Strange Robby

by Selina Rosen

  Two guards, more intelligent than the others, or just less lucky, went into the elevator to check it out. They lifted the trap door on the top and Spider Webb jumped on top of them. A couple of well placed kicks, and they were down for the count. Jason and Robby jumped off the top of the elevator into it, then helped the boy and the woman down. They entered the now-empty lobby.

  "I never would have thought that would work," Jason said.

  "Between you and me, neither did I," Spider said.

  A troop of men rounded the corner as they made for the front door.

  "I can't kill the door guards," Robby told Spider as they ran towards the doors. The two armed guards were standing ready to fire, no doubt with real bullets. "They aren't evil!"

  Spider was firing behind them. "An alligator isn't evil, either, but you'd kill it if it was trying to eat you."

  "Good point!" Robby fried the guys blocking their way to freedom.

  They ran out the door. Robby could see Jason's car just a few feet away.

  Jason stopped at the doorway. Spider turned, saw him and ran back. She grabbed his arm.

  "Come on, man."

  "Can't," he said. "I've got a family."

  She nodded. She knew what he meant. "Thank you."

  "I'll cover your ass. Just go."

  Spider ran to catch up. Robby was already in the car turning the key in the ignition. Spider shoved the boy and the woman in, and then jumped in herself.

  As Jason saw the car take off he turned back towards the building. He kept firing, empting one weapon after another, right up till a bullet burned its way through his brain.

  "Gates?" Robby asked.

  "Break 'em!" Spider wasn't firing now. She was lying back in the seat.

  "But . . . "

  "Hit 'em, Robby. You're in command now." Spider reached back, pulled the dart from her butt, and threw it out the window. Then she was out.

  "Everybody get down," Robby ordered. He crouched down in his seat, tried to ignore the guards firing real bullets at them this time, and shoved Spider down into the seat beside him as he crashed through the gates. The car made a strange hissing noise and started to lose power. He revved the engine, shifted into a lower gear, and hoped for the best.

  He turned and glared at the gate, setting the asphalt driveway on fire. No one would be following them for a while. He saw the boy's hand touch Spiders arm. No worry there. But he kept a half an eye on the woman, not knowing how long whatever Spider had done to her would last. The car barely got them to the park. He loaded Spider into his car. Then he tied the woman's hands and feet up and stuck her in the back seat with the boy. She didn't even seem to notice. Finally, Robby roared off, reminding himself not to drive too fast.

  As an afterthought, he pulled off the fake beard and mustache and threw them in the floorboards.

  "Boy! Help me get this damn lab coat off."

  "My name is Mark," the boy said quietly, and helped Robby take the coat off.

  "Well, Mark, it looks like we're safe now."

  "I don't think we're ever going to be safe," Mark said.

  Robby looked around to make sure no other cars were around, then slung the lab coat into the floor boards, too. He had absolutely no idea where to go, so he just drove. As he passed the diner, he looked at it longingly and drove on.

  "Don't be so negative, Mark. Put your faith in God and Spider Webb. We've got to beat them; we've just got to because nobody else can."

  Chapter Twenty

  "Because sentence against evil work is not executed

  speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is

  fully so to do evil." Ecclesiastes 8:11

  Carrie looked at the data Denisten was sending her on a closed channel. The SWTF's headquarters had been hit and hit hard. Carrie could only hope that she was right about who did it.

  "If she got away, if he helped her, we will be inundated with SWTF in the next twenty-four hours," Carrie said. "And the ones we see will be just the tip of the iceberg. If Spider's free, they're going to be waiting to see if she comes to me. I hope she's not that stupid."

  "Really?" George asked, looking around the den. Carrie's house had become a pit. Nothing had been cleaned or picked up in weeks. She came to work in clothes that looked as if they'd been slept in, and although so far she seemed to be holding up to her work load, he wondered how long that could last if she didn't get some serious sleep and a decent meal.

  "Really," Carrie answered at last. She breathed. "If she comes for me they'll stop her. I'd love to see her, but not dead."

  "You have got to quit driving and abusing yourself," George scolded. "You're doing everything it is humanly possible to do. You have got to take time out for yourself, get some rest a real meal."

  "Pop tarts are a meal," Carrie said with a smile.

  "Carrie . . . "

  "I know, George. I know that you're right. But it's easier said than done," Carrie said with a sigh. She stood up and started pacing. "I try to pretend like nothing is happening. I go to work. I do my job. I come home. I try to eat, and then I remember that Spider usually cooks and I wonder where she is, and what or even if she's eating. I wonder if she's thinking about me. Then I sit down to relax and watch TV, and I remember that Spider doesn't watch very much TV. That she usually reads. Then I begin to wonder if I'm ever again going to walk in and find her sleeping in her chair with a book in her hands. I go to bed and I try to sleep and it's just . . . so lonely. I can't quit thinking about her." She started to cry.

  George walked over and embraced her. He patted her back in an automatic effort to give comfort.

