“Dear God,” Boom Boom whispers. Her face has a greenish hue to it.
“That is pretty fucked up,” Krystal says with a mouthful of potato chips.
Grenade flaps his wrist and says, “I’ve seen sicker shit than that. Hell, Montgomery and I used to play soccer with severed terrorist heads.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Boom Boom mutters.
Once the decapitation video is done playing, another reporter starts talking about all the riots erupting in sanctuary cities across the country. Footage of stores being looted and cops being shot at by roaming gangs flash across the TV screen. Most of the riots are the result of our cratering economy. The economy was in pretty rough shape when Klaxton was in office, but it went into freefall once LeBeau took over. Economists blame her administration for not instilling enough confidence in the American people, causing them to hoard all their money and only spend it on weapons, canned food, and bottled water for the ‘coming apocalypse’. If citizens aren’t spending their money on anything but guns and cans of dried meat, then that means money isn’t flowing to other industries… industries that provide jobs. I’m not an economist and even I know that.
I find myself staring at Empress Xing’s undeniably gorgeous face. She seems so cute… so young… so innocent looking. And yet, here she is, holding up a severed head for all to see. How could someone like that become so corrupted in such a short amount of time? I mean, she’s not even been alive for a whole two decades yet. But then again, neither have Boom Boom, Krystal and I, and we’ve killed lord knows how many people. We’ve never gone after innocent people, though. Most of our victims were scumbags who deserved to die. But if we can become ruthless killers, than I guess that means anyone can. Even a pretty Chinese girl with cute dimples.
The report goes on to show Empress Xing’s right-hand man (or woman, I should say), General Kang, marching in front of a massive throng of tens of thousands of heavily armed Chinese soldiers. Yet another propaganda video, from the masters of it.
I grimace as Kang’s freaky face stares at me through the TV screen. I’ve seen images of General Kang for as long as I can remember, so you’d think I’d be used to seeing her by now. But she never fails to intimidate me. It shouldn’t be that big of a surprise, I suppose, considering Kang was the ‘Boogey-Man’ of my childhood. All kids are brought up to fear the sadistic ‘Butcher of Asia’, a monstrous psychopath who has initiated the wholescale, genocidal slaughter of millions upon countless millions of Russians, Chinese rebels, and other Asians. Adding to her mythos is the fact that she’s the world’s deadliest cyborg. Far more machine than woman, Kang stands at nearly seven feet tall and weighs well in excess of 300 pounds. Hell, with all the metal and wires that constitute the majority of her body, Kang probably weighs close to 400 pounds. Not that she looks like she does.
Kang glares at the camera as she shouts something in Chinese to her massive army. Her fiery red eyes glow even brighter than Grenade’s and her metallic hands glow electric blue. I momentarily look away. To stare into those eyes is to see pure, unadulterated evil.
While Xing is the Empress, most people (including Boom Boom) believe Kang is actually running the show in China. That makes sense, considering how young Xing is. But I’m not so sure. I think it’s more likely that Xing and Kang are sharing the responsibility of ruling the sprawling Chinese Empire. But I definitely agree with the notion that Kang is the one pushing for war with America. She is the 22nd century’s Adolf Hitler.
The newscast fades away from Kang and goes on to discuss the growing insurgency in Siberia, the outskirts of China’s empire. Ever since Rasputin’s death a few months ago (courtesy of your friendly neighborhood teen bounty hunters), his followers have become increasingly emboldened against their Chinese occupiers. It’s rumored that close to 20,000 Chinese have been killed by the Russian rebels in just the past two months alone. If that’s the case, then no wonder Xing and Kang are so pissed. They must be trying to boost morale by broadcasting videos of beheaded Americans and flexing their military might. But all the propaganda in the world can’t hide the fact that they have a serious insurgency problem right outside their borders.
I look away from the TV and notice that Grenade and Boom Boom are huddled in the corner, quietly talking to each other. I walk over to them and say, “What’s the secret?”
Grenade looks up and scowls. Boom Boom jumps and says, “Oh, hey Lance. It’s no secret, we were just…”
Boom Boom is interrupted by the sound of our steel door sliding open. Secretary Montgomery walks in with several armed secret service agents and gestures toward us.
“The president has arrived, and Blackbird is about to be interrogated,” he says, his eyes flickering from Grenade to the agents by his side. I find that kind of odd, but I bite my tongue.
Montgomery snaps his fingers and says, “Follow me, please.”
And with that, we all follow Montgomery out of the room and down a winding tunnel that takes us even deeper into the Earth. We eventually come to an electrified steel door guarded by no less than twelve secret service agents.
Montgomery grins at us and spreads out his arms. “Welcome to the White House, kids. The real White House. We are so deep inside the Earth’s crust that every nuclear warhead on the planet can be detonated above our heads and it wouldn’t come close to giving us radiation poisoning. This truly is the safest place on Earth. Or, I should say inside Earth.”
“I take it LeBeau spends a lot of time down here, huh?” I ask.
