Tesla's Stepdaughters

by Wesley Allison

  Andrews was out of his seat and leaping onto the stage before anyone else had moved. Sliding down next to Penny, he pulled aside her blazer to find a bullet hole in her left shoulder. Blood was oozing out in thick red waves.

  “Get off the stage!” he yelled at the others, while he jumped to interpose himself between the fallen redhead and most of the audience. He glanced over his shoulders and in the back of his mind realized that there was no way to tell from where the shot had come. Looking around for someone to help him move Penny, he could find no one. All hell had broken loose. The audience was screaming and stampeding over each other to get out of the Cow Palace, and the stage hands were running for the exits as well. Picking the redhead up, he carried her behind the backstage curtains, immediately setting her down so that he could apply pressure to her wound.

  “I need help here!” he yelled. Suddenly the other Ladybugs were there.

  “Ruth, get an ambulance. There should be one standing by. Piffy, we need bandages. Steffie, press your hands here. We need to stop the bleeding. Damn it. Damn it! I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

  Chapter Seventeen: Mercy General

  The doctor sat down and placed her head between her knees, taking several deep breaths. As tiresome as Andrews sometimes found the reactions that women had to meeting him—to meeting a man for the first time in their lives, he had never found it as annoying as now.

  “Come on Doctor. Pull it together. How is she?”

  The doctor took a deep breath and got back to her feet. “I’m sorry… I’ve never… I didn’t realize…”

  “How is she?”

  “Miss Dreadful lost some blood, but we expect her to make it. She was lucky. The bullet missed her lung and while it nicked her basilic vein, it missed her brachial artery.”

  “So, she’ll be all right.”

  “Barring any complications and given time, I expect her to be fine.”

  “How long before she’s out of recovery?”

  “I think we can move her upstairs within the hour. She’ll have her own nurse there, after all. It’s as good as Intensive Care.”

  The doctor walked away and Andrews took a deep breath.

  “What’s the word?”

  He turned around to find Agent Wright. “She’ll live.”

  “Really. Well, that’s good news. I have to admit I’m surprised. She seemed pretty bad.”

  “Where are the other girls?”

  “Ryan has them back at their hotel. Don’t worry. They’re fine. I had a hell of a time convincing them that they couldn’t come here with me, but now we know that Dreadful is the target and we don’t need the others getting in the way.”

  “I agree.”

  “You should join them. I’ve got cops surrounding the hospital and I’ll be here. Besides, you’re not even part of the team anymore, at least officially.”

  “I’m staying right here. I’ve got the third floor north wing ready for Penny, and I’ll keep her safe.”

  “A whole wing? How did you manage that?”

  “They just finished renovating. They weren’t going to open it till next week. She’ll have her own nurse stationed there and I’m going to be right next to her.”

  “Well, I guess I can’t talk you out of it,” said Wright, “so I won’t even try. Just be careful. I’ll go back and keep an eye on the other three, just in case we’re wrong about who the target was.”

  An hour later, Penny was resting in her bed in the otherwise empty third floor north wing. The hospital staff had moved her in, seen to her immediate needs and then they had gone, leaving in the formerly vacant wing only the patient, a nurse and a nurse’s aide, two policemen, one stationed at either end of the hallway, and Andrews himself. He sat down in the chair next to her bed and looked at her. Not surprisingly, she looked like hell—pale and drawn and completely unlike the vibrant larger than life rock star. An IV dripped solution into her veins, but she was breathing on her own and her breaths seemed strong and regular.

  The next thing that Andrews knew, he was waking up. He must have dozed watching Penny sleep. It was still an hour or so before dawn and through the window he could see heavy clouds were moving across the sky. He looked carefully at the injured Ladybug. She was sleeping quietly and some of the color had come back to her cheeks. Grabbing the phone from beside the bed, he called the nurse’s station and checked in.

  “I was in just a few minutes ago,” said the nurse. “Miss Dreadful is doing fine. Her vitals are stable. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “That’s fine. Thank you.”

