Beast Machine

by Brad McKinniss

  “Welcome to my humble abode, gentlemen,” said Bob. “I have dinner prepared. I hope you all like lamb, potatoes and red wine.” He opened the brown door and a rush of smells shot out toward the men. Bob entered his cave home and the men followed quickly behind. “I can tell that you’re all starving.”

  “I haven’t eaten since this morning,” said Pigeon.

  “I haven’t eaten since yesterday,” said Bjornssen.

  “I ate on the plane, but I’m still hungry,” said Zuber.

  The other men commented on their appetites as they followed Bob down the opening hallway that was as wide as a pickup truck. There were no works of art, no pictures to commemorate memories, no televisions, no hunting trophies on the walls – nothing but bright lanterns attached to the stone gray wall every six or seven feet.

  After walking around hundred or so feet down the bleak hallway, the men arrived in the dining room of Bob’s home. A mahogany dining room table with bizarre inscriptions around the edges was in the middle of the large, square room. The inscriptions were faint and the other men paid no mind to them. The rectangular table sat atop a vivid blue and red rug, which was bisected by a gold streak. In the middle of the gold streak rug was a large purple circle that contained golden letters: ‘F’ and ‘S’. Thick wooden picture frames hung tightly on the stone walls. Each had a different mountain chain engraved into the frame. The Andes Mountain frame was the smallest, while the Appalachian Mountain frame was the dullest. Each had a different charm to it and made out of wood found on that specific mountain range. None held a picture inside, rather, mirrors.

  “This is incredible, Bob,” said Jimmy Erdol in sheer amazement. “I was expecting a rundown shack with no windows, some dead animals lying around, and an outhouse. This is much better!” He laughed. Bob smiled. “Hell, my wife would be jealous of this shit! She loves all that interior design nonsense. Can’t get her to stop watching those damn shows about it either. It’s hardwood that, white cabinets this. I don’t give a shit!”

  “That’s swell, Mr. Erdol,” said Bob. “Why don’t you all take a seat? Wherever you’d like. I have to grab the food out of the kitchen. There’s red wine bottles in the buckets.”

  The men listened and took a seat at the marvelous mahogany table, as Jimmy Erdol made sure to take the seat at the head of the table. Bob opened an unnoticed steel door to what appeared to be the kitchen. More of the yummy smells dispersed through the air, causing the men to lick their lips and fantasize about what the lamb would taste like in their mouths. The door shut quickly behind Bob, but the smell of the cooked lamb was stronger than ever.

  Each man began to look about the room and their place setting. Each man had a silver plate the size of baby in front of them, accompanied with a silver brimmed wine glass, two forks, a sharp knife, and one spoon. In the middle of the table, silver buckets filled with ice and the red wine bottles Bob had mentioned just moments ago. To quench their thirst, and their boredom, the men all grabbed a bottle of the red wine and passed it around, each pouring their desired amount into their glass. Jimmy Erdol, however, grabbed an entire bottle for himself.

  They all clinked their glasses together loudly. Clink-ink, clink-ink. “To prosperity,” said Zuber.

  “To prosperity!” all the men rang out. Glasses clinked again. Clink-ink, clink-ink.

  They downed their wine, laughed, then filled up their glasses again. Everything was starting to go their way once again.

  Out came Bob from the steel door. He was carrying a large circular tray with eight more silver plates. “I made sure to even have an extra plate for our unexpected guest,” said Bob as he and the others looked at a blushing Stanzo. Bob walked around the table and gently placed the smaller entrée plate on top of the silver plates that were already in front of every man.

  “This looks incredible,” said Bjornssen. It did look incredible. Each man was given a medium-rare rack of lamb ribs seasoned in rosemary and thyme, quartered red potatoes, and a handful of asparagus. “Even the best restaurants in Arkansas couldn’t cook something this delicious looking. Where’s your plate, Bob?”

  Bob smiled, “I ate before you gentlemen arrived. We can begin discussing what you want done as you eat. I am all ears.” Bob sat down at the table, across from Jimmy Erdol at the other head. They made eye contact and both smirked. “Please, dig in.”