Montgomery cocks an eyebrow and says, “That’s President LeBeau to you, son. And yes, she does spend plenty of time down here. Wouldn’t want the president taken out by an assassin, would you?”
“I’ll call her president when she starts acting like one,” I retort.
Grenade chuckles while Krystal goes, “Aw hell naw, no you didn’t!”
“Lance!” Boom Boom growls through gritted teeth.
Several of the secret service agents shuffle their guns. But oddly enough, Montgomery’s sneer transforms into a genuine grin.
“Fair enough. But I’d still appreciate you showing some respect to President LeBeau. Wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings now, would ya?”
Montgomery nods at the agents standing in front of the quietly buzzing electric door. The agents step aside, allowing Montgomery to kneel before an eye scanner. Once the scanner determines that this is, in fact, the Secretary of Defense seeking entrance to the White House, the electric door slides open. Montgomery waltzes inside like he owns the joint, and the rest of us follow suit.
We make our way down several hallways that I’m assuming are meant to mimic the White House located above grounds. We eventually come to another steel door, this one guarded by three armed agents. The agents step aside, Montgomery waves his hand over the holographic sensor on the wall, the door slides open, and we go inside.
I’ve been to plenty of places throughout my short 18 years on this planet, and I’ve done plenty of things, too. But even I have to admit it’s pretty cool to find myself in the most famous room not only in the world today, but perhaps in all of history: the Oval Office. The Oval Office isn’t quite as spacious as I imagined it to be, but at least it looks to be oval-shaped. There’s a giant rug on the floor emblazoned with the Seal of the President of the United States, and maroon drapes adorn the windows (which I’m assuming aren’t actually windows, considering we are underground). An American flag sits behind the giant oak desk in the back of the room. And sitting at that desk, staring at a holographic computer screen hovering in front of her face, is the president of the United States, Cindy LeBeau.
LeBeau is a meek, mild-mannered, shy, borderline fearful Canadian in her mid-to-late 50s. She’s a bit thinner and taller than Klaxton, almost lanky, with red-rimmed glasses and spiky black hair. She looks a helluva lot older than she did just a couple months ago, when she was first sworn it. The reason Klaxton made LeBeau her vice-president was because she was so quiet and fearful. K
laxton wanted her second-in-command to be someone she could bully… someone she could force to fall in line… someone without a backbone… someone who would be way too timid to rise up against her. Those submissive qualities might be tolerable when you’re vice president, when you don’t have any real responsibility, but when you actually become president, well, those are the qualities that get your country invaded. Klaxton’s blunder in picking such a pathetic vice president is now biting us all in the ass. The Chinese can sense her weakness from 7,000 miles away. What we need is a strong, badass leader who can strike fear in the hearts of our enemies. Instead we’ve got the world’s biggest pushover. No wonder China is walking all over us. I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I think I’d almost prefer to have Klaxton back in charge. Sure she’s a psychopathic lunatic, but you can bet your sweet ass Kang and Xing wouldn’t be so quick to broadcast beheadings of American prisoners. If they tried that shit when Klaxton was in power, Beijing would be nothing but glass right now.
Montgomery clears his throat and says, “Er, madam President? Your guests have arrived.”
LeBeau looks up from her computer screen and flashes a shaky smile. “Lance! Boom Boom! Krystal! It is so great to see you again!”
LeBeau leaps to her feet and clumsily makes her way around her desk and lumbers toward us. She nearly trips over the rug in the center of the room as she reaches out to shake my hand. I do my best to suppress my disgust when I feel her limp, sweaty, ‘cold-fish’ handshake. LeBeau is such an awkward person. Always so nervous and anxious and, well, sweaty.
LeBeau goes on to shake Boom Boom and Krystal’s hands as well. Boom Boom doesn’t let on that she’s repulsed by the wet handshake (even though I know she is). Krystal, however, is a different story. Immediately after shaking her hand, Krystal sticks out her tongue and flicks her wrist, as if she’s trying to fling off the sweat. I turn my head and snort, trying not to burst out laughing.
LeBeau finishes up by shaking Grenade’s hand. Grenade responds with an apathetic grunt. It astonishes me that LeBeau still seems so intimidated by all of us. That is not a good sign. If she’s intimidated by three teen bounty hunters, how the hell is she going to deal with a genocidal cyborg general and her sociopathic teen empress?
LeBeau leans against her desk and awkwardly stammers, “Thank you so much for bringing Blackbird back to us. America once again owes you all a great debt of gratitude.”
Krystal puts her pudgy hands on her hips and says, “Yeah yeah, we’ve heard all that shit before. Where’s our check?”
“Krystal!” Boom Boom snaps, mortified.
LeBeau gives a nervous chuckle and says, “Oh you will be paid, my dear. But right now we have more important matters to attend to, namely the interrogation of one Geronimo Blackbird.”
LeBeau turns to two of her agents and uneasily says, “Could you wheel Mr. Blackbird in, please?”
The agents nod and exit out of a side door. They return a moment later with Blackbird strapped to a mobile chair. Blackbird is still wearing his ridiculous looking thong, his bulging, hairy stomach spilling out over his lap. Blackbird has a gag in his mouth, and tears are streaming down his ruddy-red face. His entire body appears to be quivering in terror, and he keeps mumbling something through his gag.
