by Gini Koch
Looked hard at who was driving. “Um, gang? Despite our hopes to the contrary, it’s totally not over.”
Charmaine was at the wheel.
CHAPTER 87
“WHY IS THAT horrible woman driving the machine?” Rhee asked.
The music changed to “Everyone Knows You’re Crazy” by Royal Crown Review. Swing instead of Latin beats, but whatever worked. “Because she’s totally cray. That’s why.”
“Let’s handle her,” Jeff said with a sigh.
“Not just no, but hell no.” All the mouths opened. Put up the paw. All the jaws slammed shut. The One True FLOTUS Power worked its magic again. “This woman is my nemesis. I’ve known her less than a month and I hate her more than most of our other enemies. Put together. As such, I’m going to beat the crap out of her. The President of the United States is going to be taken to safety now, just in case the Zamboni Gambit is to distract us so that ninja cyborgs can attack us or something.”
“But—” Reader started.
Put up the paw. He stopped speaking. Indicated we needed to move out of the way of the Zamboni, which we did. Once out of the path, put the paw down. “May I mention that my very young and talented children are somewhere supposedly safe but without either one of their parents nearby to reassure them that everything’s okay?”
“Shouldn’t that reassurance come from you?” Jeff asked hopefully.
Gave him a look I ensured was icy, pun totally intended. “Are you insinuating that a woman’s role is only to cower and comfort, as opposed to kick butt and that, as a man, you’re unwilling to comfort our children and take a less active role because, frankly, your job demands it?”
“Ah, no. Never. Because I’m not stupid.”
“No partnering this time, Missus Martini?” White asked, sounding disappointed.
“I think it’s better form for this to go girl-on-girl, rather than us ganging up on her. I can guarantee there are still cameras rolling.” The others nodded. Nice of them to see reason. “Speaking of which, someone find that cameraman, the new one with Good Day USA! who’s also a traitor.”
“We caught him already,” Reader said. “Because we were doing things other than watching you practice for the ice dancing event at the next Olympics. He claimed to not know what was in his bag. We don’t believe him.”
“Why so tense, James? Too much caffeine?”
“You’re planning to fight a cyborg with a broken hockey stick?” Jeff asked, presumably to stop us from bantering. Sad when your husband joined the haters.
“Nope. Rhee, if you would?”
She handed me her battle staff with a little bow. “I am honored you chose my weapon.” Rahmi looked disappointed. There was a lot of that going on right now.
Heaved an internal sigh. There was always time to take a moment to teach the big lessons. “Let’s remember what true honor is in these situations, girls.”
“To ensure that your opponent is really most sincerely dead,” they chorused cheerfully.
“That’s what I like to hear!” The princesses beamed while the men all tried to hide their shuddering. Looked around. The Zamboni was “barreling” toward us. Had us move out of its way again. Took almost no effort to do so.
“Does she really think she’s going to run us down in that?” Tim asked.
“I think she does, yeah. Now, get Jeff out through the player’s locker room. If I need assistance, we have all the Pissed-Off Peregrines here, and the Poofs are always ready to Assemble. I’ll call for help if I need it, I promise. Rahmi, take point along with Mister White, and don’t assume that all the enemies are down, but also don’t randomly attack someone. Follow Richard’s lead.”
Jeff, Reader, and Tim all looked like they wanted to know why they hadn’t scored taking the point position, but they were all smart enough to keep quiet. Leaned up and gave Jeff a quick kiss. “Take care of the kids and keep the home fires burning.”
He heaved a sigh. “Be careful, baby.”
“Always, as you know.”
“Never that I’ve ever seen.” With that, Rahmi and White headed for the player’s exit while Rhee took Jeff’s arm and led him off the ice, Reader and Tim flanking them. They all had to go more slowly on the cleaned ice, but managed it without anyone going down.
Waited until they were off the ice to face the Zamboni. Yeah, nine miles an hour wasn’t all that fast and, to top it off, Zambonis weren’t all that maneuverable. Charmaine hadn’t watched a lot of hockey, or else she hadn’t paid attention, because she wasn’t giving the Zamboni enough room to turn and was very soon going to run into a wall.
