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Chapter Ten
Shocks
âHey, Pardy!â
âYeah, Chris?â
âWhere the hell are we going?â
âHow should I know? What diff does it make? Just keep us floating, okay? Okay! If we stay up here long enough weâre bound to find something!â
âYeah, I suppose youâre right... keep pedaling, kid... looks like weâre heading west.â
Moulty was trying to regain his equilibrium. They were too damn high. âOh, man.â He was doing loop-de-loops inside his cage, involuntarily. âCanât you guys keep steady? I think Iâm gonna puke all over my seed treat!â
Pardy was pedaling angrily. âStop criticizing or Iâll eat you! At least you get a free ride, Cupid! Iâm the leader now! Iâll decide what weâre gonna do!â
âOy, vey,â moaned Moulty.
âLetâs set down somewhere in one hour, kid,â Chris said. âThis gets boring after a while.â
? ? ?
John Diamond and David Furfy were traveling in Diamondâs car. The security guard looked out the window, gaped, then stopped driving. He got out. So did Furfy. They both looked up in mute amazement. Furfy looked disgusted. Finally, twenty seconds later, Diamond spoke. âYouâve gotta be fucking kidding!!!â
? ? ?
There was a knock on Beckyâs door. It was Hunt.
âThanks for knocking,â she said. She noticed he carried his tazer drawn... set to full charge.
âI wish it was good news, but...â he looked guiltily at the floor. âI think youâre in trouble. Letâs go, Fox. Iâve gotta take you to deck 8.â
âWhatâs happened?â She asked.
âI canât tell you until we get there. Iâm sorry.â
They arrived. Everybody was there-- the Genera, Roberts, Emerson and all the rest standing in front of something large, circular and white.
âHit it, Emerson,â Hunt ordered. The private began playing a grand piano.
As Becky stared, flabbergasted, everyone but Hunt and the General sang... Hunt was cracking up standing behind her, while Roberts sang loudest of all.
[indent]âHappy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday, dear Dragon!
Happy birthday to you!â[indent]
Applauding her, Roberts and the rest cleared the way so she could see the vanilla cake, and its 18 burning candles. âCome on up! Blow it out!â the doctor said, smiling.
Becky incinerated the entire cake, flicking twice in one second. Now the soldiers had a nice pile of black ash to chew on. She stormed off.
Robert looked hurt. âThat wasnât what I had in mind.â
? ? ?
In Diamondâs car, Furfy took out a photograph of Becky. He told Diamond sadly, âIf sheâs still around, she just turned 18 today. Dammit.â He wiped his eyes. âAnd these... these bastards think sheâll go to war for them? Kill for them? Theyâre out of their heads. Becky would never hurt a fly. Thereâs no way.â
âThatâs the kind of person who usually fights for the war makers,â Diamond said.
? ? ?
âHappy birthday, carrot-top, wherever you are,â Chris muttered.
âWhatâre you talking about?â Pardy asked.
âNever mind, kid. Letâs get ready to land. We need to get a bite to eat.â
âThank God,â Moulty sighed. âHey, wait a minute! Did we forget to contact Dragonâs sister? I just realized it.â
âWe did not forget,â Rabikes answered. âWe just didnât do it.â
âWell, why the hell not?â
ââCuz Tracyâs got a temper that makes even Furfy look like Mr. Rogers, and thereâs no point in worrying her just yet. If we can get Becky back today, I can unleash my latest practical joke on her. This one involves crabs. But if we canât get her back, Moult, I guarantee you her big sisterâs gonna hold every last one of us responsible. Pardy, letâs land this sucker. Whatâs that building down there?â
âCommencing Big Wheel impact! T-minus 5... 4... 3... â Pardy snarled.
? ? ?
Roberts came to collect Becky. He was alone, but carried a tazer.
âItâs time for your second major field trip, Dragon. Letâs go.â
She sighed, âDo I look like a flying green lizard to you? She left her room.
âThe VSO appreciates your cooperation,â he said. âTry not to worry. This assignment is different than the first. It's not what you think.â
Sure it isnât, she thought. She stopped walking and said âDr. Roberts, will you marry me?â
The doctor stopped, jutting back his head quizzically. Now or never! Becky thought, and whipped around, punching him in the gut and forcefully as she could. Startled at the sudden eruption of brutal Beckiness, he fell back into a line of file cabinets as she snatched his tazer. Down but not out, he shouted âStop her!â to no one in particular.
Becky ran around the side corridor and was instantly taken down by Emerson and Pastula. âUHHH!!!â they zapped her side and legs. The setting was high enough to put her out cold. Her escape attempt was 9.3 seconds long.
? ? ?
She awoke in the VSO van, with Roberts, Emerson and six other soldiers. There was no sign of Hunt. She looked out the window, but didnât recognize the city area.
Roberts told her âThat was stupid, Dragon. Shame on you.â
Emerson added âDâya think you can just run off every time you feel like it?â
âWhereâs Kevin?â she asked. âWhere are we going?â
Roberts replied âThe Generalâs dog, while off the hovercraft, is on solo assignment.â
âThatâs a little harsh, Doc,â Becky said. âWhat do you want from me now?â
The van parked. âI want you to enter that courthouse all by yourself...â
âNo backup?â she questioned. This was unusual.
âI doubt youâll need it. For your information, weâre in Minnesota. But time is short. You have to go into the courthouse in five minutes and be out in ten. Iâll give you the specific instructions in two minutes. Letâs just say you may not have to kill this time. Thatâll be a random factor. But you do have to flame up, of course.â
âYou want me to go in there. Alone,â she repeated.
Roberts nodded. âWe all wait outside.â
Becky asked âWhatâs to stop me from just -- â
He leaned very close to her. âThe life of a very special someone in your precious life.â
She bit her lip. âYou... you have David?â
âNo. Your niece.â
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Chapter Eleven
Julie
Becky lunged at the doctor, but two of the soldiers were faster. They shot her arms with low-level voltage. âAaaaah!!â
âJulie Clancyâs survival depends upon you following our exact instructions within those ten minutes,â Roberts warned.
âYOU CANâT DO THIS!!â Becky shouted. âI WONâT LET YOU -- â
The soldiers zapped her again, this time in the shoulder and hand. âAaaaah!â
Roberts continued coldly. âLetâs have some intelligence, shall we?â
âJust do it, dammit,â Emerson urged her.
âAre you going to hear the instructions,â Roberts said, âor do you require further prodding?â
? ? ?
With exactly ten minutes left for Julie to live, Becky took a deep breath and strode inside the courthouse. Her brain was frantic. They got Julie. But how? Did they get her at school? At Home? If they have her, do they have Tracy and Matthew, too? She checked her watch. Nine-and-a-half minutes. Gotta hurry-â
âHold it, miss!â barked a guard at the front entrance. Sheâd set off the metal detector. âPut all your metal objects in this box. Your pocketbook, too.â
Hiding her frustration, Becky removed her engagement ring, then fished her pockets for loose change and two pens. âSorry.â Nine minutes. Oh, my God -- if Huntâs gone solo, does he have Julie? Trying to act natural, she headed for an elevator.
Because of the ebb and flow of cops and lawyers on each floor, it took two more minutes to get to the fourth floor, and another two to find the courtroom... Five minutes. Please, God, donât let anyone get hurt. Donât let Julie die! There it is -- number 4077. Time to become a terrorist, Becky. Move fast!
? ? ?
âWhy do I get all the weird ones?â asked the judge.
âObjection, your honor. My client is not weird... merely lackadaisical.â
Your client took his time getting here. He kept me waiting six hours.â
âMe, too, your honor. Thatâs just the way he is.â
âTell that S.O.B. to stand up right now.â
âHe is standing, your honor. Heâs an eagle.â
âThen put him on a chair so I can see him! Will the defendant please rise?â
Becky entered the room at this point. Two bailiffs were in front.
âSlomo Bloodbeak, I find you guilty of wasting my time. Unfortunately, youâre really hear to stand trial for multiple counts of armed robbery.â
The defense attorney protested. âBut he was never there, your honor. He never is. Heâs too damn sluggish. Canât you see heâs incompetent? Look at his face!â
âObjection!â Slomo said as Becky walked forward.
âYour honor,â she said, âBridget Van Pelt for the defense -- â
âWhat? Iâm defending this idiot! Who are you?â said the defense attorney.
âIâm taking over. Youâre fired,â Becky insisted. Now. She took careful aim to her right, and flicked on the flame. Bailiff #1's gun and holster melted together, only lightly singing the man theyâd belonged to. âOww! What the -- â
The second man pulled out his piece, but Beckyâs flamespit made him drop it. Gritting her teeth, she destroyed his gun with a stronger diagonal burst. The bailiffs looked at each other, each giving his partner a âyou firstâ expression.
