Typhoon of Steel

by Marshall Miller

“No. I am…done.”

  “No you are not. Don’t argue with your older sister. You’re tough, you’ll…”

  Mathew spit up more blood. “No. I am ready to be with Jesus, sitting at the side of the Lord.”

  “No. You will not go. You will stay here with me. I lost Fuzz, I will not lose another of my family!”

  Mathew smiled at her. “I love you, sister of the Twenty.” He coughed and the blood flowed from his mouth. “Save, protect…the others, our fellow Twenty Avenging Angels. Get them free.” His eyes began to glaze. “I will always be near. Later, I will see you on the other side…” He let out a long sigh. Then he was gone.

  Abigail screamed in pain again. She closed Mathew’s eyes, laying his head gently on the ground. Then she was on her feet, next to the wounded Prophet. He was trying to free his sidearm from its holster with his off hand as Abigail approached. In a smooth motion, she bent and snatched the pistol from Prophet Smith, smashing it into his groin. He screamed and grabbed his family jewels, the compound fracture in his right arm shoving a bone through his skin. Abigail took aim at the Prophet’s head.

  “No. Abby-san. That is not who you are.”

  Abigail heard her love’s call. She stayed aimed in for a few more moments, then relaxed.

  “I should shoot you,” she growled. “Maybe gut shoot you, watch you die slow. But I’m not mad dog scum like you.”

  “I am the Prophet,” the helpless man squealed. “I do the work of the Lord.”

  She spat on him. “You do the work of the Tschaaa, the Squid demons. You used the Twenty as guinea pigs, lab rats for their experiments.” She pointed to the dead body of Hall. “You had your mad dog Hall enforce your decrees, kill for you.”

  “I did what was necessary to keep the aliens at bay. To keep them from killing and eating the Lord’s people.”

  “Like the saying goes, ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ Sell innocents out? Kill them? Never. You do the work of Satan, of Judas, nothing more.”

  Two riders arrived, riding hell bent for leather. Sergeants Dark Wolf and Running Deer reined in their mounts, leapt off, landing at a run. “Captain, Major. Are you all right?”

  “Physically, yes,” Abigail answered.

  “She lost another friend, family member,” Ichiro explained.

  “We were delayed by four armed guards,” Running Deer interjected. “We freed the older couple. They were being held as prisoners in their home.”

  Abigail looked at the two Wyoming Mounted Militia. She thought that people such as these offset scum like the Prophet and his minions. Abigail believed there was always hope when warriors as the two Sergeants were about. Then, a loud vehicle engine noises caused everyone to turn and look down the road. Two more dark colored SUVs were approaching at speed.

  “Time to leave, I think,” Dark Wolf commented.

  “No. I stay. The evil ends here.” Abigail spoke, her face and voice set in stone.

  Ichiro went ramrod straight. “I stay with my love.”

  The two Cheyenne looked at the two fellow warriors. Suddenly, Running Deer let out a loud yipping cry. “This is a good fight, a good day to die. The story will be told for years around Cheyenne campfires and meetings.” She scrambled to a nearby ditch and took up a covered position.

  Dark Wolf grinned. “The Spirit of the Wolf, the Dog Warrior is here. We will help you make a stand against this evil.”

  Abigail smiled. “Thank you. But I think we will survive. We have the Lord, good on our side. As well as superior fighting ability.”

  Ichiro chuckled. “Always the optimist, my love.” He quickly grabbed two more assault weapons from dead hands as Abigail obtained Mathew’s and the dead driver/bodyguard’s pistols to add to the Prophet’s. She and Ichiro took cover behind one of the dead security guards parked SUVs just as the two approaching vehicle braked to a stop on the edge of the parking lot. Dark Wolf had joined his comrade in the roadside ditch, so they had the two SUVs in a crossfire. Abigail had thought that armed guards would come bursting from the vehicles. Instead, a single familiar figure exited the driver side of the first SUV. Doc Stubbs, Former Marine Gunny Sergeant, stepped out from the driver’s seat, holding a sawed off double barrel 12 gauge.

  “Captain Young. Are you still with us?”

