by Jim Mohr
“So, if you were a civilian, you’re saying you’d have a Master’s degree in math, two languages, science, and tactics and operations. Basically, O1 level training?”
“Sergeant, I would attend classes from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. and then would cram reading for weekend classes into my evenings. My mind devoured the information.” I give the woman a steely gaze, “I am not here to impress you, Sergeant. I know what I am capable of, what I have accomplished already and what I can still do. Hell, I designed a jet to counter the Death’s Head.”
“I’m not trying to upset you, recruit. I’m trying to understand how someone younger than I am can have done so much. I have never met a Psychokinetic before, it’s just tough to believe.” She pauses as her mind absorbs my previous statement, “What do you mean you designed a jet to counter the Death’s Head?” her eyes squint with concern.
“It was my aeronautical engineering project. One on one, my jet would best a Death’s Head.” I can see she doesn’t believe me. “Never mind, Sergeant. Just drop it.” My frustration with this human is at an end. I guess looks aren’t everything.
***
Dove—On s Transport East of Topeka, Kansas
I look at the worn letter while I hang my head in shame. Poor Pigeon, there wasn’t anything I could have done to save the boy, or was there? The image of his dead body lying in the street will continue to haunt me. I must make penance for my slothfulness. I must right a wrong. I open the old letter and reread it to see if I missed anything:
My Dearest Molly,
I am sorry to write to you. You do not know me, and we shall never meet. After much thought and wringing of hands, I have learned that contacting you would have no effects on the matters that I am writing about.
Recently, my son was taken by Resistance fighters (Euro-Asian Militaristic Society) to Prague, Czech Republic. I know from my powers that you are not a sympathizer to the cause of the Resistance and that you have a daughter who, like us, shares the gift of Psychokinetics.
I know who your daughter will be and that she must seek out my son when she obtains her power. I beg you, with all that I am, that you would guide your daughter so that when the day arrives when our children meet, that she would help him. Her peaceful, loving nature will be needed by my son; Cougar.
If your daughter is not born yet, I apologize for ruining the surprise. Please understand, I have no other recourse than to reach out to you. Timere will hunt my son, and he will hunt Timere. He cannot surround himself with death and pain and still hope to survive. Please, Molly, help my poor, dear son, Cougar.
Your humble servant,
Calico (Calista Reed)
Wait a minute, why did Calico say “a daughter who, like us, shares the gift of Psychokinetics”? Is my mom like me? She called me the devil and a monster. If she is like me, why did she say that? Did dad know? Thoughts of my mom run through my mind, memories of her finishing sentences for me, knowing what I was doing, objects across the room moving without being touched. At the time I ignored it, I was concerned with my own teenage issues, or thought I was seeing things, an earthquake, or a breeze perhaps.
A warm feeling washes over me as we cross into Missouri, toward our next stop, St. Louis. I must find Cougar so I can speak with his mother, Calico. To find him, I need to speak with Lion or find another Pigeon.
Thoughts of being seventeen years old and homeless in this evil world intrude on my planning. I must toughen up or find a fighter. Pigeon said that he wasn’t a fighter. I need to find a fighter, to defend me.
Chapter 29
Funnel Web—Resistance Installation: Prague, Czech Republic
My security detail stands behind me. It is funny: I, the second most powerful spider in the whole world would need humans to protect me. I knock on the door. I can hear rustling inside.
“Friday night and she doesn’t go out?” One guard says to the other. I knock again, harder this time.
The door opens and a middle-aged, blonde woman stands in front of me. Her face is drawn as if she has been crying.
“Gabrielle Detches?” I ask.
“Yes, how may I assist you?”
“Miss Detches, I am Captain Feng Chu from the Office of Interrogations. You will come with us.”
She looks frantically from side to side as terror grips her human heart. “Why? What is it?”
“You know, human. We have questions that need answering about your ward, Cougar Reed.”
Her eyes well up with tears and grow large. “Is there a problem? Is he safe?”
