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Perfect World story (The NOW)- Maggie Larter chapter 3
It had been a fantastic day, Trev thought while hiking along the mountainside to camp. He loved campouts, and although he could still see the beautiful buildings of Aden in the distance, it was still isolated up there, close to nature, close to the Earth. His nose twitched at new odors floating on the breeze both sweet and foul; his eyes caught glimpses of animal life he had before only seen in books or at the zoo-- it was another universe!
"Scouts, ho!" the Guide called and everyone stopped, scouts and parents and wildernessers and all, awaiting sage information or new directions. He pointed, and three dozen pairs of eyes searched. "Eagles! Looks like everyone gets to add a video to their wilderness log with their telecamera."
He pulled out a Holographic Scene Enlarger and spread its tripod onto the soft earth. Training the lens towards the birds, they were reproduced full size and floated with regal demeanor just above their heads.
Awed gasps came from the boys. Trev was amazed technology could bring them so much closer to wildlife without disturbing them in their habitat.
Observing a threat or an opportunity out of the troop's view, the eagles veered away and were soon too distant for even the HSE Viewer to pick up. The Guide packed it away. "We're just a few hundred yards away now... I want to see some hustle!" he shouted, and began to trot. To their credit, only a few grumbles were heard. Trev cinched his backpack's waistbelt tighter and obediently fell into step.
Striated sunlight fell across the path as dusk approached; he was glad they'd be able to set up camp before dark. He remembered sleeping on the tent his first trip; he had been unable to get his old one set up in the dark. Every tiny forest noise he heard that night was a potential bear to his ten-year-old mind. Two years of Webelos training later and he could prep camp, find wood for the fire and make dinner for the whole group. He was proud of the abilities he learned firsthand in the wilderness, in this program loosely modeled after the Boy Scouts of the Outer cities, and would be ready to lead a group as Guide in the coming months once he became proficient in survival skills.
The Guide this trip was Chalk; he had been selected from among the children. He was only two years older than Trev but everyone trusted his abilities without question. Though adults could step in, it was a rule to let the Guide handle every situation unless he specifically asked for assistance. Trev knew Chalk could be dangling from a cliff by his bandana and wouldn't need any help because his training was that complete, but it was comforting to have all the adults nearby... just in case.
The scenery raced past-- a field of summer sage, a copse of deep blue-green conifers, a fox chasing a rabbit and losing it thanks to a well-placed bunny hide amid a pile of splintered boulders. The path wound around the rocks, rapidly climbed a hundred feet in elevation then ended at a clearing, which was the campsite.
Trev knew this site well and had a favorite location for his tent; a rise towards the back of the campsite, snugged up against an enormous boulder almost two stories tall. The rock was flat and formidable in front, but was set into the ground in such a way that allowed access to the top; he had set up his telecamera there on previous outings and was able to get good photographs of the megascraper that was home for him in Aden. His favorite pictures to date were close-ups of Tiffy Bennett, his twenty-year-old neighbor who loved to exercise naked. Hell, she liked to do almost everything naked. Trev never wanted to move.
"Raise your tents and get firewood," Chalk bellowed to the troop. "We have a special treat tonight. After dinner Raf Zellen will regale us with tales of adventure and freakiness from his days living among the savages... the savages of New York City!" He spoke the last part in a quavering, ghostly voice. Uneasy murmurs joined the excited buzz; there were some who remembered previous Raf Zellen stories that ended in nightmares, sleeplessness and mild paranoia.
The new tents popped into place like soap bubbles in reverse; the children and adults departed, only to return moments later loaded with kindling. Soon a fire blazed and wieners topped the ends of three dozen sticks dipping in and out of the fires like fishermen at a sweet spot.
Later, bellies full and faces sticky, the campers gathered around in the gloom for the main event. Everyone quieted down at Chalk's request; cricket sounds surged and the licking fire popped. It was a moment ripe for an entrance... but nobody did. Trev wondered where Raf could be. Nobody had seen him since the meal but before a search party was suggested, a far-off sound came from deep in the woods. Not a woodsy sound; nothing alive could make that shriek.
