Bite Me!

by David J. Wighton

  He'd continue his patter. In his mind, he was thinking. Of course, she wanted to have sex with him. He only needed to get her alone somewhere. Some men thought that this would allow her to release the pent-up desires that she had for him; she'd willingly agree to a sexual encounter when other people weren't around to see. She was just maintaining her reputation; but in the sack, she'd be a wild woman. Other men wanted to get her alone so that they could take what they wanted whether she wanted them to have it or not. Both were dangerous, but the second type overly so because they would beat and/or kill.

  When she finished her second drink, Bean would stand up and say. "I'm leaving now. I'm going to have my workout and head to bed. Alone. I do not want to have sex with you."

  He would offer to see her safely home. She'd say that she couldn't stop him, but she didn't want to be seen with him. She'd leave the bar alone. He'd wait a few minutes and then trail her home. When she started to open the outside door to her building, he'd move up to her side and say something like, "I'll make sure nobody is hiding in the hallway, shall I?"

  Once inside her room, she'd clear some space and inform her guest that her workout consisted of a dance routine. She would be removing some, but not all of her clothes. If her dance bothered him, he should leave. Again she announced, "I do not want to have sex with you."

  Bean's dance was actually a series of martial arts moves that could be lethal if performed at high speed. Bean used them at slow speed to calm herself. She had first started to dance before bedtime when she was struggling with some demons. She'd perform each step of the routine slowly, deliberately, even languidly while repeating in her mind something that she was trying to accept at the time. One of her favorite mantras was: I'm not responsible for a man trying to rape me because a wisp of my hair is showing. Another favorite was: If a man becomes aroused because I look at his face, he's the one that's nutso. I'm not.

  Bean removed her outer clothes, but only to give her the ability to move freely. She was not wearing anything revealing or provocative beneath them. But periodically, during the workout, she'd stop and say. "If this is bothering you, leave. I do not want to have sex with you."

  When the dance was over, Bean entered the bathroom without a word or a look at her visitor. She closed the door, removed the rest of her clothes, turned on the shower, and stepped into the tub. She turned toward the showerhead so that she wouldn't see him when he came into the tub.

  By this point, any man still there would be stepping into the tub soon. Usually, they'd have forced rape on their mind. A scrawny girl like her wouldn't stand a chance.

  Bean would hear the shower curtain open, and a male voice saying something like, "I thought I'd help you wash your back."

  She waited until she felt the first touch of flesh on flesh. Then she'd turn to face him, place her left hand on his chest, and push him backward. "I told you I do not want to have sex with you," she'd say. Only afterwards would the blade in her right hand flash.

  Bean had learned a chokehold in one of her classes that prevented a dying victim from making any noise. Bean would flip the knife closed and drop it in the tub. Next she'd quickly apply that chokehold with one hand, grab the charmer's shoulder with her other hand, and hold him upright while he bled to death. If he attempted to struggle, she was in ideal position to put a knee into his groin, which was already suffering from a grievous injury. While he died, she would become covered in blood too, but she didn't care. She was in a bathtub and both she and it were easy to clean.

  Later in the dead of night, she would carry his body to her copter on her shoulder, wrapped in a tarp that she had purchased for that purpose. She would take him to the Finnish coast and drop him in the water. She'd let the Finnish police try to identify a mutilated, naked dead man without any identification. They certainly wouldn't be talking to their counterparts in Scandinavia.

  Oh, and that poster she had received from the beaten woman? Three months after she had circulated the poster, the woman received the same poster in an anonymous brown envelope. The words, This man is dead, were scrawled in felt pen over his face. He died in pain was added at the bottom.

  One final word for the reader. In June 2086, when Bean met the platoon in the woods in the wilderness, Bean had been engaged in her hobby for two years. Do you remember the men in the platoon that Bean had met around their campfire and how they had bragged a lot about their operations? Here's what Bean had learned around that fire.