Beta Twelve battle staffs were a lot like a javelin-light saber combo. They responded best to women, and by now I’d used one many times. But I waited. Might as well recharge the human batteries, though I wasn’t enraged now, just kind of weirdly amused.
Checked the upper levels. Mom and the others weren’t up there anymore, which was fine. Looked up at the rigging. Was pretty sure Siler and Mossy were still at their sniper posts.
The music changed to Saliva’s “She Can Sure Hide Crazy.” About time we got some rock. Definitely helped me start to get revved up. Found myself bobbing to the beat and getting ready to fight.
“And we’re back, folks,” Johnny announced. “Interesting developments while we were on commercial break. A blonde woman has taken control of the Zamboni and appears to be trying to run down the First Lady with it.”
“Which is pretty hard to do if the First Lady’s mobile, which she is,” Mitch shared. “Also, this woman is a terrible Zamboni driver.”
“She should have asked the professional operator for help, Mitch, I totally agree.”
Was fast losing any desire to meet Mitch and Johnny in person. However, they had a point, and sincerely hoped the Zamboni’s official operator was safely in a honeycomb shelter, not dead somewhere in the arena. I put nothing past people who would send a ton of flying pucks at us at a charity event for a school.
Charmaine was nearing the next turn and, sure enough, she couldn’t make it. She managed to stop before she hit the boards and protective glass, but just barely. How she’d managed to actually clean some of the ice was beyond me. Maybe she’d hit some levers or pushed some buttons in an attempt to make the thing go faster and it had worked out. Sort of.
“You might want to back that puppy up,” I called to her.
As she tried to do so, noticed movement in the stands. Mister Joel Oliver, Bellie on his shoulder, and Dion were both sneaking down toward the ice. Oliver had what looked like a boom mic and Dion had a video camera, though not the one the traitor cameraman had been using—that one had gotten trashed ages ago.
Memory nudged. There was a question I wanted answered, and now was a good time to ask it, so that she’d stay focused on me and not notice Oliver and Dion. Bellie was amazingly silent, for which I was sure we were all grateful. Chose not to question how the bird had gotten in—she’d probably charmed the male security guards and they were now part of her fan club.
“So, Charmaine, how did you get your flunky onto the Good Day USA! crew?”
“Some of us have pull. I had one of my friends contact the production company as soon as I realized that one of the anchors was going to have their cameraman fired.”
Nice to be right again. “You spent a lot of money to launch this attack.”
She glared at me. “And it would have been worth it.” She was still struggling with the Zamboni and still going nowhere.
“You suck at this, Charmaine. At evil plotting and Zamboni operation both.”
Apparently that was all it took or Charmaine gave up easily. She leaped off the Zamboni as the music changed to “Livin’ la Vida Loca” by Ricky Martin. And just like that we were back to Latin beats. Worked for me. Started to spin the battle staff as I slide-skated slowly toward her on the portion of cleaned ice nearest
to me. Maybe cyborgs also fought to a syncopated beat.
“Why aren’t you dead?” Charmaine shrieked at me.
Oliver and Dion were both on the ice. Oliver made the “we’re rolling” motion. Had figured they were—why else would they be risking being down here with a crazed woman badly driving a Zamboni on the loose?
“I’m good at surviving.”
“Well, not after tonight!” With that, she launched herself at me.
Well, she tried. Only she’d had to walk onto the slick ice and she was wearing high heels. Clearly this woman had never been to a sporting event in her life. She fell forward, which was not the way you wanted to fall on the ice.
“You done?” Waited for another attack from someone competent.
Was still waiting when Charmaine managed to slip and slide her way to the choppier ice and regain her footing, so to speak. “I . . . will . . . end . . . you!”
“Why? I mean, why do you hate me so much? I don’t get it. I’m clear that you’ve hated me from Day One, I just don’t actually understand why.”
“Because you ruined everything!”
