Du Bois (Frozen Apocalypse Book 1)

by T. J. Mines

  Quint stands back to look at the girl. She is screaming and her face is red with anger. Her red ponytail is swinging against the back wall, bumping her head forward every time. She spits at him. Droplets of bodily fluids fly through the air but fall short of reaching him. He looks to his left for the gags. He decides on a steel ring mottled with rust. He takes the thing and walks up to the girl. She snaps her jaws shut when she sees what he's planning to do. He shoves the surgical rubber bands over her head, stopping just above where the ponytail starts. He pulls down the ring and with a few clever finger placements opens her mouth. With the ring now in place she can scream but not talk. And better yet, spitting is no option either. She will drool though.

  He turns around again in search of his scissors. He has some blunt ones lying about. Using them he cuts off the girl's shirt. She's not wearing a bra, as expected from a naturalist, and her pits are unshaven. Around her neck is a pendant. He picks it from between her prim breasts and takes a closer look.

  "Is this a family heirloom?" he asks. She seems to think on what answer to give, then nods once. He lets it drop back to its place on her chest. Next he cuts open her skirt. The cloth is tough on the scissors but a bit of strength does the job. He rips them off of her hips. She is wearing panties. These are quite sexy too for the group she wants to belong to. Her full red bush is contained by a black silk and lace hip hugging undergarment. It probably sets off her ass like it's the best in the world, but that part is against the wall now. Anyway, it must come off if he has anything to say about it.

  He runs the round tip of his cutters along the girl's side, down to her hip. He crosses the fabric to the white flesh of her leg. He opens the beak and thrusts up, trapping the lingerie in it's vice, cutting it away. The girl flinches. He does the same on the other side. The leftovers drop down onto the floor between her legs, into the puddle of saliva forming from her drooling.

  Quint puts away the scissors and grabs a wooden cane with a metal handle. He walks up to stand in front of the girl, eye to eye.

  "This," he says, showing the cane, "this is a very special family piece. It was made by my great grand parents, hundreds of years ago, before the ice came. They made this especially for occasions like this."

  He puts the handle against the girl's chin and caresses her down towards her breasts. He lets it snag the pendant and rests it there. The cold metal on her skin gives the girl goosebumps.

  "You know why they fashioned this?" Quint asks. He waits for an answer and after a few silent moments the girl shakes her head.

  "I thought so," Quint says, "they made this to make sure little girls like you behave like the little cunts they are.

  This," he pushes a button on the handle and a spike springs from it, away from her bare flesh, "will do wonders in punishing girls."

  He turns the cane and grabs the necklace with the spike. A sharp pull down and the pendant breaks free. It drops onto the floor next to the ruined panties. Silent tears roll down the girl's cheeks. Quint takes the handle off of her skin and pushes another button. Five more spikes spring free. An evil grin spreads on Quint's face. He pushes the spikes back in and uses the handle to find the dry hole between her legs. He thrusts. She screams.

  The shutters open to reveal a macabre sight. Quint is sitting in a chair surrounded by strips of fabric and clumps of hair. At his feet the lifeless form of last night's girl is laying in a pool of congealed blood. Quint gets up and walks out of the room.

  "Senior!" he yells.

  Out of the door at the far end of the hallway comes an elderly gentleman. He shuffles over to Quint.

  "Yes sir?" he acknowledges Quint.

  "Clean up that mess en dispose of the remnants," Quint orders.

  "Right away sir," Senior says.

  Quint turns for the elevator. A new day has started and there is so much to do. The campaign must keep running.

  "Good morning Mister Seif," a man in a business suit says, holding a microphone under his nose, "and welcome at the 'Good Morning with Lion Soils' show."

  "Thank you, Lion," Quint says into his own microphone.

  "Today, sweet listeners, we are having Mister Seif as the main guest on the show. We will get to know the man behind the campaign and you, my heavenly audience, can ask your own questions. But first, we listen to a song called 'Trice over' by the Rocket Brigade."

