by Wol-vriey
The pterodactyls had forgotten Jeff’s helicopter once they’d disabled Isabel’s.
The reptile birds had however already damaged the presidential chopper. Fuel was spurting from bite punctures in the fuel tanks.
“We have to land in these woods, sir!” the pilot yelled. “We risk an explosion if we keep flying!”
“Take us down!” Jeff yelled back.
The pilot landed the whirlybird safely and they disembarked.
In addition to Jeff, Stacy, and the pilot, two others had made it alive out of Washington. These were Jeff’s head of security Mike Morris, and a bodyguard.
The five survivors had tramped through the park till they’d found an old log cabin where they spent the night.
***
The next morning, Jeff and Stacy had been woken by the sound of gunfire.
Stacy stared wide-eyed at Jeff. “What the hell?”
He leapt up and rushed to the window. Their cabin was surrounded by dinos. T-Rex’s, giganotosaurs, raptors, and even species that Jeff had never associated with violence—triceratops, hadrosaurs, brachiosaurs, stegosaurs—all stared pointedly at the cabin. Further back he saw dragons.
“Jeff, What are those glittering things?” Stacy asked.
Jeff looked around, startled. He’d not heard her get out of bed.
“What things?”
“The shining ones between the dinosaurs.” Her hand gripped his arm, fingers clenched tight with fear.
Jeff now focused his attention on what he’d initially mistaken for particularly brilliant rays of sunlight penetrating the tree cover.
With the sun reflecting off them, they were difficult to see clearly.
“They look like giant forks, dear.”
That had been Jeff’s first sighting of the kitchen gods. He’d gripped Stacy tight, wondrous of the monster gold and silver cutlery levitating between the besieging dinosaur horde.
As if sensing their intended prey was awake, a loud thumping now began overhead, the tramping of pterodactyl feet and pecking of beaks, trying to rip a way through the ceiling.
The gunfire from the front of the house ceased.
The bedroom burst open. Mike Morris rushed in, blood streaming down his face.
“Sir, you’ve got to—”
Mike Morris was yanked back by two raptors. Jeff and Stacy watched horrified while the dinos jerked Mike this way and that, finally literally dividing the spoils by yanking him apart down the middle in an explosion of lungs and guts.
Stacy gave a sudden start beside Jeff. He turned as she went limp and crashed to the floor, pulling him down after her.
He didn’t need a doctor to tell him she was having a heart attack. She was clawing at her chest with stiffened fingers, her face set in a grimace. Her green eyes were murky pools housing demons of dread.
“I can’t breathe!”
“Dammit, Stacy don’t die on me,” Jeff pleaded.
She went limp, her hands falling to her sides.
Her lasts words were: “I hope it’s true what they say about Heaven, darling. I’ve been good, haven’t I?”
She died, green eyes staring at him.
Jeff stared back at her corpse in horror. He closed her eyes.
Now he had nothing left, not his family, not his country. Not even his belief in the overcoming power of right remained.
Everything he’d spent his life building, everything he’d given his life for, the country he’d both served and overseen, was being demolished before his very eyes, with no explanation of why.
Jeff was beyond traumatized. Losing Stacy was the last stray.
He stood up, no longer scared. If he died now, he’d be with Stacy, wherever she was. Her last words haunted him.
He turned around to find the room full, not of hungry ravening dinosaurs, but of the giant gold and silver cutlery.
“What do you want?” Jeff said.
A gold fork floated toward him. “I am Lord Tav,” it said. “Head of the Forks. It is sad that your marriage partner is dead.”
“You killed her!” Jeff screamed. He rushed at the Fork.
He found himself suddenly floating in the air, immobile.
“We regret it,” Lord Tav said. “We are unable to raise the dead, otherwise we’d have done so. Still, we are not ones to waste food.”
Jeff had watched in disbelief as Lord Tav had inverted himself in mid-air, then stabbed himself into Stacy’s torso.
With a loud crackling and the smell of ozone, the First Lady’s corpse disintegrated into a hill of shredded meat, one that was instantly sucked into Lord Tav’s body.