“That is my specialty, I’ll give you that. What things in particular did you care about?”
“Zachary was going to be the Vice President! Then Marcia would have an accident and I’d leave Robert! And then Zachary would be President and I’d be the First Lady. You don’t deserve to be in the White House! You’re nothing but a common . . . a common . . .”
“Street rat?” Hey, I could channel Aladdin with the best of them. It was interesting to discover that Charmaine and Kramer had been plotting for a lot longer than we’d figured. Wondered if they’d planned to kill Gideon Cleary once they were all in office together, then gave myself the duh on this one. Of course they had. The question was—who else was supporting them?
“Yes! You went to some meaningless university. You’ve done nothing to deserve your position. You’re just . . . just . . . just lucky!”
“Arizona State is the largest university in the country, and it’s a great school that didn’t put me into fifty years of debt. My husband and I actually care about more than ourselves, and we’re where we are not because we want to be but because we actually do the jobs, instead of gloat about the positions and power. And, yeah, you’re right. I am lucky.”
As the music changed to “Right Behind You” by Brandon Flowers, Bellie screamed and I spun around to see Ansom Somerall and Talia Lee both leap the glass like the princesses had. Their expressions were odd—eyes wide, expressions slack. Likely meaning that the Shadow had asked the Kendroid to install a zombie switch in their heads.
Now the situation was a little dicier. I had a confirmed cyborg on one side and two people who were under someone else’s control on the other. Somerall and Lee might not be cyborgs, but if their brains were controlled then they probably weren’t going to feel pain and were going to have more strength because their brains were telling them that it was so.
Really didn’t want to decapitate these people if I could help it. Not only was that a big negative for Jeff’s approval rating, but the Cordell twins had just lost their father—she might suck, but Charmaine was the only parent they had. And while I had no love for Somerall or Lee, they weren’t under their own control.
Could call in the Peregrines and Poofs like I’d said I would, but that would mean that they’d shred or eat these people on national television. My animals—all of them, be they domestic or extremely foreign—would be quarantined at best or killed most likely under the idea that they’d murdered “innocent people.” I owned a pit bull—it wasn’t hard to extrapolate the outcome if the Peregrines attacked or the Poofs went large and in charge.
Sent out a mental brainwave telling the animals to stay put, no matter what. Bruno wasn’t happy with the order, but he agreed to abide by it. The Poofs sent me warm fuzzies. Bellie said too damn bad—she was ready for her close-up and I wasn’t taking it away from her. Decided I’d live with that.
Defensive fighting for the win, then. They and Jeff’s approval rating were all lucky that I’d just deactivated the glowing end of the staff as the three of them attacked me at once.
I’d studied kung fu for many years, and I was trained in staff. Kung fu used a lot of forms, all of which were practiced at slow speeds, but they were designed to teach you how to fight multiple opponents with the expectation that you’d be moving a lot faster in an actual fight.
There were specialized staff forms, and I started doing one of them—Tiger Sleeps in the Grass. Which sounded sweet and snuggly, but was actually a really nasty form focused on taking out your opponents’ knees, groins, and temples. You hit them in a lot of other areas, too, but those were where the most debilitating hits went.
The form worked well, and I was executing it flawlessly—leaping to avoid hits here, slamming the staff against a head while I kicked out a knee there, ramming the butt of the staff into a stomach now, hitting a back with the length of the staff then, all while sincerely hoping my instructors were all watching this particular rank test—but my opponents weren’t normal. It was creepy as hell to take out Somerall’s knee and watch him keep going, leg dragging funny, just like he was a zombie. Zombie switch was definitely the right term.
Had no idea how to get out of this, because, short of me or someone else killing them, I was going to tire out a lot quicker than my opponents.
The music changed to “Bleed Into Your Mind” by The All-American Rejects, and I realized that Trevor had told me what to go for. Had no idea how to do it, though, and I needed to figure it out fast.
Bellie cawed her new name for me. “Floaty! Floaty! Floaty!” Sounded like she was cheering for me. I’d take it—currently needed all the support I could get.
