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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
FEVERED FALL
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Chapter Sixteen
They glided out onto the bay. The disruption of the waters caused by
the downed building was subsiding. Around them wavelets still churned,
silent testament to their destruction. But much of the building, so
mightily suspended in the air only minutes before, was now lost under the
calming waters of New Washington Bay. The silence of the sea was
returning after a passing thunderclap; the watery grave had enveloped the
once-living building, and flooded it and put it to eternal rest.
Tongsun gazed at the chunks of dead lives, interrupted by his will, as
they sailed toward the Presidio. A paper box floated by, stuffing from an
armchair, a broken piece of plastic. As they moved across the bay and
through increasing amounts of flotsam and jetsam, they began to see
bodies.
On their left, suddenly, loomed the Coast Guard cutter. Gunfire had
resumed on the Golden Gate Bridge to their right. Tongsun felt trapped,
suddenly. Sheriffs on the bridge, Imperial Sailors on the large ship, and
the white lights on the veranda of the White House in front of him. He
wanted, for a moment, to return to Lime Point, to the security of the cove.
But it wasnÕt possible, he told himself. If he was to avenge his belovedÕs
death, he must press on. He must attack and eliminate the linchpin of the
regime that held everything together, and had made it possible for the
police to come to his home, seeking to put his beloved in prison.
He must go forward!
Tongsun thought hard, watching the Coast Guard cutter that was
bearing down on them. Then he got an idea. He turned to his crew.
ÒWeÕre on a mission of mercy, for the next few minutes,Ó Tongsun
said. The cold, huddling boys looked up at him. ÒGet scarves, shirts,
anything. Cover your faces. WeÕre going to be pulling bodies from the
water as we make our way over to the Presidio side of the bay. From the
point of view of the cutter, weÕll appear to be covering our faces against
contamination from the corpses. But really, weÕll be covering our faces so
that none of us, especially myself, am recognized.Ó
ÒYou mean we gotta pull those dead fucks from the water? The ones
we just killed?Ó a boy protested.
ÒThatÕs right,Ó Tongsun answered. ÒExpect that Coast Guard cutter
to shine searchlights on us. We must make ourselves look like weÕre on a
mission of mercy, hunting for survivors amidst the wreckage of the
downed Sky Dwelling. And pulling out bodies, to help in the policing of the
corpses. In fact, though, weÕll be closing in on the White House. We donÕt
want that cutter deciding to blow us out of the water with its guns. So
weÕll look like people trying to help out, not a bunch of assassins on our
way to kill the president.Ó
ÒCool,Ó Harold murmured. He glanced over his shoulder. The cutter
was moving in on them and was quite close now. ÒGet a scarf over your
face, T,Ó Harold said. ÒYouÕre going to be on Candid Camera in a minute.Ó
The boys covered their faces. Tongsun went back to the girl in the
wheelhouse and explained his plan to her. She altered the boats course;
instead of heading directly for their goal, the White House, she circled
amidst the wreckage of the Sky Dwelling. The Coast Guard cutter lit up
their boat with searchlights. The boys on deck waved. Then, with muffled
groans of distaste, they hauled their first corpse from the water.
The small boat approached the Presidio side of the bay in a widening
arc of circles.
At last, with a dozen corpses on board, the boat scraped against
half-submerged weeds and rocks on the Presidio side of the bay. To their
right, the shoreline sloped upward to the back lawn of the White House.
Three of the stronger boys picked up the boatÕs anchor and tossed it into
the shallows beside the shore.
ÒGood,Ó Tongsun said, watching. ÒNow, we must toss out the
bodies,Ó Tongsun said to his crew. ÒThrow them high. DonÕt just dump
them over the side. WeÕve got to make the bodies hit the shore as high up
as we can, so we can test the land for mines.Ó
They obeyed. With a ÒHeave Ho!Ó the boys threw the first body onto
the land. It hit. It rolled down the slope to bump and rest against the side
of their grounded boat. But there was no explosion.
ÒWhat happened? Did somebody up in the White House turn off the
mines?Ó Harold asked. He said this in reference to mines he presumed
were buried on shore. The dropped Sky Dwelling had blown up the mines in
the water.
ÒYes,Ó Tongsun said. ÒThatÕs my best guess. Some poor deluded soul
thinks weÕre here to help. He thinks weÕve just accidentally pulled up next
to the White House to offload our cargo of corpses. Now, itÕs time for you
and me to go up to the White House and ring the doorbell.Ó
ÒGood evening, Mr. President, mind if we stow some corpses on your
property?Ó Harold said with a low chuckle. ÒIn fact, if you donÕt mind,
weÕd like you to join them.Ó
ÒYouÕve got the idea,Ó Tongsun said. ÒLetÕs go. Before somebody
comes out and asks to help.Ó
ÒWhat about our guns?Ó Harold asked. He gazed uneasily at the Coast
Guard cutter. It was now circling in the bay, moving through the wreckage
and lowering down lifeboats off its sides to search for survivors. Unlike
the people shot from Clinton bridge, the people who lived in the Sky
Dwellings mattered. They had money and power. They werenÕt Ôprotected,Õ
as the kids on the bridges ostensibly were. They were the Ôprotectors.Õ
They made the laws, and enforced them, and even killed human beings for
the sake of their laws. Hence, when they themselves met death, or stood
the chance of possibly, barely surviving it, the government raced to the
rescue. The lifeboats from the Coast Guard cutter moved into the bay, but
Harold felt uneasy with the cutter so close, and so watchful.
ÒWe just take our guns along,Ó Tongsun said. He unwrapped a
Thermite Grenade and stuffed it in his trouser pocket. Then he set his
plastic-wrapped Laser Rifle up on the cowl of their boatÕs side. He could
not unwrap it down on the deck because there was still water sloshing
around on the deck, from the waves that had splashed over the boat when
the Sky Dwelling dropped. He ripped off the plastic.
ÒSo we go waltzing up to the White House with guns in our hands,
eh?Ó Harold asked.
ÒSometimes the obvious way is the best way, Harold,Ó Tongsun
answered. He examined his Laser Rifle to see that it was dry and ready. It
was. ÒWe look like weÕre helping. ThereÕs riots going on all over the
place. TheyÕll wonder about the guns, out there on that cutter, if theyÕre
watching us. The same goes for anyone watching us from the White House.
