by Jack Yeovil
Jazzbeaux stretched her fingers and lightly rested them on the butt of her scavved gun. The creature turned its head to look at her with slit-pupilled eyes the size of saucers. It showed its needle-sharp teeth, and flared a furry ruff. It could have leaped. With her broken fingers, she probably couldn’t have outdrawn the thing.
But she met its eyes. It recognized a fellow predator, and backed down, returning its attention to its food. She walked away.
For the first time since she iced her Dad, Jazzbeaux felt she really had a purpose on this dull earth.
She hoped the old man would be proud of her.
II
This is ZeeBeeCee, The Station That’s Got It All, bringing you What You Want twenty-four hours a clay, sponsored by GenTech, the bioproducts division that really cares…
In just five minutes, it will be time for Keep Fighting Fit With Arnie, and some helpful advice on the maintenance of muscle implants in the elderly. Then we’ll be bringing you Casey Kasem’s Wide World of Executions, with some remarkable footage of garroting in Morocco, burning-at-the-stake in Thailand and, for the traditionalists among you, an Olde Englishe Publicke Hangingge from Tyburn Tree in London, England. But first, tune into reality with Lola Stechkin, bringing you The Pre-Breakfast Bulletin from the comfort of her dancercise studio…
“Hi, Early Birds of America! It’s August the 27th, 1995, and this is Lola, inviting you to stretch and strain and lose that pain. Here it is, folks, all the news you can handle…
“Washington, D.C. Last night, President North fielded tough questions concerning the controversial economic policies of his administration. Accused by some factions of bringing the nation close to bankruptcy with the Big Bonus, his personalized combination of high spending, high unemployment and decreased taxation, the President claimed ‘we’ll just all have to wait and see how it pans out, won’t we?’ Dr Ottokar Proctor, head of the presidential think-tank, and widely believed to be the architect of the Big Bonus, was unavailable for comment, although he is scheduled to make an appearance at a film festival in Tampa, Florida, where he will give a lecture on the Sisyphean influence of Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner on contemporary American culture.
“Salt Lake City, Deseret. The first wagontrain of Josephite resettlers, under the leadership of Elder Nguyen Seth, is due to arrive in the deserted conurbation sometime before noontime today. Elder Seth has vowed to reclaim the wilderness from the elements as the Mormons did before him. A bill providing, among other things, for the renaming of the State of Utah, has been passed unopposed through Congress. The recent demise of Representative Osmond of Utah, who had planned to speak against the bill, is still unexplained.
“The horror murders of the inhabitants of a quiet suburban estate within the Savannah PZ have been attributed by Ms Redd Harvest of the Turner-Harvest-Ramirez Agency to the serial murderer who signs himself ‘The Tasmanian Devil.’ T-H-R claim to be following several leads, and hope to make an arrest soon. ‘The Tasmanian Devil’ has claimed over 350 victims in all quarters of the United States in the last year, and is noted for the savage ingenuity of his frenzied attacks. Surviving eyewitnesses arc few in number, and give contradictory descriptions of the killer, but all agree on his unnatural strength and viciousness. ‘We’ll get him,’ Ms Harvest has sworn. More on this as it breaks.
“Moscow. Talks broke down today between the Soviet and Japanese delegations who have been negotiating over recent territorial clashes over culture-krill-harvesting operations off the island of Sakhalin. Premier Boris Yeltsin has announced that he still hopes to come to an amicable agreement with the Imperial representative and the board of GenTech. In an editorial statement later this morning, Akira Kobayashi, the Chief Executive Officer of GenTech East, will explain how unreasonable and inefficient the Soviets are proving on this issue.
