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Grinning, the man nodded. “Money talks, assholes
walk. My wife wouldn't like it, but she'll never know. Man, my kids live in
a blockhouse and go to school now. Just like them upper poverty levels do. We
eat regular; we have clean water.”
In Benny's hand, the rat began to squirm. He glanced
at it and saw red eyes and bare teeth. With a small smile, he cast a mental wink
at Heaven, then slapped the man in the face with the rat.
The claws sank into the face, and the man screamed as
teeth sheered through flesh to score the bone.
Jim grabbed Kat and Benny. Benny shoved him away.
“Beat it,” he cried. “They want me, not you.”
He dived into the weeds and clawed his way on his
belly to a road. A jeep roared through after him. Benny stopped and the wheels
spared him by shooting by, not over him. He grabbed the bumper and let himself
be dragged into the poverty blasted ruins.
The jeep slowed. As it stopped, Benny crawled udder
it. Lights came on all around the jeep, and he huddled there, waiting for the
dogs.
One sniffed at a tire, cocked a leg, and Benny smelled
it.
Then the screams started. The stark, shrill cries of
animals in pain. Then shouts for mercy.
A large black truck groaned over the rubble to stop
near the jeep. In letters that glowed red in the dim lighting were the words HARVESTING
for the BETTERMENT of MANKIND. People were being hustled into the back. Old
folks and adults. Benny looked away. This was bad.
The doors slammed, and a man shouted, “Take it.”
The truck roared off only to be replaced by a second
that proclaimed WORK for a BETTER
TOMORROW, your welfare, working for YOU. This one took kids and young
adults. Then a third with the same logo from the welfare work department.
Boots stopped by the jeep. A pair of new shoes came to
a halt near them.
“Any sign of the Grey kid?”
Benny's eyes widened. Donnelly, here? Geezis,
Sweet-Bottom's brother was hunting him? . . . And a smile played on his mouth.
Sweet-Bottom . . . Hotter than firecrackers and sweeter than honey. And like
honey, to be used sparingly, or he would have lost every shred of skin on his .
. . back.
Sweet-Bottom, wow!
Benny wiped a little drool off his chin and swallowed
hard. Flames roared from a building, and men in black were thrown to the ground.
Yeah, that was Sweet Bottom!
Wow!
The boots moved off. Benny pulled closer to the shoes.
Man, if Mike knew he was here.... He did threaten to geld Benny for getting
Sweet-Bottom knocked up.
Soldiers cursed and shouted. It had to be soldiers,
because no one can make a simple sentence sound the way a soldier could. There
was a firecracker series of snaps, and more men rushed from a building. One
screamed and was jerked high, only to come down in several pieces.
And now Cindy wanted Sweet-Bottom, or at least the
kid. But what kind of chance did Sweet-Bottom have of escaping even if she
handed the kid over? Zero to nothing.
The night wore on, and Mike went from standing tall and
proud to sagging, while he emptied his bladder of yet another half-liter of
coffee about where the German Shepherd had, but for less reason.
A building collapsed in flames. The radio was filled
with shouts for men and women that could no longer answer.
A dog growled, sniffing under the jeep. Benny scowled
and called on the Wolf of God. A thin whisper of the spirit showed, and the dog
started yapping for joy. It was jerked away, the handler cursing.
“What the hell is it?”
That was Mike.
“Sir, I don't know.” The dog had to be dragged
away from the jeep.
Mike's face appeared under it. Benny flashed a grin.
Mike's eyes widened, and his face snapped away.
“Ah . . . A rat. Big one.”
“Yeah, they raise them down here –”
“Go about your duties. I want this idiot found and
sent back to serve his country.”
Boot heels clicked. “Yes, sir.”
Even the dog came close to saluting. Mike's face
showed again.
Benny gave him a big old welcoming grin. “Hey, Miky,
how's it hangin'? Pretty low right now, hain'a?”
“Up yours, stud.”
Someone came near, and Benny hissed. Mike straightened.
“Agent Donnelly?”
“Yes.”
“Your partner said this bust is a bust. We rounded
up a few hundred raiders, most of them kids. The School board is taking them to
Juvvie. How long are we supposed to stay here?”
The lady was def'netly not a happy camper. Benny
buffed his nails on his chest.
“Captain Hill, the signal says he's in the area.
Spread out.”
“Sir . . . But we're losing dogs and men. These
people have every bolt hole and home booby trapped –”
“Spread out, Captain.” Mike was quiet, even calm,
and Benny was not comforted. Miky in a rage scared even his mother, and the old
bat was a schoolteacher. “Do it or you'll be the next arrested.”
The woman stomped off, and Mike sagged on the running
board.
He glanced down and Benny yawned, grinned, and gave a
thumbs up.
“Nice command voice. I'm sure it'll make you a
lot of friends.”
“Up—Look, Grey, what the freek am I to do with
you –”
“Get in the jeep and drive away.” Benny gave as
much a shrug as he could in the tight confines under the jeep. “I can stay
here and you.... Well, I got no idea where Sweet-Bottom is. I swear I
don't.” Slowly, he said, “Are you sure, though, that you want your
nephew's dad in a collar and squirting baby syrup for the Project?”
Mike groaned. “You bastard. You –”
“You already said that, and no, I'm not. A son of
a bitch, yes, and Mom brags about it. Mal chiste,” Benny cried, punching the
tire. “What do you want from me?”
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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