Becky ran forward, pushing the judge away from his bench. âEVERYBODY STAY DOWN! NOBODY MOVES, NOBODY DIES! GET DOWN! Thank you!â The judge, the attorneys, bailiffs, and the jury all dropped to the floor. Slomo just stood stupidly as Becky turned to the judgeâs wall and motioned with her head.
Three flaming letters blackened the wall: VSO, each twelve feet high.
She turned around swiftly, facing her captive audience, and asked loudly, âHas the jury reached a verdict?â She gritted her teeth again for emphasis.
âInnocent!â three jurors replied simultaneously.
âNot guilty!â shouted two more.
âLet him go!â
âObjection!â Slomo said stupidly.
âOverruled!â the judge yelled. âShut up, you idiot!â
âWhat did I tell you?â marveled the defense attorney.
Becky raced for the exit doors, turned and said angrily, âNobody follows me -- RIGHT?â She tried to look psychotic, but didnât think she pulled it off.
âWe ainât movingâ, answered one of the bailiffs.
âThen stand by for further instructions,â Becky said, and jumped out of the room.
Slomo, after thirty-eight seconds of consideration, wadded towards the exit doors but couldnât figure out how to open them properly. âVerdict overturned! Get back here, you plucking moron!â shouted the judge.
âObjection!â Slomo said.
âToo late!â
? ? ?
Two minutes forty-five seconds, Becky thought, moving quickly through the corridor. I donât dare use those elevators! The stairs this time! Stay calm. Youâve got time. They wonât hurt Julie if youâre on time. Stay calm and youâll make itâ-
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Chapter Twelve
The Dick, The Twit and the Brat
âBECKY!â shouted a floating Christopher Rabikes from 200 feet away. She whirled around in utter shock, How the hell did HE get here? No! Not now! âBecky, CâMON!â He began sprinting upside-down towards her.
Becky bolted and ran down the fourth-floor stairway, determined to make Robertsâ deadline. âWhat the hell are you running for? Itâs me!â she heard Rabikes shout in confusion. Chris launched himself off the south-wing wall after her, then ran upside-down one level, stopping briefly to monitor her escape route. He floated out the 3rd floor door.
How the HELL did SHE get HERE?!? Rabikes thought. Not that his gang wasnât searching for her, but he, Moulty and Pardy were only in the damn courthouse for the purpose of a recreational lunch! He couldnât believe his dumb luck when he spotted her moving down the hall. Now he couldnât believe her reaction. Where did that crazy broad thing she was going?
Two-fifteen, Becky thought, scrambling down three flights of stairs, and darting around several people on the way down. âPlease get out of the way!â Mentally, she cursed the bad timing of it all. Of all the times to run into Chris, why the hell did it have to be now? She looked up the stairway quickly. No sign of him.
Catching her breath, she jumped the last few steps, hitting the ground floor, then yanked the stair-door open. Running out, she saw him again -- this time sixty feet away. Heâd just shot out the side door. Seeing her, he grabbed onto a handrail, ready to propel himself again. âWhy the HELL are you RUNNING?â Rabikes shouted.
âGET AWAY FROM ME!!â Becky shouted back, and retraced her steps to the courthouse exit. Rabikes catapulted himself again... instinctively... into the opposite wall. THUD!
Hey! He thought. No flames? I thought Iâd be toast! Sheâs talking! Way to go, Becky! The former police officer felt relieved. âNOW SLOW THE HELL DOWN AND TALK TO ME!â
But, the anxious aunt kept moving.
One minute, forty-five seconds! Becky marked, and thought Hold on, Julie! Weâre gonna make it! Damn you, Chris! Not now! Not here! This is the worst practical joke you could ever play on--
At that moment, she decided to play one on him.
She was running towards twenty cops, all in a crowd, all in an off-duty group. Chris was gaining ground on her. Somehow she knew it. In a matter of ten seconds, heâd be around the shooting around the corner after her.
âHey! Slow the hell down, lady!â one cop ordered. âThis ainât the Minnesota Marathon!â
Becky tried to sound helplessly pathetic. âOfficer, thereâs some crazy FLOATING SEX PERVERT with an eyepatch waving his... YOU-KNOW-WHAT at me!!â
âWhat? What? WHAT?â repeated Capt. John Silver.
Becky pretended to cry, but she was laughing inside. âHis dick!â She ran as fast as she could away from the cops. âHeâs trying to...â
âSTOP THAT BROAD -- UHH! AHH! UGGH! OOF!â Christopher Rabikes barreled sideways around the corner and was instantly caught inside the largest policeman-sandwich of all time. Twenty angry officers slammed him down.
âZip it up, mister!â
âGet your hands ---UFF --- off me! UHH!â
Pardy Hardy came out of nowhere (actually the cafeteria), jumped on one of the cops and kicked furiously. âLET HIM GO! LET HIM GO!â They didnât obey. Pardy shot her head left. âOH, CENSORED SHEâS GETTING AWAY!â She jumped off the police pile, kicked a blue arm and raced furiously after Becky. Moulty Rodriguez was already doing the same thing, running like plucking hell on the floor in a straight line after his fellow mutant.
One minute, ten! Take that, Chris! Iâm home free! Becky thought, actually laughing at Chrisâs predicament. Then she looked back once again! Oh, shit!
Moulty and Pardy were racing towards her, and Moulty was gaining! The little blue twit closed in with terrifying speed. Becky knew using her flame against them was out of the question. Moulty was too small to survive it, and Pardyâd been hurt enough this week. Keep running! This is the last hurdle! Go for it! she thought. She couldnât let ANYTHING stop her now. There was no time left.
âGO, MOULTY, GO, MOULTY!â Pardy sang.
Becky saw her two-ounce team leader fly past her and land on one of the metal detectors. With all hiss might, he tried to seize her with his outstretched left wing. It almost worked. She shot past as Moultyâs momentum crashed him into the wall. Fifty-five seconds! Oh, God!
âHOLD IT!!!â screamed Prudence Ursula Hardy.
Becky looked back and looked in horror as Pardy drew a gun and fired. The redhead took three suction-cupped darts in the torso. POIT! POIT! POIT! Rubbery blue sticks dropped to the floor.
Oh, come ON, Pardy, she reacted, eyes glaring. This was silly.
âBURN THIS!!â Pardy shouted and emptied her last two suction-cup darts from her gun. They hit Becky in the cheek and forehead. POIT! POIT!
âHrrrrrrrrr!â she growled. Pardy ducked, only twenty feet away. The front gate guards were closing in. Becky turned around, flicked her fingers and let loose a large flamewall-- and lept right through it to safety. It tickled. Without a second glance, she raced outside for the van.
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Chapter Thirteen
Such a Bastard
âDAMN!!!â Pardy shouted, furiously. âSHOT HER FIVE TIMES! What the--â She saw Moulty running dizzily on the floor and ordered âFly through that!â
âHell, no! YOU fly through that!â Moulty shot back. Heâd computed the trajectory in his noggin and it didnât look good.
âThatâs an order, budgie!â Pardy yelled.
âForget it, kid stuff! Moulty donât jump through no flaminâ hoops for nobody!â
? ? ?
Becky, out of breath, slammed her hands onto the side of the unmarked VSO van. âLET ME IN!!â she screamed. The door slid open abruptly.
As she was pulled in by Emerson, Roberts critiqued âYouâre four seconds late.â
âFOR GODâS SAKE! I DID THE BEST I COULD! SHEâS ONLY A KID! PLEASE!!â
âCalm down. Just making an observation,â Roberts said.
âPLEASE DONâT KILL HER!â
âPlease then calm down,â he ordered.
âPLEASE--â
âCalm... down.â
âWhat have you DONE with her? WHERE IS SHE?â
âCalm down or the men will shock you again.â
âI canât,â she cried. âWhere is she?â
Roberts sighed, disappointed. âDragon, Iâm giving you an A-minus for the overall effort, but I really wish youâd keep your emotions under control. Members of the VSO donât have the luxury of...â
âDoc...â Becky pleaded softly, sadly. How can he be so evil?
Emerson was staring to feel some sympathy. âCâmon, doc. Four lousy seconds. Letâs cut her a little slack.â He patted her shoulder in support.
âIf you insist, Private Emerson... sheâs in the hovercraft. You can see her in fifteen minutes, barring further outbursts.â
âIs she... is she all right?â Becky asked.
âFifteen minutes.â Roberts stared at her coldly.
? ? ?
Lizzie was in her eighth straight hour of wave-monitoring when she shouted to Diamond and Furfy âIâVE FOUND SOMETHING!!!â
âAbout time, Ho,â Diamond muttered under his breath.â
âSOMETHING ABOUT BECKY?â Furfy raced in from the next room, practically knocking Diamond over in the process. The men had made it back two hours ago, and both were impatient, having little to do besides pace and wait.