The Fork righted himself again.
“You ate my wife,” Jeff gasped in disbelief, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“It is a great honor for royalty to eat royalty. Or would you prefer we left her for the servants—or even the dinosaurs outside?”
Jeff had no reply to that. But, honor? What honor? Lord God Almighty, Stacy had looked like hamburger patty. . .
“You will come with us,” the Fork leader told the weeping erstwhile president of the USA, “we have much to talk about.”
The Forks floated out of the room, levitating Jeff after them.
CHAPTER 19
Sara
Now, two years later, in Sara Fischer’s bedroom, Jeff burst into tears again from his horrible memories.
Sara cradled him to her ample bosom, and rocked him.
She ran her hands soothingly through his hair, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she inhaled his scotch stink.
This was her problem with Jeff now—he was a drunk. From the stoic leader she’d known (and guiltily admired), he’d degenerated into a bum.
Sara wasn’t judging Jeff. She was still herself in free-fall fucking over David’s death. And Jeff had lost so much more. He’d not just lost his family—he’d lost an entire country.
As if reading her thoughts, Jeff looked up at her then, his booze-reddened eyes tortured.
“You know what bothers me the most about the present mess, Sara?”
Without waiting for her reply, he continued: “It’s that I’ll never be sure that this mess isn’t my fault—a direct result of some agency taking a Hollywood flick too seriously and messing with research better left alone.”
Sara said nothing. She often had the same suspicion.
“I feel utterly impotent. The American people put their fate in me and I completely failed them.”
Sara disagreed with this last. “It wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could, Jeff.”
He gazed into her eyes, looking for relief. “Do you really think so?”
She nodded.
“Oh, I really love you, Sara.” He sank back down to his pillow on her breasts.
“I love you too, Jeff,” Sara mouthed into his hair as she resumed stroking it. And she meant it. Since he’d resurfaced two days ago, it had been like they were twenty again, and she was falling in love all over again.
And I’d love you even more if you’d suck on my nipples, darling, she thought dizzily.
But Jeff didn’t. Sara grimaced in frustration. Jeff wasn’t impotent, just drunk all the time—too drunk to fuck her.
She was tired of using her vibrators. She wanted to feel his lips bruising hers, his hands roughly handling her breasts, his body crushing hers into the bedding, his manhood piercing her deep, deep, deep, then lifting her to the heights of ecstasy.
But sex wasn’t happening while Mr. President was a wino.
Oh no, Sara thought, I have to wean him off the booze somehow, and fast, before my desire burns me up.
She wanted to fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. Now, now, now, al-fucking-ready.
She wanted, no . . . needed . . . sex. Hard fucking.
But despite her fizz of sexual frustration, Sara was being extra-cautious here. With Jeff around, she was keeping her cunt in her pants. She wasn’t about to ruin their rekindled relationship by getting it on with anyone else.
And it wasn�
�t just romance guiding her actions. She was being pragmatic also.
Jeff was a very sensitive sort. She’d already broken his heart once. She wouldn’t take a chance on doing it again.
Last time he’d tried to kill himself. Bearing in mind his current mental state, this time he might try to kill her instead.
CHAPTER 20
Sookie
Sookie Ling drove her car fast along Myrtle Street. This far outside the Boston Grid, only a Chinese madam like herself would dare deliver call girls to clients.
Sookie took full advantage of her dragon immunity. No point not making a buck whenever you could.
Not that she was taking anything for granted. This far outside the Boston Grid there was the constant danger of dino attacks. Sookie felt relatively safe, however. Her pink Porsche 911 Turbo was fitted with the best electronic repulsors. And in case a T-Rex showed, she had her energy rifle to give it something to bite on.
She’d just dropped off two girls, Cinnamon Xu and Devi, for Mr. Clinton on Irving Street, and was on her way back down to Chinatown.
Mr. Clinton was rich and appreciated classy cunt. Sookie supplied the classiest cunt in Boston.
