The door to the bedroom opened. “My queen.” Creed walked in.
Ellen gave a twitch of her head. “Neither is that.” She lifted her hand and Creed kissed it.
“I just wanted to make sure you were happy,” Creed said.
“Oh, very. Thanks. Robbie looks great.”
“Good. I’ll leave you be. I have our night tonight to prepare for. My Queen. Bright eyes.” He tapped Robbie on the shoulder.
“Oh . . . Creed.” Ellen called out. “Robbie can . . .” She stopped when she felt her leg being kicked. “Talk . . .” Again her leg was kicked and she saw the glaring stare Robbie gave her. “Soon, can’t he?”
“Soon, I hope. I’ll be back.” Creed stepped out.
“What’s up with not letting him know you can talk?” Ellen asked Robbie after Creed had left.
“Not yet,” Robbie spoke.
“I’ll be quiet.”
“El.” Robbie laid his hand on hers. “Even with all of this, keep in mind that we’re still prisoners.”
“Oh, I know but we’re treated well.”
“We have to escape.”
“Why? We should wait for Frank.”
“You don’t know what he means by his plans for tonight? He called it ‘our night’.”
“The three of us are doing something,” Ellen said and saw Robbie shake his head. “We aren’t?”
“You and him.”
“Really? I wonder what that could be.” She shrugged. “I’ll worry about it later. I hope he doesn’t want sex.”
Robbie just widened his eyes.
“Oh, shit.”
“No, I’ll get you out of it. Whatever it is, just keep in mind, I will get you out of it.”
“How?”
“By escaping. I’ll get us out of here, tonight.”
“Good.” Ellen said. “But . . . can you?”
Robbie only rolled his eyes.
^^^^^
Pace. Stop. Laugh. Shake his head. That was the progression that Dean did in his lab. From the doorway, Frank watched him for a good five minutes, at least.
“Man.” Frank shook his head. “He was singing Partridge Family songs this morning. You really think it’s a chemical change?”
Billy nodded. “That or he really could have just snapped.”
“True.” Frank nodded then turned his head when he heard the close sound of Andrea’s ‘ah’.
“Sweet.” She smiled and peeked in. “He is so happy today. I too find myself glancing in the door,” she spoke smooth and calm, “ and taking in a visual whiff of his happiness. That is . . .” She exhaled. “Before I remind myself he’s a dick.” She turned, stopped, and looked back. “Penis, sorry Billy.”
Billy lifted his hand in a ‘not a problem’ fashion.
“That has to be the answer, Bill. It has to be.”
“It makes sense to me,” Billy said. “I mean, when did his mood change?”
“Last night.”
“Exactly. He started acting weird this morning, right?” Billy asked. “And when did the incidents start to show up?”
Frank exhaled in discovery. “This morning.”
Billy pointed into the lab. “Though it is a mental breakdown that is causing it, and he is my father, there is your culprit.”
“Let’s go tell Pap.” Hand on Billy’s head, Frank turned him and they started to walk from the clinic. “I'm glad you’re helping out on this. This could have been a mystery for years to come. Pap will be happy.”
^^^^^
Joe wanted to scream. Crowded was an understatement to describe his office. At least twenty men were crammed in there, all loudly voicing their concerns. His elbows on his desk, thumbs to his chin while his fingers rubbed his temple, Joe wished it was over. He shifted his eyes to Jason who sat calmly in a chair, legs crossed, smoking a cigarette.
“It’s getting out of hand, Joe,” Dan from Security griped. “Really out of hand.”
Joe looked up at the knock on the door. “Go away. There’s no more room.”
The door opened.
Joe grumbled.
Scott from Mechanics stepped in. “Joe, we . . .” He made his way though. “Busy?”
“Looks that way,” Joe said sarcastically.
“We have a problem, Joe,” Scott said.
“Don’t tell me.” Joe lifted a hand. “Your spoons were bent.”
“Yes.” Scott nodded. “How did you . . .” He stopped when he saw Joe pointing around. “Them too?”
“All of us,” Dan spoke up. “Something has to be done, Joe.”
“Yes,” Joe argued. “Bend them back. End of problem.”