  Their most recent operation had been in Stockholm and specifically, in a neighbourhood of coloured immigrants. She had listened to them brag how they had raped the pestilence-carrying women of that community. Many of the soldiers carried one or more scarves from that operation. Some carried other more intimate articles of clothing. They pulled them out of their pockets to show her and their buddies. Some put the clothing on their heads and pretended to be girlish. Everybody had a good ol' time around that fire.

  These soldiers were the elements of the army the towel women were looking for. These were the men who were told to rape and they did it with great enjoyment. It's true that Benedikta had been aching to take them individually into the woods. But not for sex. She wanted them for her hobby.

  Promiscuous? No.

  Sociopath? You decide.

  Back to the Table of Contents

  Chapter 20

  The second week of June arrived before Jak had a chance to meet with Bean. After leaving Watertown, Jak had travelled to Minneapolis to examine their slave records. She was looking for more information on the young boss #24. She read that he had been taken to Chicago when he was 10 years old and had grown up to be a gang leader. He had even developed the beginnings of a prosperous peach farm. When Big Momma #4 ordered more bosses for her ranch, Safe Haven sent him as part of the package. Big Daddy was his father and this ranch had stipulated that any of his sons who survived their time in Chicago should be returned to the ranch as bosses when requested.

  The Safe Haven headquarters kept limited birth records from their seventeen ranches. For each ranch, they identified the boys by a number that indicated where he was in Big Daddy's production line and the year in which he was born. They registered no name because the ranches didn't want to go to the bother of naming their slaves. The girls were recorded in a similar fashion, but no female would ever be returned to the ranch in which she was born due to the biological consequences that could follow from a Big Daddy having sex with his own daughter. The data on the gender-based production lines enabled headquarters to check how each Big Daddy was performing gender-wise. Females brought in more money for Safe Haven than males. Big Daddies who didn't have the right touch on the gender issue could find themselves facing monetary penalties.

  Jak also checked the records to see whether Safe Haven would be able to ramp up their kidnappings sufficiently to meet Scandinavia's increased demand for white girls of different hair and eye colours all between the ages of 6 to 10. She had figured that Wilhelm wouldn't take too kindly to receiving girls of mixed white and black heritage, so Jak didn't even consider trying to tap into the crops of locally produced girl slaves coming out of the ranches at the age of 10. Safe Haven's staff of contracted kidnappers was a little low on numbers right now, but the Safe Haven executive assured her that their current staff could increase their production numbers if restrictions were removed on hair and eye colouring.

  Lastly, Jak looked at where the older kidnapped girls might be sent to be trained as assassins. The people who owned Safe Haven had an impressive list of properties that could house the kind of educational institutions Scandinavia would need to create assassins out of innocent girls. She decided that it would be better if Scandinavian instructors came to the U.S. than the girls going to Scandinavia. That way, there'd be no chance of any girls escaping and embarrassing the people in charge of the program.

  And this brought up the most important question of whether Safe Haven's ranches had sufficient security. Was Ranch #4's loss of a kidnap
ped girl a security risk that existed in all of the franchises or was it limited to Ranch #4? And what really happened on that slave island? Was that a risk facing all of the ranches? That young boss would have to be interviewed again – this time by Jak and her interrogation tools. Big Momma would not be present this time. But that interrogation could wait. Right now, Jak had to meet Bean to learn what she had found out in her search for do-gooders.

  # # # # # # # #

  Bean had found a name. The Wilizy. They fit Jak's criteria almost perfectly.

  •A group, not an individual? Check. Their exact size was unknown, but they had sufficient numbers to defeat an Alberta dictator.

  • Ability to move copters into an area quickly? Check. A war with some people in Alaska had revealed that they could fight on numerous fronts and move arms and resources quickly. In the Alberta war, they had struck military bases at opposite ends of the province simultaneously.

  • Military background? Definitely, as per the wars and battles mentioned above. Their people would be able to disable a copter and delay a search party.