TheyÕll wonder, but they wonÕt be sure. Maybe weÕre carrying guns to
protect ourselves from rioters. Not being sure, whoeverÕs watching us
wonÕt open fire right away.Ó
ÒOkay then,Ó Harold said. He leaped over the side of their boat. He
landed on the solid ground of the slope. Tongsun turned to his crew.
ÒFive of you stay here to cover us if anyone opens fire on us. The
rest of you follow me and Harold. DonÕt shoot until someone fires at us.
With luck, we may get all the way in to the president before we need to
open fire. You all know what he looks like?Ó
ÒWho doesnÕt? Anytime thereÕs something not worth talking about,
he interrupts Fuller House,Ó one of the boys replied.
ÒSo we shoot him? What then?Ó someone asked.
Tongsun looked puzzled for a moment. Finally, he said: ÒThen our
missionÕs accomplished. We, uh, exit the White House by the safest way
possible. Out the front, I guess. No... Wait. WeÕve got to get the covering
force that weÕre leaving down here in the boat up the slope.Ó Tongsun
paused, reflected, then said: ÒWeÕll exit out the back, or take up positions
inside the White House, facing the cutter.Ó
ÒYeah, yeah, fine,Ó Harold said. He looked at the five that were to
remain. ÒWeÕll cover you, or you get your asses up the slope as soon as
weÕve disappeared. CÕmon, Tongsun!Ó
Harold ran up the slope, with Tongsun following. The rest of the
boys, hustling along with their equipment, went running up the slope after
them. Meanwhile, back on the boat, two boys kept throwing corpses over
the side, to disguise the real purpose of their mission. Three other boys
gazed at the Coast Guard cutter. They kept their unwrapped guns just out
of sight; bending down and holding them below the side of the boat. In the
wheelhouse, the girl had remained behind. It was foolish; there was no
chance they would ever use the boat again, even if everything went
perfectly. Yet she remained, standing there, as if to drive the boat off
again, when ordered.
Tongsun and Harold had just cleared the top of the slope when they
heard a voice bellow at them from behind: ÒHALT! YOU THERE, HALT!Ó
ÒShit!Ó Harold cursed. He dashed for the White House. Without
turning, he knew where the voice was coming from. It was being spoken at
them from the deck of the Coast Guard cutter.
ÒKA-BOOM!Ó sounded suddenly, on the slope behind Harold, the one
heÕd just climbed with Tongsun. The Samoan boy ran beside him, panting.
Together they dashed across the back lawn of the White House. The
windows of the large house peered down at them, and they both felt as if
they were being stared at by a thousand snipers.
ÒDamn! TheyÕve turned on the mines!Ó Tongsun said to Harold. There
were screams, of boys being blown to bits, followed by more explosions on
the slope behind them.
Gunfire erupted from the White House. Harold and Tongsun were
halfway across the lawn. They threw themselves into the grass. It was
wet, from the fog and perhaps, Harold guessed, from the waves tossed
inland by the downed Sky Dwelling. Harold and Tongsun returned fire.
With his nose in the grass, Harold wondered if he and Tongsun had cleared
the last of the mines. He hoped they had; he doubted the President of the
Imperium went walking around in a minefield when he walked his dog on
the back lawn, even if the mines could be switched on and off.
A sound of gunfire erupted from behind them. Harold felt a chill of
fear run down his back as he lay in the wet grass on the back lawn of the
White House. The boys behind them, if they had survived the minefield,
were now being decimated by the Coast Guard cutter. He could not see, but
he could hear, with deafening certainty, the sound of the cutter raking the
sloping shoreline behind them.
Tongsun got up and ran.
ÒT!Ó Harold shouted. Harold leaped to his feet and ran after Tongsun.
Miraculously, they both made it to the veranda at the back of the White
House. They threw themselves onto its polished wood decking. Harold felt
a burst of laser fire pass over his head from somewhere within the
building. He aimed at the spot where heÕd seen a green flash, and fired. He
heard a scream.
ÒI shot the sheriff,Ó Harold muttered to Tongsun, who was lying to
his left.
ÒNo, you only shot the deputy,Ó Tongsun grinned. They began
crawling forward across the veranda.
Naked, her hair hardly in regulation order, Judy Dan walked up to the
Hoodoo. The sheriffs standing around it gaped at her.
ÒHALT!Ó one of the sheriffs said. He pointed his weapon at her. Judy
Dan had a creepy feeling that, if she werenÕt a woman, and attractive to
boot, she would have already been shot dead by the man. She looked at his
glowering face in the half light of the street. The street lamps were out,
but a building, burning nearby, cast a wavering light upon the figures
standing before her.
ÒHi, IÕm Judy Dan, Sanramento Police,Ó Judy said in as disarming a
manner as she could. The sheriffÕs gun wavered, then lowered slightly.
ÒShow me some I.D.,Ó the sheriff groused.
ÒI just got shot out of the air,Ó Judy said. She walked up to the
sheriff and got right next to him. He lowered his pistol further.
ÒWhereÕs your clothes?Ó the sheriff asked in a gruff voice. ÒNudity
is illegal!Ó
ÒSanramento Police!Ó Judy said to the man, with as much of an air of
authority as a woman, half-drowned, and exhausted from swimming, could
muster. ÒDidnÕt you see the Hoodoo that got shot down?Ó
ÒNo,Ó the sheriff answered. ÒWe just landed. Some fuck shot our
pilot.Ó Judy walked around to the front of the Hoodoo, past the sheriff
who wanted to arrest her for streaking, past the other sheriffs, who
seemed dazed by her presence. She looked over the aircraft with an
expertÕs eye, despite being reduced to a shivering, wet, bone-white human
being, naked as Eve in Eden. She spotted the place where a single laser
blast had sliced through the windshield of the Hoodoo, hitting its pilot.
ÒWhereÕs your co-pilot?Ó Judy asked.
ÒDidnÕt make the flight,Ó one of the sheriffs answered.
ÒWhat kind of condition is your pilot in?Ó Judy said.