The trees seemed to shift erratically now, shadows moving left and right, and a single bright light source could be seen through the foliage, approaching their position. The noise level increased dramatically and some of the adults, transplanted from all parts of old America, recognized that sound.
"That's a freight train!"
And surely it was! It advanced rapidly now, racing down the wide path leading to the campsite, directly toward the campers! Chug-a chug-a woo-oo! the train sounded in its approach, and man and boy alike scattered for dear life.
But the train didn't crash into them or send bodies flying. Instead it came to an impossibly rapid, shrieking stop and let out a long succulent hiss, producing steam so thick it could have been served up in a cone. It obscured the campsite momentarily, and when it dissipated... all signs of the train had vanished! Instead in its place was computer genius Raf Zellen, standing tall and smiling broadly, with one hand on his hip and the other holding the Holographic Scene Enlarger.
One by one the chuckles grew until the entire camp laughed as one. People emerged from behind trees and out of the brush, sheepish at their naiveté. A train bearing down on them on Peace Mountain? It was a little silly in retrospect.
Raf began. "Bet you didn't know this thing displays recorded images, too-- gotcha! Welcome, Webelos, I'm Raf Zellen and I'll be your storyteller tonight, so gather around the fire and cinch up your 'nads; you may crap yourselves before the night is over. I'll wait for a moment if anyone needs to pop on a diaper." Chuckles were heard; so were a few nervous whimpers. The campers gathered around the central fire and sat on any available hump; a rock, a pile of wood, a backpack. When they were all settled, Raf began.
"Many of you know I'm one of the newest members of the city-- I've only been here a short while, but I knew almost immediately that I wanted to spend the rest of my life in Aden. Those of you born here may have only heard stories about the Outer cities; raise your hand if you've never left Aden." Most of the children's hands went up. "Keep it raised if you've never seen any Outer television programs." Only two hands dropped; television was not popular in a city with so much to do. "Well then, it might help if you hold hands."
He noted with amusement that a few boys were fishing for their buddy's hand, then began. "For twenty-five years I lived in the biggest Outer city in America, and spent most of the time scared because there was danger everywhere.
If I walked on the sidewalk I could be accosted by drunks or thieves or murderers. If I crossed the street I could be killed by a car or a truck or a bus..."
"Or a freight train?" Trev asked.
"Not on the street, but in the subways. So many people crammed onto the platform of a subway station during rush hour that some were pushed onto the tracks, only to be gruesomely crushed under the harsh metal wheels of a fifty-ton train!
"Then when I got to school I had to deal with bullies and gang members. They always stole my lunch money and I never got to eat lunch. Sometimes they would steal my shoes or my shirt. Once they stole my pants."
The boys giggled. "What's a bully?" Other kids nodded.
"A mean kid who takes things from you at school."
He was met with blank stares, and one boy asked, "Take? Can't he get what he needs from a Dispenser?"
"No... there are no Dispensers in Outer cities." Shocked murmurs accompanied that statement.
"How do people get what they need?"
"They go to stores and spend money."
Trev was curious. "What's money?"
Raf had forgotten that most Aden children weren't taught about buying and selling and offered, "Money is used as a trading medium in Outer cities. They are given varying denominations of currency in exchange for work, which is then used to trade for whatever they need."
The boys were perking up. One asked, "What do they need? Isn't their housing given to them, like it is here?"
"No, they have to pay for it."
"How about their food?"
"They have to pay for that too."
"Is there anything that they don't have to trade for... for..."
"For money?" Raf thought. "Well... the parks are free, right?"
An adult said, "Taxes pay for them."
"Oh, right. Everybody who works pays taxes, which is spent on shared things like roads, parks and emergency services. So I guess they pay for those too."
"Tacks?"
"Tack-SEZ. About a quarter of an Outer's earnings go to the government."
"What's government?"
Raf raised his hands. The outer world was so much more complicated than Aden! How was going to get through this story? He took a deep breath and explained, "Outers hire people to run the country for them."
"Don't they have an ICPU?"
"No. Some people work to collect the taxes. Some represent people when voting on laws, and their vote counts for thousands of people."
