The Gathering Storm

by Marshall Miller

  Joe grudgingly complied. Another large man with a well-used but well- kept Winchester lever action came in. “Sir, our men are securing the other guards. A couple had to be knived. But we should have everything under control on the auditorium floor in just a minute. We have the communications booth already. In about ten minutes, you should be able to broadcast your message.”

  “Excellent, Tyrone. I am glad casualties have been kept to a minimum.”

  Malcolm continued to point the .45 at the Mayor as he spoke. “Consider this a recall election that you just lost. Sending those seven men to Talbot as sacrificial lambs was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Especially since you picked ones you personally disliked. Sorry, but you will not be allowed to remain here.”

  He looked at Red. “You can stay or leave. I have nothing against the big house help. We are all in the same leaky boat. So, what do you wish?”

  Red looked at Martin Luther, then at Malcolm. “I would like to stay, in one piece, if there is…something I can do…for you.”

  “Red!” the Mayor yelled, and lunging upwards and across the desk. Malcolm shot him through his right eye, the large round blowing a the back of his head off. He toppled, slid and fell behind his former desk.

  A second after the shot, Malcolm was covering Joe. “Same deal for you, Joe. I could use someone with your connections and abilities. I promise you, you will not be my pimp. However, do not think you can sit around and wait to take me out, because if you do, I have a few very loyal people who will draw and quarter you on general principles, and do it very slowly, whether I live or not. Get me?”

  “Yes, Sir. I understand.” Joe did not look at the former Mayor’s body.

  “Red. Is that your name? Well, let’s just keep it that way for the time being. Do you have any office or management skills, other than screwing the boss that is?”

  She looked at her feet. “I was attending business college and working part time at an import/export broker in Savannah when the Squids attacked.”

  “Good. Skills, brains, and knowledge of Savannah. Hey, look at me… I said, look at me.” Red quickly met his eyes. “No more of this looking down like you have something to be ashamed about. We’ve all had to do some nasty things to stay alive. But same deal as with Joe. If you think you can stab me in my sleep, forget it. You’ll be sliced up by my people just like anyone else. Understand?”

  “Yes… Mayor. I understand. But please understand also. Mayor Luther was nice to me. Treated me like he…cared. So please do not think I will degrade him to you. If that is what you want, you need to shoot me now.”

  “You have some fire in you. I like that. And you aren’t willing to speak ill of the dead. Being as you chose to stay, you are pragmatic as well. Good. I can definitely use you. You can remain in this suite, as I know you have nowhere else to go. But, you are not my piece of ass. Okay?” She nodded.

  “Now, how do you get a hold of the Squids to pick up bodies?”

  Joe was the first to answer. “There is a large spotlight on top of this building. We shine it upwards, toward the clouds. A Falcon shows up, picks up the… meat.”

  Malcolm guffawed. “A bat signal. Some Squid has a sense of humor, and I bet I know who. His Lordship in Key West. Well, Joe, show Tyrone what needs to be done. I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

  A small radio that Malcolm held crackled to life. He held it to his ear as he had the volume turned down. A smile lit his very dark face. “Okay, I’m off to the control room. Joe, you need to get Mr. ex-Mayor’s body out of here and have someone clean up the mess. Okay?”

  “Yes, Mayor.”

  “Okay, I’m off.”

  Ten minutes later, he was broadcasting withing the Arena and outside into Greater Atlanta. “Ladies and Gentlemen. As of today, there has been a change in management here in Atlanta. My name is Malcolm Carver. I am the new Mayor. Now, before everyone starts rioting, fussing and fuming... tonight, the show goes on. And, we will have future entertainment. But, and this is a big but–just like ones on some of those women you brothers like to look at– I will be asking everyone to start doing some things for me. Call it having a ‘job’. That’s right, a J...O...B. You want some fun and entertainment; you will have to do some work. I’ll give you a while to think about that. Right now, enjoy the next fight.” With that, Malcolm stopped broadcasting.

  “Well, let’s see how long before some brother starts breaking windows and acting the fool.”

