Audrik
Explorer
The Bedford Project - Session 1d
All three agents got an early start the next morning. Atwood wanted to have a look around Bedford, Dempsey wanted to find lodging closer to the town yet still outside, and Porter wanted his own rental vehicle – one not tied to the Des Moines airport or a federal expense account.
Atwood reached Bedford first. It resembled every small town in every American movie of the last thirty years: red brick and granite downtown, leafy side streets lined with modest ranch homes, local-brand gas stations and convenience stores on the corners and on the highway exit ramps. The “Welcome to Bedford” signs where U.S. Highway 148 turned into Madison Street claimed a population of 1,406; sported the emblems of the Lions, Kiwanis, Elks, United Church of Christ, and other respectable organizations; and proudly boasted of being the “Home of the Fighting Bulldogs – Division Champs 1987, 1991, 1997, 2000, 2007; State Champs 1992.” The closest other towns were 10 to 15 miles away in any direction over rolling, sparsely-wooded farmland.
Banners hanging over Main and Madison Streets and flyers all around town announced the Corn Queen Pageant at the high school which coincides with the Bulldogs’ homecoming game on September 30th. Every street light had a small camera covering the road, sidewalks, and businesses. Atwood decided Bedford Cable and Electric must be doing good business because only one building in town – the HelpLink Regional Training Center – had a satellite dish.
The street light cameras seemed out of place in a small town, but they were only the beginning of the subtle but oddly disturbing qualities of the town. Almost every building had sliding glass doors that slid open when an electric eye detected motion. The buildings that didn’t have these doors instead had keycard or keypad locks; even the private residences.
Taylor’s Diner looked like a welcoming sort of place, and there were only a few tables not occupied by high schoolers in letterman’s jackets or cheerleader’s sweaters. The diner was directly across from the Bedford Times-Press. Next to the diner was the Brave New World Daycare Center which not only had the electric eye and sliding glass doors – very unusual for a daycare, Atwood thought – but it also had a sign in the window depicting a masked individual crying and holding the bars of a jail cell while a smiling couple held a baby. The caption on the sign read “Foil kidnappers! Fingerprint your baby!”
Still dressed in his borrowed battledress uniform, Atwood decided to see what he could learn from the kids at the diner. As he entered, he was slightly unnerved to hear The Police playing Every Breath You Take over the speakers. Without sitting, he claimed a seat at the counter by setting down his cell phone and keys.
Every breath you take, every move you make …
Atwood scanned the diner for a table with the greatest concentration of young men, but the entire group seemed to be rather fluid. Some remained in one spot the whole time, but others would sit for a minute and talk before moving to another table to socialize.
Every bond you break …
When the waitress, Diane, asked to take his order, he said he’d like some coffee and a slice of Key Lime pie. He raised an eyebrow when he realized rather than scribble his order on a pad like at every other diner he’d ever visited, she instead checked a few digital boxes on her tablet and submitted his order to both the kitchen and register electronically. Fewer than 1,500 residents in an otherwise typical small town, and yet such high technology and security everywhere he looked.
Every step you take, I’ll be watching you.
Atwood approached the largest group of young men and jumped right into a Marine Corps. recruitment speech. None of them seemed interested at all, not even when he not-so-subtly questioned their bravery. Every one of them seemed convinced the homecoming game against the Taylor County Cornhuskers would be the springboard for their college and professional football careers. When he asked what made them so sure they could even play college ball, a few of them stood up and completely dwarfed him. These kids were big. Not all of them, but the ones who stood up, for sure, were over six-feet tall and probably 200 pounds.
Every single day, every word you say …
Whatever. If Captain Rush pulled a dozen kids from this town, he had to have been a fantastic recruiter. Atwood shrugged and returned to his coffee and pie. It was only a minute or so before he had a cheerleader on either side of him, bouncing and smiling. The blonde on his left introduced herself as Shannon and the brunette on the other side as Ashley. They were seniors at Bedford High, and they were selling tickets to the homecoming game Monday night. Tickets would be $15 at the gate, but if he got them from her, they were only $10. He had to admit, she had a hell of a sales technique. Sure. Why the hell not? He bought three tickets with cash. The brunette handed him three credit card-sized laminated cardboard tickets. Each ticket had the logos of both teams, the date and time of the game, and an obvious RFID chip. They were also numbered sequentially, 0002 through 0004. That meant not only had they sold very few tickets but also that they had probably sold at least one other.
Every game you play …
Ashley wasn’t really his type, but damn. There was something about her that … Atwood stopped his train of thought right there. That was definitely not why he was here. He needed to be on his guard in this town because it seemed to be a death sentence for federal employees. Besides, she was just a girl, a senior in high school. Of course, that meant she might be … Atwood shook it off again. Something wasn’t right here, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was probably a trick of the light or his mind, but looking from Shannon to Ashley, he could have sworn the blonde’s eyes changed from blue to violet. When he looked back, though, they were blue. He thanked the girls for the tickets and finished his coffee before leaving the diner in haste.