ÒNot with us, anymore,Ó a sheriff said. He pointed to a body lying on
a stretcher on the ground.
ÒWeÕre lucky to have gotten down safely,Ó another sheriff said.
Judy looked at the dead pilot. Then she looked at the sheriffs. ÒI can
fly it,Ó she said. The sheriffs shook their heads. It was not an
affirmative shake.
ÒTrust me,Ó Judy said.
ÒItÕd be easier to trust you if you got some goddam clothes on,Ó one
of the sheriffs answered.
ÒThen strip the corpse,Ó Judy said. She pointed to the dead pilot,
lying there on the stretcher, in his flightsuit. Sure, it was a man, in a
maleÕs flightsuit, but a flightsuit was rather like a rose, which, by any
other name, is still a rose.
ÒNo way,Ó one of the sheriffs answered.
ÒFine. IÕll fly it naked,Ó Judy said.
ÒShit. Are you really a pilot?Ó one of the sheriffs asked.
ÒI think you guys are scared shitless from almost getting shot out of
the sky, and donÕt want to take off,Ó Judy said. She eyed them boldly.
ÒItÕs not that weÕre--Ó one of the sheriffs began.
ÒThen letÕs go,Ó Judy said. She motioned for them to board the
Hoodoo. Naked, but with a graceful, self-assured step, she walked toward
the open hatch in the side of the craft. ÒDo we have somebody to man the
Gatling?Ó
ÒHere,Ó a sheriff said.
ÒGood,Ó Judy answered. And, still quite naked, and dripping from the
bay, she stepped aboard the Hoodoo.
Tongsun gazed around the Oval Office. Harold raised his gun and
pointed it at a picture on the wall, of President Nelson. Tongsun reached
over and pushed HaroldÕs gun toward the floor.
ÒNobodyÕs home,Ó Harold whispered. His voice sounded awe-struck.
ÒWe killed whoever was here,Ó Tongsun replied.
Harold looked at the presidentÕs desk. It had papers scattered across
it. ÒThe bastard left before we ever arrived,Ó Harold said. Tongsun
nodded.
ÒLet me ask you something, Harold,Ó Tongsun said.
ÒYeah?Ó Harold asked.
ÒIf you were the President of the Imperium, and you felt forced to
flee the White House, what would you do?Ó
Harold thought for a moment. He gazed around them. He listened,
and heard only silence, punctuated by occasional gunfire. It sounded
distant, haphazard. With a chill he realized that none of the other boys
had made it up the slope They were all dead, plus both girls, as far as he
could tell. And he felt a sudden fear that he and Tongsun were about to
join them. Harold drew in his breath. Then he said, in the encroaching
silence of the Oval Office, ÒIÕd booby-trap the place, and blow it the
minute I got wind of someone intruding into it.Ó
ÒLetÕs go!Ó Tongsun shouted. Together, they ran toward the far
window at the back of the Oval Office, behind the presidentÕs desk.
Dropping their guns, they crossed behind the desk and leapt through the
glass.
There was a roar, and for a minute they both thought the explosion
had enveloped them, and was inside them.
When they recovered, Harold and Tongsun found themselves lying
outside the Oval Office, amidst splintered glass and wood. A combustion
of smoke and flames billowed beyond their feet. They looked for the White
House and saw only wreckage.
ÒAre you okay, T?Ó Harold asked. He felt surprised, and relieved,
that he could still speak.
ÒIÕm-- okay,Ó Tongsun answered. He moved an arm, then a leg, then
both legs. Gradually, with uncertainty, he moved into a crouch, then stood
up.
A Hoodoo circled overhead. It began to descend.
ÒShit!Ó Harold swore. He looked up at the craft.
ÒPlay it cool,Ó Tongsun said. To hide his face, he bent down. He
reached for Harold and slowly helped the boy stand.
ÒMan, theyÕll arrest us!Ó Harold said.
ÒIf they even know whatÕs going on,Ó Tongsun answered. When
Harold was steady on his feet, Tongsun, still keeping his head bowed,
yanked up his own shirt.
ÒWhat are you doing?Ó Harold asked.
ÒIÕm going to pretend IÕve got a bloody nose, Harold, so they donÕt
recognize me,Ó Tongsun said. ÒOh, yeah. WeÕre now both White House
interns,Ó Tongsun said.
ÒWhat?Ó Harold asked.
ÒYou know, we help out and stuff. The president left us behind to
look after things.Ó
ÒNice work, if you can get it, except for the occasional blow job,Ó
Harold smirked.
ÒBe polite. Be a nerd,Ó Tongsun cautioned.
ÒOffer them oral sex,Ó Harold said. ÒYouÕve got some kind of a bruise
on your forehead, T.Ó
ÒGood,Ó Tongsun said. ÒNow I know why it hurts so much.Ó
Together, they watched the Hoodoo land. When it was down, and the
roar of its engines had diminished, they began walking toward it.
KA-WHOOM!
A blast of sound, of hot air, and of flying earth and debris threw
them backwards. Both boys, so recently risen from the earth, were both
thrown back down onto it.
ÒAre you boys okay?Ó Harold heard, as if far off. Something shook
his shoulder.
ÒShit! Not another explosion!Ó HaroldÕs mind said. When he thought
the blast had passed, he found himself staring into the eyes of a D.C.
Sheriff. There was a small American flag etched into the seven-pointed
gold star on his chest. Above the flag were the words, ÒImperial States of
America.Ó There were only 27 stars, not 50, but the name of the united
American states had grown more regal as their numbers had diminished.
Like the Janitor who becomes, over time, an Environmental Services
Engineer, whilst still cleaning toilets, the American states had changed.
AmericaÕs colonies had gone from states in a confederation to states in a
union to, finally, world guarantor of peace, security, and order. When the
Chinese, unshackled from communism, proved more numerous, more
intelligent, more vigorous, and (most notably) more committed to
freedom, America found itself the loser in an overseas war and settled for
security in a world policed by China. Its nuclear bombs, its warplanes, its
biological and chemical weapons were all taken away. But it was left
with its right to police its buildings for smokers; to ÔprotectÕ its children,
and to enforce its Smog 2 regulations. Americans found they disliked
nuclear weapons anyway, disliked having overseas commitments, and
didnÕt mind terribly much (as long as it was taken out, beforehand, from
their wages) paying 10 percent of their taxes to Beijing.
