Miami Run

by David Robbins

  David RobbinsPrologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  * * *

  David Robbins

  MIAMI RUN

  Dedicated to…

  Judy & Joshua & Shane. To Bobbi at City News, for kindness above and beyond the call of duty.

  To the legacy of Vincent Van Gogh, Colonel P.H. Fawcett, and Korak the Killer.

  We both found ours, eventually.

  Prologue

  The night was perfect for a sacrifice.

  A brilliant full moon illuminated the Everglades as the party of 13 robed figures and the woman in the blue dress threaded a path toward the grove on the island 50 yards ahead. A cool, moist breeze stirred the red robes of the 13 and caused the woman to shiver. Her fearful green eyes locked on the island and she stumbled.

  The scarlet-robed figure to her rear stepped in close and gripped her left arm to prevent her from falling.

  She regained her balance, but she recoiled defiantly at his touch, jerking her arms from his grasp. Her wrists were already hurting from the tight coils of rope binding them behind her back. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped.

  “We wouldn’t want you to fall,” the figure responded, his features enshrouded in the hood of his robe.

  “I didn’t know you cared!” she stated sarcastically.

  “We care, Carmen,” the figure said. “We care about keeping you clean for the Masters.”

  “Stuff the Masters!”

  The red-robed figure sighed. “Such a childish attitude will only make it worse.”

  “What could be worse than dying?” Carmen retorted.

  “You have no one to blame but yourself,” the figure noted. “You deliberately violated the Precepts of Dealership. The consequences are inevitable.”

  Carmen glanced at the grove of trees and began chewing nervously on her lower lip as they moved nearer.

  “You always were too smart for your own good,” the figure commented.

  “You thought you were better than everybody else.”

  “I was,” Carmen replied. “I was the best damn Dealer in the Dragons, and you know it!”

  “Your distribution network was superbly organized,” the figure conceded. “And your enforcement procedures were carried out to the letter. You had everything worth living for. Wealth. Power. Prestige. And you blew it.”

  “I was framed!” Carmen declared.

  “You were stupid,” the figure responded. “You weren’t satisfied. How did you expect to get away with cutting your own deal? Did you really think the Masters wouldn’t learn about your deception? The Masters know everything.”

  Carmen snorted. “They don’t know crap!”

  “They know you were cheating them,” the figure said. “They know you were diluting the Powder of Life, then selling the watered-down bags at full market value. You were skimming some of the Powder to sell on the side and make yourself richer.” He paused. “You were greedy.”

  “Lies! It’s all a bunch of lies!” Carmen insisted.

  “Please,” the man said. “Don’t insult my intelligence. Your hearing was fair and square. The evidence against you was overwhelming.”

  “What evidence?” Carmen retorted. “You took the word of a low-life junkie over mine!”

  “Four complaints were lodged against you,” the figure mentioned.

  “Three were from middle-echelon distributors. Only one was from a street junkie.”

  “That damn Harlan!” Carmen muttered.

  “Harlan did the right thing. He knew he wasn’t getting his money’s worth, and every customer is granted the right to petition the Directors for a hearing.”

  “I was framed!” Carmen repeated.

  “Suit yourself,” the figure said. “But the thirteen of us listened to all of the evidence and rendered the only possible verdict. The Masters had advised us to keep—”

  “They what?” Carmen interrupted.

  “The Masters knew of your deception before Harlan and the others brought their formal complaints,” he detailed. “The Directors were advised to keep an eye on your activities.”

  “You were?” Carmen asked in disbelief.

  “We were,” the robed man confirmed.

  “But how?” Carmen queried.

  “The Masters have their ways,” he replied.

  Carmen looked to the right and the left, gauging her chances of escaping. They were nil. The path to the island was the only solid strip of ground for hundreds of yards, surrounded by the mucky, peat-filled, treacherous soil of the Everglades submerged under a foot or more of water.

  “Don’t even think about it,” the man advised, as if he could read her mind.

  The party reached the eastern edge of the island and started up a slight incline. Wax myrtles and willows lined the path.

  Carmen gazed toward the top of the rise. “I thought we were friends, Arlo,” she commented.

  “That’s a cheap shot,” Arlo said.

  “You can get me off the hook with the Masters,” Carmen stated. “They’d listen to you.”

  “Be serious.”

  Carmen licked her lips. “I am. Talk to them for me. Intercede in my behalf.”

  “I can’t, and you know it.”

  “Please!”

  “Don’t beg,” Arlo said. “It doesn’t become you.”

  They climbed steadily higher.

  “Tell them I’ll straighten up my act,” Carmen said. “Tell them I’ll turn over a new leaf.”

  “Are you finally admitting your guilt?” Arlo questioned.

  Carmen’s slim shoulders slumped and she expelled the breath in her lungs. “All right,” she declared. “I admit it. I wasn’t framed.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” Arlo said dryly.

  “What if I make a full confession?”

  “It wouldn’t do any good,” Arlo told her. “The execution verdict is final.”

