by PP
In front of G.E. on his coffee table was an assortment of spray paints, solvents, dyes, and paint mixtures. The purple dye might eventually wear off, but G.E. needed an immediate disguise. G.E. stirred his latest mixture of colors. He had not quite got what he was looking for. He threw in some speckles. The result was speckled June bug green. G.E. liked it. The shiny new color was a far cry from his current rusty brown. Once applied, it was magnificent. You could tell the green was artificial, but a lot of spiders were painting themselves these days. The trend was becoming hip. The main thing G.E. noticed as he applied paint to his exoskeleton was that the purple dye was gone.
G.E. turned the TV channel to the news. A news crew was up in a helicopter filming the riverfront area of East Finisterra. An armored car and three Legion tanks had a shanty house surrounded and were about to annihilate some poor slob inside. The reporter was excited that the whole event would be broadcast live. They were doing a countdown. On a hunch, G.E. dragged himself to his feet and staggered over to the window. A Legion tank was lowering the elevation on its cannon, aimed directly at G.E. Oh shit, he thought. I’m the poor slob they’re going to annihilate. G.E. jumped into his spider hole just as his hideout was blown apart by cannon and rocket fire. Deep below the ground, G.E. could hear the rumble of falling rock as the entrance to his tunnel collapsed. G.E. followed his tunnel to where it connected to a mining shaft, and escaped.
* * * * *
Ralph Gobind Singh was not a man to waste time. He had already rented a Caterpillar tractor and was digging a new and improved foundation for his damaged 7-Eleven store. Singh had been planning to expand the store anyway, but had been procrastinating. Now that the Legion had blasted a hole in the wall, there was no time like now to get the job done. He wasn’t even mad at the Legion anymore. Singh looked to the future, not the past. There was much work to be done. Singh had his whole extended family clearing debris. He dug into the ground all night. The blue-black clay often clogged the treads of his Caterpillar. His wife finally gave up and went to bed. Singh did not want to wait for the next rain to turn his efforts into a big mud hole. He would call for the cement tomorrow and finish the job. As the dawn sun rose, Singh paused to admire the majesty of the New Colorado sunrise. He had to shield his eyes.
But something was wrong. Singh had to shield his eyes from two directions. The glare of the sun reflected from inside the hole he had just dug. Singh got off his tractor for a closer look at something metallic. It was a huge vein of gold. Geologists and miners at the Only Tavern all agreed there had to be a mother load somewhere in Finisterra, but extensive digging had failed to locate it. Now, Singh had found the mother load of all mother loads, and would soon be one of the wealthiest men on New Colorado. Not only had he discovered the largest gold strike on New Colorado, but the black-blue clay that was gumming up the treads of his Caterpillar turned out to be silver.
<
CHAPTER 11
With the discovery of more gold in Finisterra came another gold rush. The Singh Mining Corporation quickly became the area’s largest employer. Unfortunately, sensationalized media coverage of the recent battle with insurgents in East Finisterra attracted a flood of insurgents hoping to join their brothers in arms. The insurgency had not been doing well in other parts of the planet. But now the insurgency had a new hero: General Electric. And the media said the elusive G.E. was making his last stand in Finisterra. In response, the Legion put up roadblocks along the North Highway and patrol boats on the New Mississippi River. In Finisterra, the Legion’s main checkpoint was at the Finisterra Bridge.
Corporal Tonelli put little pieces of bread on top of the sand bags to feed the squirrels. It helped pass the time. Nothing was more boring to Tonelli than guard duty. Squirrels would dart up to their machine gun position, snatch a bread crumb, and run back to the bushes at the base of the bridge.
“Stop feeding those squirrels,” said Sergeant Green. “Don’t you know they carry diseases?”
“It is rats that carry diseases,” replied Guido. “Squirrels are just cute and fuzzy.”
“A squirrel is nothing more than a rat with better PR” said Sergeant Green. “I don’t want them up here with us.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the big mean squirrel,” said Guido as he put another piece of bread just inside the sandbag wall. The squirrel was leery, but ventured forth because of hunger and greed. Just as the squirrel snatched the bread, Tonelli’s dragon Spot snatched the squirrel. The rat with better PR was gone in one bite.
Private Williams walked up to the next car in line. It was his turn to do a check. Private Williams told the driver to step out of the car and to open the trunk. The driver and a passenger were patted down. Private Williams searched luggage in the trunk. In one suitcase he found about eighty cell phones.
“What is this?” asked Private Williams. “Are you a salesman for Motorola?”
“No. I have many friends and relatives in Finisterra,” said the spider driver. “I buy these cell phones cheap at the spaceport. They make perfect gifts out here on the Frontier. Would you like one? Pick one out.”
“Thank you,” said Private Williams, as he selected a bright red phone. He passed the car through the checkpoint and walked back to the bunker. “Look what that spider gave me.”
“Why did he do that?” asked Sergeant Green.
