“The Sheriff stated that the lone security guard, an Andrew George, was found several hundred feet away from his security post. The body of the guard was torn to pieces and was only identified as Andrew George because of his name pin on his security uniform. The name pin wasn’t enough for the Sheriff to make it officially Andrew George that had been killed,” replied Jimbo. More silence. “It’s nearly certain to be Andrew George but the sheriff is going to wait on the dental records to come in before Andrew George is ruled dead. In addition to being torn to pieces, the head of this Andrew George had been ripped off and was found even further away from the security post and his body. Buzzards and vultures got to him quickly, I bet. Reading all this is making me shiver. Giving me the chills!” yelped Jimbo.
“Time to take a quick commercial break. Stay tuned! We’ll be right back on ADDR radio with the Jimbo and Elliot Session,” said Elliot. An ad about coal mining played. Then an ad about blood transfusions. Then another about a taco-pizza cheeseburger from a local food joint. Then an ad for Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Hitbear returned from the outside building quite damp after his brief shower. His stench had subsided, and the blood, mud, bugs and leaves could no longer be found in his fur. Before sinking down next to his comrades, Hitbear was overcome with spontaneous memories of his human life. The only object he could see in these spontaneous memories was a bronze speaker.
“Hitler!” shouted a voice loudly over the bronze speaker. “You must continue the process of unleashing the creature from the depths of the Alps! It will cull the necessary amount of humans to help the world survive and you will get your cut of the land we promised! You must release all of the prisoners from your death camps; those camps were NOT part of the deal! You are not supposed to cause this much destruction! You are not the arbiter of this culling!”
Silence. The bronze speaker was still the only object appearing in his memories.
“You will do what I say or I will let your empire crumble! You will lose everything and more!” said the same loud voice over the bronze speaker. “Listen or die.”
“I have built Germany into a glorious nation and will make this world full of weaklings into loyal followers that will help expand my empire across every continent! I will take more than that paltry offer of land! You aren’t needed anymore!” said Hitler loudly to the bronze speaker. Hitbear could not see his human self, only hear it. “You cannot offer men power over other men. They will always betray you once they have that same power over you. May you at least learn this lesson before I come to kill you and the rest of your ilk!”
“So be it. Enjoy your last few months,” said the voice over the bronze speaker.
The conversation kept echoing through Hitbear’s mind. “What did it all mean? Whose voice came through the bronze speaker?” he thought.
Hitbear shook his head violently to fling those memories out of his mind. Once his mind was lucid enough for a brief period, he lied down near the group. He wasn’t going to let his past memories torture him. His violent head shaking caused Tubman and Owlbert to be hit by leftover water in Hitbear’s fur.
“So rude,” scowled Tubman.
The radio segment had returned from the commercial break. Everyone, except Hitbear, listened in closely.
“Welcome back to ADDR radio and the Jimbo and Elliot Session, presented by Spanish Opera: Spanish Opera, learn how to sing in Spanish with our opera experts! ¡Muy bien!” stated Elliot in a terrific Chilean accent. Latin music played in the background as Elliot read off more sponsors. “Our morning segment is also brought to you buy Buck’s Magic Carpet Ride; Buck’s Magic Carpet Ride, we swear your next living room will look groovy with our exotic carpet!”
Horribly generic intro music played for a solid 30 seconds before the segment began again.
“Elliot and I are currently discussing the horrific and bloody death of local herpetologist Sumador Spotila – Ha, her-pah! Like herpes!” said Jimbo. Silence. A comedic sounding Boo! rang through the speakers. Jimbo’s joke must not have made Elliot laugh. “Anyhow, back to the doctor. His head was crushed and chest cavity ripped open in what is being described as a suspicious death,” relayed Jimbo. “Extremely suspicious death, I’d say.”
“But it is important to state that this still could have been an accidental death or a bizarre suicide, though it doesn’t seem like it’d be a suicide with the security guard dead,” said Elliot. “Unless it was a murder-suicide, but the evidence just doesn’t point to that at all.”