  “I can always try,” Carmen said.

  “I expected better from you.”

  Carmen glanced over her left shoulder. All she could see was the tip of Arlo’s angular chin and his nose protruding from his hood. “What else can I do? What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

  “I would never allow my ego to supplant my better judgment,” Arlo remarked.

  “I don’t want to die!” Carmen declared bluntly.

  “Who does?”

  Carmen faced the path, a feeling of utter helplessness welling up within her. Her resolve faltered and her courage flagged. A sensation of weakness engulfed her legs and she slowed.

  “Don’t drag your heels,” Arlo admonished.

  Carmen looked at him and mustered a feeble smile. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

  Arlo didn’t respond.

  “We organized our distributorships at the same time,” Carmen mentioned. “We rose through the ranks together. Hell, we were even appointed as Dealers on the same day.”

  “It won’t work,” Arlo said. “You can’t expect me to change my mind by recalling the good old days. Those days are long gone. We’ve been out of touch in recent years, and the fault wasn’t mine. You set yourself up as a queen in your district. You lorded it over everybody. Where are all your ot
her old friends? I’ll tell you. They don’t want to have anything to do with you. You alienated everyone with your ambition, Carmen.”

  “I always treated you with respect.”

  “Only because you had to,” Arlo stated. “As a fellow Dealer, I was your equal.”

  “And now you’re more than my equal,” Carmen said bitterly. “You were selected to become a Director. I was overlooked.”

  “You would have been selected as a Director someday,” Arlo observed.

  “Someday! When?” Carmen demanded. “I was tired of waiting! You became a Director over four years ago. Why wasn’t I given a Directorship? My qualifications were as good as yours.”

  “The Masters didn’t think so.”

  “The Masters have had it in for me since the beginning,” Carmen maintained.

  “Have you been snorting your own sneeze?” Arlo inquired.

  “Up yours!”

  They reached the rim, the 13 forms in red fanning out. Arlo took Carmen by the right shoulder and led her toward the middle of the large clearing crowning the island.

  Carmen gasped. “Please! No!”

  “Be brave,” he advised.

  The clearing was man-made, 20 yards in diameter, and bathed in the additional glow of a half-dozen braziers positioned at regular intervals around the edge. Flickering embers drifted skyward from the metal-receptacles. Flat, knee-high granite pedestals encircled a low marble slab situated in the center.

  Carmen tensed and halted.

  “There’s no resisting,” Arlo stated, pulling her toward the marble slab.

  “This can’t be happening to me!” Carmen mumbled in a daze.

  A pair of red-robed forms walked over to assist Arlo, one taking Carmen’s left arm, the other her right, and as Arlo stepped aside they dragged her to the slab.

  “Please!” she whined. “I’m begging you!”

  “Save you breath,” Arlo said, following them. “You’ll need it.”

  Each of the figures in red was stepping onto one of the kneehigh, square granite pedestals. The pair holding Carmen stood her upright next to the slab, then turned and dutifully climbed onto their pedestals. Every pedestal was spaced a precise distance of seven feet from the marble. Only one was left unoccupied, the pedestal to Arlo’s rear. He stood to the right of Carmen, his hood facing the slab.

  Carmen began to tremble. “Please, Arlo!”

  “Stop it!” he barked. “You’ve sealed your fate! Now have the decency to meet it with dignity!”

  “I could make a deal,” Carmen said hopefully.

  “You have nothing to deal with,” Arlo assured her.

  The wind was picking up and shaking the leaves on the willows and the other trees.

  Carmen stared to the north. “How many do you think will come?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.

  “I don’t know,” Arlo said.

  “I hope Radnor isn’t one of them,” she commented. “He’s the worst of them.”

  “You cannot judge the Masters by our standards,” Arlo stated. “They are as different from us as night and day.”

  “Or mutants from humans,” Carmen noted.

  “Mutants will be with us forever,” Arlo opined. “World War Three saw to that.”

  “Maybe so,” Carmen said. “But how many humans serve mutant Masters? How many kiss mutant ass for a living?”

  “You’re being petty,” Arlo remarked stiffly. “You were willing to serve the Masters while it suited your purposes.” He paused, his hood swiveling toward her. “I once thought you had a good head on your shoulders, but I see now that you can’t accept reality. You can’t accept the world as it really is. You still mistakenly believe humans are the dominant species.”

  “We are,” Carmen said.

  “Oh? Is that why you served the Masters for eleven years?”

  “I wanted power,” Carmen admitted. “And the Masters reward those who serve them efficiently with ever-increasing power.”

  “You attained a position of power,” Arlo said, “but you abused your trust. You failed to place your position in its proper perspective. You were a servant, Carmen. A Dealer, true, but still a servant. And that’s as it should be. Eventually, all humankind will serve mutant rulers.”

  “You’re crazy,” Carmen mentioned.

  “Am I?” Arlo rejoined. “Take a good look at our world. World War Three unleashed incalculable amounts of radiation on the environment.