  •Information has a way to reach to them? Check. A public face? Check. They ran a business operation that had large retail outlets in three different provinces. With the thousands of people moving through their stores, it would be very easy for undercover operators to send messages to the executives of the organization.

  • Do-gooders? Check. They operated a foundation that cared for abused women and children. They ran a television network that focused on education. They ran singing contests for contestants of all ages and then showed all the performances on their TV network.

  Bean had even found information that supported a theory that she had discarded. The Wilizy had told an Alaska commandant that they would give his airplanes to their children to play with. That meant that they had little children who were trained to fly. This raised the possibility that a child could have landed the copter that the town's search party saw near the river. All those faint little footprints on the ground by the picnic stash? Those could have come from Wilizy children. How did they lure Princess Freya out of the lair? By offering her food in the form of a picnic for little children.

  # # # # # # # #

  "The Wilizy look very promising, Bean. But you're not sure? What's wrong?"

  "After they defeated the Alaskans in battle, they lost their key military strategist and scientific magician in a copter explosion. They haven't operated as a military force since. At least not that I've been able to find. Their focus has become completely commercial. They'd have no reason to kidnap Princess Freya."

  "Could they have been planning to sell her back to us at a big profit?"

  "How would they know who to ask for the money?" Bean asked. "If they picked her up, they did so to rescue her. She was wandering in the wilderness. They saw her and saved her. Do-gooders. Even members of that Fort Peck Lake community wanted to save her after they saw the cook beating her. "

  "She's living with the Wilizy now," Jak concluded. "Find their home and you'll find the princess."

  "I have a lead on where their home base is. Also, I've heard that they have large high-speed transports that aren't copters. They are manufacturing planes and they are planning to sell them. I want to check out that place too. I heard rumblings that some of the Wilizy's key people were seen in Toronto. I don't know why they'd be there. Jak, you've been back east. Could you look into that?"

  "I have to report to Stockholm. I'm overdue to give my report and Wilhelm does not like to wait. Can you do it?"

  "I gotta run, Jak. I'll do Toronto later. These leads are much more promising."

  Bean was gone before Jak could ask her about a certain dead body buried in a grave in a New York forest. Jak shifted her plans. She had intended to visit Ranch #4 and interrogate Boss #24 to find out what had actually happened on that slave island. That interrogation could wait. The security of all of the other ranches appeared intact. Safe Haven had the capacity to increase their kidnappings. She'd give Wilhelm her recommendation to proceed with the expansion of the project. She'd also suggest the Wilizy as a possible enemy simply because they had won two wars years ago and had somehow become involved with Princess Freya.

  When she came back from Stockholm, Jak would drop into some of the towns that Princess Freya had passed through to see if other men had gone missing at about the time that Bean had been in the area. Wilhelm had stipulated that this operation was to test Bean's reliability. Wilhelm's orders had been clear on what Jak had to do if she failed the test. Eliminating an unreliable operative was more important than discovering whatever secret Big Momma #4 was hiding.

  Back to the Table of Contents

  Chapter 21

  By now, the reader will have recognized that EmmaGee is not normal. You might even think that she's a little bit crazy what with four different personalities living within the same body and babbling back and forth with each other.

  The psychological labels for this condition have varied over time. The most common label, and the one that strikes right at the heart of the condition, is Multiple Personality Disorder. Multiple Personality Disorder is a condition wherein a person's identity is fragmented into two or more distinct personalities. Each personality takes turns controlling the body.

  Experts in this field believe that the disorder is caused by sustained severe childhood trauma that creates a mental split that serves as a defense against that trauma. Each identity that results from this trauma has its own mood and behaviours. In some cases, the identities do not share memories or experiences. As you have seen, EmmaGee's four identities know everything that is going on when the other identity is controlling the body. You have also seen that the identities actually work together as sisters, each taking care of the others.

  But still, EmmaGee is crazy, right?

  What about Bean? She had a childhood trauma and now she's tracking down men and killing them. Does that qualify as crazy?

