by A. R. Braun
Scout wondered if he was talking about the same Muffy. “A very thin Baptist girl with really long brown hair?”
He looked up, his eyes widening. “Yes! You’ve seen her?”
Scout shook her head. He seemed like a sweet guy and she didn’t want to hurt him. “She went to our church. That’s all I know. I haven’t seen her in a week.”
His eyes were downcast as his gaze returned to his shoes. “Oh.” Apparently, it took a few minutes to compose himself. He met her eyes.
“Is your wife here?”
He shook his head. “Was a super-serious Christian.” He pointed upward. “Watched her get raptured.”
“Wow. I didn’t see any of that.”
“Listen, I know they put you naked on that cross. You had to talk to that Antichrist fuck. I know you’ve been beaten. And they killed your parents, though they’re in glory.
“I’m so sorry.”
Scout sniffled and nodded, wiping a few tears away before they leaked down her face. “Go on.”
“I know a guy who’s savvy in technology. He listened to the new born-again Megadeth’s warnings of a rising Antichrist—saw it coming. He created a RFID chip whose frequency is the same as theirs, but the code isn’t six-six-six.”
Scout stared at him.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to mull that over. Or do you need me to spell it out for you?”
Sprinkles of rain pitter-pattered onto the roof, a storm threatening, as if God didn’t want her to lie.
He could plant the fake chip in my hand and I’d be free! They wouldn’t know the difference.
He straightened his round glasses on his face. “I’m Tim, by the way.”
She stuck her hand out and shook with him. “Scout.” His hand was calloused, a working man, at least here. He could have been a lawyer before. “So what you’re saying is, we could walk around free, and they wouldn’t know?”
He shook his head. “They’ll find out eventually, but we can do a lot of damage, at least for a while.”
Rain poured on top of the tent. Scout looked up, smiling. Yeah, I get the hint, Big Guy, but You don’t know how awful it is in here. She locked eyes with Tim. “Are you alone here like me?”
He nodded. “Like I said, no Muffy, and we didn’t have another kid.” He drew a deep breath. “If we do this, it’ll have to be a certain way. We’ll tell them we’ve decided to get the RFID chip and that we’ll go to a tattoo parlor and get made over as soon as they let us out. Then, you meet me at the corner of 24th and Brandston, where he lives—a big brick house—and we’ll get the ball rolling.”
Scout’s eyes moved to the tent’s door. “I don’t know. It’s lying. Wouldn’t we be damned if we did it?”
He shook his head quickly. “Only if we take the real chip. Call it reconnaissance. Then we arm ourselves to the teeth and punish as many of these bastards as we can until they find out it’s a fake chip.”
“Are you sure it’ll work?”
He nodded. “My buddy, Bill, he’s already doing it. The plan is to take out Velvet, the “chancellor,” but that’s hard. The day he stopped to talked to you—if I’d only had a weapon! But we can cause a lot of his subordinates pain, in spades.” He grinned.
“Velvet offered me a job as his personal assistant. I could really do some damage there.”
They snorted.
“That’s perfect,” Tim said.
A rash covered Scout’s left arm. She touched Vic’s hand. “I’m diabetic. Soon, I’ll have a seizure, then I’ll go into a coma. If it was just a question of an extended fast until they cut my head off, I’d probably make it. But I’ll get a rash all over my body, my stomach will bulge out even though I’m not eating, my vision will fail and who knows what else. I could die.”
He nodded. “I heard you crying out for your insulin.”
“I have to have it.”
“And I want to find Muffy.”
Scout looked down at her hands.
Hmm. I really should tell him.
“Do we have an understanding, then?” he asked.
She met his blue eyes. “Now?”
He shook his head. “Let’s get some rest and do it in the morning.”
She held her hands out. “But what if they come in here and rape me again?”
He gaped as he looked away. “Good God. If they tried to do that with my Muffy, I’d go Bruce Lee on their asses.” He looked at her. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
Actually, buddy, Muffy was the one doing the raping.
