He turned and addressed his men. “Get the crew over here and tell them I want this fence fixed within three hours. All of it, and like it was before. Get the other ladies from the police pen, too. We need to rotate the Mistresses.”
Isis turned to Max. “We need to get to them before they do that. Tuck everything in and get ready to run.”
*****
Flex and Gem stayed in front and Hemp came in behind them. Maestro had handcuffed Trina and Taylor and made them walk on either side of him, gunmen outside of the young women.
Flex whispered, “Good thing we dropped our stash bags in the field. Good idea, Hemp.”
From behind him, Hemp said, “It wouldn’t do to get caught with urushiol, the estrogen blocker, and WAT-5. That’s far too much intelligence to lose to a man like this.”
Flex stared at Maestro for several minutes, focusing on his strangely altered face. His eyes were close-set, staring out from the black ink, and his brows blended with it, making them almost nonexistent. His mouth was large and his jaw square. The bones in his neck had been tattooed on to complete the appearance of an exposed skeleton.
His eyes were sharp and intense; the eyes of someone who had observed much in his life. From the evidence staring at them now, Flex assumed that whatever this man had seen, either as a boy or a man, had changed him into a lunatic. All evidence suggested he was quick to threaten; a hair-trigger reactionary.
“Almost there,” said the inked man. “Just another 1/8th mile or so.”
“Hemp, did you see Charlie?” whispered Gem. “Did she tell you she was staying?”
“No, Gem. I was very surprised when she didn’t come out, but in retrospect, I’m not sure why I was. It is Charlie, after all.”
“We’ve still got Isis and Max out there, too,” said Nelson, who was beside Hemp.
Punch and Dave walked behind the rest of them with guards at their backs. They said nothing. Flex assumed it was for fear of being heard.
“Do we have any plan?” asked Gem.
“Yeah,” said Flex. “For now, we play it by ear and hope Charlie, Isis and Max come through.”
“At least we have them,” said Hemp. “I like our chances.”
They said nothing more until they reached an Applebee’s Restaurant. The guards opened the door and held it. Maestro pushed Taylor and Trina through and walked inside before turning and waving the rest of them in.
Once inside, he motioned to the many tables and booths. “Go ahead and sit down. We can move tables together to accommodate the size of your party.”
Flex wasn’t in the mood for the cute jokes. He limped to a large, round table and pulled out a chair for Gem, who dropped down into it. Flex did not sit. Instead, he leaned on the back of a chair and stared at Maestro.
A distant engine spun to life, and in seconds, the hanging lamps over the tables lit up. Now illuminated, Flex could see the bare-chested man clearly. What had appeared to be odd facial and body paint was clearly not that at all.
It was meant to be a transformation of Maestro himself, from a mere mortal man to a demon. His muscles rippled beneath the ink, and Flex wondered just how far the tattoo extended beyond what was visible.
“Ah, I see you’ve noticed my ink.” With that, he removed his whip from a pouch on his waistband, raised his arms as a music conductor might raise them to lead a symphony, and snapped it in the air, inches from Flex.
Flex tried to study his face beneath the skull-like shading, but it was near impossible to separate the horrid mask from the features beneath. It was good work. The image was shaded and done with great care. It must have taken many sessions to complete.
As Maestro held out his arms, he moved them in and out as the whip snapped air, its three worn tails blistering nothing – for now.
This guy’s a crazy, sadistic son of a bitch, thought Flex. He sat down and turned away from the freak.
They were pretty much fucked for the moment. He sent out good thoughts to Charlie, Isis and Max, hoping the former was okay and the latter two could feel them there.
*****
Isis and Max reached the basketball court cage in minutes. Nobody had yet arrived to retrieve the remaining Hybrids.
Isis projected to them prior to their arrival, and by the time they reached the fence, Alyssa, Megan and Beauty were there, but now they were joined by the rest, as Isis had suggested. The others stayed back several feet.
“Our friends are in trouble,” said Isis. “The man you call Maestro has captured them, and we need your help.”
The look on their faces changed, all echoing the same fear and confusion. This man frightened them; he was their keeper and no doubt, their torturer.
Beauty’s eyes shifted upward for a moment before returning to meet those of Max and Isis. “I do not think we can help you,” she said, her voice less confident than when they had spoken with her earlier.
Isis said, “Why? You are prisoners, can’t you see that?”
Now Megan’s eyes shifted upward, and Max said, “What the hell are you looking at?”
The basketball backboard and net faced the other direction, and neither of them could see it from their vantage point. Max said, “I’ll be right back.”
He ran around the north side of the fence, no longer trying to stay in the cover of the brush and weeds.
Isis watched him. He was perhaps no more than ten feet along the north fence when he looked up and stopped.
Even in the darkness, Isis could see the expression on his face droop, understanding replacing his frustration.
Come here, came Max’s silent call.
Isis stared into the eyes of Megan, Alyssa and Beauty for a few moments before walking around the corner of their prison to stand beside Max.