“Agreed! Wait, what’s this?” A message scrolled across Jimbo’s monitor. “Wow, this just in: the body found several feet from the facilities grounds is indeed that of security guard Andrew George. And this is a big one here: from the security footage, the sheriff says a slender woman, a large hairy man and a deformed human the size of a child with two floppy appendages coming out of its head can be seen entering the facility,” stated Jimbo in a tone of sheer befuddlement. “Ah, we’re being given a picture this instant. It should be up on both our computers in a few seconds, Elliot.”
A picture of the three suspicious figures appeared on Jimbo and Elliot’s monitors by way of an email. The picture was severely blurred and distorted by the swarms of fireflies from the night, not to mention that the security camera tape was of poor quality. Unfortunately, it was a grey-scale picture, so Jimbo and Elliot couldn’t enjoy the colorful sight of the fireflies.
“So this is a picture of an Armenian, a stripper and a midget?” giggled Elliot. “This can’t be a real picture.”
“Ha! Very funny Elliot, but let’s stay on task here,” stated Jimbo. “Do you think these three, uh, things had something to do with the death of Spotila? I personally think they did it! This picture, though poor quality, shows that they were around the security post at night per the time stamp.” A brief moment of silence. “Damn freaks! If there’s anything for certain that I’ve learned over my fifty years of existence: it’s that it is ALWAYS the freaks that commit these crimes. BTK? Freak. Charles Manson? Freak. Jimmy Savile? Freak. Timothy McVeigh? Freak. FREAKS DO THIS!”
“They absolutely did it, Jimbo!” agreed Elliot, though not as loudly. “Now I don’t like to be profiling people, but those circus freaks – that’s what I’m gonna call them from now on – did it. They had to have done it. They’re too bizarre looking, except this woman – she’s slender and has some – some supple, uh, parts on her! I’d like to see some different angles of her…”
“Keep it in your pants, Elliot! Linda is probably listening to this and you don’t want to piss off the wife!” replied Jimbo. “Last time you made Linda mad, you had to stay on my futon for a week! I don’t have enough beer for the both of us either!”
“True, true; happy wife, happy life they say!” laughed Elliot obnoxiously. “But seriously, these circus freaks had to have done it. The slender woman has got to be their ringleader since she has no visible deformities like the others. She’s probably a freak in the sheets though!”
Elliot let off a sound of a man screaming “OH YEAH!” in a shrill voice by pushing a button on their soundboard.
“Could she be the bearded lady and just shaved that day?” joked Jimbo. The radio hosts laughed together loudly.
Gora leapt up and walked over to the radio and turned it off. “Enough of that for today,” she said. “So, does anyone have a plan for the next one?”
Hitbear had fallen asleep fighting his human memories.
“Jawohl!” shouted Owlbert. “I am disappointed I vas not mentioned.” He gave a look of disappointment. “Ah, ja, as I vas about to say vee vill lure zee science frau out of ein building,” chirped the birdman. “Zee rest vill be simple und there vill be very little blood!”
Gora leaned in with much interest, “Please, go on, my feathered friend.”
Chapter 21
Bella Vista
“Don’t wear a blue or red tie,” pressed Jeffrey.
“Why not? Americans love patriotism, irrationally of course, but yo
u know they love red, white and blue. They especially love patriotism when it comes from their politicians,” exclaimed Chairman Obelis standing in front of a tri-fold mirror in a classroom of a high school. He was about to make his first public appearance in Arkansas to the lovely people of Bella Vista, a city located in the northwestern part of Arkansas. Bella Vista was a town of quaint folk and conservative values that rested in the Ozark Plateau. It was a quintessential American town.
“Because you’re neither a democrat nor republican, and their colors are blue and red, respectively. We talked about this already. Remember, at the spa?” Jeffrey tried to nudge some affection out of Chairman Obelis. It failed. Jeffrey frowned.
Chairman Obelis kept looking at himself in the tri-fold mirror.
“Since you’re formally in the Philanthropist Party, and its only member, you should wear a color that suits you,” said Jeffrey. Jeffrey began showcasing various ties to the reclusive billionaire.