Every night you stay, I’ll be watching you.
All three agents got an early start the next morning. Atwood wanted to have a look around Bedford, Dempsey wanted to find lodging closer to the town yet still outside, and Porter wanted his own rental vehicle – one not tied to the Des Moines airport or a federal expense account.
Atwood reached Bedford first. It resembled every small town in every American movie of the last thirty years: red brick and granite downtown, leafy side streets lined with modest ranch homes, local-brand gas stations and convenience stores on the corners and on the highway exit ramps. The “Welcome to Bedford” signs where U.S. Highway 148 turned into Madison Street claimed a population of 1,406; sported the emblems of the Lions, Kiwanis, Elks, United Church of Christ, and other respectable organizations; and proudly boasted of being the “Home of the Fighting Bulldogs – Division Champs 1987, 1991, 1997, 2000, 2007; State Champs 1992.” The closest other towns were 10 to 15 miles away in any direction over rolling, sparsely-wooded farmland.
Banners hanging over Main and Madison Streets and flyers all around town announced the Corn Queen Pageant at the high school which coincides with the Bulldogs’ homecoming game on September 30th. Every street light had a small camera covering the road, sidewalks, and businesses. Atwood decided Bedford Cable and Electric must be doing good business because only one building in town – the HelpLink Regional Training Center – had a satellite dish.
The street light cameras seemed out of place in a small town, but they were only the beginning of the subtle but oddly disturbing qualities of the town. Almost every building had sliding glass doors that slid open when an electric eye detected motion. The buildings that didn’t have these doors instead had keycard or keypad locks; even the private residences.
Taylor’s Diner looked like a welcoming sort of place, and there were only a few tables not occupied by high schoolers in letterman’s jackets or cheerleader’s sweaters. The diner was directly across from the Bedford Times-Press. Next to the diner was the Brave New World Daycare Center which not only had the electric eye and sliding glass doors – very unusual for a daycare, Atwood thought – but it also had a sign in the window depicting a masked individual crying and holding the bars of a jail cell while a smiling couple held a baby. The caption on the sign read “Foil kidnappers! Fingerprint your baby!”
Still dressed in his borrowed battledress uniform, Atwood decided to see what he could learn from the kids at the diner. As he entered, he was slightly unnerved to hear The Police playing Every Breath You Take over the speakers. Without sitting, he claimed a seat at the counter by setting down his cell phone and keys.
Every breath you take, every move you make …
Atwood scanned the diner for a table with the greatest concentration of young men, but the entire group seemed to be rather fluid. Some remained in one spot the whole time, but others would sit for a minute and talk before moving to another table to socialize.
Every bond you break …
When the waitress, Diane, asked to take his order, he said he’d like some coffee and a slice of Key Lime pie. He raised an eyebrow when he realized rather than scribble his order on a pad like at every other diner he’d ever visited, she instead checked a few digital boxes on her tablet and submitted his order to both the kitchen and register electronically. Fewer than 1,500 residents in an otherwise typical small town, and yet such high technology and security everywhere he looked.
Every step you take, I’ll be watching you.
Atwood approached the largest group of young men and jumped right into a Marine Corps. recruitment speech. None of them seemed interested at all, not even when he not-so-subtly questioned their bravery. Every one of them seemed convinced the homecoming game against the Taylor County Cornhuskers would be the springboard for their college and professional football careers. When he asked what made them so sure they could even play college ball, a few of them stood up and completely dwarfed him. These kids were big. Not all of them, but the ones who stood up, for sure, were over six-feet tall and probably 200 pounds.
Every single day, every word you say …
Whatever. If Captain Rush pulled a dozen kids from this town, he had to have been a fantastic recruiter. Atwood shrugged and returned to his coffee and pie. It was only a minute or so before he had a cheerleader on either side of him, bouncing and smiling. The blonde on his left introduced herself as Shannon and the brunette on the other side as Ashley. They were seniors at Bedford High, and they were selling tickets to the homecoming game Monday night. Tickets would be $15 at the gate, but if he got them from her, they were only $10. He had to admit, she had a hell of a sales technique. Sure. Why the hell not? He bought three tickets with cash. The brunette handed him three credit card-sized laminated cardboard tickets. Each ticket had the logos of both teams, the date and time of the game, and an obvious RFID chip. They were also numbered sequentially, 0002 through 0004. That meant not only had they sold very few tickets but also that they had probably sold at least one other.
Every game you play …
Ashley wasn’t really his type, but damn. There was something about her that … Atwood stopped his train of thought right there. That was definitely not why he was here. He needed to be on his guard in this town because it seemed to be a death sentence for federal employees. Besides, she was just a girl, a senior in high school. Of course, that meant she might be … Atwood shook it off again. Something wasn’t right here, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was probably a trick of the light or his mind, but looking from Shannon to Ashley, he could have sworn the blonde’s eyes changed from blue to violet. When he looked back, though, they were blue. He thanked the girls for the tickets and finished his coffee before leaving the diner in haste.
Every night you stay, I’ll be watching you.