“He had about eighty phones in his suitcase,” said Private Williams. “I guess he was just being friendly and had an extra.”
“Cell phones are a cheap method used by the insurgency to explode homemade bombs,” said Sergeant Green, as he took Private Williams’ new phone. Idiot, he thought. Sergeant Green then radioed legionnaires on the other side of the bridge to stop and detain the last car through.
Corporal Ceausescu motioned with her assault rifle for the car to stop. She ordered both occupants to get out of the car with their claws up. The driver stepped on the gas and tried to run the roadblock. Corporal Ceausescu jumped out of the way as the car nearly struck her. Corporal Kool fired his machine gun at the car, killing both insurgents.
* * * * *
General Electric walked into the Only Tavern. It was doing a brisk business despite construction contractors hammering out repairs. Teamsters construction workers added to the business because they ordered drinks during their many union breaks. They were putting in a new ceiling and rebuilding the second floor hotel. G.E. sat at the bar and ordered a drink.
A drunk spider on the stool next to him grabbed G.E. by the shoulder. “We don’t like Greens in here,” said the drunk. “Get out.”
G.E. pulled a jagged military-issue combat knife and held it to the drunk’s throat. “Do I really look like someone you want to piss off?” he asked.
“No, sir. You do not,” said the drunk. “I am so sorry.”
“If I don’t look like someone you would want to piss off, then why are you trying so hard to do it?” asked G.E. A droplet of blood trickled from the drunk’s neck. “Are you brain damaged or just stupid?”
“I am just stupid, sir,” said the drunk. “Please don’t kill me. I’ve had too much to drink. Can I buy you a drink?”
“I had better never see you in this tavern again,” said G.E. “If I do, I will cut off your head and nail it above the bar next to that deer.”
“You will never see me again,” said the drunk, as he ran for the door. The scene attracted attention.
“Who are you?” asked another spider sitting with a group of spiders at a nearby table. “Care to join us?”
“That depends,” said G.E. “Are you buying?”
“Anything you want,” said the spider, waving at the bartender for more whiskey and vodka. “Don’t ever bring that knife to a gunfight.”
“I was just playing with that fool,” said G.E. “I have several guns on me.”
“You did not answer my question, so I’ll ask it again,” said the spider. “Who are you?”
“None of your business, even if you are buying the drinks,” said G.E. “You are the newcomer in town, so it is I who should be asking who you are. Just another fortune hunter looking for gold? Good luck.”
“I will tell you who you are not,” said the spider. “You are not a Green. No Green shopkeeper ever handled a combat knife that way.”
“Some of the best soldiers I have ever served with were Greens,” said G.E. “You know nothing.”
“You were a soldier?” asked the spider. “Special Forces?”
“You ask too many questions,” said G.E., picking up his drink to leave. “Idiots everywhere.”
“I am a leader in the insurgency,” said the spider, following G.E. “We need ex-soldiers like you. Would you join us?”
“Why would I join the bumblers of the insurgency?” said G.E. “I am General Electric. I destroyed the Legion at the North Highway Battle, and I will destroy them here at a time of my own choosing.”
“You are the one we have been looking for!” exclaimed the spider. “Finisterra is the only place on the planet effectively resisting the human pestilence. You are the only leader who has been successful. Hundreds of us are coming here to rally around your leadership. Please lead us.”
“You have heard of me?” asked G.E.
“You were featured on America’s Most Wanted,” said the spider. “Your picture is posted in every post office on New Colorado. There is a million-dollar reward for you, dead or alive.”
“I have a shuttle full of weapons and explosives hidden in the forest,” said G.E. “I will help you rid New Colorado of the human pestilence.”
“We welcome you, brother,” said the spider, grasping G.E. in a firm embrace. The other spiders at the table got up and did the same. “There is so much injustice to be righted. Arthropoda has been cheated out of the vast riches of the North. Have you noticed that the largest mine in Finisterra is already owned by a human? I am talking about Ralph Gobind Singh and the Singh Mining Corporation. Our first act of defiance will be to make an example of Mr. Singh.”
“The Emperor gave this planet away,” complained G.E., sitting back down at the table. “Then he orders me here to destabilize it by arming the insurgency. Then, he abandons me. To hell with Arthropoda. To hell with the Emperor. We need our own independent country here in the North. The human pestilence may be able to kill us, but they cannot kill an idea. They cannot kill the desire for independence.”
“I like that,” said the spider. “I could be the Emperor of the North.”
“Whatever,” said G.E. “You have to drive the human pestilence out first. Or at least you have to drive the Legion out. Did you know that spiders have joined the humans’ Foreign Legion?”
“Traitors,” said the Emperor of the North. “We need to make an example of them, too.”
“The problem is that spiders are not united,” said G.E. “They are too busy digging for gold and pursuing the American Dream. They have been brainwashed by satellite TV and seduced by dollars. We need to do something that will galvanize support for the insurgency.”