  A red light dies out and the presenter, Lion Soils, gives Quint a broad smile.

  "You don't have to be nervous, Mister Seif," he says.

  They are sitting in plush chairs situated in a small studio. In one of the walls is a window looking out over a control board with two people turning dials and flipping switches. One of them gives a thumb up at the presenter.

  Quint looks at the presenter, not at all nervous. He is more annoyed at that he has to do this. Everything for the voters, they said this morning. His campaign manager dropped this performance into his lap just two hours ago. The other councilman running for mayor canceled at the last minute, leaving this opening and most of the working class residents in Du Bois available to woo them into voting for him.

  "I'll be fine," Quint assures the presenter.

  "Good, we'll continue in a few moments."

  Behind the glass one of the operators holds up his hand. At the moment he drops it the red light turns on again.

  "Welcome back. You just heard 'Trice over' by the Rocket Brigade," Lion says into his mic, "Mister Seif, what do you thing of that number one hit?"

  Quint doesn't listen to music, even in the club it's just noise to him. He does take up Lion's hint.

  "Great song, Lion, great song," Quint says.

  "Isn't it?" Lion answers, "So what kind of music do you like to listen to?"

  "Well, Lion," Quint answers, "mostly pop music, anything that your radio station plays actually. Whenever I can I am tuned in into this station."

  "Thank you Mister Seif, I appreciate that." Lion can see the lie but accepts it as it is good for the popularity of his show. He knows now that music isn't one of Quint's interests and moves on to another topic.

  "So, moving on, tell me about your youth. You aren't originally from Du Bois, are you?"

  "No, I came from Al Bari to flee the oppression there. Life was unbearable and I had to get out from under the regime. I came to Du Bois because here you are truly free."

  "How old were you when you got here?"

  "Oh, it was so long ago. I have been here as long as I've lived in Al Bari, so I was 23 I guess."

  "Wow, it must've been a shock, arriving at Du Bois after a lifetime in Al Bari."

  "It was, I had nothing but the clothes on my back and a few credits in my pocket."

  "Well, a few credits," Lion gives Quint a skeptical look, "you arrived with more money most people have now."

  "That's not true. People think that. But I have earned everything I have now by earnest and hard work. I started off like most new residents, doing the work I was trained to do in Al Bari. In my case it was administrative work."

  "Oh yes," Lion interrupts, "you started work as a council aide. That's quite the position to be in after just arriving in town."

  "I know," Quint says, "I was lucky the position was available. Were it not things would have gone quite different."

  "Would you have stayed here if you didn't get the job you wanted?" Lion asks.

  "Yes, why would I want to leave this magnificent town?" Quint's face shows no emotions as he answers Lion.

  "I don't know?" Lion says.

  "Do you want to leave here?" Quint asks, raising an eyebrow.

  "Uh, no, uh," Lion looks at the controllers behind the window, "It's time for some more music, and then Mister Seif will answer all of your questions."

  The red light turns off again. Quint looks at Lion and gives a small smile. Sweat is glistening on the man's forehead.

  "Welcome back," Lion says, "I am here with Mister Seif, councilman of Du Bois and now running for mayor. A few moments ago Mister Seif told us about h
is youth in Al Bari. But now it's time for some questions from our audience."

  Lion looks at the controllers. One of them nods and points at Lion.

  "Hello, who's there?" Lion says.

  "Hi Lion," a woman's voice sounds over the speakers, "I am so glad to be on air!"

  The woman giggles.

  "Great to have you, what's your name?" Lion asks.

  "Candice!" The woman giggles some more.

  "Welcome Candice. Did you have a question for Mister Seif?"

  "Oh yes," more giggles, "Mister Seif, can I call you Quint?"

  Before Quint can answer the woman continues.

  "What is your favorite color?" she asks.

  Quint looks at Lion, who shrugs.