“I’ve gotta tell you something about your daughter.” She blew air out through her nose. “I haven’t been straight with you.”
His eyes goggled. “What?”
“Well, sir, just so you won’t be going out there for nothing—and I know this will sound insane because she’d never done anything wrong in her life—she’s been helping this character named Mack kidnap and rape girls.” There it was. She let the words float out there.
“Mack, the one who goes out with Lelila?”
She nodded. “Who I thought was my bestie. And I was the kidnap victim.”
He stood and shook his head. “It’s not true, not my Muffy. She’s an honor student, never been arrested once, never even been busted for stealing gum. Not my Muffy.”
I’m losing him. Maybe I should say it’s another Muffy. I probably couldn’t go this alone.
No, I won’t lie for the beast.
“Sir, I saw what I saw.”
“Where is she?” He sat again.
“We got into a fight and I won. I left her at Mack’s house. She’s probably left there by now.”
“I’ve wondered why I haven’t seen her in here. It’s been plaguing me. Now that you mention it, if she was the good, church girl I raised her to be, then she’d be here. Unless they beheaded her. But they’re not doing that yet, and they won’t until the Antichrist gives the order to use the execution vehicles. Right now, it’s concentration camp and starvation time, because they want you to suffer first. Why else wouldn’t she be here?”
“I just told you.” She put her hand on his. “I’m sorry.”
“So you’re saying she’s sold out to Velvet?”
Ruefully, she nodded.
He wrung his hands and sat thinking for a few minutes. He looked up. “Then she’s got a whipping coming to her. A severe beating. If she’s taken that chip, I swear I’ll … I’ll … cut it out of her ha—”
“We can’t worry about that right now,” Scout interrupted. “I like your plan. But I want to go tonight. I don’t trust these people to let me sleep through till morning.”
He’d started to sob, wiping a few tears, but looked as if he was forcing a smile. “The first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is stuff myself at Chili’s, where I’ll go to Margaritaville.”
Scout giggled. “I’ll join you.”
“You’re not old enough to drink. Unless the Antichrist’s amended that law, too.”
Scout ignored this. “We’ll go straight to his house, won’t stop walking till we get there. If we wake Bill up, then we wake him up, but I want the fake chip and something to eat—and a hot shower.”
“Sounds like a wiener.” He rose and held out his hand, helping her up. “Let’s go, then. Better late than never.”
“I hope you’re a good actor.” Scout made her way to the tent flaps with him in tow. “I was in the drama club in high school.”
The duo walked into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The gray-haired and shaven-headed soldiers rushed over to them when Scout and Tim went outside.
“Get back in your tents,” shaven head cried.
“Go to sleep so you can work tomorrow, dog-worshipers,” gray hair added.
“No, we give up,” Tim said. “We’ll get the microchip.”
“The RFID chip,” Scout corrected. “We can’t take this anymore.”
The soldiers furrowed their brows and whispered, occasionally
pointing at Scout.
Gray hair told her, “Chancellor Velvet wants to work with you personally, so you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
Shaven head gestured toward Tim with his gun. “You can go now. Good choice, you two. You won’t regret it. It’s a higher quality of life, I’ll tell you that.”
“But,” Scout said, “can I get in touch with Velvet on the outside? I wanna leave now.” Oh God, don’t panic, they’ll know something’s wrong. Yet she didn’t want to be separated from her new friend.
“Can’t,” gray hair answered. “Mr. Velvet’s an important man, and overbooked. But he’s still in town. I guess we could call him at the hotel and tell him you want to give in.”
Tim touched her shoulder. “I can wait till tomorrow.”
“Can you call him now?” Scout asked. “I don’t wanna stay in this swill.”
Looking to see what the commotion was, the other prisoners peeked out of their tents.
Gray hair eyeballed his partner. “Chancellor Velvet will probably want to hear about this right away.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Scout saw Velvet riding shotgun in a general’s jeep. They parked and got out, then walked their way. Scout turned her head so she couldn’t see him change into a devil again.
