Half
Moon
Outside
of the bleak offices of Wilson’s chambers, Benny squatted on a bench under the
suspicious and evil eyes of a withered old crone of a secretary. He leaned back
and closed his eyes. It was all too much.
A
presence drifted across his mind, a gentle warning of another person.
Benny
opened his eyes with a great deal of caution to see who it was. No use giving
Crazy Gracie Hylnn more crappy reasons to nab his butt again. Weird powers. Huh,
like they ever ask him about them. He could have told them. And they’d have
listened. Ya. When pigs grow tutus. Benny sighed.
A
petite, auburn haired woman opened the door to the hall. His mind on other
things, Benny eyed her curling hair and trim hips with only a lazy interest. She
had skin like a peach, golden. So far as he could tell, there was only a touch
of makeup. The cheekbones were classic in height, the eyes a delicate almond
shape. It had been a long time since the last woman at the Manse. Maybe he
should ask –
He
flushed in anger.
No
more. No more.
It
was all he could do to stop from vomiting the little he had. No more hosting
women. He was through with that. Through with being a slave for the Project and
subject to every whim of a client.
Benny
touched where the scars from the training collar encircled his neck. It would
never end.
The
pretty brunet smiled and beckoned.
Power sifted through him. Benny opened his eyes and
looked at her and was on his feet in a flash.
“Trinity?
Oh-my-gosh. Trinity!”
Benny
hugged the agent. He tried to kiss her. She turned her head away and drew him
into a room across the hall. She patted his arm. Her smile trembled at the eager
puppy love in Benny’s eyes, heard in the quiver of his voice. She glanced at a
tall, raw-bone agent down the hall. He nodded. The features of her partner were
emaciated, ordinary in a day with so many ill from strange diseases. It made him
perfect for the work. So few could stand the sight of him. The unwieldy oak door
shut with a hollow moan.
“I’m
sorry, Benny. It should never have come to this.” Trinity motioned at the
room, indicating the trouble he was in this time. She glanced at a two-way
mirror on the wall. The bright smile wavered. Trinity Johanson ushered Benny
into a chair that was as hard and unyielding as the brainwashing forced on him
at the hands of the Project.
Benny
smiled, leaned his elbows on the table. She was more than twice his age, maybe
as old as his mother, but she was still the most elegant creation he ever met. A
scent that reminded him of one hot, sweaty summer weekend eased through the air.
Hoping
for a kiss, for old time’s sake, Benny sighed.
“Benny?”
He
looked at Trinity, unable to take his gaze from the sunken contours of her face.
Man, but she was looking bad. Her eyeliner was smudged, her sweet lips swollen
and red under a mask of pale lipstick. Benny grew uneasy. Dark, bordered with
gray, Trinity’s aura didn’t feel like she was happy to see him.
“Please,
Benny, you have to pay attention.” Trinity took a deep breath and patted away
a sheen of perspiration from her forehead with a silken hankie. “Is the air
conditioning on the friz?” Trinity’s nose wrinkled. “It smells of stale
sweat.”
And
old fear. Of hate reminiscent of a mink or cat after a bitter defeat. It smelled
like cells hidden below the Manse.
“Nah.
This is the Gestapo’s interrogation room.” Troubled by the faint shrillness
of her voice, he glanced around. The mirror drew a frown on his face. It
wasn’t hot in here. Just the opposite. The whole place was damp, chilled by
the time of year and the Susquehanna River.
“It’s
always like this.” Benny shrugged. Trinity was always hot. It didn’t take
much to heat that slender body to a bonfire pitch. He hid a grin. Trinity loved
her work. Their time together at the Manse had been wild.
She came as a red head, wore a lot of make-up and falsies to hide her tiny
build.
He
offered the woman a sly grin and said, “What can I do you for?”
A
faint click at the door made Trinity jerk and stiffen.
Trinity
gave a tight, shrill laugh, cut it off abruptly.
“Will
you be still for a moment? This is important.” She turned from him, staring at
his reflection in the distortion of the mirror. “Benny, it is vital - in the
national interest - that you say nothing about the Project.”
Eyes
wild, Benny surged up slapping his hands on the table with a stinging crack. His
chair screeched and tipped away.
“You
know what they were doing, Trinity. Making me breed kids for their jerk Project.
Dammit, will you look at me? Look at
me. Remember what they did to old Conn, lady? And PJ and Carl and Turk? Ya,
hain’a. I’m the boy who got to bury what was left of Timmy - nine-year-old Timmy -
after Judge Harrison got done with him.”
Benny
gave an ugly laugh. He didn’t see the woman rub her arms.