  "Hello Candice, nice to meet you," Quint says, "my favorite color is red."

  "Oh! What a coincidence!" Candice exclaims, "mine is green!"

  Quint drops his head in exasperation.

  "Thank you Candice!" Lion says, "who's next?"

  A man in a deep voice answers over the speakers.

  "Greg here, can I ask my question?"

  "Hello Greg, sure, fire away," Lion says.

  "Okay, thanks. Mister Seif, hello, this is Greg," the man begins.

  "You just told us that Greg," Quint says, "what's your question?"

  "Right," Greg continues, "I wanted to know how you plan on taking on the corruption in the financial district?"

  "Good question Greg," Quint starts, "It is a well known fact that the financial lobby is strong and can steer the legislations to coincide with their own goals. However, there is no conclusive proof that there is corruption in the financial district."

  Lion nods as Quint is explaining, sounding an occasional "uhu".

  "But to answer your question, Greg," Quint continues, "I will personally make sure that any corruption in the council stops and the responsible councilmen are put on trial, if the proof that there is corruption is sound and conclusive."

  "Thanks," Greg says.

  "Thank you Greg," Lion says. He looks at Quint, who is sitting in his chair sipping from a glass of water. The man seems undeterred by Greg's question while Quint is rumored to be one of most corrupted councilmen in Du Bois.

  "Who's next?" Lion asks.

  "Hey Quint! Remember me?" a man answers.

  "Hello sir? What's your name?" Lion asks.

  "Quint knows me. I'd like to ask a question."

  Quint recognizes the voice and starts making cut-off motions at the two controllers. His face darkens and rises from his chair.

  Lion, not willing to cut the interview short due to some crazy person on the phone motions Quint to sit back down. Lion nods at the controllers.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, there seems to be a technical problem with the phone line," Lion says, "Let's play some music while we sort the problem."

  The red lights is turned off again.

  "What the fuck was that?" Lion asks Quint.

  Quint, cooled down after the brief moment of panic, looks at Lion.

  "Do you want to continue?" Quint asks.

  "Yes."

  "Fine, don't let that man through again." Quint says, "You know what, just let those stupid commoners ask their questions and leave any political charged question for another day."

  Lion looks at his controllers, who nod and give a thumbs up. It is better to finish the program with the guest than have the guest walk out on them. That he can't give the public any more chances to ask real questions is fine with him. Lion won't vote for this asshole anyway.

  The rest of the show is without incident. Quint answers questions about his favorite food, at which he gives a recipe for French style chicken, and who were his role models growing up. Every answer he gave geared towards one goal: look like a commoner. Tomorrow, at his campaign speech, he will tell them about his political views and what he wants with Du Bois. At least, he'll tell them what he wants them to hear.

  After the interview Quint goes straight to his office at the council. He's fed up with the mundane questions and stupid peasants in this town. He grabs his communicator and calls his campaign manager.

  "Hello?"

  "You fuck, never do that again," Quint yells into the device.

  "Oh, hi Quint," Ebo Sall says, "you did well in there."

  "Shut up, Ebo," Quint says, "If you ever put me in that kind of position again you're fired."

  "Oh Quint, don't be such a baby. You know as well as I do that you needed to connect to the common people. And this was the best possibility."

  "Why did Bohdal Kovan cancel?" Quint asks, switching topics.

  "He had a family crisis, something about his daughter Hana missing."

  Quint's mind races. What was the name of the girl again? Was it Hana? He opens his computer and searches for the Kovan's daughter. He sighs a sigh of relief. The photo doesn't match the girl he disposed of. The personal information tells him the girl is too young to be clubbing anyway. With seven she would just be prepared for an internship.

  "I hope they find her. I would hate to win from an emotional wreck," Quint says.

  Quint drops his communicator and shuffles the papers on his desk around. His normal duties as a councilman keep distracting him from the campaign. But he must go on. No time to be lazy. This afternoon is a voting session for a few public project requests.