âDonât talk-- donât--â Lizzie held up her hand. âIâm sifting info-- Minnesota -- CB police radio-- police officers notified - Saratoga station-- three... individuals chasing young redhead--â she squinted, and continued. âDisorderly conduct-- destruction of property-- several fires in courtroom --â
âCome on, come on, COME ON, what does it MEAN?â urged Furfy.
âPlease!â Lizzie held up a finger to her teeth. âThree individuals caught-- one child, one man, one parakeet-- all arrested--â Lizzieâs expression grew angrier and angrier â--charged with arson, disturbing the peace AND INDECENT EXPOSURE!!! AHHHHHH!!! That idiot!â She took her hands off the television. âTheyâre in jail.â
âWHAAAAT?â shouted Diamond and Furfy together.
âChris, Moulty and my... sister...â she seethed âare all being held for questioning in Saratoga County lock-up! Blast it!â Lizzie flared. âI knew theyâd muck it up!â
âWhat about the redhead? You said âyoung redheadâ!â Furfy demanded.
âIâm sure it was her, but details are sketchy. Sheâs not with them now.â Lizzie grabbed a sandwich and took two quick bites. âFredâs still not back yet. You two keep an eye out for him. Iâm going to get to Minnesota. I can get there in ten seconds. Then Iâll bail them out of --â
âHOLD IT!â Furfy spoke suddenly. âIâm coming WITH you!â
âThatâs impossible, David. I canât convert other people this way, just myself. Even if you drove, Minnesotaâs at least eighteen hours away --â
âLISTEN TO ME!â Furfy broke in. âWhenever you molecularize, your clothes go wherever you go. Am I right?â
âOf course,â Lizzie answered. Though the first time she ever traveled this way was by accident. She was arguing with her dad on the phone about Pardyâs upbringing. Neither Lizzieâs mother or father wanted to continue custody of the pre-teen dirt machine, always saying that Pardy was better off with the other divorcee. In rage, Lizzie flared up. âIf you wonât be responsible enough for your own daughterâs well being...â In that instant, she realized that she was standing in front of her startled father... in his house... ten miles away... with his phone still in hand.
âWhere are you going with this?â Diamond asked Furfy, confused.
âWell, think about it!â the scarred cop slapped his hands together. âThat means that if Mr. Changer here turns me into something portable-- you can take us both! I am definitely coming along, lady!â
Diamond smiled. âDave, thatâs genius! Why didnât we think of that, Ho?â
Lizzie was uncertain. âWait a minute. Theoretically, it should work-- but-- I canât guarantee it. Iâve never traveled with a disembodied person before. You--â
âIâll take that chance,â Furfy insisted. âWeâve got to find out whatever we can, and that means getting to Chris. Letâs do this right. Right nowâ
Diamond obeyed. Extending his hand, he spoke. âHandkerchief. Sixty seconds.â
>BING!<
Lizzie put âDavidâ in her shirt pocket. Heâs a smart man. Thatâll be just enough time, if this works. Johnny, hold the fort and watch out for Fred.â
She vanished before he could reply. Diamond looked around the empty room. He touched his forehead and muttered. âBanana. Two seconds.â Nothing happened. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, thinking This is all your fault, you know.
? ? ?
Becky, Roberts and the others were back on board. The hovercraft had lifted off once again, heading further west.
Becky was looking for Hunt. She had a foul expression on her face. Roberts and company were close behind. She finally saw Hunt, alone, walking in her direction. âHi, Fox. Howâd it go?â he asked.
âWhere is she?â Becky growled in a voice that scared even herself.
He stopped in front of her, grinning. âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
She flung her fist hard into his jaw. Hunt fell back, as she advanced, trying to claw him. âWHERE IS SHE!!! IâLL KILL YOU!â
The sergeant recovered, grabbing her hands as they sought out and found his eyes. âShe who? Are you nuts, Fox?â
âI WANT TO KNOW WHERE SHE IS!â She tried to press her attack, but Huntâs military training kept Becky in check.
âI WANT TO KNOW WHO SHE IS!â Hunt shouted back, then shoved her aside. What the HELL are you screaming about? You want me to take you apart?â
âWHEREâS JULIE?â Becky screamed, and rushed him again. He side-stepped, grabbed a handful of hair and forced her against the nearest bulkhead.
âWHO IS JULIE?â Hunt bellowed in her ear. âKeep this up, Fox, and I wonât be as gentle! Youâre no match for me, unless you flame up! But, you wonât! Youâre too smart. Sure, you could roast me, like Fricker-- but youâd be DEAD!!! NOW WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR @##%ING PROBLEM?!?â
Becky broke down, clutching the wall and sobbing. âI-- I want to s-see... Julie...â
âIâm afraid thatâs not possible,â Roberts cut in.
Those words struck Becky like a knife. Her eyes gazed at the impassioned scientist and felt her heart turn to ice. âWHY-- NOT?â Becky screamed.
âShe was never brought on board,â the doctor replied.
âWHAT? B-But you s-said...â
âShe was never even kidnaped.â
âBecky clutched her chest and nearly collapsed to the floor, her mouth open in simultaneous shock, relief and anger.
âYouâre much to gullible and trusting, Dragon. Next time I hope youâll know better.â
âOhhh... Jesus...â she breathed. âWHY? Why...â
âWe needed a hook. Stop acting so amazed. Itâs not the first time Iâve lied to you.â
She was beyond tears now-- the news that Julie was completely safe was still soured, because that Becky had been tricked into returning when she could easily have escaped-- if sheâd only known. She was the only prisoner aboard. âWhy are you such a bastard?â she asked Roberts mournfully.
âI see. Youâd prefer it if your niece had been in genuine danger. If we wanted to, we could set up that scenario any time in future missions. You next mission is in just three hours. Toughen up. Youâll live longer.â He paused for emphasis. âBesides... sooner or later everybody loses someone they love. Thatâs life.â He left the hall.
âDonât let him get to you, Fox,â Hunt advised her. âHeâs just messing with your head. It happens to all of us in training.â He massaged his jaw.
Becky looked at him, saying hesitantly. âSo you donât have Julie... but if you did... and Roberts ordered it... would you have killed her?â She wanted to believe otherwise.
âGo to hell, Fox,â Hunt snapped back instantly, and began walking away.
âWait. Dammit! Wait!â Becky called after him.
âTwo seconds,â he said.
âKevin, Iâm sorry I thought... Iâm sorry I slugged you. Roberts made me think --â
âForget it. You hit like a girl,â he said disgustedly.
âHrrrrrrr-rrrrr...â Becky gritted.
âI said forget it, Fox. You donât scare me and you canât take me. Apology accepted. Try that again and youâre history. Se ya later, incinerator --â
The mini-fireball struck an intercom next to Huntâs head, then dissipated.
âGeneral says no flaming,â he reminded her, smiling.
âNo,â she corrected, âFatso said no flaming of human flesh. You may be human after all, but thatâs beside the point. Who says I canât take you?â
Hunt scoffed, âCome on! You couldnât take Woody Allen with his arms and legs cut off.â
âIs THAT so?â He had her Irish up now.
âYou couldnât take Ray Charles out with a rocket-launcher!â
âYou really think I canât take you, Kevin?â she asked devilishly, tilting her head down.
âNo way in hell, Fox.â He spat out a blood drop, and looked as devilish.
âThatâs it! You and me, twenty falls out of twenty, my room, no flames, no tasers, ten minutes, no spectators! Deal?â she challenged. Inside her brain, a voice cried out: Are you crazy?
Hunt laughed. âHow can I refuse such an invitation like that? Youâre on, hot-stuff!â
Emerson just happened to be walking by at that moment. âKevin and Becky, sitting in a tree,â he muttered, sniggeringly.
âStow it, Private,â chided the sergeant.â This is purely educational.â
âIâm definitely watchinâ this on closed-circuit,â said the private.
âYouâre dead, Fox,â Hunt smiled. âYouâve got guts, among other things... but youâre still dead.â
âFlick you,â Becky shot back. âIâm gonna get you.â They both grinned.
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Chapter Fourteen
In the Bedroom
She didnât get him once.
It was pretty comical.
Becky rushed at Hunt from twenty different angles, and he deflected her every time. What made it doubly comical was that Hunt kept grabbing her and throwing her harmlessly onto the bed with very little variation. She shot back up, he threw her down, she shot back up, he threw her down. After the thirteenth failed attempt, Becky bursted out laughing, but she kept trying. And laughing. When the twentieth and final time was over, Hunt twirled her upside-down, flung her victoriously over his shoulder, Neanderthal-style, as she wriggled and kicked.
Hunt snarled at his helpless victim âNow will you EAT YOUR SPINACH?â, then threw her back onto the bed with finality. Then he threw himself onto the bed, landing like a human tiger overtop of the exhausted redhead.
âI am PATHETIC!â Becky realized, laughing still.
âAinât that the truth,â Hunt agreed. âLike I told you before, Iâm very, very good at what I do. You can still be ad damn good SEAL, with the... skills you have...â
âAre you serious?â Becky asked, not noticing how dangerously close the sergeant was.