Another agent steps forward and holds up a giant needle. “This won’t hurt too bad, Mr. Blackbird. Just try not to struggle so I don’t miss the vein.”
Blackbird’s eyes widen in horror at the sight of the needle. He tries to squirm away, but the agent firmly grips his right arm and jabs the needle in. Blackbird moans in discomfort and continues squirming. About a minute later, however, the wriggling stops and the frantic moaning deteriorates into drunken titters.
Krystal smacks me upside the back of my head. “That’s what a truth serum is supposed to do, numb-nuts! That shit you bought from Jack was bogus!”
“Yeah Krystal, I fucking know,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my head. Krystal is a lot stronger than she realizes.
By now Blackbird’s mind is fully immersed in the intoxicating throes of the truth serum. His eyes are glazed over and he keeps giggling like a little school boy.
Montgomery scoffs. “Well that didn’t take long. He has no willpower at all. Pathetic.”
Montgomery removes the gag, and Blackbird’s incessant giggling continues unabated.
“You all are a bunch of fucking assholes!” Blackbird bellows in between chortles.
“Well at least we know the serum is working,” Grenade says with a grin. “He just blurted out what he honestly thinks of us!”
Montgomery returns his old friend’s grin before turning his attention back to Blackbird. “Alright you mangy jackass. We know you know where Klaxton is. Give us her whereabouts and we’ll go easy on you when you go on trial for aiding and abetting a fugitive. A few years in prison, followed by a decade or so under house arrest. Nothing too major. But if you don’t give us something we can use, well…”
Montgomery gestures toward the dozen or so secret service agents clutching their various machine guns.
“… these fine men and women will use your carcass for target practice.”
“Now Secretary Montgomery, there’s no need to threaten the poor lad,” LeBeau stammers, obviously feeling a bit uneasy voicing her dissent.
We all turn to stare at LeBeau in stunned silence. We’re on the verge of uncovering the hiding place of the world’s most wanted fugitive, and LeBeau is worried about hurting Blackbird’s feelings?
“No wonder China’s making us her bitch,” Krystal says under her breath. It’s loud enough, though, that we all hear it. Several of the agents snort in an attempt to conceal their laughter.
LeBeau’s cheeks turn red and she looks down at her shoes. Speaking much quieter, she says, “I just… it seems unnecessary, is all.”
Unable to hide the agitation in his voice, Montgomery snaps, “Would you prefer I play paddy-cake with him, Madam President?”
LeBeau opens her mouth to say something, but thinks otherwise and remains silent.
Realizing he may have gone too far, Montgomery grumbles, “I’m sorry, President LeBeau. I just… it’s been a long day.”
LeBeau gives an almost imperceptible nod and leans against her desk. I notice she’s gripping the edge of her desk so firmly that her knuckles have turned white. It’s almost like she’s trying not to faint. What the holy hell.
Montgomery turns his attention back to Blackbird, who is currently sporting the most ridiculous Cheshire Cat-esque grin I’ve ever seen. I can practically see every single one of his teeth.
“So where’s Klaxton?!” Montgomery barks so forcefully that I instinctively jump back. (So does LeBeau.) “Tell us, or help me God, I will knock out your goddamn teeth!”
Blackbird starts giggling again. Montgomery growls and pulls back his first to punch him, but Boom Boom grabs his wrist.
Montgomery spins around with a wild look on his face, his fist still raised in the air. Boom Boom narrows her eyes and growls, “I dare you to hit me.”
Montgomery quickly lowers his fist and grumbles, “Er, sorry dear. It was instinctual. For the record, never sneak up on me again. I’m a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind of guy, if you know what I mean.”
“So am I, so I would advise you refrain from pissing me off,” Boom Boom retorts.
Grenade cackles and slaps Montgomery on his back. “Hell hath no fury like a teen girl scorned, Dallas! You’d be wise to leave her alone!”
Montgomery responds, “Well goddamn, Albert, who’s side are you on, anyway? Don’t you wanna find out where Klaxton is hiding?”
“Sure do, but you ain’t doing a very good job retrieving that information, are ya?” Grenade says as he lights up a cigar.
LeBeau steps forward and says, “Um, sir? There’s no smoking in the White House.”
Grenade glares at LeBeau for several awkward seconds. LeBeau gulps and meekly says, “But I guess I can allow this one exception.”
“You’re too kind,” Grenade growls, his lit cigar dangling out of his mouth.
“Let me take a crack at this.” Boom Boom kneels in front of Blackbird, who’s still giggling like a little boy hopped up on sugar and caffeine.
In a much more soothing voice than the one Montgomery was using, Boom Boom says, “Geronimo, we desperately need your help. We need to find your friend, Angela Klaxton. We fear she may be in grave danger.”
“She’s gonna be in grave danger when we find her ass, that’s for sure,” Krystal comments.
World War Forever (Highway To Armageddon Book 2) Page 17