  “Yes Doc, I am.” With that, Abigail stepped out from behind cover. She knew that the Former Gunny Sergeant would not be on the side of evil, be there to hurt her.

  “Friend?” Ichiro asked.

  “Yes. Good friend. You need to meet him.”

  Abigail and Ichiro walked toward Doc Stubbs as the cautious Cheyenne warriors stayed under cover in the roadside ditch. Then a figure came from the back seat of the SUV that Doc had been driving. Ester Smith, wife of the Prophet, dressed in a dark pants suit, stepped from the vehicle and saw Abigail.

  “My daughter. Thank God you are alright. Is my husband…?”

  “I am not your daughter” Abigail snapped back. “Your husband is over there, bleeding.”

  “Please, Abigail. Let me…”

  “Explain? Explain what? About how the so-called Prophet lied to me, used me and the Twenty as guinea pigs? That he had grey alien implants placed in me? That he tried to have me turned into a freak?” Her voice raised to a near scream again.

  “Abby-san, please.” Ichiro saw she was becoming more agitated by the minute. Given her recent past, he was afraid she wouldn’t be able to control her anger.

  “I am fine, my love,” Abigail answered. “Just what Torbin would call very pissed off.”

  Ester Smith began to cry. “Please, Abigail….”

  “Your husband is lucky to be alive. For what he has done to innocent children he should be drawn and quartered. In the process of this…evil, he subjugated and warped a belief in a loving Christ to his own means. For that alone, he should burn in hell.”

  With that last comment, Abigail suddenly reached up to her throat and ripped a necklace from it. “Here. This cross you gave me was given under false pretenses. I don’t want it anymore.” She threw it at the feet of the soon to be former Prophet’s wife. Ester screamed and fell to her knees, wailing and sobbing, clawing the cross from the ground. Abigail looked up and noticed three middle aged men in dark suits approaching from the second SUV. She recognized them as Elders of the Church of the Latter Day Saints. One spoke to her.

  “Please, Abigail Young…”

  “Not Young. That name means nothing now. Call me by my family name, Jorgensen. That name has honor. Your name does not.”

  She turned toward Ichiro. “Now it is time to go, my love. I’m done here.” She began to walk toward the SUV they came in.

  Ichiro glided over and knelt before the sobbing and wailing Mrs. Smith. He reached out and gently took the cross and chain from the devastated woman’s hands.

  “I will see to it that she gets this. She is just very hurt, angry right now, is lashing out. She will soon realize you had no control over the… abomination that has occurred.”

  Through puffy, tear filled eyes, Ester looked at the young samurai. “You believe me?”

  “Yes. You are deeply hurt. That is the truth. A participant in the Evil would not care about Abby-san. You do.”

  Ester Smith tried to focus on Ichiro through her emotion.

  “You love her dearly, don’t you?”

  “Yes. With all my soul.”

  “Then please, take care of her. Protect her. I failed her in that respect, as I failed my daughter, allowed the Squids to take her…”

  She began to sob again. Ichiro gently laid a hand on her shoulder. Ester looked into his eyes.

  “Mrs. Smith, I will do my best to take care of her. And if you wish, I will contact you, let you know how she is doing, at least until she realizes this is not your fault. We are here because of the Tschaaa, the Squids, the Takos. We humans have evil in ourselves. But the slime occupying our Earth have made it worse. That is why you daughter is dead. Not because you failed her.”

  Ester Smith swa
llowed, stopped her sobbing. She grabbed Ichiro’s hand, kissed it.

  “You, are a true saint. Not just one in name or title only. May God walk with you, protect you.”

  Ichiro smiled, ignoring the lump in his throat. He bowed to her. “Your blessing does me honor. I will always remember it. Now I must leave, as my soon to be wife wishes to depart.” He stood up, helped Ester to her feet. He bowed once more, then turned to leave.

  “Major, a minute please.” It was Doc Stubbs.

  “You are friend of Abigail from… before, yes?” Ichiro asked.

  “I like to think that, young man, yes. I can tell the two of you are made for each other. So, a friend of Abigail is a friend of mine.” The former Gunny stuck his hand out and Ichiro took it in a firm grip.