ÒI call it a bargain, the best I ever had,Ó a line from a song by the
Who, from the soundtrack of Tommy, played briefly on radio stations after
the signing of the International Accords. (Though most people did mutter
Òdamn ChineseÓ under their breaths when they heard the song.)
Harold, his face blackened now from two explosions, stared up at the
uniformed officer.
ÒIÕm-- God, my office must be a complete mess!Ó Harold said.
ÒYour office?Ó the sheriff asked. He looked past Harold at the
wrecked White House. ÒSon, that place is a disaster,Ó the sheriff said.
Harold looked over at Tongsun. The Samoan boyÕs face was bruised,
and streaked with soot. Tongsun looked up at the two sheriffs standing
over him. There were others, nearby, milling about. Harold had briefly
lost consciousness but Tongsun seemed to have a good grasp of what was
going on. Tongsun nodded at Harold, slightly, and Harold understood that
Tongsun was proud of him for what heÕd said to the sheriff. Harold had
remembered their new M.O., despite losing himself briefly in the explosion.
ÒGod, the president is going to hate this,Ó Tongsun said, rolling onto
his side and looking back at the flaming debris of the White House.
ÒShit! What are we going to tell him?Ó Harold asked, himself rolling
also onto his side and glancing back at the White House.
ÒDo you work here?Ó a sheriff asked, taking the bait.
ÒGod, yes! And I just got a shipment of those new skid-free
paperclips in this morning too,Ó Harold said. ÒNow IÕll have to reorder!Ó
Tongsun frowned, just a little, as if to indicate that Harold should
not play his new identity too broadly.
ÒDo you know where the president is?Ó Tongsun asked one of the
sheriffs. He groped on the ground beside him. ÒDamn! WhereÕs my
briefcase? Oh shit, how am I going to get that urgent message to him
now?Ó
ÒIf you boys need to see the president, weÕve got a Hoodoo,Ó one of
the sheriffs said helpfully. ÒBut itÕs been hit, as we tried to come down
and land.Ó
ÒDamn thingÕs on fire, Butch! You canÕt send them up in that,Ó
another sheriff said, speaking up.
Tongsun sat up. The two sheriffs standing over him crouched down.
Together, they stared at the Hoodoo. It sat on the front lawn of the White
House. Its body, in the rear section, burned with small, crackling flames.
ÒWeÕll take it,Ó Tongsun said, gazing at the craft.
ÒWell, IÕm sure glad we decided to land, to see what was going on,Ó a
sheriff crouched next to him said. ÒGod knows, though. I donÕt want to get
back into that thing.Ó
ÒItÕs fine,Ó Tongsun said. ÒWe MUST reach the president. We have no
choice. Do you know where he is?Ó
ÒPresident Nelson? God no. WeÕre not cleared for that sort of
information,Ó a sheriff told Tongsun. Tongsun, a bit unsteadily, stood up.
He looked down at the crouching sheriffs. Another shell sailed over the
tops of the low-rise buildings across the street. The sheriffs who were
crouching flattened themselves to the grass. One of them grabbed
TongsunÕs ankle, but he deftly pulled his foot free.
The shell hit some distance away, and exploded. Harold cringed,
waited a moment, then jumped up beside Tongsun. The Samoan boy caught
him and kept him from toppling over as he nearly lost his footing again.
ÒAh!Ó Harold said.
ÒYou okay?Ó Tongsun asked him.
ÒI think somethingÕs wrong with my leg,Ó Harold said. He limped
forward toward the Hoodoo. To his great surprise, a nude woman stepped
out of the HoodooÕs open hatch in the side of the craft.
Tongsun put one of HaroldÕs arms around his broad shoulders. Then
he walked forward, carrying the limping boy along with him.
Judy Dan found herself staring at one of the most attractive boys
sheÕd seen in a long while. He had a bruise on his forehead and his face
was blackened from explosions, but he was still quite handsome to look
upon. She noticed that his shirt was torn open, revealing his muscled
chest.
At the same time, Tongsun was struck by how closely Judy Dan
resembled his dead beloved. It wasnÕt the same woman, but she was
blonde, attractive, and in her mid 30Õs. She had a sprightly gait as she
walked toward him completely naked. For a moment he thought she was
some slightly altered apparition of his beloved, come to take him away to
Heaven with her. Then the nude woman extended her bare hand, her breasts
quivering nicely, and said,
ÒHi. IÕm Judy Dan. Do you young men need some help?Ó
ÒWeÕre White House interns,Ó Harold said, wincing as he drew his
sprained leg forward.
ÒWeÕve got to get to the president,Ó Tongsun told the woman.
ÒSure,Ó Judy Dan said. ÒI mean, this thingÕs a wreck,Ó she pointed
with her thumb to the Hoodoo behind her. ÒBut if you really need to get
someplace, guys--Ó
ÒWe do,Ó Tongsun said. ÒDo you know where the president is?Ó
Dan looked at him. ÒNot officially,Ó she said.
ÒNever mind officially,Ó Harold said. He tossed back his stringy,
blackened blonde locks from his forehead and Judy Dan was struck by how
like River Phoenix, her favorite old-time movie star, he looked. Perhaps,
she wondered in an idle second, he was River Phoenix, come to ride with
her in a final flight to the very pinnacle of New Washington society.
ÒWell, sure, I think I know where he is,Ó Judy Dan said.
ÒLetÕs go!Ó Tongsun said. Still holding Harold, he drew the stumbling
boy forward to the open hatch on the Hoodoo.
ÒShit. The fireÕs spreading,Ó Harold said. He looked up at the body of
the Hoodoo. The flames had run farther along it, moving toward the hatch
door.
ÒWe can make it. We have to,Ó Tongsun said.
ÒWait!Ó Judy said. She turned. She ran after the boys. ÒAre you sure
you want to go back up in that?Ó Judy asked.
ÒVery sure,Ó Tongsun said. He pulled Harold into the hatch with him.
ÒDamn!Ó Judy swore. She had misgivings now, about flying the
Hoodoo, seeing the craft from outside, and how it was sprouting small
flames along its back and its sides. Yet the two boys had just stepped
into it! She ran up to the hatch and jumped inside.