“I think that you know the answer to that,” I turn to the guard who made the “Friday night” comment, “Take her.” The guard steps past me, and he grabs her arm. He strikes her in the midsection, causing her to buckle over from the blow. He then places restraints on her arms. “Miss Detches,” I say as the guard lifts her upright, “my chief interrogator has personally requested you. You will not enjoy this.”
***
I know what Gerdt is doing to Gabrielle Detches. Though Gerdt has a pent-up lust for her, I believe that sex with humans is disgusting. The prey in front of me though, I may enjoy her.
Nada Dvorak stands, her arms chained straight over her head. She is naked, crying, and afraid. I can taste her fear, and it is delicious.
“Nada, my dear old friend.”
She looks at me; her hatred toward me is obvious. “Funnel Web, I was never your friend, and I never will be.”
“Come on now, you are naked. Did Cougar, that mind reader, ever see you naked? Did he ever see your breasts? Your womanhood?”
“You bastard!” her voice echoes off the concrete walls of our interrogation room.
“Well, did he?”
“No! We are friends. If he would have asked me though, I would have. He has honor, unlike you. You are a damn coward!”
I run to her and shove my fingers inside her. “If he never had this, why were you, friends? What did he gain from you?”
Her eyes roll from the pain of my intrusion. She gasps and pulls her hips back, trying to escape my fingernails. She fears me releasing some of my lovely harm power.
“He… He gained strength. My attacks made him stronger.”
“How?” I push my fingers deeper inside her.
“Ah…” she yells as her eyes flash, her meager power wants to fight, and it is struggling against me. “I don’t know. He said the nurse…Andrev, told him.”
I remove my fingers and walk slowly away from her. I see she is in season. I lick my fingers and taste her blood. “Nada, my dear, you taste lovely. I wish I were a Piranha or Shark, I would enjoy eating your flesh.”
Nada’s head hangs down, small droplets of blood dot her inner thighs. “You, don’t know how powerful Cougar is. He will come for me. He will avenge me.”
I smile as I look at the unattached Timere in front of me. “Good, good, I hope he does. He’ll die at the front gate. He will never reach me in the safety of this base. Now, I have questions about him, his fears, things of that nature. I know, from the time that you spent together, that you gleaned that information from him.”
***
My interrogations of Nada Dvorak were very enlightening. As I complete my report in the main interrogation conference room, the door opens. It is Gerdt. He is wearing only his underpants; a semi-erect penis hides underneath them. I can smell he is covered in blood and body fluids.
“Senior Lieutenant, next time, please clean yourself up before reporting to me.”
He breathes deeply, he is exhausted. “I am sorry, sir. She mentioned someone.” I look at Gerdt as he collapses into a chair across from me.
“Who? Who did she mention?”
“Colonel Vladimir Mikhailov. He is head of the education department, I believe.”
I rub my chin as I recall memories from my childhood. “He was the one who you met that day, the
one before Reed was brought into your class.”
Gerdt looks confused. “Was he? He is a human.”
“Yes, bring him in. If Colonels were aiding Reed, this is bigger than just him being a coward.”
Gerdt leans back in his chair. “Sir, that day in the cafeteria. Before you tore his testicles. He met High Commander Prazak, right? That is what you said, correct?”
I remember that day. “Yes, High Commander Prazak was a Colonel General then. Reed was with Gabrielle that morning. Prazak complimented him.” I look at Gerdt as my anger grows. “Bring in Mikhailov, continue with Dvorak and Detches. Inform the firing squad that we have at least four to schedule.”
“Yes, sir!” Gerdt stands as his wet underpants slide down slightly.
“And dress yourself, Lieutenant!” I yell.
Chapter 30
Dove—Devante Estate: The Buckhead District; Atlanta, Georgia
My upper-middle-class childhood has never opened my mind to the luxury and security this section of Buckhead holds. To call these palaces, houses don’t do the word justice. It would be like calling adultery, a small indiscretion, or a bank heist, a withdrawal.