  The rest of the fights went well. All the winners and losers went to the Mayor’s suite as before. The one difference was that the losers were not simply exploited for the Mayor’s pleasure. They were told they had to work it off some other way, to be determined. And were told to report back in two days.

  Sure enough, the next day when things began to sink in, a bunch of mostly young people began to mill around in the streets. Soon, rocks were thrown. Then, a few molotov cocktails. Since so many buildings were vacant, it was hard to really see any damage. Malcolm sent out his trained personnel with some edged weapons gleaned from the local museums and one intact hardware store. A bunch of people were harvested, and a point was made. When one of his personnel was shot during a demonstration, he retaliated within the minute by having ten of the participants shot. Within another minute, a Falcon showed up overhead, and began lifting the bodies up with its well-known articulating tentacles. One dark-skinned Mexican-American young male was still alive, having been hit in the leg. He began to scream. Suspended some fifty feet in the air, a tentacle with a blade attachment eviscerated him, allowing his intestines and other internal organs to shower down on the streets and buildings below.

  Malcolm was watching the scene via live video feed. He chuckled and turned to Red and Joe, who were with him in his office suite. “The Squids learned something that other oppressors knew. When someone resisted, terrorize everyone by brutalizing him publically. Burn him, whip him, lynch him. Throw terroristic violence at them and you soon have a pliable populace. They may hide when possible but accept violence done to others, ‘the Troublemakers’.” Malcolm cracked his knuckles.

  “Now, Joe. Use your contacts to get representatives from the various ethnic groups and organized neighborhoods here for a meeting the day after next. I am going to lay out what will be expected of them. They will be given the choice in helping me form a Resistance Movement, or they will be sent to Savannah for harvesting.”

  The new Mayor continued, “While on the subject of harvesting, we will not be filling our quota for slaughter. To achieve this, we must have sufficient hardened shelters, hidey holes, as well as food and water supplies stashed for our city populace to survive. We also have to collect as well as build weapons to resist. Yes, we can develop weapons to take on Falcons and deltas.”

  Malcolm cracked his knuckles again. “Initially, Talbot and his white trash Krakens will be sent. We will wipe them out and take their weapons. Falcons and deltas will show up next, with some robocops on the ground. They will try to terrorize us by tearing open buildings and yanking people out, slaughtering them in public. We will not give in. The other population areas in Cattle Country will be given the chance to join us. If not, they may be expected by the Squids to make up the losses in harvesting. So, they either help us, or suffer the consequences.”

  Malcolm turned and looked out the window onto the bare street. “We will be like the Polish Jews in the Warsaw ghetto. We will fight with whatever we can. And, yes, most of us may die. But we are a populace of walking dead anyway, each of us eventually facing the butcher’s block. However, since we are a necessary food supply, I think the Squids will have difficulty in trying to wipe us out completely. Killing off your breeding population is like killing the goose that laid the golden egg. No goose, no eggs.”

  Malcolm turned back. He knew that Joe and Red thought he was nuts. Too bad. He was in charge.

  “I know you think that we have as much of a chance as there is in finding an ice cube in hell. Well, I
think when harvesting us, fighting organized resistance, becomes too expensive in resources, the Squids will go back to hitting the white meat in the Occupied Areas as well as the Ferals, as they have been left alone for the last couple of years. Then, those pale bastards will be forced to fight again. Instead of selling us people of color as sacrificial lambs, they will either start resisting or they will be marched off to the slaughter like the rest of us.” Malcolm realized he was becoming agitated. He took a deep breath and centered himself.

  “Mayor, what about rocks?” Joe asked. “What’s to stop the Squids from bombing us again?”

  “They have too many young developing in our oceans, Joe. Creating another long winter, or some other climate change, not to mention the chance of an errant missile hitting one of their breeding areas, I believe will limit those types of attacks. Who knows, maybe we can find a way to attack those breeding areas. ee how they like it when it’s their babies that are dying, and being used as feed for other species. The more we hurt them, the more they will have to think, is it worth the cost?”

