by Joseph Storm
A waiting Gunner grabbed them both, returning them to the banks of the river’s muddy ground.
A trembling Striker crawled onto the shore. Gunner laid a blue-faced Becky on her back. He placed his head to her chest. “She’s not breathing!” he yelled.
Reaching deep into his soul, Joe rose up, lunging toward Becky. He sucked every bit of air that he could fit into his lungs, blowing into her mouth. He began administering CPR.
Striker followed by pumping a series of hard thrusts to her heart, trying to keep the blood flowing within her. He continued to repeat the process for the next five minutes. Unfortunately, she didn’t continue to breathe on her own.
Exhaustion overtook him, as he dropped to the ground, gasping for air. “My turn,” Gunner yelled, as he continued the CPR process, trying to keep Becky alive.
After another five minutes, Gunner quit as well. “I’m sorry...kid. I tried my best.”
Striker gripped his hair in anger, nearly tearing it out from the individual pores. Father Tyme walked over to Becky, offering a prayer. “Please lord...embrace her soul in your arms, welcoming her to the kingdom of Heaven...”
Thoughts of Jenny’s lifeless body burned into Joe’s head. He exploded in a fit of rage. “I won’t let you go!” he yelled out, shoving Father Tyme out of the way, jumping back into the CPR position.
He blew even harder into Becky’s mouth, pumping her chest to near bruising. Suddenly, a sea of water and vomit spilled from her lungs. Her eyes bolted open as if her soul was thrust from the arms of Heaven back to earth.
Joe had never received the opportunity to save his wife. However, now having it in front of him, he was not going to lose it.
The blue hue slowly turned red and beige, as blood began returning to Becky’s face. Joe wrapped her tightly into his arms.
“Relax, kid...you’ll suffocate her all over again!” Gunner called out.
Joe looked Becky Fox over, examining a nasty cut on her forehead. She appeared unharmed otherwise. “How did you not get crushed by the car?”
“I was swimming champion in high school. Diving was my specialty,” she said with an injured smile. Becky was being truthful. When the car began its flip, she kicked off its hood, diving into the water, and clearing the impact of the vehicle. The strong current immediately sucked her into a sharp rock, bashing her head against it. It vacuumed her into a small whirlpool chasm.
“I thought...we lost you,” Joe said.
“She’s tougher than most chicks I know,” Gunner said.
“Maybe because I’m not a chick,” Becky answered. “I’m a woman.”
“A strong one,” Joe said, locking eyes with Becky.
“You sure kiss like a woman...I’ll tell ya that,” Gunner said.
“Did anyone ever tell you...that CPR doesn’t include a tongue?” Becky asked. “Even in an unconscious state...I could feel that.”
Gunner let forth a laugh and wink, “The police academy must have left that detail out.”
Father Tyme looked downstream. “How long do you think until they’ll be back on our trail?”
“Sooner than later,” Joe Striker assured. He pulled the wet compass from his pocket, checking direction. “We need to get moving.”
“Where do we move to?” Father Tyme asked. “The church is gone...our shelter with it.”
“From here...we head southwest...along the river a ways. Then we break off to the mountains. To the place I grew up,” Joe said, gathering Becky to her feet, moving forward.
“Is your family there?” Becky asked.
“No longer...but it’s home. There’s forestland...plenty of it. I’d know my way around there if I were blind.”
“What’s there that’s different than here, kid?” Gunner asked. “They will search that forest as hard as this one.”
“This one has a series of caves,” he said.
“A cave?” Becky asked in concerned wonder.
“More like caverns. It’s not the Ritz...but it will give us a place to hide out...form a plan. We’ll need one,” he said, checking to see that the microchip was intact. He pointed the compass in the right direction, leading the way into the woods. The others followed with weary looks upon their faces.
“My ex-wife called me a cave-man once,” Gunner said to himself. “Maybe she was right, after all.”
******
Commander Xavier Sin dusted the dirt from his back, staring down the river in pure disbelief.