  The entire biological chain was affected. And radiation, old friend, inevitably causes mutations in living things. Scientists knew this. They experimented with deliberately producing mutant strains in their laboratories, both by genetic engineering and through controlled radiation exposure. One of the first mutants they created was a hairless cat—”

  “A hairless cat?”

  “That’s right. It cooed like a pigeon, wagged its tail just like a dog, and ate like a horse. Even its body temperature was higher than a normal feline. The scientists went on from there, of course, to develop many other mutations. And again, this was before the war.” Arlo stared at the moon.

  “World War Three transformed the planet into a mutant breeding ground. Whereas prior to the war a mutation might occur naturally in a species every one hundred thousand generations or so, the radiation unleashed by the nuclear weapons caused mutations in every species immediately after the war. Think of it! Every species was drastically affected simultaneously! And the mutations have been appearing ever since.”

  “One day the humans will wipe the mutants out,” Carmen said.

  “Never happen,” Arlo said, disagreeing. “There are too many mutants now. Both the wild ones—the two-headed bears and the six-legged alligators and the like— and the mutants stemming from human ancestry will be with us always.”

  “Were the Masters human once?”

  “No,” Arlo replied. “But ninety-four years ago the first Master was born to human parents. The parents must have consumed tainted radioactive substances, and the result was the formation of an embryo unlike any other ever known.” He chuckled.

  “You sound like you’re happy about it.”

  “I owe everything I am to the Masters,” Arlo said. “The birth of the first one was a monumental occasion.”

  Carmen scrutinized the trees lining the north side of the clearing and shuddered. “Where did the other six come from?”

  “The first Master’s human parents gave birth to a daughter a year later,” Arlo detailed.

  “Jarita?”

  Arlo nodded. “Jarita. She and Orm mated.”

  “Orm was the firstborn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Somehow I received the impression Radnor was the oldest,” Carmen commented. She was feeling grateful for the conversation. Anything was better than contemplating her inpending fate.

  “Radnor is the oldest son,” Arlo explained. “Then came Dimitri, Sapphira, Quartus, and Marva.”

  “I never knew,” Carmen said. “It’s impossible to guess their age by their appearance.” She glanced at Arlo. “You seem to know everything about them.”

  “Orm trusts me,” Arlo stated proudly. “Physically, they’re different from us. But they have the same emotional needs. They can be our friends.”

  Carmen snorted. “Now who’s not facing reality?”

  “You simply don’t understand them,” Arlo said. “You never did. Look at what they’ve accomplished. A handful of mutants have subjugated the southern third of what was once the state of Florida. Seven mutants rule a hundred thousand humans! Amazing!”

  “Why are there only seven? Why didn’t they breed more?”

  “They tried,” Arlo answered. “But that’s the trouble with mutations, especially those created by excessive radiation. The mutants have difficulty procreating. Most of their offspring are stillborn. Even when they do give birth, the infants might be deformed or mutated more than the parents. Orm and Jarita were able to have five children. That was all. And Radnor and the others have been u
nable to continue the line. Orm once considered the idea of mating with humans, but they decided against it.”

  “Thank God,” Carmen remarked.

  Arlo straightened. “They will be coming soon.”

  Carmen pursed her lips. “Why did Orm’s parents let him live? If I had a child like him, I’d drown it.”

  “You would,” Arlo said testily. “Fortunately, Orm’s human parents couldn’t bring themselves to slay him. He must have been an adorable baby.”

  “Adorable!” Carmen declared, then laughed. “You’re worse than crazy!

  You’re really sick in the head! How can you call something like him adorable?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “The Masters are the pinnacle of mutant evolution. They’re more intelligent than humans, they’re stronger, and they’re more adaptable. We should feel privileged to serve them,” Arlo stated earnestly.

  Carmen stared at the marble slab and blanched. “I always thought they picked a strange name for their organization.”

  “The Dragons? What could be more appropriate?”

  There was a loud splashing from the north side of the island.

  Carmen jumped. “What was that?”

  “A fish or a gator,” Arlo said. “Maybe a turtle. Who knows?”

  Carmen tried to relax, an impossibility given the circumstances. She wiggled her fingers and flexed her arms to keep her circulation flowing.

  “Any chance of being untied?”

  “The Masters will untie you when the time comes,” Arlo said. His hood bobbed up and down as he studied her. “Since we’re being so honest with each other, maybe you’d see fit to set me straight.”

  “About what?”

  “Why, Carmen?” Arlo queried. “Why’d you do it?”

  Carmen frowned. “You hit the nail on the head earlier. I did it for wealth and power.”

  “But you already had wealth and power,” Arlo observed. “You were a Dealer in a prime district.”

  “It wasn’t enough,” Carmen said. “Once a person gets a taste of genuine power, they always want more. Power is addictive. I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted to be appointed to the inner circle, to become a Director. When they made you one, and not me, I realized I would have to increase my power base myself. That’s why I took the initiative and contacted Don Giorgio in Las Vegas.”