âSure. Weâll just call you Private Flipper,â Then he shifted his weight and flopped face-up next to her, laughing like a maniac.
âShut up!â she pounded his arm.
âAh, donât let it get you down. Youâre not here for your martial-arts abilities. Plus, after your running down Deck 13 the other day, itâs probably for the best that we donât teach you any weapons handling just yet.â He smiled and tilted his head to face her.
âNo training with a flamethrower for me. Oh, joy.â she sighed.
âYouâve got the prettiest nose...â
âShut up.â
â...and youâve got a primo pair of eyes.â She frowned and twisted around and saw him gazing at her. âYâwanna get frisky?â
âKevin, câmon,â Becky began. I knew I made a mistake having him here.
Hunt held up a finger. âNo hedging. Yes or no, Fox. I respect directness.â
âNo,â she said, a little too nervously. He could pin me if he wanted to.
âOkay, then,â Hunt grinned and let his head fall back onto the pillow. âSuit yourself,â he said as he stared at the ceiling. âI just thought you might want to have a little Fox-Hunt.â
âCute, Kevin.â
âAddress me as Sgt. Hunt,â he ordered, feigning annoyance. Suddenly his wrist-radio beeped, and a familiar voice spoke.
âAm I gonna see some action or what? This is boring,â Emerson complained.
As Becky shot up in bed in surprise, Hunt grabbed the radio. âDrop deadâ, he answered back. âAnd turn your screen off.â
âRead a magazine!â Becky shouted back and threw a copy of Teen Beat at the camera. She collapsed onto the bed next to Hunt and both remained still for a time. She sighed âEven when I think I have some privacy, I donât.â
Better not tell her I saw her naked, Hunt thought to himself. They half-turned, facing each other. There was an uncomfortable silence.
âCan he hear us?â Becky asked Hunt.
âTurn off the audio, Emerson,â the sergeant ordered. There was a click. âNope.â
Becky wasnât absolutely sure about Huntâs trustworthiness, but she appreciated his current restraint. I just wish he answered the question about Julie.
âKevin,â she said slowly. âI, um... the reason why I didnât... well... want to...â
âGet frisky?â Hunt said.
âYeah... I didnât want to because... I, um... was raped once, and...â
Huntâs face changed gradually. His smile vanished. His eyes moved to the wall, then the ceiling, not looking at her. âOh, shit,â he said softly. âIâm sorry, Fox. I didnât know.â He sat up and swung he legs off the bed. âWhenâd it happen?â
âA couple of years ago.â Becky was testing him for a reaction. He seemed natural, but she thought I should have my head examined for telling him this.
âWho did it?â Hunt asked. Becky couldnât see he face, but she heard some tension in his voice.
âSome animal. Itâs all right, Kevin. Heâs--â
âGive me his name and phone number,â he demanded.
Heâs putty, Becky thought as she smiled inwardly. âHeâs dead, Kevin.â
Hunt faced her, and smiled like heâd never smiled before. âWell, ainât that just too bad. Howâd he die?â
âHe was shot by a cop.â* Becky got off the bed and walked to the sink to get some water. Huntâs manner reassured her greatly.
âServes the @#$%ing bastard right, then. Jeez. No wonder you freaked when Fricker was harassing you.â
Becky thought about her reaction to Fricker, and gulped the last sip she got from the sink. She looked at herself in the mirror and swore to be in more control. And she didnât want to be responsible for anymore injuries. Problem was...
âKevin, whatâs the next mission going to be?â
âI donât know, Fox.â
âYouâre just saying that.â
âIâm telling you I donât know. The orders come from the General to Roberts to me. I never know until the mission starts. Whichâll be... two hours.â
âRoberts scares me,â said Becky. âHeâs getting weirder every day.â
Hunt told her âDonât be scared. Docâs all right. Just a little messed up. Heâs under a lot of pressure. He may seem like a callous guy with ice-water for blood, but deep down he likes you.â
Heâs under a lot of pressure? Becky thought skeptically. âIâm nothing but a weapon to him. A tool for killing. I hate him.â
Hunt motioned an arm around him. âHe got you these quarters, didnât he? Three days ago, you thought I was the Antichrist, and now weâre practically lovers.â With her back to him, Hunt couldnât see Becky blush uncomfortably. Instead, he scanned the room, and caught a glimpse of the Roy Schieder video collection. âHey, Fox, wanna watch Blue Thunder?â
âHey, Hunt, would it kill you to call me Becky?â
âCanât do it, Fox. Itâs called professionalism. Of course, if you want to get frisky...â
âNah. Iâd rather watch Blue Thunder.â She sat down in front of the television.
âMe, too. Not only is it just under two hours, itâs been a major VSO training film since â88.â
? ? ?
âYOU BONEHEADS!â shouted Lizzie.
âEat my shorts, Blondie!â replied Rabikes from behind bars. âIâm being unjustly persecuted for a crime I didnât commit! I never tried anything on HER!â
âPardy shouted simultaneously, âWho are you calling a bonehead, you bimbo! I shot her FIVE TIMES, and she kept on running! Next time Iâll use real bullets--â Pardy was also locked in a cell. The one next to Chrisâ.
Moultyâs arguing overlapped with Chrisâs and Pardyâs. âDiddle-diddle-ditt-ditt-ditt-ditt-DITT-DITT-diddle-diddle-diddle! DIDDLE-DIDDLE-DIDDLE!â He was doubly-locked-- once in a birdcage (the door stuck shut with a spoon), and twice in the cell itself. The three prisoners bickered all at once.
âONE AT A TIME!!â David Furfy shouted. He pointed at Pardy. âYou first. Why the heck did they put YOU in jail?â
Please, thought Lizzie. Donât let it be for...
âAssaulting at least sixteen police officers!â Pardy answered proudly.
Damn.
âThey put me in here with these two after I punched two more for calling me a boy! Theyâre so stupid!â
âTHEYâRE stupid!â Lizzie flared. âYou fly on a Big Wheel 3,000 feet in the sky just so you can get arrested for felonious assault?!? Donât I raise you right?â
âNo!â Pardy seethed contemptuously.
âLizzie, Becky was running!â Chris stressed. âI saw her in the courthouse, I called her name and she ran like a bunny-rabbit! It doesnât make any sense!â
Looking hard at Rabikes, Lizzie said, âConsidering it was you, I think Beckyâs reaction was about the sanest thing that happened all day!â
Furfy smirked. âI was gonna say that.â
âWe did the best we could!â chirped Moulty. âThat crazy dame be jumpinâ through fire! Makinâ whole walls of it! I tried to grab her!â
Lizzie sighed and tried to sound contrite. âI know you tried, Moulty, but itâs not you Iâm mad at. Youâre a bubble-headed booby, you donât know any better. Besides, youâre accident-prone. Besides, youâre not human. Why am I even TALKING to you? YOUâRE JUST A BIRD! ITâS THESE TWO HUMANS I WANT TO--â
Chris banged his cell bars. âLIZZIE, LISTEN! Sheâs talking, too!â
âWhat are you talking about?â she asked him.
âBecky-- is-- talking,â Rabikes repeated. âI heard her voice. And sheâs using her power-- which means she can CONTROL it.â
Lizzie considered that point. âThatâs... wonderful, but... whyâd she run?â
âSHEâS AN ASSASSIN, YOU NITWIT!!â Pardy shouted at the top of her lungs. âDO I HAVE TO SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU? A- S- S--â
âOH, LETâS NOT GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN, PARDY! YOU THINK EVERYONEâS AN ASSASSIN!â
âBecky is NOT an ASSASSIN!â shouted Furfy.
âI demand to SEE the GOVERNOR!â insisted Moulty, pounding the spoon with no success. âMy seedâs gettinâ stale! Nobodyâs changing the water!â
âLizzie, donât believe anything the cops say!â Rabikes said. âThey think Iâm some kind of floating, one-eyed sex deviant! Iâm innocent!â
Lizzie turned away and sighed. âThatâs too easy. Iâm not even gonna comment on that.â
David was exasperated. âWeâre here to bail them out. Can we just bail them out? Can ANY of you agree on ANYTHING?â
Pardy held the bars, eyeing Furfy. âI knew youâd come. Get âem to let us the hell out.â She was smitten the first time she saw him. If only the blast that forced his retirement from the bomb squad could have made him look worse, she could love him even more.
A frustrated Furfy walked off to explain things to the jail officer.
âPardy, heâs taken,â Lizzie told her. âForget about it. Heâs too old-- for you.â
âAw, come on, Ho-Ho! Why should Becky have dibs on the roughest guys? Heâs older than Becky, too! Sheâs taken and sheâs not coming back! We donât need her burning up the place--â
âI donât think he can believe Beckyâs a mutant... much less an assass...â Rabikes began to say, but was cut off by Lizzieâs glare. âPeople, can we all just try to get along for his sake? Please?â
âCan you keep your doohicky zipped?â Lizzie challenged before she walked off to find the nearest payphone.