“Don’t you think it’s unfair of nature to insist that humanity only have two dentitions? The set-up was fine when life expectancy was barely thirty years, but with modern advances in medtech ensuring that all solvent citizens can enjoy a full and active life well into their 100s, one set of milk teeth and one set of adult teeth just isn’t enough. Well, thanks to GenTech, you can now have sown the buds of a third, fourth, fifth and even sixth set of genuine enamel-coated teeth. For as little as $500 a tooth, we can get you great-grandpas back on the taffy and rare steaks. GenTech, the biodivision that cares…
“Glastonbury, England. Prime Minister Archer today opens the state-sponsored popular music festival, showcasing the best of British culture. He has announced that he will join patriotic singer Johnny Lydon, host of the popular British variety program The Johnny Lydon Band Show, in a rendition of the star’s biggest hit, ‘God Save the Queen.’ Other British showbiz greats scheduled to appear include Matt Monro, Clive Dunn, Tessie O’Shea, Norman Wisdom, Mrs Mills, Valerie Singleton and the comic duo of Benny Elton and Ricky Mayall, with American guest stars Liberace and Conway Twitty reaffirming the Special Relationship. Rumours that Ken Dodd plans to come out of retirement for this one last concert have been denied by the reclusive multi-billionaire entertainer’s manager, Peter Hall. John Lennon, the leader of Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition, who was briefly a member of an unsuccessful group called The Quarrymen back in the 1960s, was apparently asked if he wanted to reform to appear on the bill. ‘Nobody was interested back then,’ he told our reporter, ‘I don’t see why they should be now, like.’
“Manila, the Philippines. President-for-life Imelda Marcos yesterday dedicated a new statue of her late husband, the former president-for-life, and announced, after singing twenty-eight patriotic songs to the assembled multitudes, that she would set in motion a new scheme to clear up the streets of the city by personally firing the first bullet. Rebel forces remain encamped in the North of the islands, apparently supported by a Chinese Guomintang warlord and a Swiss-based multinat. Imelda will be guest-hosting the popular ZeeBeeCee show, You and Your Shoes, for the next three weeks.
“Puerto Belgrano, Antarctica. Following President Galtieri’s 75% increase of the levy on non-Argentine mining interests around the South Pole, violence flared up again as British wildcat oilmen tried to even the score after their resounding defeat in the Malvinas War of 1981. ‘Wild’ Charlie Mander, the British consul, and Sheriff Felipe Almodovar, the self-styled ‘Law South of Tierra del Fuego,’ met for talks in an attempt to reach a settlement, but tempers rose and shots were exchanged. Ice Kold Katie, the Scottish esperado who has robbed several Argentine-owned banks and trading stores on the continent, celebrated the increase by ambushing and killing a troop of Argentine snowcat cavalrymen on their way to Esperanza.
“Ladies, don’t you wish you had breasts as nice as mine? Well, thanks to GenTech biodiv, your wish can be granted. Personally developed by Dr Zarathustra, winner of the Nobel Prize for Genetic Surgery, our pectoral pump treatments can yield astonishing results. Even Warren Beatty won’t be able to tell the difference. This is Shiralee St Croix of Saginaw, Michigan. We treated one of her breasts with the GenTech pectoral pump, and the other with a product manufactured by one of our competitors. I think you can see the difference for yourself. GenTech, the biodivision that cares…
“Teheran, the Pan-Islamic Congress. Today, the Ayatollah Bakhtiar, chairperson of the Sword of Allah Jihad Committee, sentenced to death in absentia graphic novelist Neil Gaiman author of the award-winning Tintin in the Land of the Ragheads, which has been widely interpreted as a personal attack on the Moslem faith and the continuing Islamic occupation of Greece, Albania, Macedonia, Kosovo and Montenegro. Gaiman has gone into hiding, but claims to be still working on his next work, a reconstruction of the myth of Desperate Dan, portraying the comic cowboy as an Indian-hating mass murderer. Viewers are invited to fax in with their guesses about where Gaiman is holed up. The closest to the truth will win a thousand dollars credit at their local Titancorp comics store, a Captain Haddock T-shirt and an all-expenses-paid holiday for two in balmy Beirut.
“Vatican City. Pe
tya Tcherkassoff, the Russian singing idol, today had a personal audience with Pope Georgi. Tens of thousands of fans thronged St Peter’s Square to glimpse the pair. What was discussed between the two has not been revealed, although Tcherkassoff did modestly state to the press that ‘the cheloviek in the white hat has a bigger following than I do.’ Tcherkassoff’s current album release, Songs for Suicidal Lovers, has been at the top of the musichip charts for six straight months.