  Again, the men listened to Bob and dug right into the lamb, potatoes, and asparagus. Each man feverishly ate the food, some sloppier than others. One of the sloppier eaters, Lester Pigeon, began to speak with his mouth full of lamb.

  “Momma always said it was impolite to talk while you eat,” said Pigeon, “but she’s been dead for some time now.” Pigeon and a few others laughed with mouths full of lamb, potatoes and asparagus.

  “Shut up, Lester,” said Jimmy Erdol. He wiped asparagus off his face. “Now, Bob, I guess I’ll begin.”

  Bob replied, “Wonderful. As I said, ‘I’m all ears.’”

  “Good, good,” said Jimmy Erdol. “Now, we don’t have a problem personally with this Obelis fella, it’s just he’s not our guy and he’s definitely not going to do what we want. We had hoped that Southwyck could stay sober enough, uh, to win the election.”

  “Why is it so important that he, Southwyck, wins the election?” asked Bob.

  “Well, it’s pretty obvious, Bob. He would do whatever we told him to do. But he can’t be stupid enough to admit to the public, to the national media, that he’s gonna bend over for us. That’s just stupidity and I don’t like to be connected to that stupidity. That’s bad politics.”

  “Ah,” said Bob, “Well, did you reach anyone in the Republican Party or anyone at the RNC? It seems like they’d be the ones to help you out, correct?”

  “I tried, Bob. I tried, but they think we’re too extreme and don’t offer anything of value to them anymore… That what we’re trying to do will hurt the party, but that’s just plain bullshit and they know it. They have way more extreme candidates running for senate seats and trying to become presidents.” He took a large bite of his red potatoes. “Normally, they give us a prime candidate, one that’s had experience, but the higher ups don’t give a shit about us. We’re one of the states where they don’t give a shit because we don’t have a big enough electorate for the big elections – for president, congressmen. So they couldn’t care less about how our state elections go, they’re just focused solely on the big elections. Southwyck was the only choice they gave us once we learned Governor Hutchinson wasn’t going to run for another term – Hutch hasn’t been any help either.”

  “Hmm,” said Bob. “What do you want out of Arkansas and the people of the state?”

  “Pardon? What do you mean?” asked Jimmy Erdol. He was befuddled by the question. “Like economy wise?”

  “What is your ideal Arkansas?” said Bob. “No judgment, just your perfect Arkansas. If you were in full control, that is.”

  All the men stopped eating and drinking their wine to look at Jimmy Erdol. He sat quiet for a few seconds. He was thinking and thinking hard about how to answer this question correctly. But more importantly: honestly.

  “Well, uh,” began Jimmy Erdol, “I want us to be the freest of all the states.” All the men nodded at the cliché statement. “Each one of us, we’re the backbone of the state’s economy,” Jimmy Erdol pointed at all the men around the table, even Stanzo on accident, “and we should have lower taxes, the best of the best, the most power in decision making because we are the winners in life. We, and the generations of our families before us, have shown to be the winners in life. We know how the world works. Why can’t we use this advantage we have to shape Arkansas to our liking? We are the ones that are keeping the state afloat. It’s not my fault I landed in such a spectacular and wealthy family. It’s just the hand I was dealt.” He drank more red wine. “We have to show Arkansans that having success is everything in life.” He sat his wine glass down and scoffed lightly. “There’s zero motivation for people anymo
re with the food stamps, the welfare, the Medicaid, the healthcare – not to mention all the crime they commit.” The men kept nodding in agreement with Jimmy Erdol. “Why should I have to hand over my money so these, these poor people can have it? They just shit it out, just like they shit out children, and make no use of it. They didn’t earn it, so they spend it on drugs, cheap food and God knows what.” More wine was downed by Jimmy Erdol. “Sure, my daddy’s daddy helped create this incredible business I own, but I made it global. I made it bigger than they did. I had to make tough decisions – tough decisions that caused a lot of people to lose their jobs, but I was thinking about me and my family. I can’t let my family lose any money that’s necessary to keep us going for generation after generation. That’s what matters in this world: money and family.”

  Bob looked down at the table. He pursed his lips then moved them from side to side. “So you’re saying, your ideal Arkansas is a paradise for the wealthy? A place where everyone will try to emulate you fine gentlemen, and if they fail they will just have to suffer and die?”

