|
“Yes.” Chong’s voice
cracked over Mike. “We have to win the war. Right now it’s all in shadows, a
dark world where men slip around corners and hide in closets, lingering at
keyholes. Where they slide bombs and bacteria into hiding places and palaces.
All too soon it’ll be with nuclear bombs. Asia lost a billion people in the
plagues. We’re still dying. How many do you know that died?”
“Asia started it.” Back ramrod stiff, Mike glared at Chong.
“And we suffered for experimenting with the bug. We suffered
untold misery from SARS and worse from the demons that followed out of
laboratories in the Gobi and Siberia. It was friends here, thoughtless fools,
that took the bribes and ignored the dangers. Friends in France covered for us,
and Cuba bowed, even though they lost more than many; and still most would bow.
Idiots. Greedy fools with no thought to the greater good.”
Head bowed, Mike leaned his elbows on his knees.
“When the time comes,” he said, his voice husky and strain
darkening his face. “When Cindy . . . Will you get my folks out of here?”
Turning back to the burner, Chong muttered. He said, “I will be
delighted to have them as guests. Millie, at least, knows how to play chess.”
Tommy stalked the unhallowed halls of the judge’s mansion. The
two blacks were gone somewhere. The man, to bed, but the old woman would be
doing whatever a maid was to do.
Down in the judge’s playroom the judge was strapped to the rack
and probably still whining into the rubber gag.
A cold grin played on Tommy’s scarred face. His head was bent
down, and the face in the shadows of the hood. He found the kitchen and entered a
hell of sultry heat and silent workers.
A woman rushed to him. A black, but not the wife of the chauffeur.
“Sir?” She dropped in a low curtsy, holding it until Tommy
spoke.
“There will be several more for dinner.”
“What would the master wish on the menu.”
“A child,” Tommy said. “There’s one in the trunk of the
limousine. Have it dressed and roasted. Or roasted, then finished. It don’t
matter. Save the heart and the head.”
“Yes, master.”
He spun away, stalking back into the foyer to the judge’s den.
He stopped at the liquor cabinet. The glass had been repaired but not the lock,
yet not a bottle was out of place, nor as far as he could see the levels
lowered.
Collared workforce. Tommy smiled. A child for dinner.
He reached in for a bottle before heading back down the stairs to
see if the judge was ready to play again.
Anna raised her head. She sighed. Packed between cases of frozen
venison, she huddled in a plastic quilt. At least she was legal. No furs. Not so
much as a feather was anywhere on her person.
The truck rattled over the ruts in the old turnpike, rolling south
into the dark lands under the control of the Party.
She wanted to weep but was stern in her refusal to give in to
weakness. She was a matron of the People, a Grandmother, thanks to the Janissary
Project. Hidden behind a fold in the quilt, a wry smile eased over her face.
Benny had several hundred sons.
The Project was at odds with itself and more than a little
frightened.
A raven sat atop a crate. Warm amber eyes studied Anna. Feeling
him watching, she glanced up.
Hey:O, old friend. This
aspect of the Sun Wolf was one of her favorites.
Ana:ki, are well?
Her smile softened. Now that I see
you, Protector. Any word of my grandsons?
Black breast swelling with pride, the old raven cackled a laugh.
Cuba, new daughters of Ana:ki say
Tsi:Yu! Big Killer strike Habana, guards all die, too bad, hey? Ha! Them banded
together and broken free. Women, kids, all.
Anna stared at the huge bird. The Havana Compound? More than a
thousand women were there, a thousand Project brood mares.
All scatter over Caribbean blue
sea. The raven chortled. Living free is
good. Old Mother say go!, they run. Take off collar at special place, no
boom! No head fly away from body. Bodies fly away to Mexico, to mountains of
Cuba, Santo Domingo, a thousand islands and away, away! Wee!
Anna started laughing, and then the tears did run.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
|
