Typo squad, p.14
Typo Squad, page 14
part #1 of Typo Squad Series
“Nym is in the wind for now,” Anna said from behind him. “But we’ll find him.”
“Don’t forget Paye,” Dick said bitterly. “She’s the one who turned my brother into a typo-obsessed, murdering psychopath.”
“She must have been the one taking him on his Anton Nym field trips from Fula Ord,” Big said. “I bet she was even driving the limo outside the Grammatica.”
“And she probably bankrolled the entire operation,” Dick said. “Jesus.”
“But if she put Anton Nym in Chicago’s head,” Thea said, “then she might be able to take him out too.”
“Maybe,” Dick said. “If she doesn’t screw him up even worse in the meantime.”
“Can you imagine how the paperwork on this is gonna read?” Big groused as they entered the lobby. “Psycho with asterisk bindi blows up stacks of printer paper.”
“When was the last time you filled out any paperwork?” Ewan asked.
“It’s been known to happen,” he replied.
They crossed the lobby and Dick spotted Autumn at her post behind the front desk.
“Autumn, if there was ever a night I needed to hear your crazy laugh,” Dick sighed, “it’s tonight.”
It wasn’t until they got close that they saw Autumn was weeping. Her mascara had run down her cheeks, creating dark tracks down to her chin.
Thea immediately ran to her and put a reassuring hand on Autumn’s shoulder. “Honey,” she said. “What is it?”
Autumn looked up at Dick, and answered Thea’s question in a watery voice.
“Tanka’s dead.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A cold, miserable rain fell from an iron sky as they all gathered in Las Palabras Cemetery to pay their respects to Lieutenant Tanka.
Dick, Big, Ewan, Justin, and two of Tanka’s nephews served as pallbearers. Dressed once again in their dress uniforms, they slid Tanka’s casket out of the hearse and began a long walk through an honor guard to Tanka’s final resting place.
As they made their way along through the gathering puddles, men and women on either side of the walkway snapped to attention and saluted. Dick noticed the insignia patches of dozens of typo organizations gathered to say farewell to one of their own: the Typo Rangers, out of Texas; the Typo Freedom Fighters, with their distinctive stars-and-stripes insignia, from Boston; the Typo Enforcers from Chicago; and even members of the Escuadrón de Errores from Mexico City. Dick’s heart was heavy, but the sight of all of those people who had traveled hundreds and in some cases thousands of miles to be there made him feel a bit better.
At the gravesite, the team stood huddled under black umbrellas in a vast crowd of black overcoats, suits, and dresses to say goodbye. Dick was sure that the priest was conveying words of comfort and solace, but none of them penetrated the unreality of burying Tanka. He turned to look at Thea. She was utterly disconsolate. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, rubbing her arm and choking back hot tears of his own.
After the service, Dick and Thea headed off toward the team’s limo when they were approached by an older gentleman in full dress uniform. He was handsome, ramrod straight, and he carried himself with the utmost dignity.
“Dick,” he said, extending his hand.
“Commander,” Dick said, smiling as he shook the man’s hand. “So glad you could come. Thea, this is Commander Reese Peck, the highest ranking officer in Typo Squad.”
Thea shook his hand. “Very nice to meet you.”
“And you, miss; and you.”
“It was a beautiful service,” Dick said.
“Yes, indeed it was,” the Commander agreed. “I’ll miss Tanka a great deal. I recruited him when he was not much older than this young lady right here.”
“I didn’t know that,” Dick said.
“Yes, well, he was something of a private man, kept to himself. Still, an exceptional officer. If there’s any glimmer of light in all this dreadful business, it’s that he lost his life in the line of duty. That’s as it should be.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Dick said.
“Look, I realize this is a difficult time for you—for all of you, really—but the fact remains that we have a dangerous killer still on the loose, and we need him brought to justice as fast as is humanly possible.”
