Autonomy: a novel

by A. R. Braun

  “It’ll pass.” He popped the top and the bubbly overflowed. He poured two full glasses. “To our escape.”

  She clinked glasses with him. “To our escape.” She sipped the champagne. It was delectable—the panacea—and it quenched her thirst. “I sure hope this works.”

  “It’s working for Bill.” He motioned toward her. “Dive in and finish your drink.”

  ***

  Velvet listened to the bug as he stood over his team huddled over computer monitors with headsets. The voices boomed in his grand room in the Mowquakwa Plaza, the finest hotel in the city with a glass elevator so that one could look over the town while traveling up to one’s room. Sometimes people thought too fast for him to pick up all their thoughts.

  “Hmm.” Velvet held a martini and smoked a cigar. “Not picking up very much. She’s whispering. Very curious. Perhaps she’s flirting with him. Maybe she wants to fuck him before commencing with her duties.” He chuckled, his minions staring up at him.

  He tried to read her mind, but Scout and Tim were quiet, sucking down champagne.

  “Gentlemen.” Velvet motioned toward them. “Put your laptops away. We’re not learning anything tonight.” He made a face he could see reflected in the window as he looked over the small Midwestern city. “Mowquakwa. How quaint.”

  He read the minds of his most trusted staff members—to make sure they were beholden to him—as he strolled over to his bed in his deluxe suit, clad in his gilt bathrobe. He picked up his iPad and toyed around with it for a few minutes, growing bored with it. Then he picked up his Kindle Fire HDX 8.9 tablet off the nightstand and perused it, making changes here and there with the touch screen. “There’s a Bible for Christian Satanists. Blimey! What a hoot!” He reached for his iPad again, then looked up at his men. “I’ve got to work on my next speech. Gentlemen, you may go.”

  “We’ll keep the armed guard at your door, Chancellor.”

  “But of course.”

  They left him alone with his contraptions.

  ***

  The cab driver had to go into the restaurant and pay for their meal after Scout and Tim handed him their money. He said he was going by special orders of Chancellor Velvet. With that he left them to dine. They devoured their grand-slam breakfasts, not saying a word. They’d both ordered a T-bone steak and practically inhaled their hash browns, eggs and toast. The waitress and the other patrons flashed them the evil eye, probably due to the duo’s dirty clothes, but they had shirts and shoes, so they had service. Man with child or woman with child—and with means with—held sway over most of the tables, the ones that weren’t crowded by adults making out with pets.

  “I’ll never get over the new laws,” Scout couldn’t help say with her mouth full.

  Tim drained his soda. “Try not to look.”

  Finally, they finished. Over coffee—a makeshift palate cleanse—they looked at each other.

  Tim chuckled. “I may have to undo a button on my jeans.”

  Scout looked out the window and spotted the cab purring and waiting for them. The hackie had the inside light on and he was talking to someone on a cell phone that looked like a mini-computer. “Now that’s service!” She turned back to Tim. “That was the best meal I’ve ever had.”

  “Here, here.”

  “I’m stuffed.”

  Tim laughed, then a serious countenance came over him.

  Scout said, “You saw him change into the devil for a few seconds, didn’t you?”

  With an ashen face, he nodded. “I’d rather not think about that.” He sighed. “We’re going to be waking my buddy up, but he’ll get over it.” He took a sip of his coffee—black, hers with cream and sugar: soda coffee. “We are going to be separated as soon as we get the chip.”

  “Changing the subject, I don’t blame you.” She put her hand on his. “I’m gonna miss you, Tim. Though I hardly know you.”

  He put his other hand on top of hers. “And me as well. You take special care out there. We’re dealing with dangerous people.”

  She nodded. “I can’t believe there are men who’ve married a child or a pet walking around in public, shameless.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “Good luck finding Muffy.”

  He smiled. “A toast.” The clicked coffee cups. “Here’s to all the damage you can do to the dark side until they find out it’s a fake chip.”

  “Cheers.” She grinned and sipped. The hydration felt so good she accidentally slurped. “The first stop after we get the chip is a gun shop. Then I’ll call the chancellor.”