  “You are a man of honor. Doc. I can tell. You brought the Prophet’s wife, knowing something was wrong.”

  “I got a phone call from a certain crazy Marine up in your parts. I put two and two together. You hear a lot in a chow hall. You are just the man to help keep our Avenging Angel out of trouble. Well, at least basically in one piece. Call me, any time, at the military chow hall in Salt Lake City. I declare “dibs” on first choice to make you two a wedding cake. Deal?”

  Ichiro smiled broadly. “Hai. Deal.”

  He then looked at the three Church Elders who were standing, stunned over what had happened. He drew himself up straight, to full height once again. “You and your …church, have much to answer for. If you are true men of honor, who were not part of the Prophet’s actions, you will make amends, insure it does not happen again. You will also take care of Ester Smith. Am I right?”

  “Yes, you are,” the Elder with graying hair answered. “We must ask God for forgiveness. Because of our ignorance, maybe willfulness in some cases, many were hurt. I must ask you and Abigail for forgiveness.” He went to his knees, then prostrated himself on the dirt.

  “Please. I am not God, and I cannot speak for Abby-san. Call our leaders, explain to them. They will then explain to Abigail.”

  “Now, it is time for this simple warrior to depart. I bid you farewell.”

  “Don’t forget the cake deal,” Doc Stubbs called out.

  “Never, my friend.”

  Ichiro made his way to their SUV. As he did, Dark Wolf and Running Deer, having left their positions of cover, approached him.

  “I take it that everything else is over except for the shouting,” commented Running Dear.

  Ichiro looked toward where the fallen Prophet was, his wife having gone to him with a first aid kit. He would be lucky if he could ever use that arm normally after what Abigail had done to it.

  “The Mormons will have to work this out themselves. All I know is that I will get Abby-san back to her new and true home. We will be married, make a new life together.”

  “Big wedding?” asked Running Deer.

  Ichiro shrugged. “I would prefer a small, private affair. But with my government, and hers, who can tell about the politics.” He smiled. “But I will invite you both, no matter what. I owe you. Dark Wolf, I owe you twice.”

  The Cheyenne scout smiled. “We’ll be there. If it’s large, many of my people may come. They respect Captain Young, and owe Major Bender for returning the body of Standing Bull. Many are waiting a chance to pay their respects to them as well as to Madam President. They give my people hope.”

  “As they do to Free Japan.” Ichiro bowed low to the two Mounted Militia. “You are welcome at my home anytime. Without you, things may have gone very wrong.”

  “And you are welcome at our lodges, our campfires,” said Running Deer. “Now, I think we will go and make contact with these Church Elders. I think some one-on-one between Wyoming and Deseret would be a good thing.”

  “As usual, the young woman is right,” said Dark Wolf. “As you can tell, she is the smarts of this team.”

  Ichiro laughed. “I think there is plenty of intelligence to go around. Now, I say goodbye.”

  With that, the two Sergeants snapped salutes to the Samurai Soldier, and Ichiro returned them. He then continued on to the SUV.

  Abigail was already sitting in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead. Ichiro got into the passenger side, looked at his love.

  “Abby-san…”

  “No talk. We must leave.” With that she started the vehicle, turned it around and began the trip back through the port of entry.

  The elder Smiths waved at her, and she waved back, absentmindedly, distracted. Ichiro saw Mr. Smith had a small bandage on his head, and presumed that he had resisted the now dead security personnel. Ichiro counted four bodies spread out around the now open gate area. He saw the lariats the Cheyenne had used to yank the gate open with their horses, and thanked his Ancestors that the mounted militia had been there to help.

  They continued down the road in silence for about five minutes. Then, without warning, Abigail drove the SUV over to the side of the highway. In smooth order she put the SUV in park, turned off the engine, undid her seat belt and crawled over onto Ichiro’s lap.

  She was shaking as she wrapped her arms around him.

  “Abby…”

  “Ichiro, I need to know. Will you always love me, even when I am no longer young and beautiful? Will you love me when all I have is this tortured soul? Will you love me when I am old, with this warped body?”