Tongsun had just seated Harold in one of the sling seats. He turned,
and gazed at Judy. She stared at him.
ÒIf you really want to,Ó Judy said.
ÒYes!Ó Tongsun said. ÒTake me to the president. I have an urgent
message for him.Ó
ÒThis will never work,Ó Harold, stretched out in a sling seat,
muttered.
An explosion shook the craft, as whoever was shelling the White
House lobbed in another round. When it diminished, and the Hoodoo was
still again, Judy walked forward into the cockpit. Naked, a bit dazed, she
sat back down in the pilotÕs seat that she knew so well. She strapped
herself in. She revved the craftÕs engine. The dials on the console in front
of her still had passable readings. It was crazy to take off, but it did
seem the right thing to do. Judy Dan had always loved the heroic parts of
action films, where the hero (always a male) had defied the odds to
accomplish an important mission.
ÒWell,Ó Judy told herself. ÒToday the hero is going to be a woman!Ó
She threw the HoodooÕs controls into ÔtakeoffÕ mode and the craft lifted
up.
It was an unsteady takeoff, as unsteady as its landing had been. But
it did rise, it did glide up, and it did (rather narrowly) clear the top of a
building across the street from the White House.
Tongsun walked forward, into the cockpit. He gazed down at Judy
from behind. He admired the certain grip of her hands on the HoodooÕs
controls. He gazed at the dials, but had no idea what they meant.
ÒYou doing okay?Ó Tongsun asked.
ÒSure,Ó Judy said. She reached over to flick on the Comm screen.
ÒNo!Ó Tongsun caught her hand.
ÒDonÕt you want me to try to contact them?Ó Judy asked. She looked
up at Tongsun. She noticed, with feminine delight, how close his sweaty,
half-naked chest was to her.
ÒMaintain Comm silence,Ó Tongsun said. ÒIf you think you know
where he is, just fly there. I donÕt want us getting hit by groundfire. The
rioters could be monitoring the comm network.Ó
ÒGood idea,Ó Judy said, though she probably would have said it even
if it were a bad idea, so pleased was she to be in the presence of the
handsome Samoan boy. He was a rare one, she admitted to herself. Strong,
good-looking, yet with a surprisingly youthful aspect, while at the same
time having a maturity to his gaze that she found slightly unsettling.
ÒOh, by the way,Ó Tongsun said. ÒDo you have a wrench?Ó
ÒSure,Ó Judy said. She pointed to a tool box strapped to the base of
the empty co-pilotÕs seat. ÒIn there. Did something in back come loose?Ó
ÒYeah,Ó Tongsun said. ÒBut donÕt worry. IÕll take care of it.Ó He
looked at the dials again. ÒWill we make it?Ó
ÒI-I hope so,Ó Judy said. The temperature gauge was now
troublesomely high. ÒIf we donÕt blow up in mid-air,Ó she added.
ÒFly as fast as you can,Ó Tongsun said.
ÒRoger,Ó Judy answered.
The city of New Washington slipped by underneath them. The Hoodoo
became balky in JudyÕs hands. But she was an expert flier, and did her
best, with her skills, to compensate for the increasing instability of the
craftÕs flight. It darted out over the bay and she looked down on the bay
with a kind of God-like stare in her eyes. Strangely, instead of fearing the
bay, which had so recently almost taken her life, she now felt like a
victor, gazing upon a defeated opponent.
ÒFace your fear, and you will overcome it,Ó a voice said quietly in
JudyÕs head. She nodded. SheÕd already been dumped into the bay once this
evening. The prospect of going down a second time troubled her not in the
least. She was, suddenly, like a man being re-arrested, perhaps for the
fifth or sixth time. She was like a ghetto child, who took no umbrage at
prison time, seeing it simply as an opportunity to socialize with his
father, his brother, and his uncle. Tossing her blonde hair back over her
naked shoulder, she flew with a sureness to her grip that sheÕd never felt
before.
ÒPerhaps,Ó she reflected. ÒI never made it out of the bay, the first
time. I died there, and now IÕm flying naked to Heaven, with a God-like
young man to guide me.Ó Then she shook her head, told herself she was,
despite her nudity, quite alive (though she half-disbelieved it), and she
headed for the Sky Dwelling where she guessed the president was.
President Nelson gazed into the T.V. screen.
ÒAnd so, my fellow citizens of the Imperium, let me apologize once
again for interrupting your late night viewing. I am continuing to monitor
the situation here at the White House. The reports, as IÕve said, are now
good. We have things under control. There is no need to leave your home.
Please take this time to be with your loved ones, and enjoy the fellowship
of your friends and family. I shall speak to you again as soon as there are
new developments to report. Until then, I remain your faithful servant,
maintaining our Imperial security for the safety of every family.Ó
ÒVery good, President Nelson,Ó an aide said, as the T.V. cameras
ceased filming him.
ÒThank you,Ó President Nelson said.
ÒWould you like to go to the party sir?Ó another aide asked.
ÒOf course!Ó President Nelson said. ÒThatÕs some of the best
legislation IÕve signed in years!Ó
In the cabin of the Hoodoo, Tongsun worked with the wrench. He was
without any weapon. There appeared to be none aboard the Hoodoo, except
one very large, and very heavy one. He hoped he was strong enough to carry
it. With another turn of his wrench, he continued to loosen the bolts
holding the Gatling gun to its housing.
Harold, sprawled in a sling seat, stared at him from behind.
ÒWeÕll make it, T,Ó he murmured.
ÒHarold?Ó T said.
ÒYeah?Ó Harold asked. Tongsun noticed, as he worked, that the craft
was vibrating with a nerve-wracking intensity. He looked up, briefly, at
the ceiling, then toward the back. The flames were not inside the cabin
but he guessed they soon would be.
ÒYeah?Ó Harold asked again.
ÒSheÕs quite nice-looking, Harold,Ó Tongsun said. ÒBut you know
what I may have to do.Ó
ÒHer?Ó Harold asked. He guessed Tongsun meant the pilot.
ÒYeah. Her,Ó Tongsun said. He felt the Gatling come loose from its
housing.