  Tim nodded. “I hope that silver bullet hits Velvet between the eyes.”

  “I’ll bust a cap in that limey, don’t worry about that.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The cabbie dropped them off at Bill’s house. Scout and Tim had made a noisy show of burping and farting. Why not, the way the world was at this moment? Laughing got their minds off the children and animal fuckers.

  Crickets rang out their chime as they walked up the concrete steps. Kids or people in their late teens yelled something offensive from the streets now and again, and along with the sound of gunshots and police sirens, Scout knew she and Tim had been released from one dangerous environment to another.

  That was fine with her. She planned on becoming a dangerous person herself.

  The house had a large porch and a brick exterior. Tangles of vine crept up the house like a burglar with an itchy trigger finger. Tim rang the doorbell. When nobody answered, he pounded on the door.

  Scout shivered a bit. The night air had taken on a bit of a chill.

  We’re standing out here like a couple of idiots.

  Finally, the interior and porch lights came on, and a man with dark hair streaked with gray, a medium build and horn-rim sunglasses like Elvis Costello stumbled onto the porch. He rubbed his eyes and flinched from the light … until he recognized his friend. His eyes grew wide.

  “Tim?” he asked in a stalwart voice.

  “Hey, ol’ buddy. Could you let us in? My friend here’s about to chatter her teeth.”

  Bill seemed to come to himself and nodded. He stepped aside so they could walk in. “Did you finally decide I had a hell of an idea, or are you just tired of suffering without food?”

  Tim put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s talk inside. And I’d lock up.”

  “You ain’t kiddin’.” Bill was still wide-eyed as he fastened the lock.

  Once inside the house, Scout looked over the living room with plaid furniture, a widescreen TV, a decent-sized stereo and good china and knickknacks in a brown wooden case with glass doors. This man wasn’t rich, or he didn’t like shopping, but he wasn’t poor, either.

  Bill’s eyebrows rose as he looked Scout over. “Decide to leave your wife for a younger model?”

  Tim chuckled, shaking his head. “This is one of the girls who went to church with Muffy. I’d say they were friends, but apparently, my daughter’s gone dark.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Bill, I’d like you to meet Scout Marshall, Walter and Tonya’s kid.”

  He shook with her, limp-fish. She noticed his microchip. Tim was right, it looked authentic.

  “Good to meet you.” Bill flashed a look Tim’s way, then met her eyes again. “Where are your parents?”

  Misty-eyed, she eyeballed the stereo.

  “They, uh … didn’t make it,” Tim answered.

  Bill put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded, wiping her eyes.

  I didn’t think it would be this hard once I got here.

  “Well, enough of your boring-ass living room. Show her Brainiac HQ.”

  Bill chuckled. “This way.”

  They followed him down a couple hallways past a number of rooms in the one-story house. Then they came to a study with a computer and two easy chairs with a coffee table, plus two shelves full of hardcover books adorning two out of the four walls. He knocked on the side of one of the bookcases three times, a
nd it slid open, revealing a room filled with electronic gadgets. Computers, printers, scanners and various other kinds of monitors showing CGI images of people, all with a dark blot on their right hands. State-of-the-art electronic equipment Scout didn’t recognize filled the space, which buzzed with activity. “Cygnus X-1” by Rush played from speakers that reached to the ceiling, but it wasn’t very loud. Great bass and treble, though.

  What is this, Mission Impossible? It’s like something from the Syfy channel.

  “Have a seat,” Bill said. “Let’s get you that pseudo-mark. You won’t be safe until you do.”

  “Were you in the military?” Scout asked as she took a computer chair.

  Tim rolled a computer chair over and sat next to her.

  Bill nodded. “Intelligence. Took medicine as a minor in college. So you’re lucky there.”

  “What all does this entail?”

  Bill worked the keyboard. He looked up after hitting ENTER. “I’ll have to sterilize your right hand with iodine, then a small operation.”

  Scout grew nervous. “Operation? I thought you just punched it into the skin.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Sort of. It’s an implant, cosmetic surgery.” He looked at Tim, then back to her. “Like a breast implant? I’m putting it under your skin.”