Charmaine grimaced. “What is it with you and that damn bird?”
Always enjoyed when inspiration chose to show up. “Bellie, come to Floaty!”
CHAPTER 88
BELLIE CAWED JOYFULLY and swooped right over, avoiding my opponents’ attempts to hit or grab her. She landed on my shoulder. “Bellie loves Floaty!”
“And Floaty’s found a whole new appreciation for you, too, Bellie. Do Floaty a big favor—spend quality time with Charmaine over there. Just be sure she can’t hurt Bellie. Floaty doesn’t want Bellie to lose a single feather.”
Bellie cooed, rubbed her head against mine, and lifted off. Screaming a bird battle cry instead of a word. It was, however, the same battle cry the Peregrines had used, with a slight modification—Bellie was aware that Charmaine was no one’s son.
Charmaine screamed as Bellie aimed her talons at Charmaine’s face. Despite being a cyborg, she literally had no fighting skills when it came to the bird, and instead of doing anything smart, just flailed at the parrot, which was great. Bellie was going to take her battle easily.
Now that Charmaine was occupied, had to figure out how to cause Somerall and Lee to overload. Didn’t have a lot of ideas, but before I could put even a weak plan into action, the Zamboni moved backward. Kramer was at the wheel.
Whether he’d paid attention or was just luckier than Charmaine, he got it backed up and headed for us. He didn’t look zombie-brained, but he didn’t look sane, either. Then again, Charmaine had shared their plots with me and, therefore, the media.
Distraction wasn’t good. Somerall and Lee grabbed my arms. Thought they were going to pull, but they didn’t. They didn’t move at all, other than to yank the staff away from me. Somerall was the one to do this, which was a relief. The staff might respond to Lee, but Somerall was unlikely to be able to activate it.
Kramer had the Zamboni cleaning the ice, just as Charmaine had. This was great for the rink, not so hot for anyone else, since a Zamboni’s blades were scary big and sharp. If they could cut through ice, cutting through people was a piece of cake.
Kramer aimed for Oliver and Dion, who had to scramble off
the ice to get to safety, Dion filming the whole way, Oliver keeping him moving. They didn’t leave but stayed in the stands, out of Zamboni range.
Once they were run off, Kramer curved the Zamboni in the tightest turn it could make, which wasn’t all that tight. However, it was effective—realized we were now right in the path of the Zamboni. And, despite my best efforts, couldn’t get away from Somerall and Lee.
Charmaine and Bellie were still swirling around each other, and Charmaine, who hadn’t taken off her high heels, slipped and fell. Right in the Zamboni’s path.
“Bellie, get away from her!”
Bellie squawked and flew toward me. At the last moment she changed course and landed on the top of Somerall’s head. He didn’t move or even react, and neither did Lee, which was totally creepy, and also indicated they were being controlled by someone who was likely watching. My money was on the Shadow.
Meanwhile, Charmaine was still on the ground and the Zamboni was headed straight for her. “Charmaine, you need to get up!” Tried to pull away again, but I wasn’t enraged, just kind of horrified.
She tried, but she was slipping and she was on a slick part of the ice. Kramer had the Zamboni at top speed for sure. “Zachary, what the hell are you doing?” I shouted. Maybe he didn’t realize his girlfriend was on the ice in front of him. “You’re going to run over Charmaine!”
He smiled at me, and it was a really awful smile—the kind of smile someone gives when their mind’s snapped. Apparently Kramer wasn’t great at all this evil plotting stuff either, though he was far better at Zamboni operation than Charmaine.
She was clawing her way on the ice, but wasn’t moving nearly fast enough. The music changed to “My Old School” by Steely Dan, and the chorus said how the Donald Fagen was never going back to his old school. Which, under these particular circumstances, boded in a big way. “Let me go, you mindless automatons! He’s going to kill her!”
“And you’ll be next!” Kramer shouted. He followed that up with a maniacal laugh. Yeah, he was definitely around the bend.