《sHe: THE RISE OF THE NEW BREED (BOOK 1)》


 The Death Of a Nation [Part 1 of 7]

    THE THREE GIRLS WERE LAUGHINGwhen they rode their bikes uphill. It was the same race, which they had every day on that stretch of the road when they returned home after school ¡ª Laura Jensen had always allowed either one of them to win and wanted no glory by beating them. She was after all the champion in the school swimming team ¡ª and these were her two best friends and her biggest supporters.


    The three of them were also known as ''The Farmers'' Sisters'' ¡ª and were often ribbed by many at school ¡ª but, it was no use feeling angry or ashamed about it, because their fathers were indeed simple agrarians ¡ª working daily on their bucolic cornfields outside Wellsville, Utah.


    Connie Pearlman and Haley Eastman were riding neck to neck ahead. They passed by fields of swaying corn on both sides in the afternoon breeze. Laura was tagging behind closely ¡ª and she was sure Haley, the leader of ''The Farmers'' Sisters'' would beat them both as always.


    Coming also from behind was a battered yellow, school bus that had younger children aboard, returning home to their farms after school. The nine-year-old Roberta was sitting in that bus, looking bored, chewing bits of paper and spitting on the hair of two sleeping girls in the front seat. All of a sudden, a boy came from behind ¡ª and yanked her ponytail. She stood up at once, and she immediately kicked him in the guts.


    She hated the ponytail she had, and wanted it to be cut off ¡ª so that she could be more like the other boys ¡ª but, her mother refused as she wanted her to be feminine like her older sister Laura Jensen.


    Still angry, Roberta was about to punch the fallen boy''s head again ¡ª then he cried out. "Robbie, wait! I saw Laura outside..."


    Roberta peered out of the bus window and saw the group of twelve-year-old racing ahead on their mountain bikes. A wicked smile shaped on her face. She took out a couple of pebbles from her pocket. She bit on one in between her teeth and loaded the other on her catapult. The bus rode pass the cycling older girls, Roberta propelled and slung the stones, to hit them twice...


    She particularly hated her sister''s friend, Haley Eastman ¡ª who often teased her and sometimes pinched her nipple through her blouse saying, that she would grow bosoms like a woman someday, even though Roberta wanted to remain a hoyden.


    The slingshots missed, but yet the spiteful tomboy still felt victorious, and she sneered back at her sister instead ¡ª yelling out from the transporting bus''s window...


    "I am going to reach home before you, Laura!"


    The two sisters were totally different. Roberta had rivalled Laura all the years growing up together. This was because Laura was her mother''s favourite ¡ª as for her father ¡ª he was too busy working out there on his farm. Indeed, too occupied to pay attention to any of his children at home.


    Roberta had always wanted to be the boy in the family ¡ª but, even that role was taken away when her twin brothers were born, two years ago...


    Today, she played her duty as the ''big brother'' to the toddlers.


    Haley Eastman laughed and yelled back, teasing Roberta that she missed hitting them. The bus overtook, accelerated uphill, blowing out black exhaust smoke. The three girls noticed the poster at the back of the bus, of the waving Senator Walter Rosewood from New York, who had recently won the presidential election.


    *This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    The three girls were still laughing on an innocuous conversation about the boys in their class while riding home through on a short cut. Laura was the quiet one among them and was even more subservient at home. She relished listening to their conversation, and the bantering between Connie and Haley.


    Although, when occasionally asked for her opinion, Laura would either stump them with her very over-analytical point of view, or it would be something that would really be off the tangent, thus, leading both her friends to tease her for being a daydreamer ¡ª or a mermaid princess living in her own world, at the bed of the swimming pool.


    They finally reached a forked road, Connie Pearlman and Haley Eastman waved goodbye to Laura, who had to take the other path home.


    Laura rode alone ¡ª and she gazed up at the tall trees on both sides of the serene path. It was a cooling stretch of shade to an itinerant, and she usually slowed down and immersed in the afternoon tranquillity with the surrounding sounds of the critters...


