Into Uptown

Rod answers “If we take the first false benefactor as a valid example, the man we are looking for is bound to be highly trained in medicine. He will also be very adept at killing people, and he will carry around many sophisticated tools for doing just that. Silenced pistols, small explosive charges, stun grenades, very sharp knives. But he could manage without these: The one in Levamen killed two men with one kick and one strike. He should be in very good health, at the height of human abilities. But the man we caught was also arrogant, a bit too secure of himself. Maybe that is the reason why we were able to track him down and capture him. The man who saw him in Saint Benedict described him as a young man of medium height, with black hair and blue eyes.”
Zed asks “So what do you think he’s planning to do here?” “I don’t know. I suspect that he is going to keep his cover as a healer. Do you know of any other benefactors working in Memphis” “No.” “You said you have a hospital? Maybe we can find him there.” Zed thinks for a moment. The hospital in Union Quarter is not the only one in Memphis. There is also one in Uptown, where judges wounded in the line of duty recuperate. It offers the best medical care in the wastes. Judge Boyd, his boss, lies there. Rod goes on: “He could do great damage there, he would just have to mislabel or sabotage some saline solutions and you would have scores of dead people on your hands…” Zed interrupts “We’ll have to get you into Uptown right now. You will come with me, and check the hospital there. If he’s made it into Uptown, we have to take him out. If you see him, you show him to me, and we’ll take care of him right away. Mal, get a move on and get us to the Lock.”
A few minutes later, the Conquistador comes to a sudden stop in front of the Lock, the only entrance into Memphis. Floodlights immerse the large gate in a harsh glare, while the walls further away from this space turn red in the light of the evening. The crenellations over the entrance hide machineguns and mortars, and an alert visitor would also spot the surveillance cameras. A long queue of visitors snakes towards the entrance, where a judge decides whether they have business in Uptown or not – and he seems to be very thorough. A dozen soldiers guard the Lock. They carry assault rifles, black Kevlar vests with the letters LAW stenciled on their backs, riot helmets and truncheons, and their belts are full of other implements they might need for keeping the peace in Memphis. On their left upper arm is small transparent pocket, showing their permit to carry all this hardware. Although they look as uniform as any fighting force in the wastes, small details point to their individual histories: Necklaces of teeth and spark plugs, old tattoos, patches telling of their former jhats. This tiny force would be able to take over most settlements in fifteen minutes, and this is just one patrol of dozens.
The group jumps from the car. Zed sprints towards the judge at the gate, a grizzled veteran named Paul, now the gatekeeper of Uptown and thus one of the resident professional paranoids. Zed explains the situation and that these two guys can identify a possible intruder. A short discussion and hasty pat-down later, Rod and Dan are issued red visitor’s papers on necklaces. “Wear them at all times, and never get away from your escort, or you will be identified as a trespasser. And trespassers in Uptown are in a world of hurt.”
Under the envious glances from the queue, the group is ushered through the gate into the glory of Uptown. The streets are wide, paved and well-lit; the buildings seem to conform to a single design, although one notices the presence of scavenged building material here and there. They look quite simple; there is no ornamentation apart from signs pointing to the most important buildings in Uptown, directly stenciled onto the white walls. No building is higher that three floors, but they look as if they could function as redoubts and bunkers in the case of attack. There seem to be gardens on their flat roofs. Zed leads them to a big, C-shaped building with a large red cross on its front. Two haggard men in white lab coats watch the group warily as they approach the entrance. Zed fills them in with a few words, and one of the doctors grabs a guard to accompany them. On the way to judge Boyd’s room, the doctors tell Zed that no new doctor or nurse has entered the hospital’s services in the last three months or so. And they would have noticed a new face. So the hospital seems safe, for now, and the guard returns to his post. But Zed wants to speak to his judge and ask his opinion of the whole affair.