  "It's like I'm in this unending nightmare. I keep thinking that if I wake up it will be over. But I wake up every morning, and it's never over."

  "This is good news, though, Carrie. She may be free."

  Carrie nodded, pushed him away and dried her eyes. "She's not free even if she got away. She may not be confined any more, but these bastards will never leave her alone. And she could also be dead now. I just don't know, and it's the not knowing that's killing me."

  Deacon had been waiting for over an hour. Of course he was the big wig, and that meant he could make Deacon wait while sitting on hot coals if he liked.

  Besides, Deacon was in no hurry to meet with him. The guy made his flesh crawl.

  "You may go in now, Sir," the secretary announced.

  Deacon nodded and stood up. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants legs, walked over and opened the office door. Before he had a chance to open it all the way, the man inside spoke.

  "Come on in, Deacon, make yourself at home."

  Deacon came in closing the door behind him. He walked over, sat down, and stared across the desk at the oldest living Nazi war criminal. He tried hard not to allow his features to show how he felt about him.

  "Our experiments are going very well," he said conversationally.

  Deacon swallowed his Are you nuts! retort. "Sir, with all due respect, three of the subjects tore apart this building, killed half of the scientists and over half of the security force, and escaped. Basically without a scratch. God only knows where they are by now, or what they'll do next."

  "Which means that we have done our work, and you have not done yours." His thick accent broke as he drove his fist into his desk with every word. "We have built the ultimate soldier, and yet you have failed to secure our secrets or our experiments. There are leaks everywhere. One of your own men helped them for no apparent reason."

  "Maybe they gave him a mental push."

  "Don't try to make excuses or pretend that you understand how they work . . . Everything that we have worked for, that I have worked for is unraveling before my eyes. I don't care how you do it, but these two—the woman cop and the black boy . . . " You could tell it was practically killing the old fuck to admit that the ultimate soldier was not only not necessarily male, but also, in this case, not Aryan. " . . . must be bred. All we need is sperm from the boy and eggs from the woman. So I don't
care if you kill them. I have no emotional attachment to these experiments. Just bring me these things."

  "How are we supposed to find them?" Deacon asked.

  "That's your job, not mine. I have done my job. Quite excellently well if I may add."

  Deacon couldn't help himself. "But you didn't build the Fry Guy. They did it without your work. He's bigger and better than anything you've made, and maybe, just maybe, it's because he's not white."

  "Your insubordination will go into the records." He stood up and pounded his fist into his desk. His face went red, and Deacon secretly hoped that this would be the time that the old fuck fell over dead. But, of course, he didn't. "Get out of my office and do as you are told!"

  Deacon left. He felt he could die a happy man as long as that old fuck died first.

  Spider woke up and tried to replay everything that had happened. She stepped out of the car. It was a little cold, especially since she was still wearing nothing but the white pajamas they had put her in, and she still had no shoes. Robby had built a fire, and she huddled up to it.

  Robby and Mark looked up at her. The woman who was now tied up just stared at the fire. Robby handed Spider a sandwich. She took it, sat down on a rock next to the fire, and Mark immediately moved to sit by her curling against her legs. Poor little pecker head was wearing the same thing that she was. She looked around quickly to make sure they weren't in some public park somewhere; they weren't. She couldn't even see a road or any lights in the distance.

  "I just drove as far into nowhere as I could. I figured you'd have a plan when you woke up."

  Spider nodded. "Good thinking, but I hate to disappoint you . . . See, I don't have any sort of plan."

  Spider ate the sandwich and washed it down with the cup of coffee Robby handed her. She felt some better, but her body had been through the mill. Her arms really hurt from jumping down the stairwell and catching herself. Her head where she had slammed it into the floor was pounding. Her legs hurt, her stomach, well, everything, and as neat as the telekinesis had been, it had left her more physically drained than a three-hour training session.

  "If it hadn't been for Tommy I never could have done it," she said. "I hope he got out of town OK."

  "I'm sure he did," Robby said gently. "How bad was it?"

  "Oh, it was bad," Spider said bitterly. She shoved Francis with her free hand. "Wasn't it, bitch? You sick twisted fuck, now you hang in the wind wondering what I'm going to do to you."

  The woman was silent.

  "She's dark," Robby said. "Get whatever you're going to get out of her, and let's fry her. Let's not drop to their level."

  "Right now we need her, and as long as she behaves she can stay alive," Spider said. Then she added on a sadistic note, "Maybe."

  "Why'd Jason . . . " Robby stared into the fire. "He might as well have shot himself. Why'd he do it when we were damn near home free?"

  "He couldn't afford the luxury of living. He never planned to live through the raid. He had a family. He was looking to redeem himself. I think he felt redeemed."

  "He was nice, Mom," Mark said. In the sadness of the moment he had forgotten himself.

  Robby laughed, and pointed at Spider. "You? Mom? Now that's rich!"