  When he finished the call, he remembered that he was waiting for information from the Los Angeles field office. He had the hospital switchboard connect him with an outside line and made the call.

  “We gave the information to your partner about two hours ago,” said the supervising agent on the other end of the line.

  “Can you go ahead and give it to me again?” asked Andrews.

  “We didn’t have any agents fired in the past six months. We had two retirees and one transfer.”

  “Do you have names?”

  “Yes. The two retirees were Meg Sherman and Wanda Rao. The transfer was Patricia Ryan.”

  “Did you say Patricia Ryan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have the reason for her transfer?”

  “No, but it was a disciplinary issue. That’s all the information that I have here. I don’t have the personnel file. I just have the data card from the electronic brain.”

  “Shit,” he muttered after hanging up.

  Quickly reconnecting with the hospital switchboard, he called the Ladybugs’ hotel. It took him a minute to convince the hotel operator to put him through, but at last he had Ep!phanee on the line.

  “Is Penny going to be okay?”

  “She’s going to be fine. Is Agent Wright there?”

  “Um, no. I haven’t seen either of our Science Police for a couple of hours, I don’t think.”

  “Ryan’s not there either?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Good. Here’s what I want you to do—the three of you, sneak out of the hotel. Find someplace else to stay. I know you can do it. You’ve done it before. Whatever you do, don’t let Agent Ryan know where you are.”

  “What’s going on? You don’t think Agent Ryan is the shooter, do you?”

  “Nothing’s for sure yet, but I’ve found out some information about Ryan that doesn’t sound good, at least on the surface. Until I’ve checked it out, we’re not going to take any chances with her. When you’re somewhere safe, call me at the hospital and let me know where you are.”

  “All right,” said Piffy. “We’re...”

  The line suddenly went dead. Andrews pressed the receiver button several times but got no dial tone. The trouble was here in the hospital. Telephone connections went out occasionally, but considering the circumstances he didn’t think this was a coincidence. Stepping to the door, he carefully poked his head out. He looked both directions, but could see neither of the police officers who were supposed to be stationed there.

  “Nurse?” he called.

  The only answer was that the lights at the nurses’ station went out. Then the lights all down the length of the hallway went out. Finally the light in the room behind him was extinguished.

  “Shit.”

  He closed the door and checked, but there was no lock. He moved the rolling tray table against the portal, but it was the wrong height to wedge it under the doorknob. Hurrying back to the bed, he pulled down the side railing and lifted Penny. He had to set her back down and then unhook her IV bottle from the holder. Placing it on her belly, he lifted her again and carried her to the bathroom. He sat her in the tub and then shut the door on his way back out. Sitting on the cold linoleum floor with his back against the bathroom door, he pulled out his coil gun.

  Listening carefully, he tried to discern the sounds of footsteps in the hall, but he could hear none. But he did hear so
mething else. He heard the high pitched whine of a coil gun’s solenoid charging. He looked down at his weapon. He hadn’t yet turned it on. He did so now. Shit. It was Ryan. Nobody but Science Police agents carried this type of gun.

  The door slowly opened, pushing the rolling cart with it. There was still enough light coming in through the window to clearly make out a coil gun being pushed into the room, held by a slender but strong hand. Andrews fired a burst of flechettes, splintering the door around the hand, which was quickly withdrawn.

  “Son of a bitch!” But it wasn’t Agent Ryan’s voice. It was Wright’s.

  “I see you’re awake,” she called through the door.

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry about this,” she said loudly. “I really didn’t want to kill you. I just wanted to snuff the dyke.”

  “Why?”

  The door flew open, but not enough for Andrews to see Wright. Two bursts of flechettes tore up the bed where Penny should have been lying.

  “Did I get her?”

  “No you didn’t get her, you psycho bitch! What the hell is your problem?”

  “She’s a deviant. She’s trying to convert the world to lesbians.”

  “But you’re a lesbian.”