Positioned on the basket and spiked to the backboard, was a body, nude and shriveled. The long hair told them it was likely that of a woman.
Its head drooped to the left side, but it was clear that half its skull had been bashed open. It was impossible to say whether a baseball bat or high-caliber round had done the damage, but the message was very clear:
Cross Maestro and die. Disobey Maestro and die. This was their constant reminder to conform.
No words were necessary between Max and Isis. They returned to the west side of the fence.
“Was that one of your sisters?” asked Isis.
The three nodded and said nothing. They had a clear view of the threatening corpse from their positions inside the fence, and once more, their eyes shifted upward before returning to Max and Isis.
“They’re going to be back for you,” said Isis. “Please, please do not tell them of our presence. There’s nothing more in this world I would like to do but save our friends and take all of you away with us to a place where you will be free to build your own lives and have friends and begin to have hope.”
“What must become of Maestro?” asked Megan, her intense brown eyes penetrating.
“The guy’s a monster,” said Max. “He told you to have the Mothers kill everyone in Great Bend.”
“The Mothers and Hungerers must eat,” said Beauty, just as Megan had said before.
“You must understand that you are not one of them,” said Isis. “You have no obligation to them, for you live and they do not. This is a concept you must understand, because if that does not happen, your lives will always be as they are today.” Isis spoke in a more formal way, avoiding contractions with which they may be unfamiliar.
“And what are they?” asked Megan.
Max looked at Isis, then back at them. “What are what?”
“Our lives?”
“Right now?” asked Max. “Right now your lives are pointless to everyone but this Maestro, and from the looks of that poor girl up there,” he said pointing, “you’re mostly pointless to him, too. We can help you to a life of happiness that right now you have no concept of.”
“They’re coming now to take you to the containment area of the Mothers and Hungerers,” said Isis.
“We’ll meet you over there. Do you think you can speak with some of the others and convince them to help?”
“Screw that,” said Max, before any of them could answer. “Are you going to help us?”
Isis felt the deep confusion and conflict in their hearts and minds. She silently connected with them and projected:
Your lives at this moment are meaningless. Whether you live or die does not matter. If you come with us – if you help us – your lives will then have purpose, for you will aid humankind and rescue this world from a darkness it has never known before. In that function, you will come to know great joy.
Beauty stepped forward with one more glance up at the basketball net. She stared into Isis’ eyes.
“What will become of Maestro?” she asked, as Megan had done before.
“He has to die, Beauty,” said Isis.
Suddenly, the other Hybrids, who had not come as close as the three they had met earlier, staggered backward, as though an earthquake had made them stumble to keep their balance.
The three captive Hybrids standing before them all reached out and clasped one another’s hands, their eyes not wavering from Isis and Max.
“What is it?” asked Max. “We told you the truth. The evil and darkness that exists within the man who caged you and killed that woman up there can’t be reversed. From history we know people like that don’t change.”
“This may be true,” said Alyssa. “But what you say must be done is more difficult than you know.”
“Why?” asked Max.
Beauty looked up again at the shriveled corpse nailed to the backboard above their heads. “Because she was our sister,” she said. “And Maestro is our father.”
Max’s jaw dropped as he stared at them. Now the resemblance to one another was clear.
Isis now knew it was not only the constant reminder and threat of death that held them back; it was the idea of killing the person who had created them.
Beauty let go of Alyssa’s hand and pressed both of her hands to her stomach.
It was then that Isis noticed the slight bulge there.
She stepped closer to the fence, her eyes intent on Beauty. “Beauty, are you … pregnant?”
She nodded.
Isis’ mind spun. She looked again into the girls’ green eyes. “Is Maestro the father?”
“He is,” she said.
Aside from the incestuous component of what was happening, a larger, more pressing question came to Isis.
“Has he exposed you to the eye vapor of one of the Mothers?” asked Isis.”
Beauty’s expression grew confused. “Yes,” she said. “How did you know?”
“Do you hear the commands of the Mothers?” Isis asked. “To help them?”
“We hear them,” said Beauty, “but unlike our great matriarchs, Maria and Sofia, we are not compelled to follow them.”
Isis looked at Max. The implications of what these special women had revealed were enormous.
If they did not rescue these women before this third generation Hybrid was born, that potentially powerful child would also fall under Maestro’s control.
What would they be? Isis knew of her own power, even that which she did not share with others. What possible enhancements might exist from a third-generation Hybrid? Could they have twice the abilities? Would their power increase a tenfold? Perhaps a hundredfold?
“Beauty,” said Isis. “I want your baby to be born into freedom. She will be an amazing child.”
She. Isis could feel her. Because it was a girl, her potential power was immeasurable, which made the threat of her falling under Maestro’s control even more dire.
The sound of people approaching from the east interrupted Isis’ thoughts.
As Max and Isis backed into the brush, she whispered, “Please help us, and yourselves. Now go back. Hurry.”
The three turned and separated as Max and Isis disappeared into the field beyond.