ÒGod,Ó Harold said. ÒTry not to, Tongsun. I rather like her.Ó
ÒI do too, Harold,Ó Tongsun said.
ÒWeÕre coming in for a landing,Ó the interior loudspeaker suddenly
blurted. It was a femaleÕs voice. JudyÕs. ÒBrace yourself,Ó she announced.
Tongsun grabbed onto the housing of the Gatling. Harold gripped the sides
of his seat.
The Hoodoo, aflame, burst through a mesh of netting covering a
Service Entrance on the back of the Abraham Lincoln Sky Dwelling. As it
broke through the netting, alarms were triggered. Security cameras
pivoted to catch the Hoodoo on film. It bulked large in their fisheye
lenses. The room into which the Hoodoo had thrown itself filled with
smoke as the burning craft skidded across its floor and struck the far
wall.
Downstairs, in the lowest floor of the building, security guards and
two Secret Service officers monitored the arrival of the craft.
ÒDamn. It came crashing right through. It didnÕt answer any of our
calls to it,Ó one of the guards, seated before a television monitor, said.
He watched as the Service Entrance landing bay caught on fire, the flames
leaping up from the Hoodoo to ignite the ceiling.
ÒProbably lost its Comm,Ó one of the Secret Service officers said.
ÒDamn construction workers! IÕll bet itÕs one of their fucking ships!Ó
a security guard said.
ÒWhen the president pays a visit, everythingÕs got to be spruced up,Ó
a security guard said. He looked at the guard sitting in front of a
television monitor next to him. ÒI hear weÕre even getting new carpeting
down here.Ó
ÒThatÕll be the day,Ó the other man laughed.
ÒMayday! Mayday!Ó came suddenly from a speaker next to one of the
T.V. screens.
ÒThere. ItÕs got Comm now!Ó one of the security guards said. He
amplified the transmission from the craft as a nude woman appeared on
one of the T.V. screens.
ÒHello, IÕm Judy Dan,Ó the woman said. ÒMy HoodooÕs on fire and IÕve
got two White House interns on board who say they have an urgent
message for the President of the Imperium.Ó The guards and the Secret
Service officers found themselves staring at the way her naked breasts
rose and fell as she spoke quickly into her onboard T.V. camera, next to her
Comm screen. ÒSorry about my clothes,Ó Judy Dan added. ÒItÕs a mess
down there.Ó
Tongsun emerged from the Hoodoo into the Landing Bay. He coughed
as his lungs inhaled the smoke that was rapidly filling the room.
ÒHey! You canÕt land here!Ó a man said. The security cameras
pivoted, but the smoke filling the room obscured their view. The man
stepped into the Service Entrance Landing Bay from an open doorway.
Tongsun approached him. With a quick burst from the Gatling, Tongsun
silenced him. Then he stepped over the man and walked quickly into the
myriad of hallways beyond the Landing Bay. The guards downstairs,
mesmerized by the image of Judy Dan, failed to see him pass out of the
Landing Bay, despite cameras perched in the hall that filmed Tongsun.
Judy Dan looked to her right. What was that noise? She looked
startled. She did not know that Tongsun had left her craft, or that heÕd
stolen her Gatling. She looked into her onboard T.V. camera again.
ÒMayday,Ó she repeated.
A Secret Service officer, staring at JudyÕs image, frowned. ÒDamn.
I donÕt like the looks of this,Ó he muttered.
ÒLetÕs go,Ó the other officer said. Quickly they hurried from the
room, with five security guards leaping up to follow them.
Judy Dan unstrapped herself in the Hoodoo. She stood up. The two
guards remaining stationed before the T.V. cameras in the lowest floor of
the Sky Dwelling got an excellent view of her bush.
ÒNice,Ó one of them said to the other.
Upstairs, the party was underway. The bunting was up and the
purpose of the party (for, in Washington, no party was held without a
purpose) was written in large letters on a banner overhanging the
speakerÕs podium.
ÒPROTECT THE CHILDREN,Ó the banner read. President Nelson stood
under the banner, before a microphone on the speakerÕs podium. He lifted a
glass of wine in toast to the crowd.
ÒHereÕs to our new legislation, raising the voting age and the age of
consent to 21,Ó President Nelson told the assembled crowd with a grin.
There was applause.
ÒTwenty-five next year!Ó a person, wearing a fine tuxedo, shouted
from the crowd.
ÒThirty!Ó a woman in a shimmering cocktail gown yelled, her glass
of wine uplifted.
ÒThirty-five!Ó someone else said, and there was genial laughter.
They drank to their new law, and assured themselves that they
would write more, in the coming days and weeks. After all, though the
Imperial code now stretched to two billion volumes, all of them filled
with laws which it was no excuse to be ignorant of, the rioting on the
streets below was clear evidence that yet more laws needed to be
written.
ÒIn our modern age, there is increasing stress on the families of the
Imperium,Ó President Nelson said, as the applause dwindled away. ÒBut
our Imperial government stands ready to help the hard-working mothers
and fathers of our great nation to raise their children in safety and
peace.Ó A new round of applause broke out. There were politely voiced
cheers, and more toasts.
ÒTo President Nelson!Ó someone cried.
ÒTo the Imperium!Ó someone else said. And, with a toast most
appropriate to the moment, some else shouted, ÒTo the safety of our
children!Ó
Judy Dan stood in the cabin of the Hoodoo. She gazed at Harold
through the smoke. She looked again at the place where the Gatling had
been wrenched from its housing.
ÒYou lied to me,Ó Judy said to Harold. She wished she had her laser
pistol with her but it was drowned, like her flightsuit, her boots, her
helmet and her gloves, in the bay. It was foolish not to have grabbed a
weapon from someone along the way; the dead pilot whoÕs place sheÕd
taken, perhaps, but in the rush of events sheÕd not bothered to. Now, as
she stared at Harold, she realized that was a mistake.
ÒFor every time, there is a season,Ó Harold said, and felt rather
proud of himself, in his crippled condition, for coming up with such a fine,
cryptic phrase, just as Tongsun would have.
ÒI canÕt belive thatÕs-- thatÕs him--Ó Judy replied.