“The Isle of Skye, Scotland. Sad news for children everywhere. Despite the donation of more than thirty million European Currency Units raised by GenTech-sponsored concerts in America and the Soviet Union, Wally the Whale—believed to be the last cetacean in the Atlantic Ocean—died today of natural causes totally unconnected with the acceptable levels of pollution in the area. Iain Menzies Banks, mayor of the island, has mooted a plan for the preservation of the whale as the centrepiece of Wallyworld, a luxury tourist preserve and family theme park. The whale will be coated inside and out with acrylics, and Banks intends to open a restaurant called The Jonah Snackbar in its stomach. Wally will, of course, live on in our hearts and minds, thanks to his continuing adventures on our Saturday Morning cartoon show Wally and His Whalesome Pals, and his smiling face will still appear on the packets of Wally’s Whalefood, the popular krill-based breakfast cereal.
“This has been Lola Stechkin at ZeeBeeCee, signing off. If it’s all right with you, it’s all right with us…”
Stay tuned to ZeeBeeCee, The Station That’s Got It all, if you want to enter the competition of the day. You could be the lucky winner of a free course of pectoral pump treatments, or a brand new Cadillac convertible. All you have to do is answer three simple questions, complete the following sentence, “If I had bigger breasts, the first thing I’d do would be…,” and send your answers in on a fax with coupons from any three GenTech products. The questions are: a) Which former Vice-President of These United States had a sex change operation under the aegis of GenTech’s own Dr Zarathustra? b) Who wrote the words to the ‘GenTech Merry Marching Song’? Remember, it’s the lyrics we’re interested in, we know Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote the music. And c) What is transhumance?
As you heard on the news, we at ZeeBeeCee have been saddened by the tragic passing of Wally the Whale. As a result, a three-hour tribute to the brave aqua-mammal will pre-empt tonight’s scheduled address to the nation by President North, which will now take place after the eleven o’clock nightcap news. A whole host of stars, including Drew Barrymore, the Mothers of Violence and Susan Sontag, will be coming into the studio to share their memories of Wally with English folk singer Gordon Sumner, who has composed a special ‘Goodbye Wonderful Wally’ song to mark the whale’s death. But now, on a lighter note, heeeeere’s Arnie…
III
The Katz Motel was a klick out of town, and hadn’t been touched by the firefight. There was an old wooden house perched on top of a small hill, and the featureless cabins were spread out across the property below. The Psychopomps had checked in and done some minimal damage two nights back. Jazzbeaux had left some of her stuff in the cabin, confident that the twittering, birdlike manager would be too afraid of the ’pomps to bother lifting anything from the gangcult.
On the road out of Spanish Fork, she had become aware of a wound just above her knee. It was a deep cut, and made walking painful. She bit down on the glojo capsule, and the pain went away.
She got stronger as she walked towards the motel. Perhaps she should sleep a while, and recover some more. Little girlie-girl, you’ve had a busy-busy dayyy, sang Petya Tcherkassoff in her head.
It was nearly dawn. There was some light in the sky. Nothing had come out of the dark to bug her.
Her knee felt like a wet sponge. She was limping. The glojo buzz faded away, and the pain trickled back.
She hadn’t hurt this much since Daddy Deadest was around, playing his games with his willow switches and aluminium rods.
By the time she got to the motel, it was daylight. The manager was waiting for her at the desk, deftly fidgeting with a half-stuffed peregrine falcon. Herman Katz was a thin, youngish man with nervous eyes and a slight stutter. He was wearing an apron which made him look like a housewife, and tinkering with glass eyes, taking them out of a box and holding them up to the empty sockets of the dead bird, trying to find a matching pair that fitted. It wasn’t Jazzbeaux’s idea of a hobby, but there were more dangerous people in the world.
“Morning,” he said. “Quite a bit of noise, last night. Nobody else has come back from town.”
She didn’t feel like giving him the news. He would find out sooner or later that there wasn’t any Spanish Fork any more. She wondered if he’d stay on in the motel business, or move out. Not her prob.
“Mother was upset. She couldn’t get to sleep, what with all the shooting and shouting and I-don’t-know-what-all else.”
Herman kept talking about his mother. She was an invalid, stuck in a rocking chair up in her room in the house. Jazzbeaux hadn’t met her, but she could imagine the type. A bitter old biddy, eating herself alive with bile, pretending to be crippled to tie her son to the old place, sucking all the life out of him. She knew all about demanding parents.