  “Well,” Jimmy Erdol swallowed heavily, “that’s the most of it. A wealthy, preferably white, all-straight Arkansas in charge of everything. No minorities, or ethnics, to rabblerouse us and try to railroad our ideas.” Jimmy Erdol laughed nervously. “I’ve never openly admitted that but it’s the truth. Always have to be politically correct anymore, can’t speak my own mind.” He cracked his knuckles. Thrack-ack. “I don’t want to have to feed the leeches of this state anymore, like I said, and I don’t want any more of that gay influence that’s starting to grip the nation like a pink turtleneck.” He looked down at his lap and then stuck the tip of his tongue out. “The worst of it is the congressmen won’t give us anymore sway on what laws we want on the books. I, alone, have bankrolled more congressmen and congresswomen than most of those inner city folks can count. Now they don’t want to show me anymore respect because some other asshole is funding them? Where the fuck is the loyalty anymore? None of them would be where they are if it weren’t for me – if it weren’t for us.” He pointed his finger around to all the men at the table, still including Stanzo. “I’ve had it with those fuckers in Washington since they won’t help enough, calling us crazy. And delusional. Then they give us Southwyck, who clearly isn’t smart enough to win the state – they don’t care, they’ve got everything else in place. We want to take hold of Arkansas once again! To make it great again! We need you to help us, Bob. We’re desperate. Even with all the money we have to hire consultants, we can’t think of anything outside of rigging the election or killing this Obelis guy. I tried to find as much dirt on him to try to blackmail him out of the race, but he’s got nothing on him. Born in Oregon, raised in Arkansas by his uncle, goes to school overseas, then nothing. Not even a speeding ticket or a dumbass comment on the Internet.” Jimmy Erdol put his hands to his face briefly then lowered them. “What is your plan, Bob? We need to know.” All the men turned their heads toward Bob, who was smiling and holding back laughter.

  “I,” laughed Bob, “I have something in mind. Have you all finished your food?”

  The men looked at their plates, then at the plates of the men beside them. Everyone’s plate was mostly clean. Aside from the leftover lamb bones, only a scant amount of asparagus could be found on one man’s plate. Bob stopped laughing and smirked.

  “Good,” continued Bob. “Will you all please follow me?” Bob stood up quickly, leaving the men only moments to decide whether or not they’d follow him.

  Of course, they followed him.

  “Sure thing, Bob,” said Jimmy Erdol. Most of the men were quick out of their seats. Some took time to wipe their faces clean of excess food. “So where in this cave of yours are we going?”

  Bob laughed again, “Through this door.” Bob opened the steel door that was thought to open to the kitchen, but behind the steel door was what appeared to be an interrogation room found in an urban police station. There was another door that led to a room that could be seen through a thick one-way glass mirror. Nothing but brick walls and a cement floor could be seen in the interrogation room. It was illuminated with a single bright light.

  “What the hell is this?” asked Bjornssen. “Your sex dungeon?”

  Bob closed the door behind the men. “This is why I believe you men came to me.” All the men furrowed their brows and tilted their heads. “Please, may I have a volunteer?” The men looked at one another. “Come on, someone has to want to volunteer? How about the extra man you brought along?”

  “Me?” asked Stanzo. “No, I’m just the pilot. I am not a part of this.” He waved his arms slightly then crossed them.

  “Do it, Stanzo,” commanded Jimmy Erdol. “I pay you more than enough.”

  “To pilot your helicopters!” said Stanzo. “Not to volunteer for something…something I’m not involved with. I don’t want to be part of this, sir.”

  “He’s your volunteer, Bob,” said Jimmy Erdol as he shoved Stanzo to the front. Stanzo grimaced and looked back at Jimmy Erdol with a pained face.

  “Wonderful,” said Bob. “Now will you enter the room and face the glass. We want to see your pretty face.”

  “Will I be okay?” asked Stanzo. “What am I volunteering for?”

  Bob remained silent then motioned for Stanzo to enter the room. Stanzo sighed then entered the room, closing the door behind him.

  He stood with his back against the brick wall. The men and Bob gathered against the glass to look at Stanzo, who was sweating and red faced, blinking rapidly and breathing heavily. “Now, gentlemen, please let this be a warning to all of you.”