"How can that be? Not everyone thinks in the same way." The boys were engaged now, learning about another world. It was like discovering that the moon was inhabited.
"It's called a majority. If more than half vote for a law, then it passes. The others don't get their way. They're called the minority. Getting back to the story." He glared at the bevy of boys eager to ask more questions, and they reluctantly shelved them. "So I was saying there were a lot of dangerous things to avoid in the big Outer cities. But I was never more afraid for my life than after I moved here."
The group seemed shocked. Trev asked, "Here in Aden? Why?"
"Many Adeners don't know this-- you'll need to keep it to yourselves after you hear it." Raf thought about the Vegas aphorism and said, "Remember the Webelos Code. 'Whatever you hear in the woods, stays in the woods'. Raise your hands and repeat."
The boys quoted the code en masse, three-fingered salute held high. Raf whispered now, and the boys hunched closer to hear.
"Not long ago, Aden was attacked by a band of murderous gang members bent on revenge."
The only sound was the crackling fire, but that fearful look reassured Raf they were taking the bait.
"It was a dangerous biker gang named the SkullFucker Motorcycle Club."
"Umm, I think they were called the SkullCrusher Motorcycle Club," one adult offered. The boys laughed and the mood was broken again.
Raf grimaced. "Doesn't matter. Dozens of big, dirty, swarthy men on loud motorcycles were searching for our own Maggie Larter to torture, rape and kill because she was smart enough to catch them at their own game, but naive enough ditch the debt. She escaped, but the gang followed her trail until they were just outside of Aden, causing mayhem and destruction along the way, beating and torturing people and setting buildings on fire."
"Buildings burn in the Outers?" Trev asked timidly.
"Yes. They're not fireproof like Aden structures. So these criminals were approaching Aden, but we were ready, thanks to the FactNet used by Aden's controlling software, the ICPU."
The Webelos scouts knew about the Interactive Control Personality Unit. It handled every detail of life in Aden, including taking a close interest in each citizen.
One boy chirped up about his own interactive program. "I call her Miss Maria!"
Chalk laughed, "I call my software Reebo and make it sound alien."
Trev said, "I just say 'computer' and he talks to me."
Raf smiled, "And I just call it Ikypoo. Get it? ICPU?" The group laughed.
"What's the FactNet?"
Raf answered, "It's an extension of ICPU's visual range from citywide to countywide using Aden's fly-sized nanocameras. When the SkullCrushers drifted into range ICPU knew and mobilized the entire city. Do you remember when every child visited the underground Farm? Well, that was the day of the assault. We took all 50,000 children to the other side of the valley and fifty stories down to prevent any chance of injury. The SkullCrushers didn't know this, but when they arrived in Aden the city was almost entirely empty-- save for the mobilized Protectors, all 100,000 of them. And I was one of those Protectors.
"I had just been invited to live here. I was still in the middle of City training when the call to action came. I wasn't ready, not by a long shot, but what could I do? Maggie is very important to me. We've invented the fun little Holographic Scene Enlarger, and we're also tennis partners and swing dance partners and lovers and best friends. It was my honor to help where I could. So I reported for duty at a Security kiosk and donned armor.
"Thousands of us were stationed all around the city, in little booths which are invisible from the hallways, designed to peacefully capture using the element of surprise. We could operate ceiling mounted nonlethal weaponry without leaving the booth, at the same time having clear visibility of the hallways, thanks to abundant nanocams.
"Other Protectors were stationed outside, in disguised maintenance areas which doubled as emergency sevices. The rest of us were part of an elaborate plan to capture and relocate each of the gang members into a Centenarium-- what the Outers call a jail."
Chalk said, "It was your elaborate plan, wasn't it, Raf?"
Raf blushed, invisible in firelight-- he hoped. "Not really. I used a scenario I had designed into a computer game, but in the game we annihilated them with powerful lasers. Cut 'em up like sirloins. Since Aden has no lethal weaponry we didn't do that."
Trev asked, "What did you do, Raf?"