  “I’m not a lesbian,” she snarled. “I’m a man.”

  “You’re not a man. You’re just a chick with penis envy.”

  Wright arm stuck in the room and fired toward him, missing high and to the right of where he was sitting. He fired back, again hitting only the inside of the door.

  “I thought it was Ryan,” he said.

  “So will everyone else. Too bad she can’t explain why. I had to kill her when she resisted arrest.”

  Andrews dropped to his stomach and rolled across the room, and then crawled on his knees and elbows to just beneath the center of the bed. The door flew open and Wright dived into the room, blasting the bathroom door right where he had just been sitting with dozens of the tiny iron darts from her coil gun. She landed on the floor right in front of him. He pulled the trigger and held it on full automatic. Blood sprayed around the room and Wright’s body jerked spasmodically as it was torn apart by the stream of iron flechettes.

  Chapter Eighteen: Central Park West and Beyond

  “I’m glad you have your gun and badge back,” said Ep!phanee as she and Andrews walked arm in arm down Central Park West toward her apartment. “I can’t imagine you as anything but a Science Police agent.”

  “The hearing was only a formality, once everything was pieced together anyway. Poor Ryan. She didn’t even know why Wright shot her.”

  “And how are you?” asked Piffy, her voice filled with concern.

  “I really liked Wright… you know… as a partner.” He shook his head to clear it. “How about the tour?”

  “We’re going to reschedule concerts in San Diego, Montreal, and Mexico City some time—probably after Asia. I felt really bad about cancelling those last three shows, but it was that or to do them without Penny and that wouldn’t really be a Ladybugs concert.”

  She paused to sign an autograph for a girl of about fifteen with a blue Ep!phanee hairdo.

  “How is she feeling?”

  “Who? Oh, Penny. She’s well on the way to recovery. Arizona will do that for you. The air is dry and the water is alkaline.”

  “I didn’t realize that you numbered a medical degree among your many achievements.”

  “Dr. Theresa M. Boogie at your service.”

  “I know that name,” he said, scrunching his forehead.

  “That’s my pseudonym when I played backup for Carmen George.” She tugged playfully on his elbow. “So what are you going to do?”

  “About what?”

  “You know, about what.”

  “I… I don’t know. It’s a big decision.”

  “The four most eligible women in the world want you. That’s not a hard decision, Big John. It’s a God damned gift from heaven.”

  “Maybe. But I’ve still only known you for a little over a month.”

  “We’ve known you for just over a month,” she corrected. “You’ve known us for years. We are famous, you know.”

  He sighed.

  “Next Tuesday, we’re all meeting back at Thatch Cay to start laying down some tracks and relaxing on the beach.”

  “Will Penny be well enough to do that?”

  She waved dismissively. “Don’t try to change the subject. Anyway… if you can twist your mind around enough to make a decision, the decision you should have made already, I might add, you should join us.”

  “And get married…”

  “Eventually. The five of us will have to discuss all the details. I’m sure it won’t happen right away. You’ll have some months to sow your wild oats…that’s a good title for a song.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Well, this is my stop.” She waved her hand toward the high gables, deep roofs, balconies, and balustrades of the North German Renaissance inspired Dakota Apartment Building.

  “Beautiful building,” said Andrews. “But it looks damned expensive.”

  “Oh it is. But it’s a must for those eight or ten weeks I spend in New York. Just think… it could be yours.”

  He grinned. “You really think that real estate will sweeten the deal?”

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She stood up on her toes and gave him a deep kiss. “See you in eight days.”

  She turned to sign autographs for a half dozen women milling around near the apartment gate, and he turned and walked back down the street the way they had come. He’d taken no more than twenty steps when he was passed by yet another fan going the other direction. He chuckled to himself at how they imitated their idol. This one had an imitation of Ep!phanee’s dark blue tour costume—spandex leggings and bustier. Suddenly he stopped. He recognized her face. She was the crazy fan in the rafters of the Chicago Stadium. Her hair was bright blue now and she had a nose ring, but it was her.

