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"Thank you, Benny, for watching out for my
Millie." He shivered and moved in a slow walk towards the house. "Man,
but how do you like this weather?" He scowled at lacy flakes of snow
drifting from a dove gray sky.
Benny's laughter rang out. "Better and better, my
man. After all that hot weather we been having, like heaven come to earth. Must
a gone all the way to fifty the day we met." Benny grinned and patted his
forehead as if he were burning up. "Yo, sweating right along."
Ron snorted and the growing flock of birds exploded
from the trees in the pasture.
"Don't fash yourself, Pappy, it'll be gone by
tomorrow. The temp should be around seventy. A real heat wave comin."
"Yeah, right, kid, and I'm Santy Claus."
Benny eyed him with a critical gaze. He poked a finger
at Ron's generous belly. "Less lap than the guy in the red suit."
He ducked the feint Ron threw at him, they wandered
back to the house and Millie's warm smile.
"We are closing in, Sir." Cindy's tones were
warm and humble as she spoke with the man known affectionately as the 'Boss' by
most of America. "Yes, Mr. President." God, but this man, a fellow
Southerner, inspired her to awe. "We're closing in, and we have the subject
in a net, a ten mile cordon. Within a few days we should-"
"Yes, certainly, Ms VanTur. You insist you need
him for our Project, and you know better than I. You have my cooperation, I
assure you. The resources of the State are fully behind you. Imagine the lives
this will save when it bears fruit." His smile was far more than simply
warm. Visions of spending a lifetime in America's highest office swam in his
head. Push the right buttons and anything can happen. The practiced smile and
teeth white enough to blind were no longer enough. In the age of information,
the sheep were demanding men of action and responsibility fill the Oval office.
All he ever wanted was to be president.
She was losing his attention. Cindy pushed out her
breasts a little farther and that caught his eye. "A matter of days,
possibly hours, Sir. We'll have him back in time for the Senate hearings."
Greedy. His eyes could be described only as greedy. He
blinked. "Ah, good. A matter of hours . . . days. Go to it, my dear. And
Cindy? I- Damn, Berns, what is it?"
His face and voice faded from the screen. The picture
was instantly replaced with a black background with blue lines and yellow
numbers bisecting it, roads and route numbers.
And in the upper right corner, a bright red light with
the letters, M O Y O C K next to it.
It stirred, moved out into the night. The cold slowed
it only a little and was not felt. It stumbled to the barn and began a slow
tapping.
Benny . . . open the door be good open the door.
In the loft Benny struggled, fighting the urging. The
knife clicked open. He moved up out of the hay and jumped. His head struck a
beam.
"Freekin Bull, ow, dammit." Clutching his
head, Benny sank to his haunches. He glared at the beam, then heard the tapping,
the slow whisper. He glanced up at the beam with respect.
"Guess I owe you."
"No foolin, brat." Two Swords waited
until Benny looked away, then he put the beam back in place. Slapping the wood,
he said to 'Heart, "Always knew it would come in handy, hain'a,
lady?" The sword whistled. She giggled and spun in the harness.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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