Chương 138: CDM 3, Chapter 14: Employee Handbook

Enforcer Chapman's ponytail was so loose it looked like the tie holding it together would slip at any moment. She wore a Carnegie Mellon University hoodie and baggy sweatpants. I had never seen her looking anything but put-together, let alone disheveled. But it was 2: 30 in the morning. When she opened the door to the interrogation room that doubled as my holding cell, she didn't speak. She stood in the doorway until I was uncuffed and allowed to leave.

Chapman didn't say anything until we were outside of the FBI offices and in her car.

"Did they arrest anyone else?" I asked.

"No."

"Did they search my place?"

"No, they didn't."

"Thank you for getting me."

"I look out for my people," she said simply, as if it were no surprise she came for me at this hour. I stared out the window at the quiet of the city, watching streetlights roll by. This wasn't a holding cell anymore, but all of the rage I simmered in was still there. I still felt like I was locked in a room even with open sky all around me. After a time, Chapman asked, "No one would be okay after that, but you've been in difficult situations before. This time, though, you seem different."

"How so?"

"You're angry."

"I am."

"Tonight was inexcusable. I will be raising hell about this in the morning. It's okay to be angry."

"What are the chances that changes anything?" I asked. Chapman fought a yawn.

"Government work has a history of creating cynics. Resisting that is hard to do."

"It's bigger than that for me. I'm cynical about everything."

"How so?"

"I was taught there was right and wrong, and there was good and evil. The wicked are punished while the righteous are rewarded." Chapman nodded.

"Yeah, the world is messier than anyone ever admits."

"They had no grounds to arrest me today, and I wasn't disrespectful. I followed the rules. I did the right thing, and it didn't fucking matter. I believe you when you say it makes you angry, but we both know no justice comes out of this. Their careers will be just fine. Then I wonder if I have any right to be angry. I'm in the machine. I'm just as guilty of perpetuating it."

"I don't think comparing tonight to your CDM work is fair," Chapman countered.

"The only people I've gotten arrested are crashers, people so desperate for levels that they risked it all. Martin Kielar died a hero. George Baker is living a free and happy life. I mean, what is that?"

"Those crashers broke the law."

"So? I was just arrested and detained without cause. That's breaking a law, and nothing is going to happen to anyone for it." Chapman pursed her lips. After a pause, she said, "I won't pretend you're wrong. This is how the world works sometimes. Your anger is justified, but acting on it will only make your own life harder."

"The thing is, I know that," I replied.

"I know that you're exactly correct, but I have this doomer programming in me that knows for certain that it's supposed to work differently. Everyone tells me to ignore it, but it doesn't go away, and it never gets weaker. I was carved into the shape of a doomer, and I can't undo it. I can't put wood back on the block." She sighed.

"A job centered around making sure monsters die should be simpler."

"Yeah," I said.

"I think that's why I like crawling so much. Good and bad are straightforward inside a gate." Chapman nodded.

"I can see how that's a comfort. You can take tomorrow off, by the way. Use that time to clear your head."

"Do I still need to debrief with the FBI and the EPA about the werewolf?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather work tomorrow, especially if we can get that out of the way. I already get enough shit for being arrested in the Kielar murder. Sorry for cursing. And sorry for unloading on you just now. That was unprofessional."

"It's almost 3 a. m., and you spent most of the night handcuffed to an interrogation table. I can forgive some frustration."

"Thank you for that grace," I said, sincerely. After what looked like a great deal of internal dialogue, Chapman spoke again.

"Years back, when I was an intern, I turned Martin in for groping me during a dungeon inspection. I'm still known as the stuck-up prude for filing the complaint." A burst of guilt bloomed in my chest. I never thought of her as a prude, specifically, but I did believe people when they said she was harsh and unfairly strict.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"That must have been awful."

"Probably crippled my career, and it's still an open secret that he gets- or got, rather- handsy with young women. You don't need to feel bad for me. I'm telling you this so you can believe me when I say I understand how you feel."

"How did you handle it?" If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. She waited a beat to reply.

"I was angry like you were. He broke the law and half a dozen CDM policies, and those things are supposed to matter. The people you report to are supposed to protect you. It's all written out, plain as day, and everyone has agreed that's how things will work. Eventually, you accept that powerful people are exempt from the rules. That's just how it is, like a law of nature."

I thought of Beth having to see Martin Kielar's picture everywhere she turned or, when he was still alive, running into him on a random day at Frank's shop.

"I can't imagine how much that sucked." Chapman shrugged.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Chapman asked.

"For getting me out and for letting me know I'm not crazy. You didn't have to do either of those things for me. I'm grateful."

"It's what I'm supposed to do."

"Enforcer Osheski, Enforcer Gray," Chapman called as she ventured to the conference room. Megan held out a fist for me to bump and led the way. Agent Porter from the Invasive Species Intervention division of the EPA sat in the RAID conference room with an FBI agent I didn't recognize. Agent Terrance wasn't present, and that was a relief. We sat across from the visiting agents and next to Chapman. Sheets of paper appeared in front of Megan and me even before we could scoot our chairs in.

