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Chong wheezed and covered his face, but Mike saw the laughter
gleaming in the Asian’s eyes.
“Yes, your dear sister, Terry Jo. I met her at the Cherokee
Reservation. No, don’t concern yourself, friend. We aren’t interested in her
or the child she carries. A boy, I believe. Apparently whatever gene that
generates this ability comes through if given by the mother, not the
father." A look of compassion came over Chong. “Mike, I spoke to her of
coming to the Emperor for asylum. She’d be safe.”
“But how safe?” Mike tossed back his whiskey and raised the
glass again. A girl too young to be out after dark rushed to bring him a clean
glass. When she left, Mike said, “Even the emperor’s court is filled with
spies, no matter that most of Asia is under his heel.”
Chong’s head dipped. In Cantonese, he muttered, “All of life
is froth with dangers.”
“Amen.” Mike gripped the glass, frowning into it.
“We are, at least, constant in our insanity, throwing away one
form of master for another. Most would prefer to have a completely elected
government, such as was once the case here.” Chong glanced at the picture of a
benevolent Hitler, then over the crowd. “And, we would have descended into an
anarchy of greed and lost it all to slavery anyway, as you’ve seen happen
here.”
Mike shook his head. “We’re better off than we were at the
turn of the century–“
“Truly?” Chong’s face went bland. “One party rule. If one
is not exactly pure of race, then one can be sterilized, if caught. The Nazis’
teachings own you.” His eyes glowing and intent, he leaned towards Mike.
“Come home with me, Mike. My lords could use your knowledge and education.
Asia lost over a billion people in the plagues. We need teachers and men of
different thought. Your parents would be honored, not frowned at. Your siblings
given full citizenship.” Chong gave a small smirk. “You can eat meat without
fear of being arrested. If you want to live in the forest or a houseboat, it
doesn’t cost thousands of creds for a development plan, then have to pay
bribes to keep from being turned down.”
Jaws clenched and the lips white, Mike shook his head.
“No. When the war starts, we’re all dead anyway.”
“The Middle East, yes. Till the last Jew is dead the fanatics
won’t stop killing.” With a sigh, Chong sat back. “You could have a home,
a palace, near mine, and I could
continue to whip you at chess.”
A crooked grin on his face, Mike brushed the tip of his thumb over
the tip of his nose and laughed.
The aircar dived and rose. Engines screamed. A puff of smoke and
oil shot from the exhaust. The car stalled. It shuddered but moved skywards, the
gears grinding as the man ripped back on the wheel.
It spun and twisted in the air and then flipped. Hanging on, the shon:gili
grinned at the man. The car dropped. It ripped up through trees. The man spun it
again and the engine shuddered through the car. It began to ease towards the
ground with the man beating on the panel.
With a burst of speed, the car shot up and spun. The shon:gili
was thrown off.
Laughing, the man turned the wheel, coming around to ram the place
the shon:gili landed. The resistors
jerked it away from the tops of the trees. A clawed paw slapped up, tearing away
the undercarriage, and the car spat oil over the trees. Sailing through the air,
the shon:gili snarled. He crashed into
another tree.
The car continued to pick up speed until it crashed in a ball of
yellow flames and oily smoke. The ball rolled over the ground and hit the
wrought iron fence. Bars of metal shrieked as if in pain, crashing out of the
way as the car tore through and into the other side, the Arctic Dome. It
shattered on a boulder of ice.
Thrown clear by the safety nets, the man drifted to the ground
near the car.
Drawn by the battle, wolves gathered. They nosed around under the
tree where the shon:gili was tangled
in grapevines and branches and gave him cold smiles. The oldest female, the
matriarch, sang a song to the Creator of the night. She trotted in the direction
of the crash. Live wires hissed and spat sparks. She moved around them and
hopped through the tangled bars of iron and was gone.
Waiting a few moments to be certain they weren’t going to come
back, the shon:gili sniffed the air.
He bit through the vines and tumbled to the ground. Shaking the
last of the ants off of himself, he ran to the fence. Lights were flashing and a
siren wailed. He ran through and heard the man screaming. Under it was the low
growl of a large, white bear. Bone shattered with the same dry snap of breaking
twigs, then there was only the sound of warning growls and an angry animal
feeding.
Miffed at losing the kill, he followed the spoor of the wolves.
They were in the shadows, watching the guards at the main gates.
With a huff, the shon:gili
ran by them and smashed into the guard shark. Startled guards turned with their
weapons raised, but all they saw were half a dozen dog-like animals running
under the lights.
Dawn was coming. Aping Carl’s anger, he gnashed his teeth at the
thought of death. The shon:gili
overran another guard post. The men fired at him, but he was gone into the night.
He came to another place Carl referred to as a dead zone and eased
into it.
Abandoned buildings, many of them shattered by battle lined the
streets. He ran into one and climbed to a second floor, the stairs groaning
under his weight. In the building he found a closet with a door that still hung
from rusted hinges.
Using the claws, he managed to shut it and then collapsed, the
jaws gaping in torment as Death claimed him.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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