Jack gave Rodriguez a head tilt in the direction of the door out of the locker room. Hopefully giving his partner the message: give the fucking kid a break.
Rodriguez hesitated, then followed Jack out. Just past the door, he laughed.
“I mean, c’mon Jack. What do you think these kids should hear? That the old days of the boys in blue are still here? ‘To serve and protect.’ Only what’s there to protect with the Can Heads raging—each one looking to take a nice big—”
Jack shook his head. “I got it, Rodriguez. Okay? I’ve been doing this as long as you have.”
“Fair enough, compadre. Fair enough. Let’s hope for a nice quiet night and some leftover spaghetti, hm?”
“Right.”
Some nights it could be quiet.
Some nights, Jack could sit at a desk, shuffle overdue reports, act busy, and there would be no calls. Of course, his partner remembered the days when two cops like them would take the patrol car out just to see what was happening. Catch a few petty dirtbags, get your arrest numbers up.
It wasn’t all that long ago, but by the time Jack joined, those days had ended.
Nobody went out if they didn’t have to.
Video had some of the precinct covered—at least the part deemed the Safe Zone, the area protected by twelve-foot-high fences and electrified razor ribbon. Thing was, those safe parts were growing smaller and smaller.
In parts of the five boroughs they had disappeared completely, all the zones turned red. The number of fully-staffed precincts had been whittled down to a handful.
Manhattan still maintained most of its precincts, though even there, Red Zones dotted lower Manhattan, and giant areas north of Central Park had been totally written off.
And the Bronx? The Yankees and everyone else human were long gone.
It was work keeping the Can Heads out.
And Jack told himself—tried to convince himself—that this was important work.
As every politician never lost a chance to say, this is war.
Us versus them.
Those who tried to live normal human lives.
And then the others, the Can Heads.
When the Great Drought hit, when water became like gold… when the food riots touched every continent… when sheer hunger made whole governments collapse, something else happened.
Some switch got thrown. There were so many explanations, so many theories, and no agreement.