“Don’t make me throw up on my buddy’s shoes here.”
The guard continued staring straight ahead. He was as distant as if they spoke only gibberish.
“There’ll be time to throw up, later. Aren’t you curious about what we share, flying outside our bodies?”
“I’m ordinary, remember.”
“True, but you have a much bigger side to you that is closed off by old-world connections, especially that old-time religion.”
“So, I’m getting a second chance here?”
“Hardly, I’m laying out what could have been. Leaving our bodies is the last great adventure. Not space travel. Or socialism, or returning to my ancestors’ habits of tearing out hearts. Exhausting when you think of the time spent cracking open chests and ripping out hearts and offering them to a sun that someday will go extinct anyway.”
“Cut from the same cloth as the monsters of old?”
“Proudly so. Similar to your love of country and saying the rosary. Old habits.”
“You’re the biggest weirdo I’ve ever encountered.”
“Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet.”
They pulled inside the large parking garage, and the guard performed his duties, even helping Cricket down the steps. Ajax didn’t move.
“Not coming in for a drink?”
“I finally gave up alcohol. I do all my drinking on the other side. A lot of my eating, too. I’m on a very restricted diet in this crass, bric-a-brac world.” Hands on his legs, he shook his head in dismay. “Too bad you never experienced that. Such adventure. It may have changed you forever. A cosmic Bonnie and Clyde. Or, if you prefer, Romeo and Juliet of the astral plain. Well, unfortunately it all comes to an end tonight. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side when you slip off this mortal coil. Then, of course, you’ll witness my otherworldly configuration, my glory, that I assume for dinner. Jacket and tie are actually required. The universe does have its rules.”
79
Becca
As the driver started to close the double doors to the van, Cricket saw Ajax’s eyes glisten with an animal’s brilliance.
“Hey, creep, darkness will be your final reward.”
“Thank you, it is,” were his final words.
The guard accompanied Cricket upstairs to the dining room, and Becca sat at the table alone. Several large candles lit Becca and the surface of the dark wood dinner table.
“This place never did feel like home to me.” Cricket felt the guard’s hand push gently on her shoulder, and she sat down across from Becca.
“Never felt the same to me after your friends attacked and killed my father.”
“My friends never hurt your dad. It was the monster that dropped me off just now.”
“Angel’s now a monster?”
“You mean Ajax. Drug lord. Vicious killer. Worker of black magic.”
“You don’t lack for imagination.”
“All your thoughts are strained through your hormones, Becca. You’re not a teenager anymore.”
Becca rose from the table. “I think more clearly than 90 percent of the people in this city. Unlike you, I’m not infected with religion and old racist views about my dominance over people.”
“Your buddy, Ajax, said almost the exact same thing. So when’s the wedding?”
“Jerk,” Becca hissed. “You’re an escapee from a beauty contest telling the world how to achieve world peace.”
“No, I’m the person telling you it’s Ajax-slash-Angel that’s behind the Coyote attacks, and the slave ship coming from Louisville.”
“Foolish talk.”
“Foolishness is putting a scientist on trial for not following the party line on bullshit science.” Cricket went to stand and was pushed back into her seat. “It wasn’t just the shock of the EMP attack that brought your city to a sustainable size. The city’s poor are given heroin, no medical treatment, and die off quick; the strong are being shipped out as slaves. Or did you know all along about Ajax’s tactics to keep your city from needing practically no outside help, or his captains raiding other towns of their food and passing it out to your citizens?”
The light that flickered across Becca’s face showed some hasty review process running through her brain. Her downcast eyes showed that she sought to ignore these terrifying realities. This wasn’t an examination but an elimination of doubts, of reality that took place on the streets. Her own father’s death was at the top of the list, and Cricket attempted again to reach her.
“Mr. Ajax the Angel got your complete trust by making the Patriarchs the bad guys. It was his goons that drove off many of your dedicated cops to form a group that would actually protect your citizens. You fell for it, Becca, because you fell for him.”
“Stop it!” Becca screeched. Then Cricket saw the dark landscape illuminated briefly; she saw the deal: her politics, his muscle. Some of his actions would have made her flinch, but he spared her the gory details. Her rage now was truly against herself for lying to herself about her dad’s attack and his horrible end. But Becca was practical and would move forward with Ajax, Cricket surmised.
“You gutless bitch, you sacrificed your own father for your hideous politics!” Cricket felt the firm, large, but gentle hand become a vice and she screamed with pain. Cricket was thrown from her chair onto the floor.
“Take her downstairs,” Becca yelled.
80
Boots
The snow leopard paced inside the cage. Cricket felt sickened by the beautiful cat’s capture and went limp with despair as two guards roughly held her up only feet away from the bars.
“You two know each other well.” Becca’s voice trembled with rage.
Boots stopped and glanced at Cricket, and then returned to her pacing, releasing a long, guttural sigh.
“You may not know it, but I’d prefer a court trial for you. Jury of your peers and all that. Presumption of innocence. I’d even bring back Judge Maxine.”
“You mean a witch trial. Run by the head witch.”