âWord of honor. God, I hope this doesnât go to trial.â
âIt will,â Furfy said as he returned with an officer, âbut the bird and the kid are exonerated. We can all go.â
âOh, swell. Thanks, Dave.â Chris winced. With the turn of a key, each prisoner was released. Pardy, being the last stuck her tongue out at the officer who was still nursing the black eye she gave him.
âI canât believe that girlâs turned on by this,â Furfy said, pointing at his own face. âYou know, Becky said to me... after the explosion... she didnât care about the scares. She told me she didnât care if I had a face at all. Sheâd love me anyway, no matter what.â Rabikes smiled, nodding. âThat is the most --â
Lizzie sprinted up to them. She just notified Diamond on the phone. Now they had another problem. âFredâs disappeared. He never got back home. Itâs been too long.â
âGreat!â Rabikes cursed. âNow weâve got two mutants missing.â
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Chapter Fifteen
Pure Skumm
Vellerton, Utah. Wednesday, 1:01 AM. The mission was about to begin. The VSO van held Hunt, Becky, Emerson, Pastula, two no-names and (of course) Dr. Damien Roberts. Hunt was looking over Robertsâs notes. Even he looked a little surprised at the information they contained. But he didnât argue.
âThe target this time, Dragon, is not a random police officer. The objective is not to sabotage a trial. This time, your mission is to dispose of pure scum,â said the doctor. âThis individual is so reprehensible, he calls himself Pure Skumm. Heâs all alone in that abandoned tenement. He is your only target.
âWho is this man?â Becky asked apprehensively.
Hunt answered. âHeâs a white-supremacist asshole with connections to drug smugglers. Unusual for these supremacists. Most of them stay clear away from drugs. Not good for the âpurityâ of his race. But this guy deals in PCP. Very abnormal guy. Not nice. Youâd better be careful in there. When you see him, burn him real fast.â
âCrispy cracker-time,â Emerson spat.
âHe owns the building,â Roberts added, âand theyâll be numerous rooms he may be in. Iâve been tracking his movements. He recently made it home. Heâs all yours,â he told Becky. âYouâll do fine. Are you ready?â The van door was open.
âNo,â she replied. âIâm no killer.â
âBecome one,â Roberts said. âNo more pacifism. This is where you deliver. Iâm not going to threaten your relatives this time, but if you delay beyond the half-hour mark, or if you try to bold, Emerson and Pastula will kill you and Pure Skumm.â
âYouâve always wanted me alive,â Becky countered.
âIf you wonât use those beautiful powers, your life is valueless.â
Becky could only play along, for now. âAll right. Am I doing this alone?â
âDonât be foolish. Emerson and Pastula are coming inside for insurance. Theyâll be monitoring you. The rest of us will watch the building. That front door is the only way in or out. Pure Skumm must die. Kill him.â
Reluctantly, she stepped out of the van. She looked back at Hunt.
âYouâll be all right, Fox,â he said. âBut heâll be armed, so...â
âThatâs no problem,â she said quietly. âIâm packing plenty of heat.â
Roberts smiled for the first time in ages. âThatâs the right attitude. You go inside first. The soldiers will follow. Donât get shot. Youâre still human, you know.â
âLetâs KILL that @#$%ing cracker!â Emerson jumped out of the van, followed by Pastula. What the hell am I gonna do now? Becky wondered. The docâs trying to make it easy for me by having me kill a total scumbag. This guyâs probably killed a few people himself. But that doesnât make it any easier for me. What if Roberts is lying about Pure Skumm? He might not even be--
Pastula cleared his throat and waved his arm in the direction of the house. âSometime this century?â He asked her sarcastically.
âStop stallinâ, Foxy,â Emerson said. âJust roast his ass.â
Becky walked about a hundred feet to the house entrance. Emerson and Pastula kept a distance of fifty feet. She moved the doorknob slightly. It was locked. Flicking her fingers, she melted the lock and entered the Pure Skumm residence.
The place was dilapidated, with drug paraphernalia, fascism pamphlets and German magazines scattered about. The lighting was equally poor, at least the downstairs. She could hear at least two separate radios blasting upstairs. Emerson pointed at her to walk upstairs (as silently as possible). âAre you guys coming?â Becky whispered.
âMaybe we are, maybe weâre not,â Pastula sneered before getting elbowed in the gut by Emerson.
âNever mind us, Foxy. Just light up the bastard. Iâd love to waste him right now, but this is your initiation.â Emerson pointed up. âFollow the bad music.â
She reached the second floor, slowly moving from empty room to empty room, losing track of her VSO escorts. The music grew louder as she continued searching. All the windows in the house appeared to be boarded.
One of the radios suddenly stopped playing.
Becky froze.
A toilet flushed two rooms away.
It was then that Becky saw Pure Skumm. He walked quickly out of the nearby bathroom and sit roughly on the adjacent Nazi-flag bed. He was bald, big and Aryan-looking. His face looked perpetually-pained, like a gigantic hemorrhoid. He was 250 pounds of unadulterated âdonât-mess-with-me.â He had next to him at least two automatic rifles.
And he was smoking.
I canât kill him, Becky thought nervously. Maybe I should, but I canât. Weâve got to team up, or weâre both dead. She entered his bedroom.
Pure Skumm eyed her approach instantly and sprang up, but didnât draw any weapons. He jumped forward, just a few feet away from her. âWHO? WHO? WHO? WHO? WHOâ he demanded furiously, almost spitting.
Oh, God! Becky thought. âM-Mister Skumm?â
âME! ME! ME! ME! ME! WHO? WHO? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?â he shouted.
âMr. Skumm, my name is Becky Fox, and youâve gotta listen to meâ she hissed urgently. âYouâre lifeâs in danger! There are men--â
âBECK! BECK! BECK! BECK! BECK!â he barked. âFOX? FOX? HOUND-DOG!!! LIFE, MEN, LIFE, MEN, LIFE, MEN?â He didnât advance ore retreat. âBEER?â
âDo you understand me? Men are coming to kill you! They--â
âKILL! KILL? KILL! KILL? KILLA BE KILLED! KAY-KAY-KAY, WATDYASAY! YOU! WANNA JOIN? KILL-KILL?â He smiled evilly. âJOIN? BECK?â
âPlease listen to me! Youâve got--â
The second radio was turned off... from the other room forty feet away. âSKUMM, WEâVE GOT COMPANY!!â shouted an unknown male voice.
Becky turned to the door, panicking. Private Pastula was racing down the hall, eyes bulging, running out of the darkness, two fiendish-looking tasers charged to fatal. âFOX! QUIT PLAYING WITH YOURSELF!â He screamed. âKILL HIM RIGHT NOW!!â
Pure Skumm leaped forward, seizing Becky by the hands, and using her as a shield. At the same moment, ten machine-gun bullets tore through Pastulaâs body with terrifying ease, dropping him in his tracks. He fell dead.
Becky screamed. Now wouldâve been an excellent time to turn on the flames, but-- of all the crappy bad luck-- Pure Skummâs vice-like grip on her hands prevented her from finger flicking. She looked at the doorway, shocked.
A woman appeared... Pastulaâs killer. Like Pure Skumm, she was a skinhead. She sauntered in, armed with a machine-gun and dangling a cigarette from her mouth. Apart from the haggard look on her face from drugs and violence, she didnât look that much older than Becky.
âKILL! KILL!â Skumm greeted her, firmly gripping the fingers of the impotent Dragon.
âYeah! Yeah!â The woman inspected Pastulaâs shot-up body with a solid kick, then glared at Becky. âWho the @#$% is this? Skumm, you been cheatinâ on me? What the @#$% is going on--â
More gunshots occurred. This time from someoneâs Colt-45. Becky heard Private Emerson scream.
Once.
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Chapter Sixteen
Corruption
“Tell them to STOP IT!” Becky pleaded. “Let me go! We’re all going to DIE if he doesn’t let me go!”
“Is that so?” the woman sneered. “How’d ya figure? Who the @#$% do you think you are giving us orders? Ya know what they do to thieves in Bangkok?”
“Chop hands off,” said Pure Skumm. “Beck, Beck, Beck. Wanna join? Beer? Beck?”
“I’m not a thief. Please let me go,” Becky said.
“@#$% you,” replied the woman. This ain’t your @#$%ing house. It’s ours.”
“Guys, guys, guys,” Pure Skumm shouted as he dragged Becky into the hall. “Got someone.”
“So did we,” announced another skinhead. “A nigger. Here! Can you believe it? Ammo and Warp-One are checking him out. I’m checkin’ the other rooms.”
“You shot nigger?” Pure Skumm asked as he followed the skinhead into the living room.