“Yes, sir,” Dick said grimly. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“I knew you’d feel that way, Dick,” the Commander said. “So to move forward, I’m promoting you to lieutenant. Congratulations.”
He extended his hand once again and Dick, thunderstruck, shook it.
“Congratulations, Dick,” Thea said.
The shock slowly wore off and Dick came back to himself. “It’s not the way I would’ve wanted it to happen, but I’m honored. Thank you, sir.”
“You’re entirely welcome,” the Commander said. “I want Anton Nym apprehended and brought to justice. I’ve already spoken to the mayor. Whatever resources you need are at your disposal. Liaise with any other typo organizations you need to. Let’s get this done.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me know if you need anything. A pleasure meeting you, Thea,” the commander said. He tipped the brim of his hat, then moved off into the gathering gloom.
Big, Anna, and Autumn joined them. “What was that all about?” Anna asked.
“He just promoted Dick to lieutenant,” Thea said, trying to keep her gleeful tone subdued in the cemetery.
“Congratulations. Boss,” Anna said with a smile.
“You’re going to do a wonderful job, sweetie.” Autumn got up on her tiptoes to kiss Dick’s cheek.
“Yeah, well,” Big said, making a show of putting out his hand to shake Dick’s, “don’t think I’m gonna salute you or anything.”
“Thanks, guys,” Dick said. He looked around. “Where’s Ewan?”
The others looked around as well. Apparently they hadn’t realized he wasn’t with them.
“There he is,” Big said, pointing to two men deep in conversation under a large tree a short distance away.
“Who’s the other guy?” Autumn asked. “I don’t recognize him.”
“Look at his insignia,” Dick said. The patch on the other man’s shoulder was a circle of the deepest purple, with three golden fountain pen tips arranged in the shape of a crown. “He’s from Her Majesty’s Royal Typo Brigade.”
“He came here from London?” Anna asked.
“Looks like it,” Dick said. “Tanka was even more well-respected than I thought. Wonder what he wants with Ewan?”
A few moments later, the two men embraced, and Ewan made his way over to the team. He looked profoundly shaken.
“Everything all right?” Thea asked.
“Mmm?” Ewan said, composing himself. “Oh. Yes. Just . . . catching up with an old friend.”
“Well you missed all the excitement,” Big told him. “Commander Peck just made Dick lieutenant!”
A look of joy spread across Ewan’s face. “How wonderful!” He patted Dick’s arm. “A superb choice!”
“Thanks,” Dick said.
“There’s a memorial service over at The Galley,” Autumn said. “We can toast Dick’s promotion and raise a glass to Tanka. And I can get to know that one gentleman from the Typo Freedom Fighters. Did you see him? Tall handsome guy with a goatee?”
“Autumn!” Thea hissed, though she was smiling broadly. “This is a funeral!”
“So, what, I’m supposed to be blind just because we’re in mourning?” Autumn protested. “I’m only human!”
Dick smiled as he and his team made their way back to the limo. They all piled in, but Dick stood by the open door. Thea leaned out. “Aren’t you coming?”
Dick thought it over. “I’ll meet you guys at The Galley. I just have to make a stop first.”
Dick walked down to the end of Bartlett Pier, the rain finally giving way and the sky glowing a dull yellow over the rocky waters. There wasn’t another soul to be seen, and Dick was fine with the solitude.
He reached the end of the pier and took a moment to breathe in the salt air and stare at the unbroken horizon. He raised his foot and rested it on a crossbar. He wondered why he didn’t come here more often.
He reached into his jacket pocket and slowly pulled out his battered old index cards. He didn’t read them, but regarded the backs of them and smiled at them like old friends. After a few moments, he tore them in half, then in half again, and again, and released the pieces to the wind, which carried them down to the water below.
No sooner did the last scrap touch the surface than his phone rang. “Yeah?”