The cobblestone road leading into the section of mansions where the Devante estate resides is lined on both sides by trees. They offer a reprieve from the warm, muggy, oppressive air. The sunlight penetrates the leaves in rays of light which further add to the beauty of this area.
Ahead of me, I sense power, raw power. The bearer of the power must be something to behold because the Devante mansion isn’t even in sight. The thick stand of trees clears slightly as a large stone wall comes into focus. The wall reminds me of the stone of San Francisco harbor and the trees are waves of green breaking on it. Atop the wall, large spikes of copper and steel stick out like great fingers.
Other beings of power trigger my senses. Each step brings another, and then another. Each Psychokinetic feels different, their powers differ, their souls differ. Some, I feel, will be friendly toward me. Other people, I sense, would not be friendly.
The trees clear and now the wall fills my entire field of vision. Beyond the wall, I can see the peaks of the roof of the mansion. A woman and four armed men stand at the gate to my left. They are arguing about something.
A breeze of feathers brushes by my face. It startles me, while at the same time exciting my power. The feathers belong to a large owl which has landed gently on the woman’s shoulder. It nudges the woman with its beak and she turns to face me.
The men retreat at the sight of me. I smile as I think how imposing a teen girl, dressed in all white, with white hair and sapphire blue eyes can be. The woman walks toward me, the owl perched neatly on her right shoulder. She is rather plain looking, dressed in all brown with a caring, loving smile. Even from this distance, I can see her power in her eyes… and then I sense her. She is like me, although she wields more power than I do.
“Good Lord! My sister!” the woman yells. She runs to me and gently grabs my arms in an affectionate way. “I never thought I would be so blessed as to meet you! The lovely Dove…” Her southern accent seems less refined than the people of Georgia. I think that she is from Louisiana or Mississippi.
“How do you know me? We’ve never met,” I reply.
“Well, love, not every Psycho wears all white,” She chuckles softly and releases my arms. The men at the gate talk into a radio. The woman in brown looks back at them and scowls. “Humans, they try to reassert themselves into positions of power.” She looks back at me. “Dove, why are you here?”
“Ma’am, I am searching for Lion. I’m trying to find someone and I need him to tell me where he is.”
The owl nudges the woman’s ear with the top of its beak. He is a large tan, grey, and white bird, over eighteen inches tall. The woman in brown shakes her head. “Yes, yes, yes… this fat ball of feathers is Mr. Beauregard. He is my barred owl. If you haven’t guessed, I am Owl. I am your sister in the bird family.”
The woman lowers her head awkwardly. I can see it is a struggle for her to maintain her balance with the large bird perched on her shoulder. “Owl, I am trying to find Cougar, Mountain Lion. I was told by a Pigeon that Lion could help.”
Owl rolls her eyes. “Dearie, I seriously doubt the ass will let us into his mansion. The king,” her arms flail about above her head in a sarcastic show of pomp, “is currently occupied with other serfs.”
At the gate, a woman emerges. She has come from the mansion. She looks older than me, or Owl. From this distance, I can see she is dressed in all grey, shirt and shorts. Her hair is a steel grey color, and her beauty does not cover her power. She is like me, like Owl, though she wields much more power. The woman approaches the guards and they converse. The whole time she watches us.
“She is very powerful, she feels like a bird,” Owl says softly.
“Maybe she will let us see Lion, maybe she will help,” I reply.
“Sister, I seriously doubt it. No, this one is no friend.”
The woman in grey stops talking to the men. The one with the radio talks into it again as the woman walks toward us. Her voice is sweet, though very stern. “Leave this area you two! Our Lord has no need of you!”
Owl looks at me. “Need of us? What the hell is this?”
“Ma’am, I am Dove. May I speak with Lion? I’m looking for someone and I was told that he can help.”
The woman in grey stares at me as she slows her approach. “I said leave here EMPATH! Take your friend with you. I hold power over you both, leave here!”
Owl scoffs, “Listen, sister, I’ll leave, but sure as owls’ shit, you don’t hold anything over me.”
The grey woman stops her advance. “I am Falcon, I am telling you to leave now, or we will fight.”