"Hang on-- I'm getting ahead of myself. The action team broke up into a two-pronged response; one contingent held back as a 'reception' committee for any SkullCrushers that made it past our first defense into the city perimeter. The 'action' team would have all the fun-- they would encounter the criminals and use interesting technology against them."
"What kinds of technology?" Chalk asked.
"First was the SuperChopper. It was a huge air transport helicopter that could carry a hundred Protectors, plus, it could carry a tank under its belly and drop it at the scene. For this we used a tricked out sports car to lure the gang."
"If they were a motorcycle gang, why would they care about a sports car?"
"Good point, Trev. Because inside the car would be Maggie Larter. She was the bait. She did this willingly, and was unbelievably brave too. Even though the car was safe-- bulletproof, and at least 50 miles an hour faster than any of the motorcycles, there would be no protection for her if something went wrong on the road. But it was being driven by the ICPU, so all she had to do was get their attention.
"Which was easy. We had pinpointed the gang-- they were terrorizing the employees of a little diner in a small town a hundred miles from Aden while refueling for the next leg of their search. Our nanocams were on the scene so we timed the attack by their actions. The chopper dropped the car a ways from the diner, then flew over it in stealth mode as dozens of us slid down long ropes to the ground. The next cool piece of technology we stowed on board each of the motorcycles parked out front."
"Which was...?" This was Trev's favorite part, being a Nerd in training.
"Explosive jetballoons. It was our plan to allow them to drive away from the diner while chasing Maggie's car, gaining distance from civilization, and then when the bikers would draw close to Aden we would set off the charges, causing each motorcycle to suddenly float into the air! The jetpacks would then fly the balloons straight to the holding facility.
"Did it work?"
"Sort of. We couldn't make the motorcycle balloons work on every bike-- some wouldn't accept the bulky package, so our contingency plan was to let the rest of those bikers follow Maggie to Aden and surprise them at the secret tunnel exit."
"There's a secret tunnel into Aden?"
"Yes, and we're not far from it. It's the only way to approach Aden by land, and it's rigged with numerous safeguards to prevent an unwanted breach of the city. We may be peaceful and nonlethal, but we're not foolish-- we know Aden is a prize for anyone who discovers it."
"Why?"
Raf thought about the simple but surprisingly deep question and said, "We got it... they want it."
"What does that mean?"
"It means Aden is a paradise where nobody is ever hungry, or cold, or scared. In the Outers that's all they seem to think about."
The boys reflected on their good fortune and one said perceptively, "They should live like we do."
"Brilliant! That's just what Perfect World Doctrine is trying to do!" He smiled and brought them back. "Now where was I? Oh, right. We had just slid down the ropes and had quietly surrounded the diner. We were alone; it was dark and late. We clamped the balloon packs into as many bikes as would fit them, and then hid. Maggie's car came blazing down the road and clipped the first motorcycle, knocking it into the next one, which fell into the next, until they had all fallen over. The car did donuts in the parking lot, honking all the while. Of course the bikers heard the commotion and ran out. That's when they saw Maggie in the driver's seat, mocking them to catch her."
Raf paused then, observing the rapt faces of boy and man alike. "But did they catch her?"
The entire group shouted, "No!"
"That's right. We were careful with our calculations, and Maggie had a pretty good lead by the time the bikers had righted their 'hogs'. They had no idea Maggie wasn't alone; we were all out of sight and that was the plan. We knew that overconfidence would be their undoing. When the last biker had ridden off after her, we entered the diner to help the employees, who were roughed up but safe." The boys sighed in relief.
"But," Raf continued, "there were two unclaimed motorcycles, meaning two bikers had escaped. We searched around the diner but turned up nothing. They had just disappeared. But the rest... well, they were catching up to Maggie, or should I say trying to catch up to Maggie. That car has a top speed of over 200 miles an hour and none of the bikers had a chance. No matter how fast they rode, the car was always just out of reach. And so deep was their determination that they never noticed their ranks were diminishing, one at a time."
"How?"
"Explosive jetballoons. The motorcycle in back would make a quiet 'poof!' rise up and begin to float away! By the time Maggie and her ICPU had reached the Aden turnoff, less than half of the bikers were left."