  “Warning?” muttered a few voices.

  Bob removed a small cobalt box from his pocket. He opened the box and pushed down on a green button. “A warning that you need to stay the hell away from Obelis and American politics.”

  Stanzo began to tremble. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. Teeth began to fall out of Stanzo’s mouth and then his tongue fell out of mouth.

  “What the fuck is going on?” screamed Bjornssen. He shoved Bob up against the glass. “Tell me what you did to him! Save him!”

  Bob laughed, “Like your friend in this room, you all have ingested a device of mine.” Every man’s eyes grew large. “This microscopic device is attached to your heart, liver, spleen or lungs. Or elsewhere.” Every man began to feel their chest and stomach, seemingly trying to feel the device. “Please put me down or I will have you killed next.”

  Bjornssen did so, and then began to feel for the device like the other men.

  “You’re not going to find it,” said Bob, “None of you will find it. You will not go to a doctor to have it removed – it will activate and begin doing the same thing it is doing to Stanzo there.” Bob pointed to Stanzo, who was now just a bag of flesh surrounded by vomited internal organs, teeth, and a tongue. Smoke seeped from the bag of flesh. “You will all keep your money and ideas out of politics. I do not want you privileged punks to ruin my endgame. Go, leave!” Bob’s baby blue eyes turned black.

  Zuber went to pull out his gun but dropped it. It slid towards Bob and Bob picked it up. “Thought about killing me, eh?” Zuber stood shaking as the other men were frozen. Bob took the gun and shot directly into his own palm. He laughed menacingly and then shouted, “LEAVE!”

  The men obliged and ran out of the steel door and then down the dreary gray hallway then through the bushes, rocks, and trees to the helicopter.

  Chapter 39

  Folks

  Hitbear whined, “Are we there yet? I may go into hibernation if it takes any longer!”

  He was situated in the backend of a large SUV that Gora rented. At least that’s what she told her beasts. All the seats were removed, except the driver and front passenger seats, so the heavyweight Hitbear could fit comfortably during the long drive from Oregon to Arkansas. The sheer weight of Hitbear caused the backend of the large SUV to dip low and occasionally scrape the road when going uphill.

  “Abo
ut an hour away,” relayed Gora. “The sun is beginning to set, so we’ll have the darkness to help move closer to this mining facility without being spotted.”

  “How sure are you of this, again, Tubman?” asked Hitbear.

  “Extremely sure, bear,” replied the hare. She adjusted her bandana. “It’s a gut feeling, and I’m going to trust it.”

  Hitbear sighed. “I’m going to catch some more shuteye, I guess.”

  The sun set quickly and the darkness engulfed the land like a plague.

  -----

  Dr. Takeo Silva began conducting an autopsy on the miner that had killed himself earlier in the week. Chairman Obelis had decided to not offer this news out into the community until the autopsy was completed, considering the miner had no family. He was alone in the world of the living and now he was alone in the world of the dead.

  “Have you even done this before?” asked Chelsey. “You have experience with cats and kittens, and other animals, but not humans.” She was no longer being projected from an electronic tablet, but by a device in the mining facility. It let her roam freely.

  Silva guffawed, “Don’t you remember that it was I that created the Carda Implant? I think I have enough experience to do an autopsy.” He placed his hand on his chest and laughed again.

  “Very true, my dear,” she said, her voice fleeting. “What else is there to do for a woman made of mere light and coding?”

  Silva ignored her comment and went to retrieve the miner’s body from a storage room filled with ice. The body bag sat against the back wall of the small storage room with gas station bags of ice piled up to the ceiling. It was the best he could do since there wasn’t a morgue on site. Albeit short, fat, and weak, Silva was able to lift the chilled body bag onto a gurney.

  He rolled the gurney into one of surgical rooms. “Whatever you wish, Chelsey,” replied Silva to Chelsey’s question. “You can venture around the facility looking for ways it can be improved or stay here and keep me company. The world, erm, this facility is your oyster!” He adjusted the gurney properly under the main light in the room and pulled a tray of tools next to the gurney. The body bag containing the miner was unzipped slowly. Silva didn’t have on any gloves.