  He turned and ran after the woman. She was only a few feet from the Ladybug.

  “Ep!phanee?” she called.

  As Piffy turned toward her, the woman’s hand rose up, and this time it contained no camera, but a .38 snub nose revolver. Andrews dived for her, hitting her dead center as the gun went off.

  * * * * *

  Andrews rolled over. He had a deep pain in his side. “Ouch,” he said.

  “I told you to be careful,” said Penny. “You shouldn’t have tried to take on Steffie the very first time you played volleyball. She’s a ruthless bitch at that game.”

  “It’s just a Charlie horse,” said Ruth. “Let me rub that for you.”

  A breeze blew in from the sea, giving a cool hint of the bright blue water. The group was gathered beneath the large square awning. Andrews and Ruth were lying side by side on the sand. Penny and Steffie were both resting on lounge chairs, little snoring sounds emanating from the latter. Lars was digging through the ice chest for a soda.

  “Get me one of those too, Sport,” said Andrews.

  “You don’t have time to drink. It’s time for your first spear fishing expedition.” He looked up at Piffy, walking toward him across the sand with a pair of spear guns in one hand and two sets of goggles and fins in the other.

  “You don’t still have any blood oozing out, do you?” He pointed to the large manta ray tattoo occupying most of her chest, the tips of its wings almost touching her bare nipples. It had an outline and details, but had not yet been colored in. “I don’t want any sharks showing up.”

  “Don’t be a girl,” she said.

  THE END

  Tesla’s Stepdaughters: Guide to the World and the Music of the Ladybugs

  By Wesley Allison

  The World

  The world of the Ladybugs was our world until 1916. During what was known as The Great War, German scientist Anton Casimir Dilger had come up with a plan to keep America from joining the allies. Not content to poison American cattle with Anthrax
, he had created a strain of an existing disease; some said influenza, though no one had ever identified the original. With it he had infected several cities along the east coast. Though initially killing almost sixty million men, women, and children, the disease mutated over time to affect only the males of the species. There had been more than 850 million men on earth before he began his sabotage. By 1930, there were less than 200 million, and by 1950 there were less than 10 million.

  Governments sent their remaining men to enclaves in the far southern reaches of the globe where the disease didn’t seem as virulent, and there most of them remained. In the last years of his life, the great inventor Nicola Tesla, in an attempt to save the species, designed and built the baby vats, where girls were grown from their mothers’ cells. The first vat babies were born just after Tesla’s death in 1943.

  In 1956, the remaining totalitarian nations tried to expand across the world, taking advantage of the chaos caused by the disease. Democratic nations quickly allied to defeat the dictators. The war brought together the now mostly female nations as they had never been before, resulting in a world government. The Science Council, a meritocracy with its capital in Brussels, led this new world. With an international army known as the Peace Force and an international police force called the Science Police, the new world set about to rebuild civilization. Several reminders of the war remain however. The San Joaquin Channel, the fourteen-mile wide strip of seawater, which separates the island of California from the rest of North America, was once known as the San Joaquin Valley. The area around Portland remains caught in a permanent thunderstorm resulting in unrelenting rain for more than twenty years. And a good portion of Florida simply no longer exists.

  Even in a new and strange world, memories of the old world lingered on. Women in America gathered to watch baseball games played by the Atlanta Belles or the New York Pixies, while women in Europe watched football games. Hot dogs became a staple in the north. With neither a Civil Rights Movement nor a twentieth century Women’s Movement, some old ideas hung on. Even though men had been gone from most of society for years, there was the tradition around the world of women not going out unescorted by a man. Some women took to dressing and acting the part of men. These faux-men were tolerated and even encouraged. With no men to escort women, someone just had to take their place. Sex in some ways was really just an extension of that, but nobody talked about it. Women pretended that faux-men were men and for the most part, treated them that way. But women who openly had sexual relationships with other women, or at least with other women who looked like women, were ostracized.