“I
bet he’s still under the shit-heap behind the stables. All in the name of
science and humanity.” His face grew bitter. “We were whores. Less than
human. They treated us worse than friggin lab rats. Used like animals. I gotta,
dammit. If I don’t -”
Trinity
spun. Grabbing Benny by the arms the woman shook him hard.
“If
you do, they’ll take you. Kidnap you again. Right out from under the nose of
the court. Listen to me. Benny? Please?” She tried to catch his gaze. He
turned his head, his mouth set and hard. Shrill with fear, Trinity’s voice
rose to a shout.
“Buddy,
the Party is old and evil. All around the world they have places like the Manse.
They have some very low friends in some very high offices right here in this
country. They own a lot of politicians, Benny. They assassinated at least one
that we can prove. Maybe far more than that. Without you, their Project is
dying. Of all the kids taken, you’re their star-”
Her
stomach twisted in a biting agony.
Quieting,
she said, “Star breeder. Without you, they’re sunk. Do you want them to kill
again?” Trinity’s face gentled. She pushed him back into the chair.
Scarce
daring to breathe, Benny sat with his head down, half-afraid to look at her. If
he looked, he might hit her. Very still, very stiff, with only a chronic tic in
his right eye warning Trinity of the danger she was in, warning her of a rage of
emotions behind that wooden mask.
“You
don’t dare testify. Not even in your own behalf.”
“But
-”
“Hush.”
In a near caress, Trinity lay a finger on his lips. “They have agreed to leave
you alone.”
“Yeah,
right.” Benny’s head jerked away. He glared at the woman. “This rednigger
ain’t so easy to control no more, Trinity. I’m free now.”
Trinity
smiled. Is anyone, ever? She gave Benny a delicate frown, continuing as if he
hadn’t interrupted.
“And
all the rest of the men and women they used as a front, if you’ll just stay
mum about . . . what happened.” An anxious smile touched her face. Trinity
rested a hip on the edge of the table. The tiny laser Star 2000 she wore in its
holster under her arm burned with the ice of a Viking hell.
“They’ll
put you back in a collar. Please, don’t do it. The Pentagon was profoundly
involved in the goals of the Project.”
Taking
a deep breath, he shrugged and thrust up from the chair.
Benny
shoved past Trinity and tried to open the door. The clouded glass knob rattled
under his hand, but the door was stuck. He tried again, only then understanding
it was locked, and why. Benny lay his head on the age-darkened panels and tried
to be a man. The tears came anyway.
Trinity
rubbed Benny’s shoulder. He shrugged off the sympathetic hand.
“Let
me out.”
She
didn’t move. In a cracked, hoarse voice he shouted, “Let me alone.”
In the back of his mind, Grampa Waya’s voice was husky, Listen
to her.
“I’m
under orders.” A faint sob caught in her throat. “If you don’t agree, we
go out the other door and into a van.”
Benny
rubbed his face. He was so tired. Like a part of him died. Trinity shafting him
like this was a little bit like death. Man, but he still loved her. She meant
the world to him.
“You
win.”
She
tapped on the door and there was a sharp click. Benny twisted the knob and
stepped out.
On
the other side of the door was a Fed agent. Millhouse. Benny remembered him from
a run-in with the man up in Kills Deer, New York. At the Manse, Millhouser was a
client of Chris’s. The man stared at Benny. For just an instant fear touched
the man’s blood-shot eyes. Then he jerked his head at the bench along the far
wall. Dismissing Benny, he edged into the room and cast a small, predatory
glance around. The door slammed shut in Benny’s face.
Beyond
the door came the muffled gravel of an angry male voice. After a quick glance up
and down the hall, Benny pressed an ear to the aging panels.
“The
abomination agreed?”
Softly,
Trinity said, “I told you, he’s a good kid.”
Benny
heard a faint sob. Millhouser liked to hurt people. Millhouser got a thrill out
of torturing Chris. He was good at it.
Shoving
at the door, Benny threw it open and found himself staring into the cold and
deadly muzzle of a .38 Police Special. A tiny red dot flashed between his eyes.
With
a cocky grin, Benny watched the cold hate in Millhouser’s eyes grow to near
horror. The muzzle of the gun shook and only a supreme effort on the agent’s
part kept Benny from dying. He knew it, Millhouser knew it, and both knew Benny
didn’t care. Something like a sob choked in Millhouser’s throat.
Trinity’s
old man was Millhouser’s partner. Until Kills-Deer. Until ravens ate the
man’s eyes, his ears and tongue. God plays for keeps. In his own way, Agent
Johanson had been worse than Millhouser.
“You
doin’, Babe?”
Some
emotion ticked across her face. Trinity nodded, smiled weakly, and said in a
small, tired whisper, “Yes. Thank you, Benny.”
He
gave them an abrupt nod and dragged his feet back to the unforgiving chill of
the judge’s chambers.
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