“That is easy,” said the Emperor of the North. “All we have to do is set off a few bombs. The Legion always overreacts to that sort of thing. They will upset every spider in Finisterra with their crude tactics.”
“What do you want to blow up first?” asked G.E. “Can we get a nuke?”
“Everyone wants a nuke,” said the Emperor of the North. “Using nukes would be bad for public opinion. Besides, we don’t want to destroy Finisterra. We want to take it for our own.”
“For now we don’t need nukes,” agreed G.E. “But later we may need them. It is always good to have that option available to us.”
“I will consider that,” said the Emperor of the North. “First we blow up City Hall, the Finisterra Bridge, and the home of Ralph Gobind Singh. If we hit all three on the same day, the Legion will go crazy.”
“What will the Legion do in response?”
“In Disneyland the Legion declared martial law, took hostages, established a curfew, massacred prisoners, called in air strikes and artillery, and loosed wild vicious Earth animals on the streets.”
“But they won in Disneyland,” argued G.E.
“The Legion will not win in Finisterra,” promised the Emperor of the North. “We have the human pestilence outnumbered and have better leadership. Finisterra will not be a happy place for the human pestilence.”
* * * * *
General Electric and the Emperor of the North decided that a massive explosion was needed to bring down the Finisterra Bridge. Two insurgents, swimming alongside a small raft laden with military-grade explosives, intended to deliver such an explosion. They swam closer to the bridge in total darkness. Even the moon and stars were shrouded by fog. Their plan could not fail.
Corporal Tonelli, on top of the bridge, looked over the railing. He shined a spotlight downward, but could see nothing through the thick fog. Spot was looking over the railing, too. His constant low growl put everyone on edge. Sergeant Green tossed a grenade over the side. It exploded harmlessly in the water.
Suddenly, Spot jumped over the side of the bridge and into the water. The monitor dragon swam like a shark, dorsal fins sticking out of the water. Guided by smell, the dragon swam directly toward the spiders pushing the raft. The first spider was violently pulled under by the dragon’s jaws. His scream could be heard by legionnaires on the bridge. The second spider scrambled to get out of the water. The dragon pulled at his leg. The spider fought through the pain as he pulled himself up on to the raft. His leg snapped off at the joint, causing the spider to lose his balance and fall back into the water. This time he was not so lucky. As the spider grabbed for the raft, Spot easily pulled him under.
* * * * *
Tito was a spider gone crazy. A combination of drugs and alcohol had fried Tito’s brain. Tito had always struggled to fit in, but never quite could. Fired from his mining job at the Singh Mine, Tito felt lost. So when the Emperor of the North found Tito locked up at the county jail and befriended him, and even invited Tito to join the insurgency, Tito felt important. Once more, Tito had purpose and friends in his life. Tito would help his new friends rid New Colorado of the human pestilence.
His insurgent friends sent Tito on an important mission. Tito took another drink. His instructions seemed easy enough. All Tito had to do was drive a car across the Finisterra Bridge. Once on the bridge, Tito would press a button that would kill all the legionnaires guarding the bridge.
The hardest part of the mission was driving the car in his intoxicated state. The drugs and alcohol generously provided by his friend the Emperor of the North were having full effect. His car weaved as it approached the legionnaire checkpoint at the bridge. Tito pressed on the gas, accelerating through a barrier and past the legionnaires. Tito drove wildly as his car passed by and then struck a light pole. Tito was injured by the crash, but could feel no pain. Blood obscured sight in one eye, but he could still see the legionnaires running up to his car. They were yelling in their weird human language that Tito could never hope or want to understand without a translator. As the legionnaires approached, Tito pressed the button and yelled, “Death to the human pestilence!”
As Sergeant Green and Corporal Ceausescu ran up to the crashed car, they saw the spider hold up a device attached to wire. The spider hissed. Sergeant Green pushed Corporal Ceausescu to the side as an explosion knocked them both to the pavement. Sergeant Green lay unconscious. At first there was darkness. Then he could see a bright light getting closer. A pleasant voice called to him. I’m dead, thought Sergeant Green. So this is what it is like. There really is a light at the end of a tunnel that calls us up to Heaven. Well I’ll be damned. Clouds parted. The bright light enveloped Sergeant Green. God spoke to Sergeant Green in a deep voice that seemed to come from everywhere. “Tyrone. I am giving you wings,” said God.
“Lord All Mighty,” said Sergeant Green, marveling at his new wings, testing them and flapping them. I ca
n’t believe I am going to Heaven after all I have done, thought Sergeant Green. He flew up to God. “Do these wings mean I am now an angel?”
“Oh hell no,” said God. “You are a bat!”
“I knew God was a cracker!” yelled Sergeant Green as he tumbled downward through the clouds towards a bright red glow. Sergeant Green could feel the heat as he fell toward Hell. When the pain from the fire became unbearable, Sergeant Green woke from his nightmare only to face the nightmare of reality. Corporal Tonelli was dragging him away from the car fire. Corporal Ceausescu lay off to the side, motionless on the ground.