“No,” Henry spoke up. “That doesn’t work.”
Mark added. “They don’t look the same. They will never regain their shape.”
“Our silverware is ruined!” Another man shouted.
Joe had enough. “Listen to you, assholes! You’re men for Christ sake. You’re bitching about silverware!”
Dan interjected, “But if we let this go, Joe, where does it end? Huh? What’s next? Our knives? Our forks? What?”
“Oh my God.” Joe covered his eyes.
“We want justice!” A man shouted out.
Frank’s voice topped them all. “I found our spoon culprit.”
Silence.
After a roll of his eyes, Joe whined, “No, Frank, I’m trying to resolve this issue. Forget about it.”
“No, Dad. I figured it out.” Frank moved to the desk and set Billy down from under his arm. “Tell him, Bill. Tell Pap.”
“Frank .. . “ Joe tried to interrupt. “I don’t want to . . .”
“My dad. We think it’s my dad,” Billy told him.
“Christ,” Joe mumbled.
Immediately the entire office was in an uproar and with shouts of, ‘Dean did it?’, ‘Damn, Dean.’ and ‘let’s get him’, like a scene from a warrior movie, every man fled from the office.
Shaking his head, Joe stood up and moved to his still open office door. “Thank you, Frank.” he snapped sarcastically. “Thank you very much.” Bitching a ‘goddamn it’, Joe stormed out.
“You’re welcome!” Frank yelled then with a grin, turned to Billy with a high five. “Man, we’re cool.”
^^^^
They stopped and parked the truck at the end of the river road, about ten yards before the edge of the field began.
“You don’t want to get closer?” Michael asked Johnny.
“No, you need a running distance,” Johnny answered.
Michael raised his eyes to the rear view mirror and gave a shrugging look to Bill. “Then let’s do this,” Michael said as he opened his truck door.
Johnny stepped, out followed by Lars. On the other side of the truck, Bill followed Michael to the bed and watched Johnny retrieve a small box.
“Now,” Michael said, “tell me again why we needed a half a dozen rabbits restrained by duct tape?”
“It will draw them out.” Johnny carried the box with him and looked at Lars. “This way?” he asked with a point.
“Yes.”Lars followed Johnny. “Most of our victims were found not too far into that region.”
In a whispering singing tone, Michael pulled out his shotgun and spoke to Bill, ‘Savages.’
Bill nodded his agreement and he too went into weapons ready mode.
“Are we leaving a trap?” Michael asked Johnny.
“Nope.” Johnny set down the box. “We’re drawing them out.” He pulled out his cattle prod and started looking about the snow-covered white field. “There.” He indicated to Lars.
“You see something?” Lars questioned.
“Check out the snow out there. It’s broken and tracked,” Johnny replied.
Michael rolled his eyes. “Savages.”
Reaching into the box, Johnny pulled out a rabbit. It’s arms and legs were duct taped to prohibit mobility. “Hey guy,” Johnny spoke sweetly. “Wanna take a trip?”
Michael cleared his throat, crossed his arms, and
watched as Johnny, with all his strength, tossed the rabbit with an impressive throw out into the field. “Oh, yes.” Michael clapped. “Bravo. What does that prove?”
Lars turned around with snap. “Didn’t you hear?”
“Hear what?” Michael said.
“Exactly.” Lars nodded. “Nothing. The rabbit never hit the ground.”
“No shit,” Michael said. “He hit the snow.”
Grumbling, Lars grabbed another rabbit. “Try it again, Stew. Michael, this time be quiet.”
Michael shrugged. “Go on.”
Johnny tossed the rabbit farther.
No sound.
“It’s the snow,” Michael stated.
“Chief.” Bill leaned into him. “I got a weird feeling.”
“Well, you should, Bill. We’re tossing goddamn bound bunnies into the fuckin snow for no reason,” Michael argued. “I for one . . .” Michael grunted when Lars shoved a squirming rabbit into his chest.
“You toss,” Lars said harshly. “Put those mighty Michael Manis arms to the test and give it a good throw. Go on.”
Michael fumbled with the wiry creature. “This is wrong.”