She’d learned about that back when she was Jessamyn Amanda and nine-year-olds had been worth a gallon of potable water on the streets of the NoGo. Ma Katz could hardly be more of a monster than Daddy Dear, Bruno Bonney. He had told her she would have to be an outlaw because of her heritage. The old man had claimed kinship with Anne Bonney, the pirate queen of the Spanish Main, and William Bonney, Billy the Kid. One thing she had to say about Dad, at least he had prepped her for the world she was going to have to live in.
Other girls graduated from the PZ high schools and got Senior Proms, but she had known she was a grown-up woman the day she ripped Bruno’s rotten throat out for him. She’d breezed through the courts, faking numbskull stupidity, and come out clean. Everyone knew what she had done, but no one was really that conce with it. A few looies spread around the Juvie Op Agency, and she walked free. She had been with the ’pomps since then.
Yesterday, she had thought she might have a healthy career in front of her. She didn’t believe she’d marry Petya Tcherkassoff and move to a dacha on the steppes any more, but she thought she might see twenty-five. Now, things were different. She would live as long as she had to to see Elder Seth dead, and then she would think again…
“It was a rough night. Don’t worry about it.”
“You want your room key?”
“Chalet Number One.”
Herman fussed with his bird, needlessly wiping his palms on his apron, and took the key down.
Jazzbeaux took the key. “Is the shower working?”
“Sh-sh-shower?” Herman was spooked. That put her on her guard.
“Yeah. I’m a mess. I want to clean up.”
“Sh-sh-sure, the shower’s fine. I checked the systems myself only a week back.”
“Terrif.”
“It’s a special service. Costs extra. Water’s expensive. We have to get it piped in from town special. We have to pay one-third of our turnover to Judge Colpeper for the privilege, so you’ll have to dig deep into your purse.”
She pulled her jacket off her shoulders. Some skin came away with it, and her back stung. Her cutaway T-shirt was even more cutaway than it had been when she bought it. Herman’s eyes popped. She couldn’t work out whether he was ogling her breasts or appalled by the extent of her injuries. He tried to say something, but she walked away, towards Chalet Number One.
“I put in cuh-cuh-clean towels, mizz,” Herman whined.
She ignored him, and unlocked her door. Inside, the room was a mess. She had partied with Andrew Jean, Cheeks and So Long Suin the night before last, and Herman hadn’t even tried to clear up. One of Andrew Jean’s beehive combs lay on the dressing table in a spread of pills and lipsticks. The pornovideo set was smashed, a high-heeled ruby pump lodged in the cracked screen. Cheeks hated Billy Priapus
flickies. The ice sculpture had melted, leaving a tray of warm water on the floor. That brought back interesting, if cool, memories. There were bulletholes in the ceiling—which might have been there before the ’pomps checked in and the queensize bed was a tangle of ugly tie-died sheets and surplus clothing.
She remembered the night, the nights. Andrew Jean on top, Cheeks squealing, So Long rocking her to a cataclysmax. She would miss her gangbuddies. The days of fun and frolic were gone for good. Freak, she was nearly seventeen. She should be all grown up. She’d never sign up for marriage and mortgage, that was for sure. But there was an adult place marked out for her.
The bathroom was better. Jazzbeaux took the rubber ducks and Wally Whales out of the tub and threw them away, then turned on the shower, letting the water run. Getting naked was a long and painful process, and involved finding out just how much punishment her body had taken. She had to cut her stockings off with nail scissors, and the fishnet pattern was stamped in red on her swollen knee. She wasn’t bleeding any more, but there were huge scabs on her face, chest and back. She stretched, and little stabs of pain shot through her.
Jazzbeaux stepped under the shower, and sponged her wounds. The warm water washed over her face and body. She shook her hair, scraping the slime out of it. The remains of her whiteface make-up came off with the clotted badges of blood. The warmth made her sleepy, and she slipped down in the bathtub, lying under the shower jet, taking the water full in the face. Between her feet, water swirled down the plughole, taking red and black threads of blood and dirt with it.
She thought of sleep, but was too tired to make a move for the bed. Wearily, she sponged her torso and stomach, cleaning her wounds. They stung, but it was a healthy, healing pain. Doc Threadneedle had fixed her body up so she healed quick, and the stinging meant that the microorganisms he had fed into her flesh were doing their good work. What you want is a parasite that works for you, not on you, he had said.
