DC Suburbs a serial by Martin Slusser

JANISSARY PROJECT: Book VI. The story moves toward the nation's capital, although the change in location doesn't improve the social conditions in any considerable way. In fact, new forms of depravity and corruption are revealed.

Grab it and Growl in Fantasy Land - Strange fire, a savage fire, ebbs and surges in his frightened blue eyes. The skull burns but is not consumed. Benny wiggles against bonds of raw human skin.

It Smells Bad - A crosswind hit, waft gently over the dirty black patch that covered the ruins of his right eye. His nose twitched, wrinkled against the scent of something long dead and way overdue for the buzzards. Fact is, it smelled so bad even they'd probably puke. Probably something the rich old fart in the Lamborghini next to him ran over.

Way too long - That nutty old candy maker up in Wilkes-Barre made it special for the ani, the Susquehannock Indians, up home. Anna, Benny's mother, sent it as a part of a 'Care package' to him when he was recuperating in the base hospital at LeJeune. The accident was where he earned the beauty mark that took his right eye and frightened small children. Man, thirty-five car pile up, all caused by one crazy 'breed injun on a motorcycle.

CODE NAME, YOUNG STUD - He winked at a pair of long, long slender legs walking a very large, very hairy dog. Arrogant, certain of himself, of the training he was forced to endure at the Manse he leered a hopeful smile. His teeth glittered at the tall woman.

Sounds like fun - The corpse moved under a layer of wet leaves. With the passing of the sun, darkness gathered. It was time.

Scene one, take two - Searching with a wary glint in his eye and a great deal less sure of himself, Benny could spot no dog, no men, see nothing that appeared to be a sec system in disguise. All the other manor houses were either patrolled or, like the one with the mutt, unreachable.

Texas steer - Trapped and enslaved by memories of his grandfather. Benny gripped his knife and prepared to attack if discovered. Dim light of a watery moon glittered on strong teeth. Cautious, he waited for that first shout, the too familiar bay of rottweillers, and a siren's shrill warning.

Macana A-Heart-a'-Fire - He felt numb. He should have killed the whining prick. Benny slipped from the shadows and in silence followed the sound of Connel's apologetic gibbering. The man was pleading with the girl to awaken. On the second floor in the back, Benny crept into a bedroom that was virginal and pristine. Not what you’d expect from a girl like Nina, but what the hell, he wasn’t exactly a virgin either. Benny grinned.

The big aga-ki - It snuffled around the Uohali. Holes where nostrils had been before decaying away widened. A maggot dropped onto the seat. The thing giggled and snatched it. The maggot was popped into the mouth and it chewed and swallowed. A twinge of fear hit it.

Cindy VanTur’s ward - The sound of Connel's thin, quavering voice splitting the night air and interrupted his laundry Benny's smile withered to jaw sagging shock.

Better push, too much noise - Winking at the senator's milling sec. guards, Benny sauntered down to the tall wooden back gate and let himself out. He knew when it was polite to leave.

Shoot the punk - The attendant of the Laundromat jerked his head up from his paper. Some leather jacketed punk slammed through his brother-in-law's glass doors. He frowned, a shiver of fear ran up his age twisted spine.

Calling them home - A mountainous biker, face and body scarred by countless battles with the dark side, straddled his Uohali-Gold Sun. The warm, gentle air caressed his face, teased the silken gold of his waist-length hair and laughed with him. He tilted back his head to smile at Night-Sun, the moon. Hank enjoyed this late winter's kiss of spring. In loving awe he stretched arms thicker than Benny's legs to the Eagle Woman, then stared through the glass doors at Benny.

Hussy! Hussy! - Autobiographers at some future date would write that Cindy VanTur was not an ostentatious woman. Quite the opposite in fact. This is why her modest country home, built circa 1767, sported but eight guest rooms. The main stables had been destroyed and never replaced after the War Between the States, as Daddy McAllen liked to call it. This left a rather modest twenty stall barn to shelter the proud remains of the McAllen stud.

Fo’ sho’ a ‘ho - The air up here still held just the touch of a bite to it. It was hot, for February. Hell, for May it would be hot. Benny's jacket was secured behind him, held in place by the straps that bound his bedroll. He leaned into the wind and let the old ‘Sun have her head. He opened her to the max.

Good with mares, is he? - The hills of Virginia were the finest and prettiest anywhere. Cindy hiked her son a little higher on one hip. He squirmed, angry because she wouldn't put him down to toddle along beside her. The child was almost an exact replica of his father, in that he hated being closed up in a room at night, hated being alone, or told what to do.

Die free - Carl had been lost without city lights. Benny had been in heaven, free and happy in their year on the mountain. And now here he was, about the age Carl had been, and at sixteen, Carl Ivanovitch had been more of a man than most twice his age.

wolf-stink - Cindy laughed with Jamison at the antics of a weeks-old broom-tailed colt. The sun had almost touched the horizon. An entire day spent with the old man and she only barely marked the time. Berta would be furious that young Ben missed his lunch and nap. The boy had eaten cold pone and beans with them and begged for more, and Cindy saw no harm in the boy having his first real taste of adult food.

Food. Real food. Not rabbit food - Benny set the snares with a loving, hungry attention. Right now even one of those oily, noisy starlings would taste good.

the power of human stupidity - The voice came from behind him and to his right, his blind side, of all places. It was deep and low, accompanied by the chilling touch of a 30.06. rifle muzzle on the back of his neck. Not the kind of toy you'd want to come up against. They used them in prisons, so you know they did the job.