“You’re @#$%in’ right I did”, he replied. This skinhead was thinner than Pure Skumm, but still had the same painful expression of hate. That, and the Hitler-esque mustache he grew, screamed... “Hey, I’m a racist!”
Pure Skumm smiled. “Extra, extra beer. Looka what I got.”
“Yeah, I got eyes,” the mustache said. “Hey, red.”
“Did you kill him?” Becky asked, fearing the answer.”
He looked at her hard. “I’m gonna. How d’you feel about that?”
“Will you just tell this baboon to let me go?” Becky requested.
Moving forward, the woman pulled out a butterfly knife. “That’s our chief, sugar. He’ll let you go when he @#$%in’ feels like it. What’s this baboon shit?”
“Speakin’ of the devil,” the thinner skinhead pointed as two other skinheads brought the wounded Emerson in. He’d been stripped of his weapons and was badly bleeding in the arm. The two Aryans dumped him onto the floor of Pure Skumm’s living room.
Pure Skumm let go of one of Becky’s hands, which helped her not one bit. She had to flick fingers on both hands to get her flame.
Skumm scratched his chin, considering things. “Three break-inners... one dead,” he turned and smiled at the woman. “Thank you Psycho... one ‘bout to die... one might die. Might not? Join up, Beck?”
“Hey, Skumm,” one of the last two skinheads spoke up. He had a low forebrow and a thick beard on his face which made him look more neanderthal than the others. “The five of us are enough. We don’t need no extra bitch in the squad. Besides, she broke in with the nig’. Shoot ‘em both.”
Emerson, still conscious but fighting the pain, convulsed on the floor. “She’s-- not... gonna join you, Mr. Clean. She’s... VSO...” The neanderthal kicked him in the ribs.
“VSO?” Skumm asked. “What? What? What? VSO, VSO, VSO, Rock? VSO tie me up in a knot? Beck. VSO... what?”
Becky shrugged. “I... really don’t know what the VSO is. I...”
“Sure you don’t”, the woman snarled as she stepped closer to the helpless redhead. “You three came in together. “What does it mean?” Before Becky could protest, the blade of a butterfly knife was leveled just under her chin.
“Yo, Psycho bitch,” Emerson groaned. “VSO stands for vampires... sadists... an’ orthodontists. Got it?” The reply he got was a solid kick in the stomach. “UHH!”
“That’s Psycho CATH, wiseass,” she spat. “Warp-One’s right, Skumm. Let’s do ‘em both.”
“No,”said Skumm. “Want her to join up. Shave all head, of course.”
The last skinhead spoke up. He had a thinner mustache than the other two, but sported glasses with large bronze-tinted lenses. “All right. Skumm, let’s give her my piece. If you really want her to join. You sure?”
“Sure, Ammo, sure, sure. Piece. Beck. Piece.”
The skinhead called Ammo told Becky, “You’re drafted. @#$% your VSO. You’re one of us, now.”
“Whatever you say. Just let me go,” Becky said.
“Uh-uh,” Ammo shook his head. “He’ll let go someday. First, take your free hand, take my gun, an’ blow this nigger to hell.”
Becky nodded in agreement. “Give it to me.”
Emerson paled. “Foxy... now you finally wanna be a killer?”
Her face was surprisingly impassive. “Gun, please.”
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Chapter Seventeen
Hair
A few minutes earlier, within the VSO van, Roberts, Hunt and the other two solders heard an urgent transmission from Emersonâs radio:
âCode orange -- Pastulaâs down! Multiple hostiles in building! At least eight gunshots! Do you copy? Foxyâs on second, but Iâm too far -- AHHHH!!!â The sound of a .45 cut Emerson off, then silence.
Hunt waited a few seconds, then confronted Roberts. âPastulaâs down. Emersonâs down. I donât know what the hell Fox is doing. You said it was just one man in there. What kind of intelligence is this?â
Roberts shrugged. âI miscalculated. He must have guests tonight. It doesnât matter. Rebecca will find a way to handle it.â
âWell, I donât see any smoke yet, Doc. Somethingâs wrong.â
âGive her time.â
âHunt grabbed his M-16. âI canât wait. Two of MY squad may be dead. Iâm not gonna abort this, but itâs my perogative to check their status.â Hunt pulled out two clips of ammo and slapped one into the gun.
âHunt, you canât jeopardize this now! Get back here! If she canât fend for herself, what goodâs she going to be to the VSO?â Hunt ignored him. âI know you think sheâs fetching -- and your concern for your men is admirable -- but you canât deviate from this mission!â
âIâm not deviating. Iâm overriding you, Doc. Donât try to stop me.â He began to strap a pair of holstered Gloks to his legs. Half serious and half cynical, he offered a third to Roberts. âWant to come along? You can watch your dragon work.â
Roberts was annoyed. âSomebodyâs got to stay out here in case she tries to escape. If you go in, you go alone.â Heâs on to me, Roberts thought.
Hunt saluted, not very respectfully. âThatâs fine with me, Doc. Just stop trying to read my mind, and get better intel next time. And what the hell does âfetchingâ mean?â The sergeant raced out into the dark.
He doesnât fool me. I thought if I kept him inside the van, things would be stable. Theyâre not going to be able to work together if they let their emotions interfere with their jobs. I should ask the General to transfer Hunt, but I doubt heâd do it. Theyâre two peas in a pod. Dammit.. Come on, Dragon, do me proud. You were meant to do this.
Kill them. Kill them all!
? ? ?
Moultyâs mutants took a three-hour plane ride back to Maryland. David, Chris, Lizzie, Pardy and Moulty spoke very little. Every half-hour, Lizzie called Diamond to see if Fred Freshee had returned. Six times, Diamond said no.
? ? ?
âFox,â Emerson said, âdonât you dare.â It was bluster. He was in no shape to prevent her from shooting him. She was out of his reach.
âI figure itâs you or me, Emerson,â Becky said evenly. Or both of us, Becky thought. Unless I can... At that moment, Ammo handed her his revolver.
âJust a second,â she paused. âCan I keep my hair after I kill him?â
âNo @#$%inâ way! What are you, stupid?â shouted the Hitler-wannabe.
âHey, man, itâs my hair. What difference does it make?â The pistol was lowered.
âNo, hair, no, hair, just shoot, shoot, shoot!â Pure Skumm said.
âSHAVE HER!â shouted Emerson bitterly. âShave her first! Just lemme watch it happen before you ice me.â
Well, thought Becky, that might buy us some time. God, Iâm gonna miss these locks.
âHEY!!â shouted Cath to Emerson, âDonât give us orders, blackass! Sheâs killing you now. Get it over with, bitch.â
âNo more delays. No more talk. Do itâ agreed Ammo, now standing beside Becky.
Emerson looked at his former captive, eyes furious. âFox...â
âKill, kill, kill, Beck, Beck, Beck, kill, Beck, kill, Beck!â
Becky pointed the revolver at the VSO solder. âIâm sorry, Emerson.â Thereâs only one thing to do. The gang waited expectantly. I love you, David. She whipped the gun around and fired it at Pure Skummâs chest... Click.
The gun was empty. No bullets. Becky halted, shocked.
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Chapter Eighteen
Too Much PCP
Pure Skumm looked at her maliciously. âBad, bad, bad, Beck, Beck, Beck, canât join now.â
Ammo muttered âI knew it,â and slammed Becky hard in the gut. âYou flunked.â Pure Skumm still gripped her right hand as she dropped to her knees, coughing. Two small firewads briefly exited her mouth, then dissipated. That, in itself, surprised Becky.
It definitely got their attention.
âHoly crud, whatâs that slut been eating?â asked the neanderthal. The skinheads moved in a little closer around her.
âBad tacos.â The voice came from behind the crew who turned to see Kevin Hunt. He let loose a with his M-16, spraying the neanderthal into permanently-dead status. The Baretta heâd been carrying clattered noisily to the floor.
Pure Skumm dropped Becky completely. Emerson scrambled to the freshly dropped pistol, and pointed it at the nearest opponent-- Ammo-- and perforated him with even more ammo. âAAAAAAHHH!!!â Emerson screamed. âPIECE OF SHEET!â
Two dead in five seconds. Becky coughed. No fire. Behind her, she could hear Pure Skumm ramble on.
âHELL, WHAT, DEAD, WHAT, BANG, CLANG, BLOOD!â Pure Skumm barked, seeking cover behind the nearest furniture. The mustache jumped forward, knocking onto Emerson, as Hunt tracked Skummâs movements.
âFox, GET UP!!â Hunt barked. He fired at a couch. Was Skumm hit? Hard to tell.
She stood there in a daze as Hunt and Skumm traded bad-shots. The mustache slammed his elbow into Emersonâs face viciously as they fought over the neanderthalâs gun. Both gripped it tightly. âKILL THAT BITCH!â Emerson and his opponent shouted simultaneously at Becky and Cath. The scream and the female skinheadâs motion roused her attention. Cath closed in. Flick âem, Becky thought.