The team of Authoritarian Guards returned from their emergency mission, which the commander had sent them on. “So...are they dead?” Xavier asked.
“The car went over the falls...no bodies, sir.”
“I told you not to come back until you found a sign! I won’t believe he’s is dead...until I see his carcass rotted in front of me. Hell...I’m not sure I’ll even believe it then!”
“We didn’t find bodies, sir, but...we did find a fresh set of tracks. They led into the woods, heading west. Should I inform the others...prepare for a search at first light?”
“First light? We search tonight...now! I want every guard member with a pulse combing the ground. And I want the search dogs put on the trail. If we can’t chase them down...we’ll sniff them out.”
Chapter Ten:
The Chase
“Your reward for undying loyalty has arrived,” Mika Sorka addressed Simon Judas by phone, as Ben Arnold accompanied the leader in the helicopter.
“There is no greater reward than serving you, Mr. Sorka, sir. As long as I have your confidence...I deserve nothing else,” Judas over-passionately said.
“I agree, though I am giving you a gift anyway. I present to you...the fruits of your labor,” Sorka told him, as he hung up the phone.
“What can it be?” Under-Leader Ben Arnold asked, as jealousy seeped from his face.
Leader Judas looked out the window of the helicopter, seeing waves of blue haze bake the sky. They were in-flight over the ex-state of North Carolina, though it was now just part of a boundless territory. The two were in the western part of the state, where the Blue-Ridge Mountains stretched their undulated curves to the edge of the horizon line.
“Maybe the Blue Ridge Mountains?” Leader Judas wondered in arrogance.
The look of jealousy only got worse on the Under-Leader’s face, as he hadn’t received anything. Ben Arnold had not been singled out for world domination like Leader Judas was, because he was meant to be the “everyman” figure that the “average” American could relate to.
During his upbringing, he was raised in poverty, living the life of a working class parents’ child. Judas would regale Ben with tales of freshly squeezed juice from the same crystal glasses that Mika Sorka drank from; of course, he left out the abusive parts.
The envious Ben Arnold’s childhood meals consisted of drinking milk from the carton, and sticking his finger in a peanut butter jar. He swept the floors on construction sites so his government minder family could eat that night. Much like Leader Judas, Ben was also purchased from the black market, though his “sale price” went for a much cheaper price. In reality, both ended up costing nothing.
Ben Arnold played the part to a tee. The story of his hard-luck past helped those untrusting of Simon Judas’s pricey, pressed suits and perfectly pronounced prose, take a chance on good ole’ Ben. The two men created a truly balanced ticket.
The striking difference between their upbringing always lent tension to their alone time, which consisted of Leader Judas’s bragging, and Ben Arnold’s look of envy. Thoughts of revenge always ran through his mind, “Wait until I take over,” he thought. However, Mika Sorka was no fool. The Under-Leader would never go beyond a pawn, never graduating past the part of tool. Judas kept close tabs on Arnold, reporting every word of suspicion to Sorka. In turn, Mika grew more curious about a man he never really respected.
The helicopter landed upon the front lawn of the Biltmore Estate. It was a breathtaking 250-room palatial palace, sitting on 8,000 acres, built
by George Vanderbilt. The French Renaissance chateau, shined at the end of a long, manicured lawn with a round fountain in the middle. The historic, privately owned building was obtained by the government in a deal that couldn’t be refused: give up full ownership or die.
The usually chatty Leader Judas was rendered speechless. He peered around like a child with new eyes, walking the grand entranceway. Ben Arnold was still seething in jealousy. They approached the doors, which opened in a welcome of perfect timing. Judas was greeted by a pleasant woman, with a calming demeanor, and supportive “wife” type of look. She was pretty, though not beautiful, feminine, though not intimidating. She fit the part perfectly.
“Welcome to your new home...well, one of them,” Kate “Kitty” Smith, said with an overly warmed smile.
Leader Judas gasped, not knowing how to react to such a gift. He had gone from receiving nothing, to owning a dream come true.