  “I know that.” She shook her head. “Are there any dangers?”

  Bill furrowed his brow. “You mean health-wise? Well, sure.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’re putting a microchip into your skin. There could be tissue damage.”

  Tim put a hand on Scout’s shoulder. “I think that’s the least of our worries at this point.”

  “Speaking of that,” Scout said, “I need to buy some insulin. There are no supplies in my purse.”

  Bill said, “You’re not buying anything till you get this chip.”

  “This is scary. I’ve always been afraid of operations.”

  Bill frowned at her. “Look, it’s easy enough. You want the details; I’ll give you the details. Personally, if I were you, I’d prefer not to know, but you want to, so here goes. I’m going to put iodine on your hand to sterilize it and prevent infection. I’ll give you an injection of chloroform to numb you up. I’ll cut away the skin with a scalpel and insert the chip with a little veterinary drill called the Avid injector kit. Afterward, I’ll hold a swab on your arm to stop the bleeding. Then we’re done. Satisfied?”

  “Thanks a lot, Scout,” Tim said. “I would’ve preferred to be numbed up and not know.”

  She sighed. “Sorry.” What a coward. Hey! Like I used to be! “I’m the kind of girl likes to know what people are doin’ to me, after being kidnapped.”

  Tim chuckled. “I was just messing with you. It’s nothing, really. I was in Operation Desert Storm.”

  Nope. Not a coward. Should’ve known from how he helped me bust out.

  Bill moved behind his computer equipment and rolled a metal table over with a needle, a large cotton swab, a scalpel, a veterinary drill and a big piece of paper with a small hole cut out, Scout guessed where the operation would be performed. “That being said, let’s rock ‘n’ roll.”

  ***

  Scout winced. Her arm was on the metal table. Even with the anesthetic, she could feel sharp pricks in her hand. Tim had taken his operation like a trooper. He kept staring at his hand.

  I need something to take my mind off this. It’s gross.

  “Let me see,” Scout said.

  Tim rolled his chair over, showing her the chip in his skin surrounded by a yellow-and-black bruise.

  “This is nasty.” She looked toward Bill, then quickly turned away after seeing him with a small drill, working away at her hand. “How long before they find out it’s fake?”

  Bill said, “Well, time may be on our side in that respect. Cell phone towers and walkie-talkies tend to break up the signal. It may be a while. See, with the RFID chip, you’re given a number. Back when they only used them on cattle, cell phones, plus clothing and jewelry at Walmart, each one was given a different number, kind of like a bar code, but more reliable. Now, the code number on all of them is 666. The code on this is 667, so they’ll find out eventually.”

  “But not before we can do some major damage to the dark side,” Tim interjected.

  “Precisely. Me, I’m an active person, not a passive person. This is a radical thing we’re doing. I must warn you, when they find out, it’s curtains.”

  “The execution vehicle’s guillotine?” she asked.

  “You guessed it,” Bill answered.

  Scout shuddered. “They had me washing those things at the camp.”

  “But the beheadings were eventually gonna happen anyway,” Tim said. “This way, we get to give ‘em a little payback.”

  “You’re done, Scout,” Bill said. “I’ve just got to stop the bleeding. You two hungry?”

  “No,” Tim answered. “We stopped and ate on the way.”

  Bill returned Scout’s hand to her. “Then I think we should get some rest and come out fighting tomorrow.”

  Scout couldn’t quit gazing at her right hand. It was indeed sore. When she looked closely, she could see the antenna inside. She eyeballed Bill. “Good God, what have you done to me?”

  “Made it so you can buy and sell … for a while.” He stood up and stretched. “Let’s hit the sack. You can stay in the guest bedroom, Scout, and Tim can take the couch. Follow me.”

  Bill closed up shop and led them to their sleeping quarters.

  ***

  They slept till noon. It being a Saturday, Bill didn’t have to go to work—and when they woke, they dined on eggs and bacon, sausage, and pancakes, with orange juice and milk. The air-conditioner added to the heavenly atmosphere, keeping Scout perfectly cool.

