyes hid behind dark sun glasses and a white straw hat with a batik print band covered what she guessed to be a bald head. He spoke in a cheerful tone from a mouth partially hidden under a bushy mustache.

'Well hello, Ms. Forest.'

'Captain Forest. Do you know me?'

He recited, 'Nina Forest, born and raised in Kutztown, Pennsylvania. Entered the Army National Guard out of high school and trained as a Blackhawk pilot but also drew some juicy ferry missions for Apaches and Cobras. You joined the Philly police and quickly qualified for SWAT duty as well as air patrol. You may not know this, but records recovered at the Pentagon suggest you fired the first shots of this war when you killed what we now know to be a Jabberwock in the Kimmel Theater at the National Constitution Museum. Big attaboy for you.'

He removed his sun glasses, turned to her and winked.

'Then it's true. Gordon Knox is still alive.'

'I don't suppose you're here to catch practice, are you? The Hurricanes have a big game this week but not too many people have the time to come out. I guess college football just isn't what it used to be.'

She said, 'I didn't know they were still playing college football. I thought most of the college-aged kids were in the military.'

'Well, it's not like it used to be,' Knox admitted. 'Faculty members and people from the community round out the roster. It's more like an amateur football club as opposed to old-world collegiate athletics. Not too many schools holding classes these days, either. Florida State is playing again. They've got the campus running up in Tallahassee. I hear they're trying to get the University of Florida going, but it seems no one wants to be in Gainesville these days; the smell from the Jaw-Wolf feces still hovers over the whole town.'

Nina glanced around at the players, the stadium, and the skyline saying, 'Well this place almost feels like the invasion never happened. Seriously, traffic? Football practice?'

'Miami held out,' Gordon told her. 'For all the fighting and suffering here, the city kept working. Not because of government, but because of the people. So they recovered faster here. Business, agriculture, industry…there's a sense of normalcy here, but if you look close you can see the scars. Still, no where I'd rather be.'

'Listen, I didn't come here to talk about business or football, but you know that.'

Knox smiled and pointed to the practice field where a receiver lay flat on the grass with a defensive back hovering overhead and the ball cascading away end over end across the turf.

'Did you see that hit? I don't think the receiver even saw it coming. Still, a good hit doesn’t mean much if you can't get the other guy to drop the ball.'

'Is that what happened with you?' Nina asked in an effort to get to the point. She hated double speak and pretension. 'Or did you just want to retire and faked your own house fire?'

He chuckled, stroked his mustache, and answered, 'Let's just say I had a visit from some people who thought I was in the way of the changing of the guard. I had some fun, then decided to move on. I've always preferred Miami, anyhow. I consider this town my home.' 'So you gave Ashley a ticket voucher, so she could find you if she needed your help.' 'And here I find you sitting.' 'I guess that's a bit of a surprise,' she said. 'Not really.'

'What do you mean? Look, no one is more surprised about me being here than I am. I'm just saying, I'm not sure how I'm mixed up in this.'

'Is that so? Well, I guess it would be to you. But to me it fits. From what I understand, there's a whole year of surprises you can't remember. How strange is that?'

Nina sensed something in his tone akin to a cat playing with a mouse.

'W-what do you mean? What do you know?'

He shrugged. 'No more than you, not really. I wasn't by Trevor's side in those days and no one kept really detailed records back then. It was all too small, I suppose. Still, I've got to give you credit. You all toughed it out when you could've just packed it in and played it safe. Guess that's what I always liked about Trevor.'

Nina gazed down, her eyes looking not at her hands but at the dark spots in her mind where memories should have been.

He said, 'I guess I don't know any more than you do. I know you had some sort of implant from The Order. The story goes that there were two implants and that they had to spirit you away from one of Voggoth's bases in order to save you.'

She nodded absently. 'Trevor led the rescue mission. At least that's what Shep told me.'

Gordon pushed on, 'Interesting, I've heard a couple of variations of that story, including Trevor being one of The Order's prisoners at the same facility, near Allentown. I wonder how he ended up there. And then I think of you, and how they had you under their control for a spell. Sometimes I wonder if, well, if they didn't use you to get to him.'

Her eyes widened and she spat, 'Are you suggesting I betrayed him? Is that it? That's not possible. I'm just saying, I could never have done that.'

'Really?' He stroked his mustache again with the air of a scientist observing an experiment. 'Now wouldn't that be something, if they got to you and made you give Stone up.'