Post-Interview

Back at the interrogation room, Ramoos and Wrablocki (the examiner) walked in and confronted Roger. "Roger, this is Ken Wrablocki, you've already met. This is the post-interview to your polygraph. Um, you should know that this session is being recorded. Do you have anything to say about it?" "No, not really, what do you need to know? Hey, this is getting really old are you going to charge me or let me go?" "Lets just say, for the time being, that you"re under police protection. We understand that you've been getting extortion demands from your former suppliers - you know, blackmail? We'd like to know why they are making these demands. Can you help us?"

"They've been bringing the shit to my place - without my asking for it to be delivered or to make a buy. They say I've made some kind of mistake and that I have to pay for it." "Uh-huh, the mistake being that you took their shit even though it was mistakenly brought to you. Is it possible one of your 'friends' set you up?" "How the hell would I know? I haven't seen those guys in months, much less heard from either of them." "So why did you take the shit?" "Because, they forced it on me. They creeped me out, the zombies, they would just come in and leave it." "Why did you let them in?" "So nobody would see them. Less chance of me getting busted with them. At least, for dope." "How many times did they pull this on you?" "Several, I think." "So, no money exchanged hands?" "Right, they would just leave the dope in front of me and moan and groan. Really creeped the shit out of me." Roger was starting to get agitated again.

"You told Ken they were calling you?" "Yeah, sometimes it sounded like one of them. Lately, its been some guy." Roger was getting more agitated, Ramoos and Ken noticed. "Did you change your number?" "No, I thought this thing might blow over..." "Because?..." "Because I didn't want the shit in the first place. But, no they keep calling and calling. At first, they demanded $ 400 - twice the going rate. Then they raised it $ 500. Then $ 600. Then $ 1000. Then $ 5000." Roger kept raising his voice and getting more and more agitated.
"Then $ 6000. And now its at $ 60,000. I don't know what they're demanding now. I'm not going home without protection." "OK, you'll get it. We just need you to do some things for us," stated Ramoos.

"What kind of things do you want me to do? I don't ever want to go back there - I'm in fear for my life." "All the more reason for you to help us out with our little requests. For one, we need you to take us to this friends place and put him under surveillance. Will you help us with that?" "If I do that then you're going to protect me?" "Oh, we might ask you to go home too. Is your place still owned or under lease by you?" "Yeah." "We may need you to hang out there, too. Give us a chance to do some surveillance. Maybe even tap your phones." Ramoos hesitated, "For your own protection...of course." "Yeah, my own protection..." trailed off Roger as he placed his elbow on knee and jammed his head down into his hand. "Sounds just great..." Roger said sarcastically, "...a real deal with the devil." "Now Roger," cautioned Ramoos, "you're in this because you got involved with these murderous, drug-dealing bastards. You're lucky to still be alive," cautioned Ramoos looking down on Roger sympathetically with his hands in his pockets. "Besides, you might come out of this the hero. You might even save a couple of lives, including your own. You in?" "Yeah, you got yourself a stooge." Ramoos chuckled once, "Never figured it any other way, Roger. No other way out of this one."

Ramoos excused himself and Ken. Outside the room, Ramoos asked Ken "Well?" "Not exactly what I expected, but you're pulling the strings. In my opinion, he's still telling the truth. But, I'm still not buying the zombie part of his story. I still think its bullshit." "I'm not so sure now. Not so sure. We still have the hearts. As far as I'm concerned, they are zombies."