He entered through the doors. His first sight was an unbelievably impressive dining room. It featured massive vaulted ceilings, art adorned walls, shining floors of wood, ceiling strung candleholders, three adjacent fireplaces, and an endless dining table, with red chairs resembling thrones.
“This is my reward?” he asked in wonder.
“Part of it,” Kitty answered.
“Part?” Both Simon Judas and Ben Arnold asked, though much different in tone.
“Yes,” she said, taking him by the hand.
“What else can I possibly want?”
“Me,” she responded hopefully.
Leader Judas gulped in nervousness. He hadn’t had much contact with women in the past. “I would like that.”
“Then your wish is my command,” she said, leaning in to kiss his lips.
“This is...unbelievable!”
“Please do not doubt me, sir. I am your reward, along with the house. We are to marry, I am to bare you sons...heirs, and serve you as a loving wife is commanded to do.”
“Do I get one?” Under-Leader Arnold asked.
“You were not mentioned in my instructions,” she said, as he further sunk into his despair.
“Leave us. I would like some time alone with my...fiance.” Leader Judas ordered Under-Leader Arnold.
“Where do I go?”
Kitty turned to the waiting servants. “Show him to the guest quarters.” They nodded their heads, and led the Under-Leader to his nightly room.
“I am starved after the long flight,” Leader Judas said.
Kitty motioned to the remaining servants, as she took Simon Judas by the hand, pulling his dining seat out for him. Not used to such service, he paused for a moment, though quickly warmed to the idea, taking his place at the head of the table. His new fiance’ placed a napkin on his lap, and pushed him in.
The servants brought out piping hot soup. She blew on it, cooling the heat from the bowl. Then, she dipped the spoon into the lobster bisque, and lifted it towards his mouth.
He gladly accepted the kingly treatment from his appointed spouse. “Take a seat,” he told her, as she walked the long path to the table’s opposite end.
Simon raised his voice, calling to her, “I meant...one a little closer,” he said, pointing at the chair next to him.
“Yes, sir,” she said, exiting the chair, and taking a seat at his side.
“Much better...and please, if you are to be my wife, do not call me, sir.”
“What should I call you, sir?”
“Leader...is appropriate for the time-being.”
“Yes, leader.”
“In time...husband...may even be permitted. But...I would like to get to know you first.”
“What would you like to know, leader?”
“Did you make this soup yourself?”
“I did. Is it to your liking?”
“It is,” he said, as the look of fear melted from her face. One of extreme happiness took over.
“Thank you, so much, leader,” she said, seeming as if her worth had just been proven.
“When are we to be married?” he asked.
“One month,” she said, as Leader Judas spit a spoonful of soup from his mouth.
“Are you, ok?” she asked, cleaning the mess from his chin.
“I am fine...just unexpectedly surprised...that is all.”
“I did not mean to surprise you, leader.”
“It is a pleasant one...though I suppose I should ask next...when are we to begin conceiving a child?” he asked, following with another sip of soup.
“Tonight,” she said, causing him to spit soup again.
******
One of the estate’s sixty-five fireplaces roared a romantic flame. It created a deep contrast to the awkward tension filling the master-bedroom. Simon Judas and Kitty Smith approached the four-poster bed. The two of them sat down on the plush mattress, leaving a rather large space in between them.
“Sit closer,” he demanded, as she immediately obeyed his order.
“Yes, leader.”
He moved in for a rather quick, forceful, sloppy kiss, assuring that the only flame of romance was left in the fireplace.
Leader Judas pulled away from Kitty’s lips, making a suction-cup noise. The nervous woman hid the stinging pain that pulsated on her, not wanting to insult her man. She didn’t believe that kissing should invoke that feeling, though much like Leader Judas, she had nothing to compare it to. They were both virgins, held back from any physical “nonsense” like sex for enjoyment’s sake. Kitty was “hand-broken” by Mika Sorka himself, so her body would be ready to accept childbirth. Other than that, she had never experienced the actual act, or intimacy that accompanied it. Whether they were ready or not, it was time to perform.