I raise my hands as if trying to push open a door. “We don’t want to fight. Falcon, please…” The air is suddenly driven from my lungs and my world is filled with sparkles. I sense my feet sliding, then a sharp pain in my back. I am surrounded by green leaves and brown wood. The shade of the trees seems comforting to me if it weren’t for the ringing in my ears.
A muffled yell sounds out “Mr. Beauregard, get that bitch!” A high-pitched scream follows.
I struggle to my feet. I am at least 20 feet from where I was. In front of me, a bird of prey is fighting Mr. Beauregard. The birds are a tangle of feathers, claws, and beaks. Owl and Falcon are rolling on the ground. They seem to match the avian fight as if their hostility has transposed onto the birds.
At the gate a man dressed in all golden yellow stands, watching the fights. I yell at Owl and Falcon: “Stop this!”
Mr. Beauregard seems to respond to my plea. The owl flaps his wings, lifting himself off of the ground. When he does this, the bird of prey, which I can see now is a peregrine falcon, takes to flight as well and flees. The barred owl then freezes in midair. His wings forcefully go to his body and he is crushed. His lifeless corpse falls harmlessly to the ground. The horror of this killing burns in my chest. Owl screams as she rains blows down on Falcon’s face.
“You killed my owl, you BITCH!” Owl screams.
I see, extending from my palms, white light. The light seems to react to my will. I know that it is my power. I must stop the fight between Owl and Falcon. Falcon initiated the conflict, she struck me, and she killed Mr. Beauregard.
The white light, like ropes of pure empathy, reaches out to the ongoing fight. They strike Falcon, causing her to scream. Immediately I know the woman’s soul. She fears Lion. She was hired to train him when he was a boy. His thirst for power and awesome abilities were enticing to Falcon. She succumbed to him, relinquishing her self-worth, and now she is his slave.
Owl continues her onslaught on Falcon, as Falcon begs for mercy, forgiveness, and relief. It is as if she ignores the physical onslaught of Owl, feeling the deeper pain of what my power showed her.
“ENOUGH
!” the man in gold yells. Owl immediately ceases her blows and spins from the kneeling, fighting position, to a fetal position at Falcons side. My knees buckle as a power pushes me down.
The man in gold has immense power. I know who he is, this is Lion. “Owl, you dare attack my Falcon? As your Lord, I demand that you pay for this with your flesh!”
A shrill scream comes from Owl and I hear a sharp snap. Lion raises his right hand and catches some small object, brought to him by his power from Owl. Owl heaves in agony on the ground. In the dirt, around her head, I see a pool of blood collecting.
Lion looks at the thing in his hand. He smiles and looks at Owl. “I can see that you had a manicure recently. It’s here, on your left thumb.”
I gasp in horror. The man has ripped her thumb off using his power. Sparkles fill my vision and a voice fills my ears.
“Be calm, my daughter. Take Owl to the Atlanta base. Find either Cheetah or German Shepherd. Cheetah’s human name is Dena Smith. German Shepherd’s name is John Lightfeather. I am Eagle, tend to your sister.” The man’s voice has an African flavor to it. It is powerful and soothing.
Chapter 31
Funnel Web—Resistance Installation: Prague, Czech Republic
The compiled interrogation reports on Vladimir Mikhailov, Nada Dvorak, Gabrielle Detches, and the nurse, Jen Andrev, combine to make a three-inch-thick tome. It became obvious, as the interrogators under my command dug around, these four all played a part in assisting the traitor, Cougar Reed.
One thing did not fit, however, why would the nurse care a whit about Reed? Why had she spoken to him about Psychokinetic families, and what was to gain from aiding him in his escape?
Signing the orders of execution was the easiest call I have ever made. I now will carry my tome to Colonel Kral’s office. He will be proud of my first interrogation report.
Upon entering the Colonel’s office, I can sense he fears something, some approaching doom. He looks up from his computer monitor as I snap to attention and salute. He returns my salute without standing up. “Hello, Captain. Is that the final report?”