“According to you, Michael,” Lars said smugly. “We’re only tossing them in the snow. We’ll go retrieve them later. Throw it.”
“Fine.” Thinking ‘OK, what the hell’ and ‘Thank God the animal activists are dead’, Michael gave a hurling throw of the rabbit.
Into its descent and almost at the tip of the overgrown field, a distant gurgle rang out and the rabbit seemingly disappeared.
“What the fuck?” Bill pumped his shotgun.
“Easy. Easy.” Michael lifted his hand. “Give me another rabbit.”
Johnny handed him one.
With a strategy in mind, Michael tossed the rabbit, only he tossed it high in the air, just not far.
The crunch of the snow was heard just before another gurgle and a blurry flash of flesh color move. The rabbit not only didn’t make it to the ground, it seemingly burst like a water balloon of blood.
Lars smiled smugly at Michael. “See?”
Michael’s eyes were wide. “No. You guys rigged that.”
“For crying out loud,” Lars barked. “I know you have a lot of hair on that head, but is your skull that thick?”
“What the hell is that?” Bill, with his shot gun held out, walked toward the field.
“Bill,” Michael called out. “Stop.”
“No, Chief. I wanna see what killed Lester.” Bill trudged out a few feet. “I won’t get too close. Toss another rabbit.” He walked a few more feet.
Michael aimed out. “You guys toss. I’m covering.”
“He’s not safe out there,” Johnny warned. “But . . .” He lifted a rabbit and threw it.
The rabbit sailed out and landed.
Bill shook his head.”Nothing.” He peered over his shoulder back to Michael. “Nothing is . . .” A very short whizzing sound came right before the hard, wet whap to the side of Bill’s head sent him back a foot. “What the fuck?” He lifted his hand to his face, pulled down his fingertips, and looked. Blood. It wasn’t his and as he gazed down to the ground, he saw the mangled and bloodied rabbit remains. “Oh, shit, it threw it . . .” Bill never got a chance to finish his sentence. The loud growl accompanied the hard force that pelted into him and knocked him back to the ground.
Michael charged forth when he heard Bill’s blood curdling screams emerge from the field.
Johnny and Lars followed right behind.
“Oh fuck. Fuck.” Michael raised his shot gun when he arrived at Bill, only to see that Johnny spoke the truth. It looked like a baby. Only the baby perched upon Bill’s chest was gnawing fast and ferociously.
“Shoot it,” Lars ordered.
Michael aimed but all he saw was an infant.
With a baseball bat in his right hand, and a cattle prod in his left, Johnny lunged forward. Without hesitation, he zapped the small predator from Bill. With a squeal, the killer baby ejected up high and on its way down, Johnny swung out, batting the killer baby a good fifty feet.
“Get him to the truck!” Johnny yelled.
Lars reached down to help Michael. “Stew, watch out!”
Another gurgle. Another baby. Both hands on the bat, Johnny focused and swung.
Crack.
Hustling, Lars and Michael picked up a bleeding and in shock Bill and carried him toward the truck.
From the left shot another baby and no sooner did Johnny finish swinging that one away, another came from his right. He connected with that small predator as well. Deciding to return to make his catch, as he readied to turn and run, Johnny saw it. Another. Only this one wasn’t a infant or in baby form. It resembled a larger toddler.
“Oh, shit,” Johnny said with a hint of a chuckle just before the killer toddler shot his way. The baseball bat was an unlikely defense but it was one Johnny had to try. Mid swing, the predator caught the bat with his teeth. “Shit.” Johnny struggled, moving the bat left to right, but his enemy would not let go. So Johnny did. With the force of the tug of war, the distorted child shot back a few feet, quickly regained his footing, and soared Johnny’s way.
In a swing out of his left hand, Johnny zapped the attacker. The mutated child froze. With his scream, his body jolted violently, and in that, Johnny took advantage,
Swiftly he brought down the electric roper and secured the killer child around the neck. Then while he had him, just for assurance, Johnny held the prod to him again, zapping it into a unconscious state.
Quiet.