*****
CHAPTER TWELVE
Laredo, Texas
1984
The house on San Jorge Street was set deep within the spreading oak trees, almost invisible from the road. When it rained, the drops rattled against the tin roof and often kept Angus Almaraz awake through the night.
It wasn’t so bad. It was peaceful in the early morning hours when his mother and sister were asleep and all the customers were gone. His only peace.
Inside, curled up in the corner of his cage he lay, listening to the wind driven rain. He could not tell time, but at five years old, he had lain awake enough nights to know that morning would be there soon.
Morning finally came and the rain subsided. His mother plodded into the living room wearing a sheer lace cover-up over her nakedness, bumping his cage with her left thigh as she passed. She did not say anything to him, but there was nothing odd about that.
Angus allowed only his eyes to follow her as she passed the metal cage and entered the kitchen of the old house, for Nancy Almaraz did not like her son staring at her.
With the men who frequented their home, she did not mind at all. She wanted their attention. It had been clear to Angus since he had been three that they were of greater importance.
His mother put on a teapot, using a match to light the gas burner on the old stove. She then removed a jar of instant coffee from the cupboard, unscrewed the lid and put it on the counter beside a dirty teaspoon. Taking a cup from the sink, she rinsed it and dipped the spoon into the jar, dropping a heaping teaspoon of freeze-dried coffee into the mug.
Angus had never had coffee, but his mother would eat soon. His stomach growled.
Another pair of legs passed by his cage, and Angus looked up to see his nude sister walk into the kitchen and open the cupboard to remove another cup. She then opened a pantry and pulled down a box of Frosted Flakes.
Now his stomach was flip-flopping inside of him. He shifted to reposition himself without appearing too obvious. If they noticed him, they may feed him.
He let loose a small sound to see if it might remind them he was there. He had to pee, too.
The mason jar in the corner was nearly full, and he wasn’t sure he could manage filling it the rest of the way without spilling it.
Angus held it, saying nothing.
“Why you gotta eat breakfast with your tits hangin’ out?” asked his mother.
“Tits out, tits in. They’re not in your cereal bowl, so why do you give a shit?”
“Smartass.”
“When’s the first one gonna get here?” asked his 16-year-old sister, Jane.
“Frank’ll be here in an hour.”
Angus cringed. He knew that name well. Frank touched him and hurt him. Involuntary tears leaked from Angus’ eyes and he buried his face in the threadbare towels bunched up on the bottom of his wire-walled prison.
Jane pulled a rag off the knob of the cabinet beneath the sink and turned on the water in the kitchen sink. She wet the filthy rag and squeezed it out only slightly. She carried it to Angus’ cage and stuffed it between the upright rails, saying, “Wipe yourself down. You can’t be stinkin’ when Frank gets here.”
“My jar’s full,” he said. “And I’m hungry.”
“Do what your sister said!” his mother shouted, her eyes flashing anger. “You make sure Frank’s happy and maybe you’ll get lunch. If you don’t clean up with that rag right now, we’ll take you outside and you’ll get the hose.”
Angus didn’t like the hose. It was cold and everything in his cage got soaked. He recalled many a night when he would shiver for hours with no hope of relief.
He picked up the wet towel and wiped himself in preparation for Frank.
He hoped Frank would die before he arrived.
*****
Frank, the first trick of the day, was a Saturday regular. He would come anywhere between eleven and one o’clock, and after Angus’ sister took his cock in her mouth for a while, he would begin staring toward Angus’ cage.
Angus never looked over.
He would do his best to cover himself with the meager towels and pillow he was given, but it never mattered.
Today was no different, but instead of sucking him off, Jane sat atop Frank on the broken down, worn out sofa. He lay on his back, a fat man with a rough beard and thick, curly hair all over his body. She moved up and down as he put his cock inside her, all the while staring at Angus’ cage.
“That’s good,” he said.
Angus shuddered. Those words meant he was about to shift his attention.
“Pay up front, Frankie,” said his mother, who sat on the other ragged sofa smoking a cigarette.
“Fuck you, you don’t trust me after all these years?”
“Business is business,” said Nancy. “You wanna play you gotta pay in advance.”
Frank scooped up his pants from the floor and pulled out his wallet. He removed a ten dollar bill, wadded it and threw it across the room where Angus’ mother caught it and tucked it between her breasts.
She waved a hand toward Angus’ cage. “Be my guest.”
Frank wasn’t the only trick to pay for Angus. He was the largest and the one that Angus hated the most besides his mother and sister.
Frank did not seem to care that Angus was crying while he did his business.
In fact, he did not seem to notice at all.
*****
Laredo, Texas
Nine Years Later - 1993
The storm raged outside, and the only light Angus could see by came from the frequent lightning strikes that flashed daylight through the room and lit the interior of his cage.
He was now fourteen years old, though he was not aware of that fact. The naked boy lay curled in a fetal position, his fingers busily working with the latch on the padlocked, oversized dog cage in which he had lived since he was an infant.
Dead Hunger VII_The Reign of Isis Page 20