It had grown quite dark out; the camp's only light on that moonless evening came from the roaring campfire, which cast bizarre dancing shadows on the surrounding treeline. The fire could be seen from quite a distance; it was a tiny bright dot to the people looking out upon the mountains from the Aden megascrapers. It was quite a bit brighter for the two roughshod men looking down on it from their perch at the mountain's crest-- bright enough to follow, bright enough to find. Without a word they stood and headed straight for it; soon they could hear the crackling of burning wood and the voice of a storyteller. They stopped to listen. A smile spread across one man's face, and he began to chuckle.
"What is it?" whispered the other.
The man reached into his jacket and withdrew a Glock 9 mil, which glinted faintly in the darkness. He leveled the gun experimentally toward the pinpoint of fire. "They're playing our song. Time to join the party."
"What?"
The man shot him a look of disgust. "Just follow my lead, Kindle."
"What happened next?" One boy asked as the others chattered excitedly.
"Here's the good part-- when the bad guys get their comeuppance! So two thirds of them were being floated directly to the Aden containment facility, and the rest were following Maggie off the road, through a field and straight towards the sheer rock face of the mountain! They were certain she had made a bad call and was about to smash into the rock and die. They didn't know about the tunnel bored straight through the mountain, whose entrance was hidden with artificial shrubbery, but figured it out when she didn't die a horrible, fiery death. They nosed around and soon found the tunnel to Aden!"
"You mean they came here?" One boy asked nervously.
"Right here... the other end of the tunnel isn't a thousand yards from us! But Maggie and ICPU had one more trick up their sleeves. You see, the road coming from the mouth of the tunnel on the Aden side makes a sharp left turn to avoid a hundred foot drop, but the bikers didn't know that, and they didn't know that Maggie's car was outfitted with pneumofoil lifters, in essence making it an airplane. So when Maggie left the tunnel--"
"She flew straight out and into the air!" Several of the boys had put two and two together and were trying to figure out the rest. "So she floated, and they... they fell a hundred feet to their deaths? That's ten stories!"
"You're half right. She did seem to continue straight on a road after leaving the tunnel, and it was too late for them... they all flew off the cliff. But... none of them died. Remember I said there would be a welcoming committee once they got to Aden? Well, there were perhaps twenty thousand Protectors set up throughout these very woods, and a full thousand of them just at the base of that tunnel. Seeing Maggie's car fly away was the signal to bring out their last piece of technology, a nonlethal weapon called Spooge."
"Spooge? Doesn't that mean...?" an adult began.
"Let me stop you right there. What it is, is a semisolid gunk that gets launched out of a handheld cannon. It hits them, foams up to four times its size and hardens into a flexible ball in seconds. It's what prevented the bikers from falling to their deaths. As each one fell off the cliff, dozens of Protectors shot off their Spooge cannons-- no wise cracks-- and engulfed each of them with enough of the goo to fully protect them at landing... they became, in essence, huge grey tennis balls that bounced when they landed and needed to be stopped."
"How did you catch them?"
Raf smiled. "With harpoons." Boys and men cringed alike. "Adhesive harpoons." Relieved sighs. "Any balls which could not be stopped were lassoed with these giant wads of Spooge attractant attached to a cable, which was harnessed to the gun, which was held by a Protector strapped to a tree. Even still, one got away from us and rolled a-l-l the way down the mountain! All we could do was let it run out of steam at the bottom and grab it once it stopped. Then we trucked them to the containment facility, getting there just as the airborne bikers were being 'dropped' into the yard, where they were all tranquilized and processed." Raf stood up and brushed his hands together in a motion of finality. "And that's where they are right now."
"What's the jail like?"
"First off, it's called a' Centenarium'. It's more like a Podschool, except the teacher is a psychiatrist and spends hours a day with each of them."
"Isn't that dangerous?"
"No. The men are each in their own small room, like a bedroom.
The walls are soft but incredibly strong. The doctor only appears on a video screen and she is not even a person. She is--"
"The ICPU?"
Raf smiled broadly. "Bingo! We made the avatar into a hot biker chick, tatted up and cussing like a prizefighter."