***
Sookie Ling’s real name was Soong Ching-Ling. She’d however ‘Americanized’ it shortly after her arrival from China. For two reasons:
Firstly, it was hard for Americans to pronounce smoothly, and secondly (and much more important), Sookie didn’t think it was right for a prostitute/brothel owner to share the same name with the ‘Mother of China.’
Sookie was patriotic like that.
Sookie Ling was forty-nine. She was still good-looking, but had begun filling out with middle-age spread.
Must schedule lipo, she thought while making a turn. Fat madam bad for flesh-selling bizness.
Sookie had cute almond eyes under heavy eyelids. She had plump lips and long, long, black hair. A hooked nose. She always wore her nails ‘dragon lady’ long—it impressed the clients.
Like Ma Cure, Sookie was a recent immigrant from the Old Country. She had a thick accent—you had to listen good to understand her.
Also, like Ma, Sookie’s ‘American’ wasn’t the best in the world. In fact, it was worse than Ma’s.
Sookie always wore dark shades. This was because she was addicted to dragonreich.
***
The drug dragonreich—named after Joseph Reich, the rock musician who discovered it—was simply dragon semen dried into powder. It was more potent than cocaine, and users reported enhanced clarity of their senses.
The downside of using ‘reich,’ was its side effects.
These differed according to user.
Using the drug had turned Sookie’s eyes into featureless, permanently green ovals, without iris or pupils.
In addition, she now had furry three-inch-long tentacles ringing her anus.
All Sookie’s girls who did reich also had body mutations.
Amy Wang had feathered ears. Then there was Tai-Ching Fang, who’d started going transparent. And Lily Wu, who was sprouting copper wires from her thighs.
And Sookie’s Swiss friend Markus Fleiss, who began dripping vegetable oil the moment he snorted reich.
Weird shit like that.
The other downside of constant reich use was that it killed one’s sex life. Murdered it dead as a hooker with a slit throat. It wiped out libido from existence like a divine eraser.
In this regard it was worse than heroin.
Sookie hadn’t been fucked for two years now. And hadn’t noticed. Occasionally, while peeing, she found herself—like a six year old—wondering what her vagina was meant for.
The drug even had physical sexual side effects.
Janet Hong was one of Sookie’s sexiest girls. Her current 36D breasts were dino-fat implants. When she’d begun using reich, she totally lost all her breast fat—her breasts had shriveled to nothingness. She’d also lost all her pubic hair.
Booty Hustler, one of Sookie’s black studs, had suffered a reduction in erected cock size, from seven to three inches.
Carmen Eliza and Rosa Rios, Argentinian lesbian friends of Sookie’s, had both lost both nipples.
Joseph Reich theorized that using dragonreich imparted some of a dragon’s amplified senses to the user.
Sookie didn’t know about that. She did know however, that the rush Reich gave was second to none.
She wasn’t giving up that high for nothing. With the country fucked-up, one needed all the alternate pleasure one could get. And with no cocaine making it up to Boston anymore, dragonreich was the perfect substitute.
***
Sookie turned off Myrtle, onto Joy Street. She slowed as she approached Malone’s office.
Malone had once helped her rescue her kidnapped nephew, Gorgeous Wong.
Sookie laughed at a memory.
Delighted over his recovering Gorgeous from her abductors, Sookie had invited Malone over to her brothel for a celebration party.
There—just for the hell of it—she’d spiked his drink with reich. Whereupon Malone immediately began speaking fluent Mandarin. What Sookie found funniest was that Malone hadn’t realized what was going on. Sookie still hadn’t told him.
She now noticed Herbie’s pimpmobile parked outside Malone’s place.
Sookie giggled on seeing the Lincoln’s ‘L3t5 4k’number plate. Its audacity always amused her. Ah, Herbie. Fuck all he know.
Sookie considered. Herbie good friend. Have four hours must kill before pick girls up again. I chew fat with Herbie, catch old times with Malone.
She parked and rang Malone’s buzzer.
