Dieselpunk ePulp Showcase 2 (Anthology)

Pandora Driver: Ready Fire Aim

PANDORA DRIVER: READY FIRE AIM

Created by John Picha

INTRODUCTION

Can you imagine a time without computers, the Internet, or TV? Telephones were connected to walls by wires, and a “cell” was a place to put bad guys. The daily news was delivered by a paperboy, not a cable. Laptops were where children sat to tell Santa Christmas wishes. Magazines were presented on pulp, not iPads. Entertainment in the airwaves was received by vacuum tubes in a wooden radio, the centerpiece of the family room. And no one left home without a hat.

In October of 1942, men went to war as women replaced riveters in factories. Mary Marvel landed in Fawcett Comics, Screwtape wrote letters, and children began reading Little Golden Books. In the theaters, a fawn named Bambi lost his mother, Mrs Miviver explored class divisions, and Cagney became a Yankee Doodle Dandy. On the radio, Spike Jones lampooned Der Fuehrer's Face, Kay Kyser Praised the Lord to Pass Ammunition, and NBC debuted People are Funny.

In Europe, World War II escalated. The German army attempted to enslave the people of Stalingrad with advanced military might, but the partisan forces resisted the brutal military occupation with a fury that ebbed the Axis tide. Eventually, the war would cost the Soviets a 10th of their population.

In the US, over 5 million Americans enlisted or were drafted in 1942. Volunteers deemed 4F were left to resolve their guilt stateside, while deferments were offered to the sons of the connected or to men necessary in their civilian activity, like cops. They had a city to protect from its citizens…

CITADEL CITY, 9 OCTOBER 1942

3:23 AM

Officer Kirk of the Citadel Police force, feels adrenaline tugging at the leash of his better judgment. He holds his position against the interior wall and scans the other twenty officers lining the darkened, 6th floor hallway of the Winchester Arms apartments. He looks for the familiar face of any other beat cop like himself, who has been shanghaied into this hastily assembled detail, but the high collars of specially ordered urban-flak-vests, and the wide rims of civil defense helmets painted black, cloak the men’s identities in deep shadows. All badges and civilian uniforms are hidden beneath the additional combat equipment, and Officer Kirk wonders what kind of cops surround him. He knows that a group of policeman is called a squad, but this gathering feels more like an army.

Each man clutches a sleek, Reising Model 50 submachine gun, with a cyclic firing rate of 550 rounds per minute. Earlier this year, these proven man-stoppers had been requisitioned by the Coast Guard, then partially diverted to the Citadel police. Now, in the olive painted hallway, twenty well-oiled Reising barrels point at the sturdy walnut door on the left. According to the stakeout team, their target is behind it.

The target’s name is Niles Weiss, the broker, and he's been on-the-lam since 1934. About an hour ago, the police got a lucky tip and assembled an assault team from available men. Many of them want their names attached to this celebrity collar. None of them have any intension of letting him slip away again, regardless of the cost.

Anticipating the order to invade the premises, Officer Kirk digs the hobnails of his jackboots deep into the interlocking zigzag pattern of the carpeting. His eyes dart from silent figure to silent figure, not really knowing where the order to ‘go’ will come from. He tries to tamp down his excitement with controlled breathing as the pulse in his gloved finger throbs against the trigger-guard of his weapon. He thinks, “The quality that made Wyatt Earp an exceptional lawman wasn't his skill with a six shooter. He was uncommonly cool during a shootout. That, kept him alive and prevented him from looking like a fool.”