"What's a prizefighter?"
"Cursing like a Marine."
"What's that?"
"A little help...?" Raf looked at the other adults.
"Cursing like me when I nailed my thumb with a hammer," offered one.
The boys giggled and Raf smiled thankfully. "Yeah, that," he said. "One look at her and they forget about trying to break out or bust the place up... instead they became strutting peacocks, hoping to score with the hot Doc."
The boys reacted as boys often do, with a chorus of 'ooohs' and giggles. Raf continued. "And that's what we're hoping for. Y'see, put a man in that state and it becomes easy to strip away the layers of defense hiding the fear. And one thing we know about fear is..." he paused and looked at each of them hang on to every word; he finished his thought. "... is that fear is what makes people act like animals. It's survival kicking in. Once they are in that position the Doc knows they are primed for retraining, even though they don't know it themselves."
"How will you retrain them?"
"By helping them see their value as citizens, and by helping them ease the inevitable guilt for their past actions."
One boy sagely asked, "Should their guilt be eased? Didn't they do many bad things?"
"Yes, but the past cannot be changed. We can only be concerned with the balance of their lives, the present and future. A properly retrained criminal will want to make up for his past by doing good for the present and future, by becoming a model citizen."
"What happens then?"
Raf stood up. "What happens is I get up and rub my numb ass-- seventh inning stretch!" He stood grandly and pressed his backside against a nearby tree, ignoring the laughter as he wiggled. "Ahh, that feels good!"
He had begun an unintended stampede. Most of the boys also pressed their fannies to trees, dancing cheek to bark, giggling stupidly. Two boys went tush to tush to relieve the numbness. One dragged his ass in the dirt, barking like a terrier. The campsite was in turmoil.
Soon the pins and needles stopped and they returned to their seats. One boy asked, "So, tell us what happens when the Centenarium program begins working," and looked towards Raf for a response.
Only Raf wasn't there.
"Where's Raf?" The group looked around the dimly firelit campsite but could not see him. "Raf? Hey Raf! Where did he go? Raf!"
Raf could hear the campers call for him and wanted to respond, but was prevented from doing so by the beefy hand clasped over his mouth, and by the cold hard pistol pressed against his temple. Even in the inky darkness he knew what was happening-- he had just found the last two escaped gang members. Or rather, they had just found him.
A strong arm had encircled his waist, lifted him with ease off the ground and was carrying him like a rag doll. He could see the lights of Aden moving quickly through the trees as he moved out of earshot on what had to be enormous Paul Bunyan legs. Man, this guy is powerful!
Raf considered his options and decided it would be best not to antagonize him, since he was fresh out of slick Kung Fu moves. Plus, the information gleaned about Chopper since the capture of his gang was quite frightening-- he was the only SkullCrusher to ever kill someone... and he hadn't stopped at one. He feared Chopper might be too far gone for Centenarium treatment and as such, Raf feared for his life.
Where were they going? Raf figured he was being brought out of earshot, but that distance had passed minutes ago... unless he was being brought out of earshot for a gunshot. Raf tried not to think about that, or that he suddenly needed to urinate fiercely, and instead concentrated on his options. At the moment his options seemed very limited, unless the big man should suddenly trip and drop him, in which case Raf knew exactly what to do... run like a bunny.
"What's the plan, Chopper? Is it time to slice his face off?"
Raf tried not to shudder, but a chill shot through him anyway. The guy was trying to rattle him. Shouldn't waste his time, Raf thought, as he was already rattled.
"Quiet! And you've just used my name. That means we have to kill him."
Raf tried to speak but couldn't get a molecule of air beyond the huge meathook plastered across his mouth. Chopper noticed. "You got something to say, boy? Scream for help and I twist off your head like a toothpaste cap, you got that?" He took his hand away and moved it to Raf's neck, gripping like a choke chain.
Raf doubted the unsavory man ever used a toothpaste cap, but gurgled, "I already knew your name, Mr Chopper... and Mr Kindle's, too. We all do. You're famous around here."
Chopper stopped short, nearly dropping the smaller man. "How do you know who we are? We're in a goddamn city!"