  What about Nary? She was the victim of childhood trauma by living on an island where every year men come to kill the inhabitants. I mention Nary because people suffering from Multiple Personality Disorder can have animals, and even mythical figures sharing their bodies. Nary and Contrary shared the same body. Does that make Nary crazy too?

  Voodoo practitioners would claim that Contrary was not a personality within Nary's body. She was a real panther who existed on a neighbouring astral plane. That plane was close enough to Nary's astral plane that Contrary could hear Nary calling her. She'd slip across the division, appear in Nary's world, and Nary would inhabit the panther's body sufficiently to influence it. Nary never claimed that she could tell Contrary what to do; but she could influence it with promises of food. And after the panther had fed, it would return to its own hunting grounds.

  But if Nary were to tell average citizens that she could exist inside a panther's body while it killed its prey, they'd open up the door on the cuckoo wagon and throw her inside. Perhaps we should consider her a little bit crazy too. Right?

  As you'll read soon, Theo can also call that panther from another astral plane. He has to be crazy too. Right?

  # # # # # # # #

  I am reminded of the story of my first husband's great, great Uncle Beauregard who lived before the troubles. Beauregard was in his 60s when he went crazy. His wife had died several years previous and he was living comfortably by himself in a big empty house. The only thing marring his happy existence was a neighbour lady by the name of Hilda who took it on herself to convince Uncle Beauregard that he needed another wife. She'd come by with a plate of food, settle herself down on the settee, and begin a non-stop commentary on all that had happened in her life since her previous visit. Her approach to conversation was akin to an army's Take no prisoners policy. Hilda's approach to conversation was Take no breaths because in doing so, that might give the person opposite her a chance to participate in the conversation. She'd rattle on until her throat got dry and then she'd leave, takin
g yesterday's empty plate with her. Beauregard hastened that state of dryness by offering her a full glass of whiskey that he knew she couldn't drink without her body blowing up into a giant fart balloon. It was either drink the whisky and make embarrassing noises or go home when her throat became parched.

  One day, after the parched throat had left for the day, Beauregard held his aching head in his hands, looked at the plate of free food sitting on his kitchen counter, and declared, "It's not worth it."

  The next day, Hilda was walking briskly towards Beauregard's house – a full truckload of gossip to share with him – when she saw a strange sight. Beauregard was on his porch in his wife's nicest black cocktail dress and with her string of fake pearls around his neck. This nice appearance was ruined somewhat by the battered sports shoes and white socks on his feet and a poorly kept lawn of white hair on his legs. He had a fat cigar in his mouth and was taking puffs on it. In between puffs, he'd point his nose at the sky and bark like a dog. When the barking dog saw Hilda frozen on the sidewalk, the dog looked at her and grunted Arunnnhh? Then Beauregard started hip-hopping down the sidewalk towards her, barking. Hilda quickly turned the truck around.

  Hilda took this for three days straight before phoning the local old coots home and reporting that a crazy old man was barking at her. Beauregard hadn't expected her to do that. He thought that she'd just leave him alone. The old coots home used a fake plumber's van for assessing and picking up potential residents. It was parked against a curb a half block away when Hilda came back for a fourth attempt.

  The van driver and his assistant took Beauregard into the old coots home and by this time, the barking dog had retreated into its kennel. Beauregard asked some questions and looked around. The first thing he saw was a bevy of fine looking women in white uniforms. They were young, at least compared to him, and they were giving their patients kind personal care. He wandered into the dining room. Residents received free ice cream every afternoon along with hot cookies. The meal menu wasn't bad except for the vegetables which Beauregard did not consider suitable food for a man. Beauregard sat down in the facility's game room and contemplated what life would be like with that big screen TV, the card table, and the full-sized pool table. Best of all, staying in this fine establishment would be free for old codgers who had been declared crazy as an old coot, although that wouldn't be the medical term that was stamped on his admission form. Beauregard thanked the director of admissions and told him that he was confident that he had himself under control.