“Hey, boss man!” Big’s voice came through loud and clear, despite the crowd noise around it. “Where are you? You’re missing all the free food. And there are some great Tanka stories floating around that you’re not gonna want to miss.”
Dick smiled. “I’m on my way. Don’t put the lampshade on your head until I get there, okay?”
“Too late,” Big said, and hung up.
Dick took one long, last look at the ocean and his phone rang again. “Hey, I said I’m on my way,” Dick said.
“Are you certain you don’t have anything else you wish to tear up and throw in the ocean?” Nym’s mocking voice asked.
Dick unholstered his gun, looking around wildly. There were beaches on either side of the pier, but they were completely barren. He scanned the boardwalk at the other end of the pier, but all the stores and attractions were shuttered for the season.
“Don’t give yourself a migraine,” Nym said. “You shan’t find me.”
“Maybe not today,” Dick said, still scanning in every direction. “But trust me, I will.”
“Richard, I’m calling to convey something important, so please pay attention.”
Dick focused his attention on his phone. “I’m listening.”
“Do you recall the library rooftop, when I explained to you how the beautiful and talented Doctor Paye had given me my new personality?”
“Yeah,” Dick said.
“Well one thing I neglected to mention is that my new personality is completely immune to the effects of typos,” Nym said.
“Yeah, well, I figured as much,” Dick said. “Otherwise your mass-murdering schemes might’ve accidentally killed you.”
“Too true!” Nym said. “And I have far too much to do to allow that to happen. You see, I’m recruiting, Richard. Penny and Shwiski and Elizabeth and Miss Information were just the beginning. I’m amassing an army.”
Dick felt himself go cold. “An army?”
“Yes. You see, Doctor Paye’s technique can work on anyone. So I’m gathering up the poor, the forgotten, the disenfranchised, and I’m having them . . . indoctrinated with my ideology. And at the same time, I’m making them all immune to typos.”
A horrible, dawning realization took hold, and Dick felt his mouth go dry. “You’re creating an errorist cell.”
“Precisely!” Nym sounded delighted. “The biggest errorist cell in history. There will be no stopping us, Richard. So I implore you not to try.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Dick asked.
“Because you’re still, on some level, my brother. And truthfully, I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’ve got to come after you, Nym,” Dick said quietly. “You know that.”
“Then come,” Nym said. “And die.”
The phone went dead. Dick could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. He looked up Thea’s number and called her.
“Hey!” she said, the same crowd noise behind her that had been behind Big. “Are you coming down or what?”
“Listen, gather everyone and meet me at headquarters as soon as possible,” Dick said quickly.
“What?” Thea said. “Why?”
“Because we’re going to war,” Dick said, and hung up.
THE TYPO SQUAD
ADVENTURE CONTINUES!
Dick, Big, and Ewan go across
the pond and join forces with
Her Majesty’s Royal Typo Brigade in
Typo Squad Book II: Return of the Wordmonger!
ALSO AVAILABLE
BY STEPHEN LOMER
Typo Squad Book II: Return of the Wordmonger
Stargazer Lilies or Nothing at All
B.B. and Red
Hell’s Nerds
Belle’s Christmas Carol
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A grammar nerd, Star Trek fan, and other things that chicks dig, Stephen Lomer is the author of the novels Typo Squad and Typo Squad Book II: Return of the Wordmonger; the short story collections Stargazer Lilies or Nothing at All and Hell’s Nerds and Other Tales; and the novella Belle’s Christmas Carol. He also has featured stories in the anthologies UnCommon Evil and Once Upon a Time in Gravity City.
Stephen is the creator, owner, and a regular contributor to the website Television Woodshed, and host of the YouTube series Tell Me About Your Damn Book. He’s a hardcore fan of the Houston Texans, despite living in the Hub of the Universe his whole life, and believes Mark Twain was correct about pretty much everything.
Stephen lives on Boston’s North Shore with his wife, Teresa.
Stephen Lomer, Typo Squad