Becky dodged a knife swipe by Cath by mere inches. Sidestepping her, she flicked her fourth and seventh fingers, only for nothing to happen...
Skumm resurfaced from behind a couch. Hunt clipped him in the shoulder, but had no effect on his target. Skumm dove down again. Hunt turned and saw Becky and Cath as Becky avoided slash after slash. âFOX, FRY âER!â he screamed.
Câmon! Câmon! Becky thought frantically as she danced aside. Cath kept closing in with her blade. Becky re-flicked, but still nothing happened. NO! If this keeps up... Another lunge by the skinhead, her knife searching for Beckyâs blood. Barely missed. Another flick of her fingers, and another slice, this time grazing her left arm. Becky shrieked in pain. At the same time, Cath screamed as her butterfly knife-- now useless-- melted into a fiery extension of her arm.
Witnessing Cathâs arm burst into flames freaked out the mustache, but he finally snatched the gun from Emerson. Becky tried to size up t he situation, but it kept changing every second. Emerson was flat on his back gasping for breath and his opponent became hers. The skinhead quickly trained the gun on Becky, but his hands got hell-hot as his weapon started to melt. He dropped it just in time as it contorted and flattened out on the floor.
Cathâs screams echoed in the room. But they were of no consequence for Hunt. Whereâs Skumm? he thought. The couch again? The Chair? Damn! As he searched the room, he saw Becky shoot more flameballs at the other skinhead. They missed, as the Hitler-like skinhead ducked into the kitchen.
âKILL âEM ALL, FOXY!â, Emerson screamed, as the skinhead jumped over the kitchen counter, dodging two more flameballs. Becky was hesitant to follow him into the kitchen, though out in the open, she was a sitting duck. She had to follow. If not for the mission... the orders... she had to get out of the line of fire. As Becky stepped onto hard linoleum, a glint from behind the counter startled her. Becky ducked outside the kitchen wall just in time, as a loud blast from an assault shotgun rang out.. Scared as she was, she pressed herself against the wall and closed her eyes reflexively, wishing this all was a dream. But wasnât, and the mustache had found another cache of weapons.
Hunt saw pieces of trim blasted off, inches from the redhead and returned fire into the kitchen. The mustache avoided the spray from Huntâs M-16, but Cath didnât. In pain and in panic, the female skinhead inadvertently ran into the line of fire. Her screams now stopped, she slumped to the floor; No more than a pile of flesh, blood and fire. âYES!!!â Emerson shouted.
âSKUMM!!!â Shouted the mustache as he saw Cathâs lifeless body. Becky eyes flew open just as Hunt fired a burst into the kitchen, shooting the shotgun out of the Hitler-wannabeâs hands. Becky saw a chance and ran over to Emerson. Ducking low, she started to pull the reluctant private out of the room. Opening her mouth wide, a jet of flames created a hellish barrier to protect Emerson and herself.
But Hunt was on the other side.
Still struggling with Emerson who refused to budge, Becky caught sight of Cathâs body on the floor. It was still burning. Her right arm, now a charred cinder. Becky turned away, muttering to herself âI didnât kill her... I didnât kill her...â
Hunt sprang forward and fired at the kitchen counter. After a short spray of bullets, he dropped the empty M-16. Becky watched from behind the fire as the mustache leaped forward. Oh, God! Kevinâs out! Becky watched with a mixture of amazement, relief and horror as the sergeantâs hand-to-hand skills came into play. As the mustached skinhead rushed forward, Hunt struck quickly landing a sharp blow into his opponentâs neck. He followed up his attack, fiercely placing blow after blow in every joint as the Hitler-lookalike staggered backwards. Dazed and numb, the mustached skinhead didnât notice that Hunt pulled out a Glok and placed it to his forehead until the barrel began to smoke.
âKEVIN, LOOK OUT!â Becky screamed. Hunt didnât have time to gloat over the latest body. A MacIntosh computer went flying through the air, crashing into Hunt, knocking him off-balance.
âMAC, ATTACK, MAC, ATTACK!â Skumm shouted as he resurfaced. Against Beckyâs protests, Emerson started to crawl forward. Skumm grabbed a dresser-drawer and plodded over to Hunt. âTHREE, ONE, THREE, FUN, ONE!â he sung out as he was about to smash the dresser into Hunt. Only, what remained in his hands were the embers of a dresser. Becky managed to strike the dresser in time. Skumm turned his attention towards her. âBAD TACO INDEED?â he laughed and threw down the flaming shards.
Why arenât I running, Becky thought as the muscle-bound Aryan lumbered through the wall of flames towards her.
Hunt attacked from behind, jumping on Skummâs back, but the thug didnât seem to feel it. He spun around, grabbed Hunt, and threw him across the room.
Emerson attacked next. With all he could muster, he lunged forward. âTAKE THIS, MOTHER@#$%ER!â He stumbled, but hit Skumm square in the gut with his taser set to full charge. Even with all the voltage it delivered, it wasnât enough. Skumm simply shouted âOFF, NIG, OFF, NIG, OFF, OFF, OFF!â and kicked him backwards. Emerson hit the floor again, cursing, but quickly rolled over and struck with his taser until it ran out of juice. No success.
Hunt was grappling with him now, wrapping an arm around his neck and squeezing hard. Even Flipper Becky was getting physical. She delivered a blow to the side of Skummâs head with a Nazi Rolling pin (complete with swastika) she found on the counter.
âHMMM!â Skumm said. He swung powerfully at her, narrowly missing. It was too risky to flame him with Hunt and Emerson in close quarters, so she kept striking his legs and ribs. Hunt planted a knife in Skummâs right shoulder. No effect.
Well, it did piss him off.
âAHH, THE HELL WITH THIS!â Hunt shouted. âEmerson, get back!â Hunt and Emerson stepped clear of the Aryan, leaving him alone with Becky.
âJust, you, just you, Beck, Beck, Beckâ Skumm said menacingly. âBEER?â
âBURN HIM RIGHT NOW!!!â Hunt ordered. She did, stepping back and flicking six feet from her target.
Skummâs legs ignited, plus parts of his torso. âBURN, BURN, BURN -- WHEN YOUâRE HOT, YOUâRE HOT! WOW! HOT! WOW! WOW! FAUCET! FAUCET! BATHTUB! NOW! NOW! NOW! WOW! WOW! WOW!â Becky gasped in disbelief. Pure Skumm was laughing as he stormed past the stunned soldiers, racing madly down the hall, leaving a flaming trail behind himself. He disappeared around a corner screaming âBURNIN! SKUMM!!! DAMN HOT!!!â Then there was silence.
âI am not following him,â Becky told Hunt. She was shaking.
âI donât blame you,â Hunt said loudly, not smiling. âHeâs had it. As far as Iâm concerned, you got him.â Looking down the hall, Hunt shook his head. âJEEZ! How much PCP can one guy take?!?â No one could blame him. Skumm left a trail of fiery footprints behind him. âWeâd better get the hell out of here before this whole shithole burns down! Emerson, can you walk?â
The private was in putrid shape. His arm was still bleeding, and he had trouble standing. âDunno, man. Iâll try. But first... âhe looked at Becky. âCauterize...â
Becky was stunned. âYou heard him, Fox,â Hunt said. âPatch him up, but donât overdo it.â
âAre you sure?â Becky asked Emerson.â
â@#$%ing-Aâ he hissed. âIâm not gonna make it if ya donât. DO IT!!â
Becky obliged, only opening so much between her teeth, limiting the flame. She was feeling much more confident with her ability to control it. Emerson groaned, but it was over in five seconds. âDamn.â He stood up, rubbing his repaired arm. âNo flame, no gain. I think I can make it. Gonna need some help walkinâ.â
âRight,â Hunt agreed. Pointing to the bodies of the dead skinheads, Hunt told Becky, âThem next. Fry âem all, and donât hold back.â
âKevin, please donât make me --â, she began.
Hunt exploded. âDAMN IT, FOX!!! THEYâRE DEAD!!! I SAID FRY âEM!! CANâT YOU FOLLOW ONE LOUSY ORDER FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE?? WEâRE OUT OF TIME!! WEâVE GOTTA MAKE THIS LOOK GOOD FOR THE DOC, SO DO IT!!â
Stunned into silence, Becky followed the order, leaving little left of the skinheads but gray ash and blackened bones. She tried not to look at the remains, fighting anger and revulsion. Great! He kills three, Emerson gets one, and I get credit for everything!
The three were halfway down the center hall when they encountered Pastulaâs bullet-riddled body. âHim too. Now,â Hunt ordered. âHe canât be identified.â
Becky repeated the cremation routine on the dead VSO soldier, hating herself. She, Hunt and Emerson made their way downstairs as quickly as possible. Hunt was supporting Emerson behind her. âFox, you take point so Doc and the others can see you. Youâre the star of the show, anyway. Letâs go.â
In other words, Iâm covered at both ends, thought Becky. She was too discouraged to even try to run now anyway.