  Spider didn't smile. She looked at Robby and shrugged. "Mark is my son."

  Robby stopped laughing. "But you, you're a . . . how?"

  "Well why don't you just ask Francis the talking asshole about that. I'm going to try to get some real sleep." She stood, took Mark's hand and walked back to the car.

  Robby ran ahead of them. "Wait a minute! I've rigged the seats to make a big bed." He hurried and fixed it. "We have pillows, blankets—all the comforts of home."

  "Thanks, Robby," she said. She crawled in and the boy crawled in after her, curling up under the blankets with her.

  "Now that I know, he does look like he belongs to you," Robby said. "Get some sleep. I'll take care of everything out here."

  When Laura woke up Tommy was already gone. No doubt he was out stalking dinner. She got up and started straightening the cabin. When she was done she grabbed a bucket and started down to the creek to get some water.

  She had to admit that Tommy was at least partly right. It was certainly peaceful and relaxing here.

  It was also boring as hell.

  After awhile nature got damn repetitive. Although she was enjoying long walks and talks with Tommy, she missed her job and her friends, her mom and dad. She missed TV and the stereo. She really missed her washer and dryer.

  Tommy seemed more than content to play in the woods all day.

  He had raked most of the camp and re-rocked all the trails. He had managed to put one picnic table together out of all the picnic tables he had found and had rebuilt one of the outside grills. He had even dug up some ground and made a garden, transplanting edible weeds and planting some seeds he brought with them. He watered it daily and spent hours trying to find new weeds to plant in it.

  In fact Laura couldn't remember a time when Tommy had seemed so relaxed and happy. While she bitched daily about the outhouse—a solid concrete building with a concrete seat that was sitting on a huge concrete tank—the rationing of toilet paper and hygienic items, the lack of any real variety in their diet, and the dullness of their daily routine, the only thing that seemed to perturb Tommy in his blissful roll of Grizzly Chan was worrying about Spider, which he did every time he sat still for a minute. No doubt this was why he worked so hard at keeping busy.

  Laura was mostly curious. How the hell had such seemingly normal people like herself, her husband, and Spider Webb landed in the middle of some secret government conspiracy? A conspiracy that had forced she and Tommy into hiding for an indefinite period of time and made Spider fall off the planet?

  After days of worrying, Tommy had snuck into a nearby town. He had parked the car in the woods two miles out of town and walked to the nearest pay phone. After trying to figure out who to call, he finally made a call directly to Carrie. Carrie told him that Spider had vanished, but that she believed she was still alive. Then she told him not to try calling again, and she hung up. Tommy returned to the camp very depressed with a sack full of garden seed. But by the time he'd dug up and planted his garden he had all but forgotten about Spider's problems.

  Laura sat by the creek for a while and watched the water go by. She was in no hurry to get back to the cabin. No schedule here, no place she had to be at any certain time. They got up when they wanted, and went to bed when they wanted. No hassles no worries. It should have been heaven, and it had been while she was recuperating. In fact, feeling like shit those first couple of days, it was nice not to have to worry about anybody dropping in to visit. It was nice not to have to put on a brave face, and she thought the mountain air and clear spring water had helped her to heal faster, too. In fact, health wise she was feeling better than she had in years, which was good because she only had a small amount of insulin if she needed it. Since she didn't normally take insulin but kept her disease in check with diet and exercise she never kept much on hand, and while Tommy had thought to get everything else they would need he hadn't thought to stock up on her prescription, and neither had she. The five pills she'd had in her purse were all she had and of course she had no testing supplies. Luckily, so far she felt fine.

  Getting lots of fresh air and exercise, and the fact that they had no other form of entertainment, had also improved their sex life.

  But still, when she weighed the pluses against the minuses, she still wished she were home. She could be sleeping on a real bed, cooking in a real kitchen, bathing in a real bathtub and using a toilet that flushed.

  Tommy ran up to her then, not even winded. He was swinging some poor animal by the tail. He was a menace to all things that crawled, walked, swam or flew. The man would quite literally eat anything. This time he had a squirrel. It had taken her a couple of days to get over the "that was a living, breathing animal" thing. Now it was sad, but it was also dinner.

&n
bsp; He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then sat down next to her on the rock. He lay the squirrel on the ground beside him away from Laura. "Got something quick today. Think I'm getting better at it."

  "Me, too! Scooped that water up first try."

  "What's wrong?" Tommy asked.

  Laura shrugged.

  "Come on," Tommy urged.

  "You're really happy here, aren't you?"

  Tommy shrugged. "For the first time in my life everything is up to me. I don't have to answer to anyone, except you. When we're hungry we eat; when we're tired we sleep. When I want meat I hunt; when I want fish, I fish. My biggest decision for the day is what do I want to do. The only lives I am responsible for are yours and mine, and our needs are easily filled here. Yes, I am happy here. All my life I have done everything I ever did to please or serve other people. Here I have only to please and serve you and myself. But you're not happy." The last was a statement not a question.