“I already know,” Velvet answered in the voice of a concerned, kindly father. “Thou knowest I know all things, thank fucketh.” He chuckled, but when he laughed, it came across as lecherous.
Scout wouldn’t even allow herself to think about how she was going to take the fake mark. But perhaps he couldn’t see everything in that demonic mind of his. Maybe he was reading more than one person’s thoughts and got just bits and pieces.
Or did he know something she didn’t?
She fought to suppress a shudder. She couldn’t even look at him for fear.
He strode up to her anyway. “Good choice, my child.”
Scout surreptitiously glanced at Tim. By the lights around the camp, she could tell he was blanching.
He saw it, too. The Antichrist turned into a devil for a few seconds.
“Sell outs!” the other prisoners yelled corporately.
Velvet forked them the evil eye, and they clutched their chests, wheezing and stumbling back into their tents. The chancellor laughed. Then he turned and looked Tim up and down. His mouth formed an o. “Who’s your friend?”
She took a deep breath and struggled to keep standing with knocking knees. “This is Tim. He wants the chip, too.”
They’re going to try to break us up. I’m leaving in a limousine, and Tim’s walking. Velvet will insist on me taking the real mark of the beast from his men.
I’m not going out like that.
“He’s coming with me,” she forced out.
Velvet nodded at her friend. “Timothy.” Then he faced Scout. “Really, Scout, you’re coming with me, not … the help.” He looked Tim over. “Sorry, old chap.”
For the first time, she realized the Antichrist had a bit of a British accent.
Why didn’t I ever notice that before? Too much pain?
“I mean …” Velvet chuckled again. “I can’t have a commoner—a mere peasant—in my limousine, now can I? We’ll get sir Timothy a cab.”
Though his words were callous and rude, all Scout could think about were his Armani suit and good looks. Every hair on his head stayed in place even when the wind kicked up.
You could throw a rock at that shit and it’d just bounce off.
Trembling, Scout gathered her nerve. She had a feeling—no, that wasn’t quite right—a portend, that, if you pissed the chancellor off, you didn’t live long. She chose her words carefully. “Most excellent chancellor, with all due respect, this has to be on my terms. I don’t want to leave in a limo. I … I want to leave with my friend. If you’ll leave your contact information, I’ll get a hold of you as soon as I get the RFID implant. But if I can’t go that way—and I’m very sorry, sir—then I’m not going.”
“Well.” He retrieved a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his brow. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” His face had turned beet-red. Then he plucked a gilt business card from his shirt pocket under his blazer. He took a deep breath as if trying not to get hot under the proverbial collar. “My card.”
She took it and perused it.
WALTER EMMETT VELVET
HIGH CHANCELLOR TO NATIONS
The card had his cell number, his home phone, his Website and blog information.
“You’ll be hearing from me after I get the mark,” she blurted.
Velvet furrowed his brow. “The … what?”
Pins and needles erupted in her heart and left shoulder—not great pain—just enough to let her know she’d chosen the wrong word.
Velvet said, “The Radio Frequency Identification Chip simply lets me know where you are at all times so our work will be more—how can I put it in layman’s terms?—oh, the hay with layman’s terms. Efficient.”
The general and the soldiers had a good laugh.
Scout wouldn’t let herself think it, but she had the feeling he’d said “hay” because he didn’t care for the word “hell.”
Velvet snickered. “The ‘mark,’ I mean, really. It’s so … Biblical. And tedious. I’m afraid that word isn’t in my lexicon.” He continued to laugh.
She nodded as if she’d better. “The microchip, then.”
Velvet took her hand. He had perfectly-buffed nails. They looked as if they’d never seen a speck of dirt. In his soft, warm touch, she swooned. This really was the man of her dreams.
Nightmares, more like it.
“Wouldn’t you rather come with me? I’ll take you on a sea cruise first, to break you in.”
“But Ambassador,” she countered, “what about Mrs. Velvet?”