  He stopped. He saw that Joe and Red understood what he was saying. They just did not have the confidence that he could succeed. Well, he had the confidence of a hundred Joes and Reds.

  “That’s enough ranting for now. Red, the losers from fight night will be here. You need to find tasks and jobs for all of them. We will house them here, so find some usable rooms in this former hotel. They will be fed and provided for a long as they work. Others who commit crimes in the streets will be given the same chance. Work it off, or wind up as a filet for a Squid whelp. Got it?”

  “Yes, Sir. I will take care of what you wish.”

  Malcolm beamed. “Excellent. Now, excuse me while I go to the men’s room. I’ve been drinking up our coffee supplies.” He went to his private bathroom.

  Joe glanced sideways at Red. In a low tone he asked, “What do you think?”

  “I think I will do what I am told. I think I may have a chance of a better life with him. I will do anything to prevent me from having to give birth and having my child taken off to be slaughtered.”

  Joe nodded his head in agreement. “I guess you’re right. I was always careful in my younger years in football not to get some girl pregnant. I am even gladder now that I did not. I would kill anybody who tried to take one of my kids away, to be used as fish food.”

  Red gave a tight-lipped smile. “This will not be an easy life, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the death we are currently living.”

  CHAPTER 25

  KEY WEST, FLORIDA

  Kathy ran to the ladies room as fast as she could. The Major had been keeping her so busy preparing for the necessary follow up broadcasts to the Cape Canaveral missions, Eater threat and updates on rebuilding the infrastructure of the former U.S.A., that she barely had time to answer the call of nature. She dashed in, and grabbed the nearest stall. Weeks ago, she had tracked down janitorial support in the building weeks ago, slipped the young woman who cleaned some extra cash and asked her to spend as much time as possible keeping the women’s toilets clean. Since that time, she had kept a steady flow of little “tips” to the woman and her sister. You could practically eat off the commodes now. Kathy thought it must have been a cosmic joke of God that men had the ability to stand up and urinate, no danger of infection, irritation, etc. and it was women who had the complicated plumbing that lent itself to these problems, yet had to sit down, close to potential sources of trouble.

  She finished and stood up. As she started to open the stall door, another woman entered the bathroom in a hurry, and tried to enter her stall just as she was leaving. It was Mary Lou. They bumped, did the little dance of pedestrians, each trying to get around the other, but kept going to the same side.

  “Kathy, if you don’t move, I’m going to pee on you.” Mary Lou snapped.

  “Promises, promises.” She quipped back, and then squeezed around Mary Lou.

  Mary Lou quickly entered, slammed the door, and took a seat. Kathy waited, standing directly outside.

  “What are you doing?” Mary Lou demanded.

  “Listening. I just wanted to see if you are as human as the rest of us.”

  Mary Lou finished and flushed, glaring at Kathy as she exited the stall. “Oh, I’m definitely human. But kind of woman lurks outside another woman’s toilet?”

  Kathy chuckled. “Of the two of us, I think I have more practice acting like a real woman than you. Are you even female? I didn’t get to check if you pee standing up. Not that it would matter anyway. I prefer real men, like Adam.” She knew she was being bitchy, but for some reason, could not help herself. She suddenly had a desire to really irritate Mary Lou. She succeeded.

  “Are you trying to piss me off?” Mary Lou demanded.

  “What’s rude about stating my preference? Did you want me to make a pass at you? I just told you. I prefer large male members, like Adam’s.”

  Mary Lou’s face flushed with anger. “Look, I know you’re screwing Adam. We both do. We have a truce about causing Adam problems. Now, you seem to want to piss me off. What’s your problem?”

  “Hey, lighten up, Mary Lou. I’m just joking.”

  “Yeah, right. You’re just a comedian. You were on your back so much, I doubt you never developed a descent stand up routine.”

  Suddenly, Kathy was angry. She was tired having to defend her past as a porn star. Hell, she made a lot more money than Mary Lou had, and probably had more fun doing it.