Holding the metal end of the rope, Johnny nudged it with his foot. It breathed a gurgle but didn’t move. Grinning ear to ear, he turned and quickly headed back, dragging the thing behind him. “I got one!”
Out of breath as he secured Bill in the back of the truck, Michael looked up. “Swell. Is he smiling?”
“I believe so.”
Shaking his head, Michael looked at Lars. “Bet me it’s genetic.”
CHAPTER TEN
The twelve women laughed and cheered. A victory celebration would be had as soon as they prepared refreshments.
“Ladies.” Jenny held up her hands to silence them, “OK, I know this little battle ended sooner than we anticipated, but it went well. We rattled them like they have done so many times to us. Now, we should have known Joe would end it, and Frank, he’s just too smart. Well, scratch that. He can be intuitive.” She glanced down to her watch. “I have to hurry back to class. Please pass on to the other ladies that we will meet at the House of Lesbians tonight for more planning.” Giving a goodbye smile, Jenny left the library.
Marma was a huskier woman, made almost masculine by the world gone bad. She had short cropped brown hair and a wide body with large breasts that blended in their sagging with her thick gut. She turned in her chair from the single computer and ejected the disk from the drive. Handing it to Carol, another woman from New Bowman, Marma caught a glimpse of Misha just leaning against the table, deep in thought.
“The minutes?” Carol asked, seeing Marma’s attention was elsewhere.
“Yes. Keep them hidden. What’s wrong with Misha?”
Carol shrugged. “She’s ungrateful. I mean, we’re doing this all for her. You don’t think she’s changing her mind, do you?”
“I don’t know. Why would she? We’re really not hurting anything, just stirring things up. Let’s go ask her.” Marma moved to Misha. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh.” Misha closed her eyes and shook her head.
“You aren’t changing your mind, are you?” Marma asked.
“No. I feel like justice isn’t being served by playing these games.”
“To be honest, hon,” Marma spoke in a husky way, “you can’t do much more than play games. You really don’t want to hurt anyone, just disrupt.”
“Yes, but will they learn to treat us with respect? Will they really pay? Or better yet, will . . .” Misha stopped talking and lowered her voice when two wome
n walked by her. In a secretive manner, she leaned into Marma. “Will he pay and learn?”
Marma nodded with an ‘ah’.
Excited, Carol made her way over. “Ladies. Good news! Misha, you’ll love this. Guess who just got blamed for the spoons?” She grinned. “Dean.”
Marma gave a nudge to Misha. “There. See? Justice!”
Misha rolled her eyes. “Justice. Dean? He is what even a lot of men call a dick.”
Marma and Carol gasped.
“I’m very serious,” Misha continued. “You think he will care? He will not even see the message. He never sees his wrongs. All of this will not affect him at all.”
Carol gave a shrug. “Well, isn’t it to bad then that we couldn’t just get into his mind and make him see the error of his ways.”
Misha almost blew off what Carol said, and then the words registered. With a bright and thinking smile, Misha raised her head. “There might be.”
^^^^^
After taking a momentary stare in thought, Joe rubbed his chin, breathed out, and closed the door to his office. “You can’t blame it on genetics, Dean.” Joe headed back to his desk. He passed Dean with a comforting hand. “I did the best I could. Look at me. Robbie. Hal . . .well, even Hal. It didn’t come from me. It must have been something his mother ate.”
“I was mobbed, Joe.” Dean dabbed the wet cloth to his lip. “It took everything I had to get out of there. And Andrea . . . she stopped, looked, and left.”
“I know.”
“Joe, I was in a good mood. I can’t even tell you how many hits with bent spoons I took. Are they insane?”
“Pretty much so. And misled. I can do something about this, Dean.”
“No.” Dean tossed the rag. “They apologized..”
“Good. That’s very big of . . . come in,” Joe called out.
Dean looked up. “No one knocked.”
“He will.”
A knock on the door rang out.
Dean turned in his chair and looked back to Joe. “How did you know?”
“The asshole was peeking in the window first.”
The door opened and Frank walked in. “Hey, Dad. Am I early for the meeting?”
“No. Hal’s running late,” Joe answered. “Have a seat.”
The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 307