  She took a break from noshing her delectable breakfast, which meant “break a fast” because one didn’t eat all night, while sleeping. “I can see why the deceived might believe they’ve made the right decision, eating like kings while others rot away in the concentration camps.”

  “The key word is ‘deceived’,” Tim said.

  Bill locked eyes with her. “What are your plans?”

  “I’ve gotta call Velvet. He wants me to work with him directly.”

  “Ouch. I’d hate to be side-by-side with that guy.”

  “But first, I’m gonna load up on handguns. I’m gonna blow his head off.”

  Bill stuck a fist into the air. “Power to the people!”

  ***

  Bill dropped Scout off at ACER AMMO AND GUNS on the south side of Mowquakwa, saying he’d pick her up after she was done so they could practice at the firing range where he was a member. He said he could get her in with no problem. She wanted to argue, to tell him she had to get to work with Velvet, but it made sense. She needed to know how to fire the thing. She hadn’t used a gun in her life … except for the beginner’s luck with Lelila.

  She chose a Glock, a .357 Magnum, a Ruger and a derringer, the latter she was lucky they carried. She already had a FOID card. Her dad had liked to take her hunting—though she’d hated it and refused to eat the rabbit—and wanted her to have protection. She’d protested guns, though, never shooting an animal when they’d hunted and refusing to carry the .22 rifle. She’d always thought she’d get an itchy trigger finger and shoot a person like Dick Cheney had in his hunting accident. After getting kidnapped by Mack and Lelila, however, she believed in the right to bear arms, especially after Satan’s army had killed her parents.

  “Whoa,” Bill said when he picked her up. “You’ve got some whompin’ firepower there, chickie.”

  “Just get me to the range. I can’t wait to learn how to use this.” Let’s see how Velvet likes getting shot the way he ordered his soldiers to do to my parents. “I wish I could shoot those two soldiers who raped me at the death camp, but there are too many military personnel there to pull it off.”

  At the range, he showed her how to use each of the weapons, and she had a hard
time adjusting to this strange new passion. She had a blast, but had to get used to the vehement kick.

  Afterward, Bill’s face grew stern. “We need to exchange phone numbers, in order to keep each other posted of our progress. We may need to meet up again or bail each other out.”

  They did so. Scout hugged Bill and said goodbye.

  After a few more visits to the firing range, she finally had it down and broke out her cell phone to call Chancellor Velvet.

  Time to rock ‘n’ roll.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Scout hated sad goodbyes.

  “I’m going home, then out to look for my daughter if she’s not there.” Tim said.

  They stood in front of the gun store. She’d wanted to show Tim how well she’d learned to shoot. They leaned on a cab, not Elite this time.

  Scout carried her gun cases in both hands. Weird people with all black on and satanic necklaces crowded the sidewalk, cussing each other out. Same-sex couples, adults with child spouses and adults with pet spouses weaved in and out of the sidewalk traffic.

  She sighed. “Well, I guess this is it.” Standing up straight, she pulled away from the cab.

  He nodded and rose off the taxi, also. “See you in heaven. I hope.”

  Scout chuckled. “Yes.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “These aren’t the real marks, so I’ll see you there.”

  For a few seconds, they looked away from each other.

  Scout faced him and stuck out her hand. “Bye, Tim. Thanks for all you’ve done.”

  “Give me a break.” He reached out and hugged her.

  She smiled. “Take care of yourself.”

  He shook his head. “Who’re you kiddin’?”

  He knows we’ll end up beheaded sooner or later.

  “Hope you find Muffy,” she added.

  “She’s got an ass-kickin’ waitin’ for her when I do.” She noticed he said “when.” “Hey, I love ya, kid. Wish my daughter was like ya. Good luck.”

  “You, too.”

  With that he opened the door, hopped in and waved. The cab took off.

  Was that a tear forming in her eye? She felt alone, so very alone with these dogs—the human ones—walking the sidewalk. She sighed again, shook her head and whipped out her cell phone, along with the gilded business card Velvet had given her. Hesitantly, she punched in the numbers. It rang six times.