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“Beat it, man, and take that sack of garbage
with you.”
Chong rubbed his face with one hand.
“Benny, when Ms Hannah is better, you’ll be coming with me.”
The man shook his head at Benny’s scowl. “It’s no use arguing. For your
own good Mr. Donnelly, and I have come to the decision. You’ll be in a safe
place, you and she,” he said, nodding at Sue. “It will be somewhere where
the Project can’t touch you.”
“Like, Asia?”
Chong smiled. “Right in my beloved home.”
“So I can be a baby maker for your version of the Project.”
The agent frowned. Benny gave a hollow laugh.
“By the time Sue is ready for travel, I’ll be dead anyway. But
at least I’ll die free, not in a collar. Now get out.”
“There will be no collar.”
Benny hooted a cold laugh.
“Bullshit and beat it before I beat you.”
“Is that your final answer?”
“It’s the only answer. And, my blood don’t clone, so don’t
try.”
“We know,” Chong said.
He hesitated for a moment. Sue was clinging to the boy, and
Benny’s cheek was on her head, his hand stroking her back. Grasping JJ by the
collar, he dragged the man through the house and out to the street. Chong dumped
JJ in a pile of trash and left him there.
When the time came, Benny would go. He would go willingly, or he
would leave America drugged and smuggled out under a gun, with Sue next to him.
If he caused a problem, then he would die, just as the followers of Shan Ti, the
Creator, died under smiling, enlightened emperors of the past.
The shon:gili found a
hole. He crawled down it and into a small, abandoned room. Bones cracked between
the jaws, and strength flowed through his body. He stilled, smiling as Carl spoke
to him in gentle, loving tones.
The hunger eased, the loneliness assuaged by Carl’s presence,
the shon:gili lay with his head on his
front legs and dreamed with his eyes half closed.
Cindy VanTur was an ordinary woman, but never common. President le
Joie had stated so on several visits to Europe. She radiated health, her skin
smooth as silk, and, according to the suave Continental, stunning.
Her office was decorated tastefully in red and black, her people
subdued and eager. She studied an old servant woman, a washerwoman, for a
moment. If the Asians took Benny, their situations would be radically changed.
At least, Cindy’s would be.
A fiber optics screen covered one wall of the outer office. On it
was the world. The Directorate and Europe were detailed in glowing colors in the
very center. Canada, most of the US, north and southern Africa, all of
Australia, and western Asia were outlined as part of the Party. Her home was
growing. Most of the Middle East and Sur America had joined them. Southeast Asia
was a part of the empire of Asia. The Asian Empire and her satellite nations
showed in darker colors.
With Russia pushing from the north, and her client nations in Asia
rebelling, Peking was growing desperate. Above the map was the picture of a
smiling, debonair man. The president was a darling man and winning. The picture
moved, showing him with members of his cabinet at the beach.
She settled into her chair, leaning back in it.
Cindy reached over to tap Mike’s private number. She glanced at
the woman, then Frau de Richter. The secretary nodded. The privacy hood slide
down over her area.
The screen glowed, asking her if she had a greeting for Mike.
“No. Just open a line to him.”
Her screen was a little fuzzy from the hood, but she saw a man
between the legs of a woman and frowned. Cindy closed the link, retyping the
number in case she made a mistake. Again, the man and woman appeared.
The woman under the man scowled even as she gasped and wailed
release. She pointed at the screen.
“Not now, Mom! Out.”
The screen faded but not before Cindy saw Mike’s status and bar
code tattooed on the left buttock.
Stunned and shocked, she sat back staring at the blanked screen.
Then, in a whirlwind of fury, Cindy began punching in commands.
She found Creel. Like Mike, he was locked in Lust’s embrace. She forced a line
through.
“Agent,” she snapped.
Creel jumped away from the woman to stand at ridged attention
before the TriV.
Cindy glanced over him. “You will inform Agent Donnelly I would
like to speak with him.” Voice dripping acid, she said, “If he can spare a
moment.”
Before he could answer, Cindy closed the line and called the local
police.
Giving her identity, she filed a complaint about the prostitute.
The woman would go to court, of course. All things had to be legal and above
board and in triplicate. Then a re-education camp.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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