A tall, lean man - Four monitors showed him from different angles. Head down, arms draped over his knees. He was unmoving, still in the same position he had been when she last checked. From time to time a low, wolfish growl rumbled up to make the guard shift in his seat. His vital signs were down, but not alarmingly so. They had been lower at times when he was at the Manse. Only now nothing showed him to be using it.

Got any noise? - On the verge of whistling, he gingerly gathered all the disks and placed them in a shirt pocket. He leaned back and smiled, his hand pressed to them in near disbelief. Reassured, he laced his fingers behind his head and studied the subject.

The devil - The last piece of the tape narrowed into blue shading. Benny rose in a stretch. Shaking his head in sorrow at the waste of a good man, Benny stared with longing at the screen.

Weird kid - The man looked at her, eyes filled with thought, and she turned from him. In this business you did your job and let the next jerk up the ladder worry about morals. A shaky Corpsman didn't last long. One who voiced doubts in the wrong company wouldn't live to collect a pension.

Doctor Traub - Cindy motioned the guard out, was careful to dim the lights and stop the recorder. Cindy eased down in the chair, the seat still warm from the man on watch. She stared into the screen. Benny was an unmoving reddish lump of heat in the infrared camera. Weary of it all, she sighed. He was crouched on his heels in the center of the room, meditating again. Monitors recorded every brain wave with a greedy detail.

peep shows - His mouth was dry. He tried to curse them and was dully surprised to find his mouth was glued shut. He tried again and dried saliva parted; Benny muttered a curse as delicate tissues cracked.

Tu eres mi libertad - Benny wet a washcloth. He went to her and pressed her thighs open. Blood. To her embarrassment he washed her, cleaned her of the blood, then took a soft towel and patted her dry.

Where the hell is he? - Until he ached from it. A wild, frightening erotic wet dream, of one woman after another using him in his drug induced haze until all faces blurred into one face, Cindy VanTur's face. Benny cursed her and tried to fight it off.

shadow in the trees - Benny sagged to the earth. Spirits reached out to caress and renew the bonds of Joy, to strengthen him after his ordeal. He smelled the bitter scent of the evergreens and his lips curled.

Sara? Is it you? - A limp Cindy hanging over his shoulder, he slipped from one copse of plantings to another. Benny squeezed her buttock. She stiffened. A stray dog sniffed at him. Deep in his chest Benny growled a warning. Backing away in confusion, the dog whined. He watched it go, passionless in his fatigue.

Airheads! - Benny clamped his fingers over her muzzle again, but the old Paso mare had had enough. She shook him off and bared her teeth.

quit yer bitchin', lady - He landed in the lower branches of an oak and glared down at her. Shocked and surprised at finding him there, she stared up.

Don't like my company no more? - Near dawn, he found a fair looking piece of stone and was carefully chipping away. In an hour he had a nice blade. Not the best, but he was in a hurry. Or rather the wolf within was. He split some long twigs of cedar and made twine, then wove a rough basket from the twigs to make a fish weir.

Be real still, kid - He squatted on his heels, frustrated and angry to the point of murder. Benny tried again. At the moment of penetration he froze; no matter how in pain he was from the iron ache, he froze. He couldn't.

I'm out a here, lady - A part of him had died. Maybe it was stupid, but the old mare had been one of the few good things in his life. Benny's head hung. He sat on his heels, and touched the wounds. The blood was thickening now, the willing heart stilled until that Day when all the dead would arise. Sara would be there, and Benny hoped she'd plea for his soul before the Wolf of God.

the Gates of Hell - Chains clinked. He shivered in the dank chill of the cell. On the wall a gas heater flared and rumbled, but it did little to dispel the gloom of the room. Benny pulled on the chain, counting the plastisteel links until he had gathered it all in his hands. He uttered one dull curse. The chain wasn't long enough to reach the glass enclosed light fixture in the ceiling.

Too many doughnuts? - Benny adjusted the black patch over the ruins of his right eye. He kicked at a small stone on the jogging path and rubbed the back of his neck; the thick muscles were like rocks under his hand.

Sarafina, you poor fool horse - Jamison hummed and smiled to himself. He filled his pipe with Paladin tobacco and lit it with his lighter. It was pretty up here, always was. He had missed the hills during his, as his mother had put, Sojourn in hell. Mama had always hated the flat land and flat-landers. She was a hill woman, and tough.

O-Tsi-Yu - Mike Donnelly held the gun rock steady. He pointed it at Benny head, at just above the left eye and squeezed the trigger.

Die free - Benny lunged and tackled Mike. He slapped the remote from Mike's hand and took Mike by the throat. Jamison leaped on Benny and rammed his fists on Benny's arms.

Who's the dye job? - She heard the whistles and loud compliments about her body and Terry Marie's eyes widened. Her fists let loose of the shaggy hair and tried to push Benny away.

the news - Her secretary hesitated to interrupt whatever Ms VanTur was up to. Cindy in a good mood was a rarity. She drew a calming breath and broke the news of Benny's escape.

Be happy for me - At that melting look, she sighed. He pulled her into a deep hug, one he was reluctant to release her from until on instinct her leg wrapped itself around his buttocks.

pray for me - Terry Marie pressed her forehead against the cold glass, her breath clouded the plate. She raised her hand and slowly cleared it and looked out through eyes blind with tears. For her, now, started a life of hiding on reservations and enclaves of the People. A world she barely realized existed lay before her, one unknown and secretive, and she was frightened beyond anything she previously knew. Even her tours of duty in America de Sud had been less bad, because she knew what was there, the dangers and the freedoms.