“Witches should get fair trials as well. But you’ve managed to make the Patriarchs more powerful and had my father killed.”
“Ajax had your dad killed so you’d get totally wrapped around the axle and act batshit crazy for the rest of your days.”
“I thought you didn’t swear.”
“I save it up for the best moments. My weakness.”
“No priest around to confess to.”
“I know where to go to be forgiven. Do you?”
Becca made a crazy laugh, and lines that Cricket didn’t know existed in the young woman’s face now popped into view—stress fractures. “In six months religion will disappear across Cincinnati. Churches will finally become useful as storehouses for all the food coming in from California. They’ll become wonderful distribution centers in every neighborhood. Easily accessible. No fighting outside some large, ugly warehouse, or overwhelming the city workers in a small truck delivering food; no need to travel for miles. My people will gently nudge out the clergy, win over the remaining faithful with real nourishment.”
“I don’t know, Becca. People will have an even greater reason to kneel and give thanks.”
“That’s handled, too. The pews are going away. There’s a great need for firewood this winter with natural gas being rationed. I’m bringing food and comfort.”
“To the enemy?”
“You’re a fool. I care for the people.”
“They’re individuals.”
“An ancient idea.” Becca sneered and walked around to the side of the cage and picked up a broom handle with a sharpened head. She dragged the wooden pole along the bars. Boots followed. When the animal got close enough to her, she jabbed it. Boots roared mightily and swatted the broom handle, but Becca quickly retrieved it.
Cricket felt her own child for the first time, a movement behind the navel. It wasn’t an expression of fear, a sharp kick, but a lovely stretch of love and contentment. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes, and
they didn’t go unnoticed.
“Thinking of the next scene in our little drama,” Becca said.
Cricket didn’t answer. She closed her eyes as her unborn child played in a perfect world. Becca’s next words pulled Cricket back to the horrors of the moment.
“The two of you are pregnant and doomed. No cubs for Miss Leopard, no child for you.”
Cricket broke away from the man and ran for the steps. The injuries and handcuffs didn’t even make it a contest, and she was dragged back in front of the cage’s door. Becca was talking to the cat, which followed her, lunging at the broomstick through the bars, missing the animal. But Boots knew the madwoman’s intent. Ears back, the leopard rattled vengeance from the back of her throat.
“Take her handcuffs off,” Becca commanded.
The man hesitated, eyeing Becca, waiting for the “right” reply.
“You afraid of her?” Becca walked up to Cricket and slapped her across the face.
Cricket’s humiliation deepened; her hatred blossomed. “You’re dead meat!”
“No dear, it’s you who’s going to die… and slowly. Something is being born in this town that I thought for a moment you’d see and understand and then come to my side. But you’re ancient, like that silly husband of yours and the fool who calls himself Predator, and that awful little nun full of arrogance and loathing for the good things in life.”
The guard still hadn’t taken off the cuffs, and Becca slapped him as well. He got out the key, freed her, and quickly bent Cricket’s arms back like they were still handcuffed. Cricket screamed.
“My, she does scare you.” Becca snickered.
“Walk into the cage and jab Boots,” Cricket jeered.
“No, honey, that’s your job,” Becca said, swinging open the cage door. The guard shoved Cricket inside, and she fell as the steel door banged shut behind her.
Cricket, down on her hands and knees, watched as the growling cat approached. Spectators, Becca and her guard incited the cat to violence. The guard’s high-pitched voice revealed his own fear as he yelled for the cat to tear up Cricket.
“You know,” Becca said, “Angel once told me of large private circuses in Mexico where rival cartels used zoo animals and creatures from the wild to play with their enemies. Mexico’s elite, if connected, were invited to the spectacle. Angel knew of such events but was very clear he would never attend something so barbaric, but I know he did. His story was meant to titillate, and it did. Tonight I get to witness my first private circus.”
Still on hands and knees, Cricket didn’t look but Boots circled her, breathing loudly, a sound more troubling then growling. In the twilight atmosphere of the basement, only a single lantern against the wall, Cricket, still frozen in the same position in which she had hit the floor, watched the animal’s terrifying paws and lower legs pass by her field of vision. She felt the animal’s breath along the side of her neck and face and moaned loudly.
Could she forestall an attack by not looking at the animal? Then she realized there had been no water or sign of food in the cage. If Boots gave her a reprieve, it would be temporary; soon the animal’s hunger would grow.
Boots disappeared from view, and the animal howled in pain. She must have been following Cricket in a bigger circle and had gotten close to the bars, and Becca had struck.
“The leopard’s gonna eat you,” Becca proclaimed.
Becca banged the cage loudly. She was running and striking the cage, trying to work the animal into an even greater fury, but Boots stayed focused and white hot. At one point Boots, in order to head off Becca, jumped over Cricket.
Becca still ran back and forth, clicking the wooden handle against the bars, and Boots followed, growling, sticking her paws through the bars to get at Becca.
“Let the cat concentrate,” the guard said, and Becca looked at him in amazement. “You’re distracting the animal from her dinner.”