ÒItÕs... the real McCoy,Ó Harold said. He grinned. ÒNo use chasing
after him. HeÕs already gone. And heÕll kill you if you try to stop him.
Help me up. WeÕre going to roast in here.Ó
ÒDamn you,Ó Judy swore.
ÒWhatever,Ó Harold said. ÒAre you just going to leave me here, to
burn alive, or will you see that I get justice?Ó
ÒBurning would be good justice for you,Ó Judy said.
ÒThen leave me, bitch,Ó Harold said. And, inside his head, he thought:
ÒI donÕt really care what you do, honey. All I care is that I stall you long
enough for Tongsun to get as far up into the building as he can.Ó
ÒAlright,Ó Judy said. ÒIÕll help you. But God, will I testify against
you at trial. You two have probably broken all two billion laws in the
Imperium!Ó
ÒWeÕre doing our best,Ó Harold answered.
Tongsun found an elevator. Its panel offered service to the top floor,
but when the elevator had risen and stopped, he found he was a floor below
the top floor. He could not get it to go any higher. He pressed the top
button repeatedly, but it wouldnÕt budge. However, when its doors began
closing and it offered to take him to the basement, Tongsun quickly
stepped out. He found a stairway. It had a police cordon across it, plus a
desk. There was a magazine open on the desk. It was Sports Illustrated.
But nobody was manning the desk, at the moment, and Tongsun stepped
past it, ripped away the police cordon, and quickly mounted the stairs
leading to the top floor.
He emerged into a hallway. There was no desk in this hallway, but
he could hear voices coming from around a corner in the hall nearby. He
walked quickly toward the corner, his Gatling held in a ready-to-fire
position at his waist.
ÒHey, you! This is a secured area!Ó a group of guards said to Tongsun
as he rounded the corner, on the top floor of the building. He didnÕt wait to
argue. He opened fire with the Gatling. He strained as he held the big gun.
It was heavy, and it possessed a significant recoil. Nonetheless, he was
strong enough to manage it, and before the Secret Service officers could
draw their guns, the powerful weapon from the Hoodoo tore their bodies to
shreds.
Tongsun ceased swinging the gun back and forth and advanced down
the hall. He heard sounds of a party. He rounded another corner. He met
another cluster of guards. He opened fire again. The Secret Service
officers were blown to bits.
The noise of the revelry in the party room was so loud, accompanied
by the band, that the brief burst of gunfire out in the hall failed to catch
the notice of all but a few partiers at the back of the room. Worse, from
their standpoint, a sliding glass door, communicating with the hallway,
decorated with gold lettering that read ÒAbraham Lincoln Party Room,Ó
had been closed.
From within the room, celebrating its new statutory triumph, a
shadow loomed on the other side of the door. The glass slid back. Heads
turned. Tongsun stepped into the room. His head was bruised. His face,
brown-skinned, was smeared with soot. His black hair was uncombed. He
smelled of sweat. His clothes were torn, and grimy. His shirt was ripped
open to reveal his deep-breathing chest. There was a look of anxious
alarm on his face.
A woman, dressed in sequined gown, noticed how her 40-something
friend stared with wonder at the figure in the doorway. He was quite
handsome, she admitted to herself, but surely, from his youthful visage,
he must be underage? She saw the gun at his waist but did not
immediately recognize it as such, for there was construction going on
elsewhere in the building, and, having passed workmen on her way up to
the party, she assumed he was part of a construction crew.
ÒWell,Ó she told herself. ÒHe might be old enough to work, but he
surely wasnÕt old enough for what her friend found him so appealing for.Ó
With a light touch on her friendÕs gown, she reminded her, politely but
firmly, speaking it aloud, ÒRemember, Justina, sex with a minor is a major
crime.Ó
Intending to share more of her legalistic wisdom, derived from many
viewings of afternoon television, Gloria Selvine was interrupted. A rude
burst of laser fire shot from the barrel of the Gatling and, instead of
sharing additional cautionary phrases with her friend, Mrs. Selvine instead
splattered her with her own body fat and body tissue, and a substantial
quantity of bodily fluid. The contents of her wine cup also went splashing
across her friend. Justina had no time to react, however, for a slight
movement of the Gatling brought its laser fire into contact with her own
body. She burst apart, splattering other guests with her blood, who,
themselves, had no time to contemplate her effect on them, for they too
were torn apart by the Gatling as Tongsun sprayed the room.
There were screams. Shots were fired. Tongsun felt a laser blast
nip his head. He stepped to one side, out of the silhouetting doorway
behind him, and kept firing. He reaped through the crowd with his Gatling
like Death itself, felling the bodies easily and quickly.
ÒMr. President, this way!Ó a voice shouted. President Nelson felt
himself yanked down from the podium at the far end of the room. He was
dragged through a doorway. Secret Service officers carried him quickly up
a flight of stairs to the roof of the building.
Down in the Service Entrance Landing Bay, two Secret Service
officers and five security guards were busy arresting both Judy Dan and
Harold.
ÒDammit! IÕm a pilot! Sanramento Police!Ó Judy Dan protested, as
her hands were bound behind her back by two security guards. She coughed
at the smoke billowing from her burning Hoodoo.
ÒAnd IÕm a White House intern!Ó Harold said, mustering as much
indignity as he could. Then he coughed also.
ÒNo heÕs not!Ó Judy Dan gasped.
ÒLetÕs get out of here,Ó one of the security guards said to a Secret
Service agent. They turned, dragging Judy Dan and Harold with them. Two
maintenance men rushed into the room, holding fire extinguishers. They
stared at the burning Hoodoo. They looked ill-equipped for their job.
Perhaps, hearing the alarms, they had suspected a usual, run of the mill
emergency. Like men with buckets staring at a burning skyscraper, they
gaped up at the Hoodoo.
ÒHoly shit!Ó one of the maintenance men yelled. The entire room was
a billowing mass of smoke.
ÒWhereÕs the fire detail?Ó the other maintenance man asked.
ÒGod if I know. Probably at that damn party!Ó a security guard
yelled.
The building quivered.
ÒWhat the Hell?Ó a Secret Service agent, holding Harold by his hands,
which were cuffed behind his back, blurted out.