  He opens a file. Inside is a planning request for an addition to the greenhouse. They want to extend the top four floors out to increase the available ground by 50%. He scans the numbers. At the bottom is the total cost for the project: 5 million credits. No way he is going to approve that. That five million would be going out of his budget as mayor. He needs that money for other projects. He drops the file on his rejection stack.

  Next is a project to upgrade the defense systems on the walls. They want to increase the number of gunpoints and range of the automatic guns. The town will be even better protected. Not that they need it. Their enemies can't get within a mile of their walls. Two nights ago the guards found scouts and dealt with them accordingly. No casualties on Du Bois's side. But then again, if they start upgrading the software, he can meddle with it to suit his own needs. The file goes on the approved pile.

  A few more files end up on the rejection stack. This afternoon, if he has anything to say about it, only one project gets approved.

  Quint gets up from his desk. If he wants to block most projects he needs to get some more votes in his corner of the arena. He walks out into the hallway and knocks on the door opposite his office.

  "Come," sounds the voice of a lady.

  Quint opens the door to a office decorated with floral patterns. The main color inside is pink. He smiles at the lady sitting behind the flowing desk.

  "Hi Ellen, how are you?" Sweetness drips from his voice.

  "Hello Quint, I'm fine. Do you need something?" Ellen Lopez, the youngest on the council, looks at him with suspicion.

  "Oh no, just dropping by," Quint says. He sits down into one of the pink velvet chairs. He pats the chair next to him.

  "Care to join me?" he asks.

  Ellen gets up from behind the desk, leaving what she was doing open. She sits down next to Quint.

  "So, what are you reading?" Quint asks.

  "You know, project requests. I'm reading up for this afternoon," she answers.

  "Have you seen that one about the extension of the greenhouse?"

  "Yes, that's a good proposal," Ellen says.

  "Are you sure?" Quint says, "I'm no expert, but that structural report looked flawed."

  "Did it?" Ellen looks back at her desk. "I don't know. They calculated the risk three times."

  "Yes, but I'm not sure they used the right material strength numbers."

  "Oh, in that case, I think they should check up on that," Ellen says.

  "I'll ask them to do that right away," Quint says, "but I won't accept the request before I have a proper risk assessment on my desk."

  "Can't they have the calculations redone before the
session?" Ellen asks.

  "I can only ask," Quint says, "They are very busy doing what they normally do."

  "If they don't have the calculations redone, I won't vote either." Ellen agrees, "Did you see that preposterous request for the defense upgrade?"

  "Which one?" Quint feigns ignorance.

  "The one where they want to increase the range of the guns. They already can shoot further than I can see!"

  "We do need to be safe," Quint offers.

  "Yes, and we are," Ellen says, "Did you hear about the fight two nights ago?"

  "I did," Quint answers, "but it got too close for me. What if the range was 10% further, then we could spot them earlier and shoot them down before they could reach out walls. Did you know their bullets nearly killed one of our guards? I think his name is Ismael."

  Quint knows Ellen used to be friends with Ismael's sister, Meryam.

  "Really? I didn't hear that. I know he was involved, but not that he almost died. That'd be awful."

  Ellen looks at Quint.

  "Do you think we could protect the guards better by upgrading the guns?" she asks.

  "I do. It's expensive, but it will increase safety." Quint puts on his most trustful face.

  "I'm not sure if the upgrade would've made a difference, but I'll think about it. Thanks Quint."

  "No problem, happy to be of assistance."

  Quint gets up and opens the door.

  "See you at the voting session," he says and closes the door behind him.

  "One down, three to go," Quint says to himself.

  Later that afternoon a bell rings throughout the building. All nine members of the council, their aides and the current mayor gather at the council hall. There the proposals are discussed and put through a vote. The first few get through, but those are of little interest to Quint. He would've preferred them to be rejected, as the funds are lost to him now, but it's a small price to pay for the two big ones to go as he wants.