There was a black and white checkered tie, a tie with small blue birds and a yellow background, one that had a pattern of orange tabbies that each had a word bubble stating “I hate Mondays!” and one that was a ghastly mixture of baby blue and baby bottom pink.
“These are all terrible, Jeffrey,” shouted Chairman Obelis at the tri-fold mirror. He held up the black and white checkered tie again, but dropped it on the ground. “It’s not your fault, but can’t you find me some solid colored ties? What sort of politician wears a wacky looking tie?”
“Well, sir,” said Jeffrey nervously, “I forgot to pack any ties for you and their stores only had these sorts of novelty ties.” Jeffrey hung his head in shame; he thought Chairman Obelis would love the novelty ties. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Jeffrey said to himself.
“It’s fine, I always have a back-up,” stated Chairman Obelis calmly. “Please excuse yourself Jeffrey as I change my undergarments.” Chairman Obelis made the shoo-shoo motion at Jeffrey.
Jeffrey, head still hung in shame, walked out of the classroom and into the atrium. He could hear the crowd in gymnasium ready to meet the candidates. “Such simple folk,” said Jeffrey under his breath. Jeffrey visibly began to pout with crossed arms and furrowed brows.
“Excuse me, partner, but where’s the gymnasium?” asked a genial white-haired man. The man stood parallel to Jeffrey, hoping to make eye contact to keep the conversation friendly.
“That way,” pointed Jeffrey, not looking at the man. He kept his eyes focused on his black pants, which were wrinkled from sitting and standing too often. His hands smacked the pants to brush off the dirt and lint that accumulated since arriving in Bella Vista.
“I’m real eager to see this Obelis fella; word is he’s going to really set things straight in Arkansas – and I’m not even from here! He’s already reopened a mine just south of here and is giving every worker there health insurance – including their families! What a great man. There aren’t very many of them left.” The man looked down the hallway. “I can’t wait to see his other policies. Hope he’s the next Teddy Roosevelt!” The white-haired man kept parallel to Jeffrey, still trying to pry some eye contact out of Jeffrey. No luck.
“Yep,” breathed Jeffrey. Jeffrey didn’t want to talk to any of these backwater yokels. “I’m way above these people intellectually and culturally,” thought Jeffrey.
“I’m real hopeful to get a chance to talk to him one day! Really hopeful! Take care, young man.” The white-haired man walked the way Jeffrey pointed; disappointed he and Jeffrey didn’t connect eyes. The white-haired man’s gait was slow but steady.
“Well, seems like Chairman Obelis may not even have to perform surgery on all Arkansans – they’re rather…”
“Rather what, Jeffrey?” asked Chairman Obelis, startling the pouting Jeffrey. Chairman Obelis had fitted himself into an immaculate grey suit. He wore a white shirt and his backup tie was a deep purple colored tie.
“Oh, nothing,” Jeffrey said. He looked up at Chairman Obelis. Jeffrey was dazzled by Chairman Obelis’ appearance, more so than usual. “You look dapper, sir!” He truly did look dapper.
Chairman Obelis nodded at his assistant. “Thanks Jeffrey, now where’s the gymnasium?”
“This way,” pointed Jeffrey once again towards the gymnasium, but this time he walked alongside the person. “Do you have your speech prepared, sir?”
“Speech?” questioned Chairman Obelis. “I don’t need a speech. I have all I need to say right up here.” He pointed at his head in confidence. They walked at the same pace.
“Sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea!” said Jeffrey. “Not being well-prepared will lead to certain defeat! These people need to hear certain things for you to convince them to vote for you. How could I have overlooked this and not asked you about a speech?”
Chairman Obelis stopped and turned toward Jeffrey, “Believe me, I’ve prepared with McCarthy on what to say and which words can control, erm, entice the masses, but I’m going to give this debate a bit of my touch. I just want to test something. This isn’t a large part of the electorate, so we can experiment. McCarthy knows that tonight will be merely an experimental speech of sorts. Test the waters.”