Becca buried a hysterical laugh that escaped in two sonic guffaws. “Sure, whatever. You must be the beast master.” She threw the stick across the room.
Cricket heard Boots padding over to where she kneeled. The cat stopped close to her right ear, and she felt its hot breath. Its breathing reminded her of Diesel, but she didn’t dare put her hand out to stroke Boots in a sign of friendship.
“Go ahead.” Becca laughed. “Pet the monster.”
Cricket almost replied, but decided to ignore Becca until she got free. Then she’d strangle her old girlfriend.
“Cat got your tongue?” This line made Becca howl, and Boots moved to the bars, watching the madwoman rip the air like a hyena.
Gunfire from outside ended Becca’s laughter. She and the guard both looked up, expecting the chaos to reach the house.
“Let’s go out the back,” the guard said. “The door’s open.”
“Not yet,” Becca said. “I want to watch the cat devour her and the baby. Then we get to kill the furry monster. That’s the deal. We have guards upstairs.”
“Maybe.”
Becca gave him a strange look. “What don’t I know?”
“The last couple of days… a lot of defections to the Patriarchs.”
She ran up and slapped the man. “You’re telling me now!”
81
One for Dinner
Cricket wouldn’t turn her body, or make any other quick move that Boots might interpret as hostile. She kept her back to the arguing couple.
Boots sat at the back of the cage that butted against the wall, safe from Becca’s sharpened broom handle unless she threw it like a spear. Boots watched Cricket with interest, and Cricket watched the wall or used her peripheral vision to see if her captors were sneaking up on her. She knew to avoid eyeing the animal. And she wouldn’t make peace with dying. She prayed for freedom, for life.
“What were you really trying to do here in Cincinnati?” Cricket asked.
“Getting philosophical before you’re eaten? That animal will get hungry or just tired of your phony God thing. Didn’t his ancestors eat Christians?”
“Much bigger cats. Though I’m sure Boots would have been a good substitute for African lions.”
“I’ll waste my breath one more time: a smaller world, using a lot less resources, and the smartest people designing the best world for people to live in.”
“Designing a cage like this.”
“No, cages are for the recalcitrant, the criminals.”
“I guess you extended the definition to include the old, the sick, and the people who disagree with you. Ajax was real handy.”
“He helped trim the population so that the right number could survive in comfort. We’ll live with or without fossil fuels. I prefer without. Easier to keep the population small and manageable. People finally get the paradise they’ve only fantasized about in religion.”
“It’ll never happen. People yearn for the real heaven: God’s time. His eternal city.”
“You’re a philosopher.”
“Not really. I’m drawn to common sense.”
There was silence, and Cricket heard Becca walking away from the cage.
A bomb exploded near the house.
The guard said, “We need to kill them both and leave. Now!”
“No, we’re not going to do that. Go ahead. Leave, you coward. Angel will deal with you later.”
The man had no time to react to the threat. He jerked his head up—people were running through the house. The man’s voice shook. “Our guys have turned. Not a shot fired.”
Boots rose and walked toward Cricket.
“We’ve got to go.” The man ran to the basement door as footsteps started down the steps.
Becca stood with her gun drawn and faced the men rushing into the room. Fritz led the group. Becca backed away, gun pointed at Cricket in the cage. The men froze.
Oh, Fritz,” Cricket cried out. The cat eyed the new arrivals with interest.
Fritz looked to Becca. “The key!”
“I throw it and leave. You don’t follo
w me. I’m still the mayor.”
Wills walked up and said, “I think we’ll move the election up to tomorrow.”
Becca threw the key, and it landed near the cage. She turned and ran.
Wills said, “Let her go. Our people are everywhere tonight.”
Fritz inserted the heavy key.
Cricket said, “Fritz, get away from the door. Everyone stand back. Do it!”
The lock was free and Cricket pushed open the door fully, hanging on to it, and the leopard bounded from the cage and headed down the hallway, after Becca. Fritz and Cricket hugged, and a long scream came from right outside the basement. Boots had caught up with his tormentor.
82
Teeth
Ajax screamed from the back of the van, parked only a mile away at a deserted McDonald’s. He had used the quiet and shadows to travel and observe what he thought would be the end of this terrible girl and her leopard. He held his bleeding arm and told the driver to take him to a west-side hospital.
As he had hovered outside the cage watching his Becca taunt the cat and Cricket, Boots had also traveled. The animal, while at the back of the cage, had briefly dozed and found itself in the otherworld hunting him. Before Ajax could awaken, the snow leopard had caught his right arm in its teeth as he flew back into his body.
The full impact of his loss struck again. Impossible! Ajax was yelling, slamming the side of the van with his good arm. The driver stopped, and asked about his condition. Ajax just swore and told him to keep driving.
83
Slave Ship
During Cricket’s capture, the guardsmen and Fritz’s men obliterated the slavers at the stadium. Without any sign of Ajax or Lucy, they surrendered immediately. Lawrence had traveled with the children and Sister Marie to a downtown hotel under the watch and protection of Sergeant Wills’ niece, Desiree, the hotel manager.
American Blackout (Book 3): Gangster Town Page 23