  “I said, I was just joking.”

  “Yeah, sure. You’re just one big joke. Now, move so I can wash up.”

  “You’re going to need more than a sink to wash that smell off you,” a now angry Kathy hissed.

  “Take that back!” Mary Lou yelled.

  “Make me!” Kathy turned on her heel to exit. It was a mistake for her to turn her back on an enraged Mary Lou.

  Two hands grabbed handfuls of her blonde hair and yanked back. Hard. She squealed in pain and surprise, then felt herself being pulled backwards and twisted back toward the stall.

  “I’m making you now!” Mary Lou yelled in her ear.

  The fight was on.

  Mary Lou tried to force her down into the stall. Kathy grit her teeth to the pain in her scalp and reached back low with her right hand, finding Mary Lou’s exposed thigh under her skirt. She dug her sharp fingernails into Mary Lou’s soft flesh. Shocked, Mary Lou let go of Kathy’s hair with her right hand, grabbed at the woman’s wrist to stop the attack, and went into a clutch. Kathy twisted around, jamming the nails of her left hand into Mary Lou’s face. The participant in many a staged catfight, she fought instinctively, no fancy martial arts moves. She managed to push her way back out of the stall, as she felt some of her blonde hair being pulled painfully from her scalp by Mary Lou’s left hand. Both women began to curse and spit at each other, bumping into the bathroom wall as they wrestled. Shapely legs became intertwined, tripping each other. They slipped and fell to the bathroom floor.

  “Ladies, what are you doing?”

  It took a moment for them to recognize the voice. It was Major Jane Grant. They froze.

  A strong hand grabbed an ear on each of their heads, twisting it painfully like a nun in a Catholic school. They both yowled in pain as Jane forced them to stand up, or have their respective ears seriously damaged. Neither woman even thought of striking the Major.

  “What type of childish bullshit is this?” scolded Jane. “Two grown women fighting in the girl’s room like a couple of spoiled cheerleaders? Do you think this helps anybody or accomplishes anything? Other than maybe working out spite and anger toward each other, I sure as hell can’t!”

  “Now look, Jane...” Mary Lou began.

  “That’s Major to you. You may be a glorified assistant to the Director, but that doesn’t cut the mustard with anyone.”

  “And you!” Jane yelled at Kathy. “Do you think school aged kids who are sending you homemade cards and handwritten letters on scrap paper wa
nt to see you clawing and scratching another woman next to a toilet? Fighting over who gets to play with some guy’s joystick?”

  Kathy stood, stunned. She realized then that her old adult entertainment frame of mind about being sexy on camera did nothing for a whole new audience.

  As if she could read her mind, Jane said, “That’s right. There’s a new generation who doesn’t even know what a porn star was, but they sure as hell know what a hero is. In other words, Ms. Monroe, you’ve turned into a fucking role model.”

  Kathy almost cried. She was messing up a good thing and was too stupid to realize it.

  “I’m not done with you, Mary Lou. You’re supposed to be serving the Director, not just servicing him. Unless your goal in life was to be a concubine.”

  Mary Lou’s rage got the better of her, and she tried to shove Jane away. She quickly found herself back on the bathroom floor, a painful wrist lock holding her right arm up, and Jane’s shoe on the back of her neck.

  “Want to try that again?” Jane hissed. “I don’t catfight. I street fight.” Jane released a subdued Mary Lou, then glared at both of them. “I expected that from you, Kathy, not her. I guess it goes to show that I’m as guilty of stereotypes as others.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know why I put up with this shit. I could be a General in the Resistance, not having to catch two prima donna assholes pulling hair next to the commode. Especially after the death of a little girl.”

  There was silence for a few moments, save for the breathing of the three women. Then Major Grant added “This stays between the three of us. The Director needs another problem like this like he needs a bottle of viagra. But, if I hear of any more behavior like this, I am going to track you down, kick your asses and leave you hogtied naked in the Director’s office. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal,” Kathy replied.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Mary Lou said, rubbing her wrist.