  Ichiro lifted her chin with his hand, looked into her eyes. In Japanese he answered, “Your soul is my soul. We will grow old together. We will love each other through all the stages of our lives. I will always love you, will never leave you. Even in death.” He kissed her long and deep. How long they kissed was lost in time. Finally, they stopped, parted. Abigail had stopped shaking.

  “Well, that is one way to calm my shakes, my love.”

  Ichiro laughed. “And in a very pleasant manner. Do you want me to drive?”

  “No, dearest. I am the better driver. I am okay now, thanks to you.”

  “Do you say you are the better driver because you are American and I am Asian? That we are always called bad drivers?”

  Abigail laughed. “No. I say that because it is true. You are the sword master, but I am the driving master.”

  “So it begins. I must, how you say, give you the pants.”

  Abigail began to giggle. “Come here, you. The expression is wear the pants in the family. I may want to take your pants off, to get at what is hidden underneath, but wear them? Never.”

  “Good, Abby-san, because you would look funny in my pants. My legs are longer, and…”

  “Shut up and kiss me, you foolish Samurai.”

  And he did. For a long time.

  CHAPTER 21

  KEY WEST, FLORIDA

  Adam Lloyd looked at the screen of his secure communication device with His Lordship. Ever since the nuke attack, the Tschaaa Lord had stayed mobile on the humongous seagoing platform in the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean. The size of several USS Ronald Reagan carriers, it was lucky to make ten knots, but its huge size made it stable in bad seas. Moving around made the Tschaaa Lord a difficult target. Due to that change, he and Adam did not have personal face to face meetings like they used to, everything being done through a secure server that Andrew had set up. Truth be told, Adam missed those meetings. If he were reading the Tschaaa body language correctly, so did Lord Neptune.

  “So, your Lordship, I take it you have received the recent reports on the incursion into Kansas.”

  “Yes, My Director.” The Tschaaa Lords social tentacles signaled dismissal. “I did not expect much, truth be told. Especially after hearing your concerns. We were both right. But the Krakens attack served a purpose.”

  “Which was, your Lordship?”

  “Why, to put the Unoccupied States on the defensive. Now their people will demand complete protection. After years of us ignoring them, we evil Squids are now sending our minions to kill them. And, in some sick instances, the minions ate them. How you humans can eat your own kind is beyond my understandin
g. But the effect has its purposes.”

  “Well, Sir, we must be careful with the effect. Push too hard, they will scream for immediate revenge, not defense.”

  The Tschaaa Lord motioned agreement. “As always, you cut to the core of the matter at hand. But this is just stage one. Another is to follow. Soon, Atlanta will once again be under our control. Even if we have to level it.”

  “You have a plan in place, Your Lordship?”

  “Our Kraken friends are working on the final points. I want you to stay out of it, to have deniability. I want you to be able to offer you and yours as an alternative to dealing with the Krakens.”

  The Tschaaa Lord gave his equivalent of a sigh. “Just before you called me, I had just received notice that an ally of mine in Deseret was found out and disposed. So, I will have to adjust.”

  Adam paused for a moment. Then he spoke. “I had figured out you had a special relationship with the Mormon Nation State. I take it was even more, shall we say, established, than I thought.”

  Neptune signed the Tschaaa equivalent of a smile, then expelled air and bubbles out of his gill structures, his equivalent of laughing.

  “Again I underestimate you, my alien friend. Which is why I relish our relationship.”

  “Will we ever meet face to face again, Lord Neptune?”

  “Soon, Director. Soon, if everything goes as planned. But I warn you. The next action will be quick and bold, as you humans like to say. Even if it fails in reaching its final goal, the attempt itself should rock the Unoccupied Areas, as well as the Feral areas. I will have a prepared statement for you to present as justification for the actions, as well as giving them a chance to negotiate, to even reach an agreement as a form of a supplicant people. Not a full Client peoples, as I want for you and yours. But along the lines of you leave us alone, we leave you alone.”

  The Lord moved his tentacles and arms in ways that showed irritation, bridging on anger.

  “I cannot have those humans killing any more of our young. Not in the numbers that the attempt on me produced.”

  “May I ask the final numbers?”