Sookie raised an eyebrow when Posh answered. Posh looked disheveled, unmade-up, had apparently slept here. So Malone too fuck call girls, now? Wonderful. I have soft Asian cunt for him that kung fu him out of socks. He think he fight Jet Li in the bed.
Then, she noted the fear that flashed across Posh’s face on sighting her, then the girl’s quick look up and down street as if to ensure that she was alone.
What she fear of? Sookie wondered. She know me Herbie friend.
She smiled at Posh. This girl cutest American pussy—money mint. Nice breasts, long legs, tightest ass, lips men want around hard prick.
Sookie would have stolen Posh from Herbie if she wasn’t scared shitless of Bulldog.
Hmmm, she look terrible worried. Something not right.
“Hello, Posh,” she said. “Is Herbie and Malone here?”
Posh yawned affectedly. “No, Sookie. Malone’s out on a case, be back by evening. Herbie’s . . . I’ve no fucking idea where he is.”
Sookie was taken aback. “You is leaving Herbie?”
Posh had now recovered her composure.
She smirked at Sookie’s surprise. “Oh, you haven’t heard? I’m with Malone now. We’re getting married.”
“Malone not marry prostitute,” Sookie retorted. “Have high hero standards. Only fuck you to purify blood.”
Purify the blood? Posh laughed. Yeah, Sookie you really are old school. “Okay, so it’s not love, but it’s not bad.”
She stepped back from the door, “Sorry, I forgot my manners. Please come in.”
Sookie shook her head. “I heading back to Chinatown before. Only stop because think Herbie with Malone.” She smiled. “I go look for Herbie now.”
She smiled coolly at the look of fear that momentarily rushed into Posh’s eyes. Ah, you runaway. This good gossip.
Sookie left.
***
Before driving off, Sookie snorted some reich. Her eyes flashed lime green behind her shades as the drug kicked in.
Her heavy lips creased into an evil smile. She laughed. I not try imagine look on Herbie face when I tell cash chicken Posh have flown coop.
CHAPTER 21
Herbie
Herbie gaped at Sookie. “Malone? Posh is with Malone?”
She nodded, then turned and stared out of Herbie’s window at the skyscraper next door.
The building�
��s walls were already totally chitinized—glittering obsidian black surfaces. Outside, downstairs, she’d seen that it was practically a beetle now—its wings were fully formed, the most telling sign.
“I don’t believe you,” Herbie said.
Sookie shrugged. “Not need believe me. Biggest evidence. Lincoln pimp-car outside Malone’s house, Posh pussy inside. What else proof need? Herself claiming they lovers.”
(She returned her attention to the building outside. Wouldn’t be long now before it uprooted itself and flew away. Dangerous for Herbie to be living so close to it. But Herbie was like lots of people she knew—they didn’t move house until it was practically in the air.)
Herbie felt like he’d been blackjacked. This was utterly inconceivable. Posh had deserted him for good? He’d thought she’d just left for some days, to drive home her point about not going back to Oswald or that kooky Beth Riggs, but to run away, and to . . . Malone?
Damn, Herbie wasn’t fucking with Malone. That was a simple way to an early grave.
Sookie watched him pityingly. “Always tell you, just one girl not good for pimp,” she said, trying hard not to gloat over his misfortune. “Old Chinese proverb say: Pimp like horse breeder—need stable.”
She stared intently at Herbie. She knew her featureless lime eyes were unsettling him. Ah no, she thought, maybe was better not tell—look like he commit suicide. Good thinking bring solution with me.
“I see like this,” Sookie said. “You need girl suck cock, fuck on behalf till get Posh moneymaker back, correct?”
Herbie nodded grimly.
Sookie smiled tightly. “Have solution outside. Lend you my niece Gorgeous.”
Herbie groaned. “Not Gorgeous, Sookie.” Gorgeous was anything but.
“Looks not everything, Herbie. Gorgeous wonder-ful at eating penis. Also know ‘dragon grip pussy clench’ technique.”
Sookie went to the door and indicated to Gorgeous to enter.