"This is Aden-- we're all family here. You and Mr Kindle stick out a little. May I ask what you want with me?"
Chopper spat. "I've got a couple of missions, and you're going to help me."
Raf was certain he knew both of Chopper's missions, but asked anyway. "Missions?"
"To break out my gang... and take that bitch Maggie Larter along with me."
Right on both counts, Raf thought. "What do need me for?"
"You're my bargaining chip. I get what I want or I kill you."
"Oh. There might be a problem."
Chopper glared at him, invisible in the moonless night. "What problem?"
"I'm way too small of a fish. You're asking for a lot. You might be able to trade me for the motorcycles... well, a few of the motorcycles. To demand something that big, you're gonna need better hostages."
"I think you're lying. Kindle, give me a smoldering stick. I need the truth from this little asshole."
"Where am I gonna get a smoldering stick, Boss? We don't have a fire!"
"I'm not lying, I'm not lying!" Raf said quickly. "I'm new here... I'm not worth much yet. But there's a whole campsite of young Adeners that can help you achieve your goal! The city cares more about its kids than anyone else. They'd give you everything you asked for, and more, to get them back!"
"Wow. You really are a shit, aren't you?" Chopper mused. "Selling out children for your own safety. But," he smiled and turned around, dropping Raf to his feet, "you have a good plan and I think we should do it. Walk in front." The big man gave Raf a shove back towards the campground.
"How are you going to make this happen?" Raf asked. "There are a lot of adults in camp, too. Nothing personal, but that's a big disadvantage." Scared as he was, Raf found the criminal mind fascinating and was riveted with the firsthand observation.
"It'll be easy. I use their fear against them. Nobody wants to see a kid hurt, so I make them all do what I want with a threat against the smallest kid in the bunch. Sometimes they trip over each other trying to make me happy." Chopper chuckled quietly. "It's good to look like Bigfoot."
"That's apparent. Nobody would be frightened of clean-cut Norman Felstein, accounting clerk from Passaic no matter how big he was, right?"
"Wha--," Chopper began, obviously dismayed. "How--?"
"I told you-- you're well known around these parts."
"Well, hello, Norman!" Kindle sang his name gleefully. "Wait'll the guys hear that! Hey Norman, can you do my taxes?"
Raf chided, "No, he can't. He was just a clerk. But you could fit him for a suit, couldn't you, haberdasher Percival Winnifer Middleton III from Fire Island, New York?"
"Haw! I don't know which to mock you for first!" Chopper grabbed the other biker and slammed him into a tree, laughing. "Shouldn't you be riding a pretty pony, Winnie?"
Kindle bounced off, smarting. "Ow!"
Chopper said, "Now shut up. I don't want them to hear us. Move." The men walked in silence towards the pale, flickering campsite, the fire offering just enough light to see the path. Raf could hear the boys singing a children's song, with the men joining in for the refrain. "Seems like they're not worried you disappeared, Raf. They must not care about you," Chopper whispered, smiling. "Now I see why you'd give them up. A fine bunch of assholes you Adenites are. Every man for himself, just like everywhere else.
"Now here's the plan. Kindle, stay with this guy. If he tries to holler, slit his throat. I'm gonna sneak up and grab that little kid closest to us, produce the gun and make my demands. We'll head to the tunnel, you and me, the kid and the shit, and wait for the gang to ride up. Then we'll ride out of here, taking Maggie with us. Man, she is gonna be a sweet victory."
"You think they'll do all that, Boss?"
"We're threatening a campground fulla their kids-- what else are they gonna do but listen?" Chopper peered at the campsite. "They're starting another song. I'm going in."
He slipped silently around the dark edges of the site until he was behind one boy, the small one slightly away from the rest. He crept up up and slid his hand around the boy's waist to pick him up, preparing to lodge the gun into his neck and get their attention-- but instead lifted up a boy-sized chunk of air! He looked at the oblivious child and the other campers expecting resistance, but got none-- they ignored him completely and kept singing. Chopper reached again, watching this time as his hand passed right through the boy. His mouth dropped and he glanced back towards Kindle, bewildered.