At this, he scowled and released her hand. “A divorce of sorts. She’s proven herself quite … unworthy, if I may be so blatant. Always helping the peasants … at least she was helping the peasants. No blue blood at all.”
Picturing his wife in prison, Scout coughed a couple times while gathering her courage. “I apologize, Mr. Velvet, but I want to go out in my own way.”
His eyes pinned hers. “You really will call me as soon as you get the implant?”
She bowed and curtsied. Who knew where that had come from. “Yes, Mr. Chancellor. Of course, Mr. Chancellor.”
Velvet grinned. “Jolly good.” He faced the general. “Off we go, then.” He locked eyes with Scout. “I expect to hear from you by tomorrow. If not, I’ll assume you’ve engaged in insubordination.” He faced Tim. “You take good care of her, old boy.”
He nodded. “I’ll guard her with my life.”
“Good, good, good. At least let me get you a military escort home.”
“A cab will do, sir,” Scout answered.
He frowned. “A mere hackie?”
“Yes, sir.”
He shook his head. “We’ve got some bad habits to break you of, my girl scout.”
Pervert.
“It’s the way to be,” Velvet said.
Just as she’d suspected, he’d read her thought.
He gesticulated toward the general and walked away. “Let’s go, then, into the blessed night. I’ve always been a night person. Dread the day, really, can’t stand …”
His compassionate voice trailed off and Scout was glad. Another second of talking to him and she’d give in, leaving Tim behind.
“Follow us,” shaven head cried.
Gray hair glowered at Scout. “That was a rude thing to say to the chancellor, woman. We don’t want to see you in here again. If we do, you’re dead.”
Shaven-head grinned like the devil as he nodded slowly. “Let’s go.”
Scout and Tim followed quietly. She was afraid to say anything more.
***
Once outside the gates, the soldiers handed them both a pack of cigarettes and cocktails while they waited, as well as a couple of folding chairs. They gave Scout her purse b
ack and Tim his wallet. The cool night air soothed her. It hadn’t become humid from the rainfall yet, and the sky didn’t even sprinkle on them. She stuck herself with the insulin pen. Sweet relief followed.
A black cab with tainted windows tore up. On the side, it read ELITE TAXI. They climbed inside and found a little limo, complete with a mini bar stocked with champagne and ash trays.
Scout didn’t want to light up—they were Marlboro Reds—but the hunger pains and non-washed-and-conditioned hair were driving her crazy, so she did. Tim joined her. That devil’s fog felt so good, the smoker’s treasure. The coffin nails were a legal drug that’ll knock one off of one’s feet at first, or if one had quit for a long time.
Scout eyed the handsome, young driver with short coal hair. “Do you need to see …?”
He waved her off. “Strict orders from the chancellor. The ride’s on the house.”
Scout looked at Tim. “Where should we go to eat? Everything’s closed, isn’t it?”
Tim glanced at the driver. “Drive to the all-night Denny’s on Knoxville Street, then wait for us. Afterward, I’ll give you the address of my friend’s house.”
“Very good.” The driver took off, pushing a button so black glass like the other windows’ tint fell between them for privacy.
“I thought you wanted to go to Chili’s,” Scout said.
“I changed my mind. I’m in the mood for a pig-out—grand-slam breakfast.”
“I feel ya.”
Tim grinned at her. “You were great back there with the Antichrist. I couldn’t believe the way you worked him.”
Scout looked around surreptitiously. “We could be bugged,” she whispered.
“In a cab? I don’t think so. You get to worrying like that, we’ll never plan anything.”
“With the Antichrist, maybe paranoid’s just good thinkin’.”
Tim chuckled, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Out with it.”
She whispered in his ear. “It was the Lord speaking through me. When he wanted to break us up, I didn’t know what to say.”
He grinned ear-to-ear, nodding. “Let’s break open the bubbly, shall we?”
She chuckled. “God, that martini was good. This cigarette’s getting me so high I think I’m going to go crazy.”