They stepped outside, and were illuminated in a VSO spotlight. Roberts and the other two soldiers were directly outside the van. Roberts held a megaphone. âWell done,â his voice echoed. âThirty-two minutes, total. Youâre late again -- but thatâs to be expected from females.â Becky growled at the insult. âOnly jesting, my dear. I realize there were... unexpected elements within. Is Emerson all right?â
âShot in the arm,â Hunt answered. âHeâll be better after you fix him up. Weâve gotta get him in the back. Open the van up.â They approached.
Roberts unlocked the rear doors as the other two soldiers moved forward to assist Emerson. The doctor kept his eye on Becky, who scowled at him hatefully. She clearly held him responsible for every event -- every death -- inside that building. Roberts hadnât killed anyone directly, but he had damn well made it happen.
âWell, I can tell from the look on your face that youâve done a fine j--â
âBECK, KILL - KILL, VSO, HOT, HOT, HOT!!â laughed a nearby voice.
âOH, SHIT!!â Emerson peed in his pants. Hunt and Becky ducked.
Pure Skumm ran madly out of his dilapidated house, firing two hideously large automatic rifles, eliminating the two VSO soldiers whoâd been waiting with Roberts. Their bodies dropped next to Emerson, who pulled himself frantically into the van and somehow shut the back doors. Roberts froze. Hunt saw Becky run forward, angry as hell at everything and everyone, and he wondered Is she trying to get shot?
Pure Skumm kept laughing, waving the weapons about. His clothing was tattered, his skin charred in numerous places, and parts of him were positively smoldering. But he kept charging. âONE, EIGHT, TWO, FIVE, NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE ALIVE!â
Becky shot a ten-second burst right into his face, which pushed him brutally back, ramming him against the house. âNOW CAN WE GO!?!â she screamed at Roberts who nodded abruptly but kept staring at the hideous spectacle.
My God, sheâs done it, he thought in amazement, and I got to see it happen. She did it. âHunt, you drive!â the doctor ordered. Becky jumped into the backseat with zero hesitation.
Roberts kept looking at the flaming white supremacist, until Hunt shouted âAre you CRAZY? COME ON DOC!!â Roberts shook himself from his trance and calmly stepped into the front passenger seat. The van sped away, super-fast.
What was left of Pure Skumm kept laughing at the nightâs bizarre turn of events. Eyeless and showing bone and muscle through charred skin, he bellowed for anyone to hear: âHAH, HAH, HAH! BLACK, BLACK BLACK! REAL BLACK!! BLACK AS A BROILED! NIGGO, NIGGO, LEGGO MY EGGO! NO EYES! NO EYES! FIND MY WAY BACK TO THE TUB! RUB-A-DUB-DUB! HAH REAL BLACK!â
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Chapter Nineteen
Trauma
âWhere the HELL is Fred?â Christopher Rabikes shouted in frustration.
âWhere the hell are we?â Lizzie asked, dejected. They were still in the air.
âOhio, from the looks of it.â Chris looked out the jumbo-jet window. Moulty, Pardy, and even David were asleep in the nearest chairs. Lizzie was trying to relax.
âYou donât like to fly, do you?â Chris asked her.
Her eyes bulged. âForget it. Iâm not going through that again.â She changed seats.
âSay what?â Rabikes asked, perplexed.
âNever mind,â she sighed. âI wish I had a TV to scan. Or a radio. Something... anything.â
âEverybody needs a break, Liz. Donât beat yourself up. Besides, itâs not like these VSO bastards are making it easy for us. Theyâre not on VHF... or UHF.â
David Furfy stirred, startled, sweating slightly. âGod!â he breathed.
âWhatâs the matter, David?â Lizzie asked.
Furfy looked at them both. âI just... had the worst frigging nightmare in my life... oh, man... you ever see that movie, Being John Malkovich?â Lizzie shook her head no. âWell, in this dream, all of us were back in Beltsville.. you, me, Chris, Becky, John... everybody... but... b-but... everybody in the house... everybody in the city h-h-had Rabikesâs face on them!â he shuddered.
âOh, my God!â Lizzie gasped, mouth wide with horror.
âWhatâs so scary about that?â demanded Chris.
âAnd all anyone said was âRabikes? Rabikes Rabikes? Rabikes. Rabikes Rabikes Rabi-â
âDavid, stop!â Lizzie pleaded. âItâs so... disgusting!â Then she asked âPardy and Moulty, too?â There was fear in her voice.
âYes! Everybody in the whole city! It was awful!â Furfy reached for an air-sickness bag. âIt was... it was...â he vomited. Lizzie looked sick, too.
âWhatâs the matter, babe? Rabikes taunted. âDonât like my head on your body?â Lizzie game him a dirty look, then ran to the bathroom. Rabikes glanced at Moulty and Pardy -- then decided he didnât feel like eating at the moment, he looked out the plane window, and decided to pray...
? ? ?
When Becky, Roberts, Hunt and Emerson had returned to the hovercraft in the middle of the night -- other soldiers tending to Emerson, once aboard-- Becky stormed off to her quarters, furious and distraught.
Iâm a killer now, she despaired. I didnât kill the woman, but she wouldâve died from what I did to her. Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, soot and sweat covered her face. Stop it! She tried to kill me! She was racist filth. I probably killed Skumm, but I donât want to know! They were gonna kill Emerson-- gonna kill me-- what was I supposed to -- OH, GOD, WHY?!?
The screams of Pardy, Fricker, Cath were mixed with the crazed laughing of Pure Skumm within her brain, until Becky snapped. Sheâd been pacing back and forth, tears streaming, passing the Roy Scheider collection over and over until she knocked them clean off the table with one savage swipe of an arm. Her emotions blazing, Becky melted the tapes, then ran into her closet, tearing at the forty outfits Roberts had provided for her, ripping, then burning them.
On deck 4, a soldier watched Becky on a security monitor. Immediately, he alerted Roberts on the intercom. âSheâs going crazy. Tearing up her room.â
The doctor was impassive. âDonât send anyone in. Sheâs not going to leave the room. Sheâs got to vent, thatâs all. Keep watching. If she does leave, then call us. She canât hurt herself in there. Sheâs immune to fire, remember. Besides, the walls, floor and ceilings wonât melt. My chemical compound protects them from molecular breakdown, no matter how hot it gets.â
âWhat do you call that stuff, Doc?â Hunt asked him.
âDolex-138. My invention.â Roberts smiled. âI shouldâve sprayed her tapes and clothes with it.â Theyâd be protected, too,â he said sadly.
âHow about people?â Hunt asked, curious.
âNo way,â Roberts said. âThe chemicalâs poisonous to human skin. âInanimate objects just absorb it, and theyâre still safe for humans. Well, there goes the books and CD collection. Sheâs definitely angry.â
Inside the room, Becky took her frustrations out on the large-screen TV set, which burned into grey goop as the glass cracked and exploded into tiny pieces. She walked around, still angry beyond belief, looking for something else to destroy. There was nothing left but the bed. She advanced.
âYoung lady, I realize youâve had an extremely rough day,â Robertâs voice sounded from the intercom, âbut thereâs no point in incinerating your --â
She blasted the entire bed to hell. All of Robertsâs gifts and amenities were not toasty ash. If she wasnât already exhausted from the stress of the previous day (ant its two terrifying missions), she would have filled the entire room with wall-to-wall flames. It wouldnât have harmed her at all. Sheâd rather die than kill, but the one thing she couldnât destroy was herself.
Why? Why, why, why, God, why? Becky curled into a fetal position and lay hopelessly on the floor, trying not to think of anything except happy thoughts, but finding none...
? ? ?
Eight hours later, there was a knock on the door. She wasnât sure whether sheâd gotten any sleep or not. Sheâd rested, anyway. The fires were all out. She was surrounded by a sea of grey ash and melted debris.
A second knock. âFox, itâs me,â Hunt said.
âGo away,â Becky hissed.
He entered, carrying a tray. âBreakfast.â
âI donât want any.â Her back was turned to him. She was sitting on a blackened chair, staring lifelessly at the wall.
âTough. Take it anyway. Iâm leaving it here. If you burn it, Iâll bring in another. Burn that one too, weâll bring in an IV. Just eat it, okay?â
âJust leave it and go.â She still didnât turn around.
He placed the food down on the former bed. It was just solid enough. âYou shouldnât obsess about this. You had to do what you did. Skumm was a menace.â
âAnd now Iâm a killer just like you,â she said, her voice breaking. âThank you all so very much.â
Hunt actually looked hurt. He touched her shoulder. âBecky... youâve got to...â
âIâd like to be alone now, Kevin,â she cut him off.
He hesitated, then left the room.
She still didnât turn around.
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