“What about the whole ‘teach men to fish’ baloney? Wouldn’t that be going against your thoughts about humans at large?” asked Jeffrey. “Why do this when you can safely navigate this debate and let the Carda implants diffuse through the state before the main election?”
“I’m giving humanity one last chance at wanting to change,” said Chairman Obelis firmly. “This is their chance to take the opportunity with open arms. If not, I’ll force the opportunity upon them.”
“I still don’t think that’s such a good…” trailed off Jeffrey. He wanted everything to go well and get out of this town without incident.
Chairman Obelis leaned in closely to Jeffrey.
Jeffrey sat there with bated breath.
“Trust me,” said Chairman Obelis softly, looking directly into Jeffrey’s eyes.
“Yes, sir,” whispered Jeffrey. Jeffrey had never felt so wonderful yet delightfully nervous.
The pair kept walking until they reached the gymnasium. “Sit in the crowd to gather how they’re feeling about what I’m saying. They may say harsh things about me, but do not try to defend me – I don’t want them to accost you if things turn sour. Remember, this is a test.”
Jeffrey nodded obediently. The two parted ways – Chairman Obelis walked toward the stage, while Jeffrey tried to find a spot amongst the crowd. Jeffrey found a seat next to a willowy man wearing overalls and smelling of pork fat and a portly woman with a terrible case of gastroenteritis and unshaven legs. Jeffrey subtly covered his nose with a tissue from his pocket. He made quiet gagging noises, as the smells around him were just too much to bear. Gack!
Chairman Obelis scanned the crowd. He found mostly white faces; white faces so broken, rugged and sad, that he could not determine their ages. He desperately wanted to help these people, but knew that they held superficial values and that the majority of them would only vote for him after receiving the Carda Implant. This experiment would be Chairman Obelis’ first official foray into the political world and he knew it would be a dirty prospect, yet it was necessary.
He was of the mind that he must see people at their worst before he can help them achieve their best. Just straight up helping these people would be wonderful, but he wanted to feel their agony and embrace it. Chairman Obelis believed that very few powerful humans ever truly tried to embrace the agony the common man felt. Empathy was important to him.
“This is merely a test,” he kept saying to himself.
There were only local media outlets at the event per Bella Vista local law since the last debate for governor ended with residents knocking over nearly every national media van. There never was a particular reason behind the residents tipping over media vans, aside from rumors that everyone was “blitzed” out of their minds. No one was badly hurt, but allowing only local media was ultimately the deci
sion made by Bella Vista’s city council.
Local police officers roped off much of the school’s parking lot in an attempt to dissuade brave national or regional media outlets that still wanted to get in on the coverage in Bella Vista. Chairman Obelis knew there were likely media members of large outlets sprinkled through the crowd disguised as locals, but he paid no mind. The world needed to get used to his face.
Chairman Obelis took his place behind the designated podium, right in between the other two candidates. This was the first time he had physically seen his competition, though he already knew everything about them – the good, the bad and the irreverent parts of their lives and ideals.
To Chairman Obelis’ left was the republican nominee, Ryan Southwyck. Southwyck was a native of Pine Bluff, Arkansas and played fullback for the Arkansas Razorbacks. Many thought Southwyck had a chance to play in the pros, but after Southwyck failed three drug tests and was arrested during a prostitution sting, he decided it would be best to come back home and focus on rehabbing his life. It didn’t hurt that his father, Buck Southwyck, owned most of the land, and was great friends with local law enforcement, in Pine Bluff, so Ryan could afford the best rehabilitation money could buy. Rehab, “God” and sex were remedies for Ryan Southwyck to get clean. Except he didn’t get clean.
That was twenty-five years ago and Southwyck has had a clean record ever since, at least the public believes that his record has been clean. Southwyck has been known to still dabble in cocaine use and frequent prostitution hubs along the Ozarks – his favorite sexual activity with the prostitutes is known as pegging. Pegging is when a woman wears a strap-on dildo and inserts the strap-on dildo inside the man’s anus. It was anal sex between a man and a woman, but the pitcher and catcher positions were switched for pegging. Strange hobby for a man with supposedly strong Christian values.
Beast Machine Page 15