“Remove your clothes,” Judas ordered.
“Yes, Leader,” she responded, rising from the bed, and dropping her ankle length dress to her feet. Her underwear was not one of a seductress. In fact, the garment was of an obedient wife and soon to be mother.
The apprehensive, shy Kitty removed her bra. She revealed fresh and freestanding breasts, “perfect for feeding,” Mika Sorka had commented upon his final examination. She followed with the removal of her large underwear. The bashful woman wanted to cover-up, though it was not permitted in her instruction.
The light of the fire shined off her virgin body, revealing an untrimmed, natural pubic area, under arms, and legs. It hinted at her European origin, although her accent and backstory indicated she was All-American.
Simon Judas salivated, gazing upon naked female flesh like an alligator timing the attack of an oblivious chicken. He removed his shirt and shoes, though pulled a sheet over his genital region, showing his inexperience as well.
“Come,” he said, patting the other side of the bed, as if calling a dog.
“Yes, leader,” Kitty responded. She climbed into the bed, completely draping herself within the covers, waiting nervously and silently.
Each of them waited for the other to make the next move, though neither moved. Finally, Leader Judas rolled on top of her. He poked and prodded at her body, having no luck in finding the bull’s-eye.
“I will assist you, leader,” Kitty said.
“No!” he demanded, as his pride would be hurt by letting a subordinate woman help him do a “man’s job.” He continued aiming, having no luck. “You have my permission,” he said in frustration.
“Thank you,” she told him, shifting the favor to her. Kitty gently guided his manhood into its counterpart. Both of them tightened up, one gasping in pain, the other in pure pleasure.
“I am ovulating,” Kitty groaned in proud whisper. This was the moment she had waited for her entire life, as she was told it was her only reason for existing.
“I am...finishing,” Simon Judas called out loud, knowing that the sound would spill over into the adjoining guest room of the Under-Leader.
“I’ll take him down,” a lonely, bed bound, Ben Arnold said to himself. He wondered why Simon Judas seemed to constantly draw him into such bitternes
s. For whatever the reason was, the plan had clearly succeeded.
Simon let forth a desperate moan, sending the seeds of life into her womb. Millions of sperm cells raced to be the one to fertilize the egg of first American succession.
In just minutes time, Leader Judas collapsed on top of Kitty. I always thought it would be better, she told herself silently, taking pains to ensure that thoughts of disappointment didn’t seep from her mouth.
Simon Judas rolled off her, saying, “For your sake, I hope it is a boy,” he told her.
“I guarantee you a boy, leader,” she told him. It has to be, she thought to herself.
******
A freezing rain spilled from the dark night sky, as the frightening sounds of barking, flesh-seeking German Shepherds sounded through the air. Two days had passed, as teams of exhausted Authoritarian Guards continued the chase, following the riverside trail scent, day and night.
“They can’t run forever,” Commander Xavier Sin yelled out. “Sooner or later, they’ll stop,” he said, showing slight signs of weakness himself. However, it was no match for his unstoppable resolve. All of a sudden, the dogs turned away from the forward trail, yanking their masters leashes to the side. They headed to the edge of the Potomac River.
“We have something, sir!” A guard called out.
“Then go get it!” he yelled, brushing the frozen sweat from his forehead, following the dogs to the river’s edge.
They arrived at a pile of shoes, boots, and socks. Clumps of splattered dirt pools covered the ground, as the dogs lunged at the discarded footwear. “Heel!” the guards yelled, as the German Shepherds sat still, shaking with anticipation to tear something apart.
Commander Xavier Sin bent down, examining the shoes with close precision. “They outsmarted us again.”
“Sir, we can have the dogs back on the trail in no time!” he said, yanking the metal chain of the animal away from the footwear. The man struggled to fight the dog’s will, which was pushing it back towards the scent.