Still the campers sung, though now that he was paying attention, it was clear that their voices weren't coming from their mouths, but from off to one side. Then a flicker of light passed through the entire group, and without fuss or disturbance they simply... disappeared. The fire's flickering light remained but everyone was gone... everyone but one dark figure, emerging from the shadows and striding towards Chopper with deadly purpose.
The firelight reached the stranger's face. Chopper's eyes went wide with recognition. His mouth dropped open and in the confusion of the last moment could only squeak out a gasp of surprise--
"Maggie Larter?"
"Yes it's Maggie Larter, you stupid prick." And with that epithet she raised her arm, pointed a Spooge cannon at his chest and fired twice, point blank. Chopper was driven backwards and fell to the ground. The last thing he saw was a rapidly disappearing Maggie Larter, glaring smugly, before the grey goo expanded around him into a large sphere, leaving him trapped and immobile.
In the shadows Kindle's mouth dropped open briefly, but his face quickly hardened into an angry mask. He bunched Raf's shirt up in his softball-sized fist, pulling him close. Raf heard the switchblade snap open, drew a quick breath, closed his eyes and prepared to die. The stinging slice never came.
What did come was roughly a dozen soft splatty hits on him, and Kindle, and the tree beside them, and he realized he had just been saved by Spooge. In his ear he heard Ickypoo. "Great job, Raf. Acted like a true thespian... I believed every word." He tried to respond but the Spooge made it hard to talk.
A short while later Raf could hear the hiss of chemical reaction as the Spooge was partially melted by the reagent and his head was exposed along with Kindle's, the two of them an odd Babushka doll. They were still otherwise encased. "Get me out of this!" Kindle screamed, trying to wriggle but unable to. A technician said, "Right away, sir," produced a syringe and stuck it in his neck. Kindle struggled, then dropped asleep at the count of five. More reagent and the ball of goo melted to nothing, as Kindle was lifted onto a stretcher and taken away. A door swung open and Maggie burst in, flung herself at the gooey Raf and covered his sticky face with kisses.
"Thank you thank you thank you! Mwah! You were so brave out there, Raf! I was petrified they were going to hurt you!" She pulled him over to the shower room and fell inside, allowing the steaming mist to envelop them both.
"Maggie, you'll get soaked!" Truth was, Raf was delighted for the impromptu wet T-shirt display. "And what about you? You were so brave up there-- you were Lara Croft, only hotter!" He helped her buttons open.
Maggie wriggled out of her wet clothes, and wriggled against Raf. "I bet you missed this."
"Most definitely, especially when I thought I was never going to hold you again." He held her close and kissed her lips. "Now, what were you doing while I played captive?"
"Well," Maggie said, getting momentarily serious. "As soon as they grabbed you, Chalk noticed and contacted ICPU. It was his idea to use your Holographic Scene Enlarger to project the entire campsite view to a clearing nearby. The kids were never in any danger from Chopper or Kindle. ICPU ordered a small contingent of Protectors to track you in the woods using night vision, so you were never really in any danger, either-- they used the tunnels and were on scene in about five minutes."
"So I guess for five minutes there, I could have been killed by those maniacs. Good thing Ickypoo fed me the information about those two to keep them distracted. But I can't believe she made me suggest using the kids as hostages! I had no idea they weren't actually there. I guess she didn't want me to tip the hand. But why were you there?"
"That was my idea, Raffie. I was going to surprise you-- I've been taking Protector training! I told Connie to put me on the detail if those last two bikers ever showed up." She looked confused.
"What is it, Mags?"
"I know we're supposed to be better than that in Aden but man, it felt good to pummel that asshole with Spooge!"
"Ickypoo, Jacuzzi!" The small room immediately filled with hot, churning water. Raf smiled at her and said, "No one faults you for your feelings-- you are completely entitled. But as for my own feelings..." he kissed her lips sweetly, "...You are my heroine, my savior. And as such, I have a reward for you." He winked and dipped below the surface.
Maggie squealed, cheeks rosy.
Copyright 2009 Bruce Ian Friedman