"Enforcer Carmino," Agent Porter began, "I want to again apologize for your treatment yesterday. I have also been made aware of your efforts to interface with our team on wild monster sightings. The EPA values our working relationship with you and the CDM. These documents in front of you certify that you committed no crimes and that we won't press charges for anything you reveal today."

"These are legitimate," Chapman said to Megan and me.

"It's okay to answer their questions."

"We are investigating what people are calling 'the Backyard Werewolf.' We've seen the video of Frederick von Horn. How much footage was cut from the final edit?"

"Not much," Megan answered.

"It wasn't a long interview."

"He was confused and carrying a shotgun," I added.

"We didn't want to agitate him."

"Did you notice anything about him that might not have been obvious in the video?"

"Not that I can think of," I answered.

"How did you know it was a werewolf you were hunting?" Porter asked next. Megan looked at me to see if I wanted to answer. I gestured that she could go ahead.

"We didn't know for sure until we saw it that night," Megan said.

"We had some guesses, and werewolf was on the list. All we had to go on was a paw print, so we could only narrow the possibilities so far."

"Was there anything about the hunt that wouldn't be obvious from the video?" Megan shook her head. So did I.

"Was anyone present bitten or scratched?"

"No," I answered.

"Did anyone consume the meat from the werewolf's kills?" I shuddered. Megan smirked at my reaction and replied, "Not that we know of."

"Have you experienced headaches, nausea, sensitivity to smells, chills, or sharp abdominal pains?" We shook our heads.

"Has anyone associated with this event ever complained about these symptoms?" Another head shake.

"Has anything of note happened since? Any follow-up conversations, for example?"

"No," I said.

"Okay, what I'm about to say is not meant to scare you, but we don't know a lot about how the lycanthropy virus transmits. Mr. von Horn is evidence that transmission is possible, but the specifics are limited. We can be certain it isn't airborne, though. In the interest of caution, we request that you submit a blood sample and cheek swab." Chapman turned up a palm.

"That's up to you two."

"Yeah, sure," I said. Megan nodded with some reluctance.

"This would be weekly for 8 weeks and then once a month for the next 6," Agent Porter continued. I winced. Catching that reaction out of the corner of her eye, Megan twisted her neck and raised an eyebrow at me.

"It's not airborne, but we touched the body and its blood."

"Great," she grumbled. Agent Porter frowned sympathetically.

"The CDC believes Reverse Curse could stop the virus if it's caught early enough, but that's not been proven."

"Are the cases in Europe and Africa legitimate?" I asked, trying to get a sense of their level of concern.

"We believe so."

"Have the vampirism cases been verified?" Chapman asked. That stunned everyone else in the room. For Megan and me, our shock was learning that vampirism was even a concern. For the agents across from us, I gathered that their surprise came from Chapman knowing something they thought was a secret. The FBI agent spoke for the first time.

"That information hasn't been released."

"And that's concerning," Chapman replied.

"We have been proactive about sharing information with the EPA and the FBI. Our people interact with dungeons every day, and something that impacts their safety was withheld from us?"

"We have orders to contain information until it has been verified. These are tense times, and we don't want to incite panic over rumors."

"Are they rumors?" Chapman asked. When both agents held their tongues, Chapman pulled out her phone and started to scroll through her contacts. She stood and turned for the door without taking her eyes off the screen. The FBI agent stood as well.

"You do not have permission to disclose that information."

"I don't work for you," she replied as she brought her phone to her ear. To Megan and me, she added, "I'll be right back. You can answer their questions. We aren't withholding information that could save lives." And she was out the door. The FBI agent, meanwhile, furiously typed an email on his phone. Agent Porter looked tired. She clearly did not enjoy having to work with the FBI.

"How did you decide your tactics?" Agent Porter asked.

"That's all Gray," Megan said, tipping her head in my direction.

"We had this goat growing up who always got loose and liked to be chased, so going after him only made it worse. My little sister-" I paused to clear my throat, just then realizing how ridiculous I sounded, but I couldn't go back now.

"My little sister knew he really liked Animal Crackers, so she tried to lure him into a pen. He wouldn't go to her, so she tried leaving them out and hiding. He smelled her and ran. She tried hiding under some dirty saddle blankets to hide her scent, and that did it. I shut the pen behind him in case he ran, but she got good at popping out and grabbing him." Megan did her best to fight back her grin.

"Animal Crackers," Agent Porter repeated.

"He fucking loved Animal Crackers." I coughed.

"Pardon my cursing."

"That's what you based your plan on?"

"Yes," I answered.

"We had a target that returned to the same hunting grounds over and over because the food was easy. We didn't have a chance of chasing it down, so we brought it out into the open. Megan closed the pen door behind it, so to speak."

"And this approach to hunting works for you?"

"I'd say so. We killed a werewolf the EPA said didn't exist." Megan kicked me under the desk. The FBI agent's phone lit up with a call.

"We're done here," he said to Agent Porter and was out of the conference room before she could respond. She rubbed the back of her neck and packed up her notes.

"Thank you both for your time, and Enforcer Carmino, I am sorry about what happened last night. I should have stepped in, but it happened so quickly, and I was too dumbfounded to act." She seemed sincere, I thought.

"Thank you," I said.