Up on the roof, the Hoodoo began to rise. President Nelson, slightly
rumpled but otherwise unhurt, sat with a wine glass in his hand. It was
empty, but an onboard servant, quick to notice the lack of liquor in the
presidentÕs glass, rushed to fill it with a bottle of the presidentÕs
favorite vintage.
President Nelson gazed at a T.V. screen next to his seat, which was a
large, plump, well-stuffed chair. He saw the ruined ballroom on his
screen. A producer, in a small room off to one side of the large HoodooÕs
main cabin, selected another view for the presidentÕs eyes. The camera
feeds were arriving from the security office in the bottom floor of the
Abraham Lincoln building, and the producer chose from them with the
deftness and grace of a programmer selecting an eveningÕs viewing. He
found a live shot of Judy Dan, quite naked, her arms bound behind her back,
and of Harold, looking sooty and disheveled, also with his hands
imprisoned behind him. Secret Service agents and guards surrounded the
two. They were coming through a doorway labelled ÒService Entrance
Landing BayÓ into an interior hall.
The president laughed. The wine sloshed in his glass as he laughed.
He studied the screen as the roar of the HoodooÕs engines grew louder.
ÒHA! HA! HA! Damn kids!Ó President Nelson said. Unlike the women
in the party room, he was under no illusions about what he was seeing.
ÒDamn kids!Ó he said again. ÒTheyÕre hippies, thatÕs what they are. Well,
well. I have two words for you,Ó President Nelson said, gazing at the
captured figures on the T.V. screen. He had no idea how many other rioters
had penetrated the building, and he wasnÕt going to take any chances.
Grinning, he asked the two handcuffed figures on the T.V., who could not,
of course, see him, and no idea he was talking them, a simple question:
ÒGoing down?Ó He laughed again, and drank from his wine glass.
ÒDo you want to do a full drop, Mr. President?Ó a Secret Service
officer asked.
ÒYep. Full drop,Ó President Nelson said.
ÒOverriding,Ó a man stated. He sat at a console with two T.V.s,
which showed a view of internal computer screens in the building below.
HeÕd already switched the Abraham Lincoln BuildingÕs Main Lift Engine
from automatic to manual, causing the building to tremble at the sudden,
if brief, loss of power. Now, very precisely and deliberately, he shut the
Main Lift Engine off. Then he prevented, with several taps on his keyboard,
and a click of his mouse, the Backup Lift Engine from switching on and
taking the load.
The HoodooÕs landing gear rose off the cement of the buildingÕs roof.
Just as it did, a metal hatch, used for maintenance work, was flung open.
Standing on a ladder within the hole over which the metal hatch had been
closed, was Tongsun. He had been unable to climb the ladder with his
Gatling, and it lay at the bottom of the ladder in the maintenance shaft.
Seeing the Hoodoo, guessing the president might be aboard, he didnÕt pause
to think. He jumped. It was a lucky decision, for as he did the building
beneath him fell away. He gasped as his arms caught onto the HoodooÕs
landing gear. His knee had bumped the hatchwayÕs metal opening as he
leapt, shooting pain up through his thigh. But he did not gasp at the pain
caused by his knee. Instead, he stared disbelievingly as the building in
which he had so recently stood fell away from him toward the earth.
Inside the Hoodoo, the producer found a view of Tongsun on one of his
screens, clutching the right-side aft landing gear of the Hoodoo. It was
broadcast to him by a special camera on the underside of the Hoodoo. He
clicked on a button. The shot was transmitted to the presidentÕs screen in
the main cabin.
ÒShit! ThereÕs some kid on our landing gear!Ó a Secret Service agent
yelled. He stared at the presidentÕs T.V. screen.
ÒDamn kids!Ó the president shouted. A Secret Service agent
unholstered his laser pistol and began firing into the floor of the Hoodoo,
at the place where he guessed the right-side aft landing gear was.
ÒNo! YouÕll hit a fuel line!Ó another Secret Service agent yelled to
the one who was firing.
Tongsun heard the explosion as the Abraham Lincoln Sky Dwelling
smashed into the ground below. With terrified eyes he stared down at a
view of New Washington, so far below him, his feet dangling above it, his
arms straining as he struggled to keep his hold on the HoodooÕs landing
gear.
The Hoodoo rose higher. A shot penetrated the bottom of the craft
and hit Tongsun in the shoulder. He lost his grip on the landing gear. He
fell.
ÒItÕs a long way to Tipperary,Ó Tongsun said to himself, cryptically,
as he fell through the fog. Then, as he gazed upward, trying to spot the
Hoodoo which had now disappeared in the clouds above him, the ground
below rushing up to capture him forever, he remembered a question, posed
on a record his grandfather owned. It was a record by the Clash. It had
asked a simple question, but one that held profound implications for
Tongsun. It was: ÒShould I stay, or should I go?Ó
Much to his regret, Tongsun, while still gripping the landing gear,
had decided that his odds of clinging successfully to the landing gear for
the HoodooÕs entire flight were impossible. He was dog tired and heÕd
worn out his arms completely carrying the Gatling around. The wind
whipped coldly at his body, urging him to let go. His arms screamed for
mercy. Tightening his grip with one hand, heÕd let go with the other.
Fighting the onrushing wind, heÕd reached into his pocket. From it heÕd
pulled the Thermite grenade, only remembering it now, desperately,
looking for some way to finish his mission. He hadnÕt been sure the
president of the Imperium was aboard the Hoodoo, but heÕd felt an eerie
certainty that he was. On the underside of the Hoodoo Tongsun had placed
a Thermite grenade. It was attached by magnetism to the underside of the
Hoodoo. HeÕd pulled its pin, despite the fact that it would blow him apart
as surely as it blew apart the Hoodoo. Then heÕd been shot.
Tongsun gaped upward, into the clouds. He continued to fall.
Somewhere, up there, was a Hoodoo. Tongsun didnÕt know how many
seconds had passed since heÕd pulled the pin from the Thermite grenade,
but he prayed he had more seconds left to him than the Hoodoo did.
Tongsun watched the sky, attentively, paying no mind whatever to
the ground rushing up to break his bones and smash his skull.
Just before he hit the ground, through the fog, he saw a bright
explosion far overhead.
THE END
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