    While she was enjoying the halcyon, her eyes fell on a baby Robin, which was flipping on its back on the path ahead, and two adult birds flew away when her bicycle approached. She quickly stopped and picked up the tiny chordate and peered up at its swivel parents, which whizzed from one high perch branch to the next. Laura wanted to leave the baby bird under the tree ¡ª but, she was instantaneously distracted by the screeching sounds that happened all of a sudden ¡ª with hundreds of birds in distress...


    She looked back and saw flocks of birds of different species, flying towards her direction in mass departure. They were soaring just over her head, sensing an imminent danger and wanted to flee from the forest path...


    ''What was freaking them!!? Was there a predator nearby!!?''


    She then heard it too ¡ª a roaring distinct sound coming from behind her...


    Laura glanced over her shoulder to see the path behind was getting darker. She placed the baby bird into her breast pocket. Laura began to peddle to evacuate fast like the trepidation of the exodus of birds fleeing in front. The bumpy path made it rugged ¡ª peeking occasionally over her shoulder with her wide probing eyes while she peddled...


    Her mind was also screaming out that something was not right...


    The trail got darker as she cycled on the uneven route. Laura slowed down to glance fleetingly over her shoulder again, her searching eyes flared when the thundering sound kept getting even louder. Her senses guarded, repeating in her mind that something iniquitous was nearing fast...


    Her peddling then picked up speed again...


    The volume of the vociferating fathom with its gigantic and murky shadow crept up rapidly from behind her. Laura''s panting was in timing even while being affright ¡ª her legs were in a hard kicking motion, just like how she competed in the swimming pool in getting ahead to the finish line.


    Laura raced away from the ear-splitting strident noise...


    A terrified deer raced ahead of her on the dusty trail. Smaller shrubs were uprooted and cart-wheeled, almost grazing her. She wanted to scream in fear ¡ª but, she just could not submit...


    She looked down at her own trembling hands on the vibrating bike''s handlebar ¡ª before her bicycle was lifted off from the ground ¡ª both of her feet lost control ¡ª Laura spun in midair like a ragdoll before she was violently thrown into a nearby ditch...


    She was flat on her back when she saw the metallic mammoth shape, deserting from above her ¡ª majestically roaring while passing above the furiously shaking trees. A dark storm of dust, frond and branches followed it ¡ª and buried Laura ¡ª who had closed her eyes, and finally screamed back at the enraged ear-splitting noise from above...


    The Air-Tran Airways Boeing flew below the radar, right above the swaying tall trees tops ¡ª leaving a long snaking tail of yellow smoke.


    When she revived, the shadow had left ¡ª the skies were back clear again, suffusing the afternoon sun ¡ª the only distinct sound her buzzing ears heard was of the far away Boeing ¡ª ascending back to altitude. Laura was covered with dirt and was bleeding from scrapes and cuts. She staggered to stand up in the muddy ditch, catching relief breaths while she was climbing herself out.


    She peered around at the aftermath trail of broken branches on the dirt road. Her mountain-bike was on top of some shrubs, with the front wheel mangled. She looked up...


    Laura was mesmerized a moment by the silhouettes of the murmuration patterns flight of some species'' of the fleeing birds in the skies. Her eyes widened again, with another set of sounds coming from above ¡ª but, they were less ominous...


    She cupped her hand over her eyes, squinting towards the sun among the shattered treetops ¡ª three Army fighter jets were in hot pursuit, following the aerial trail of yellow smoke.

 Chapter 2

    THE DRIZZLING SKIES URGED MARTHA to hasten on removing the laundry from the clothesline. As she moved, the chain necklace given by her late father swung back and forth. She reminisced how he used to call her by ''Mimi'' like engraved onto the pendant.


    Now, she called Laura with that moniker.


    Meanwhile, Roberta sat on the porch and played with Jimmy and Johnny''s toys. The twin toddlers enjoyed being teased and ragged by her, who loved to act like an older brother. Roberta kept also looking at the farm''s gate, anxiously waiting for Laura to return.


    She was waiting to annoy her rivalled sister that she was the first to reach home. That was a sport, which she competed with Laura because she had no interest of her own to participate in any of the physical activities in school ¡ª as she was mildly obese, and she tired herself out fast.


    The only time, she ran in recent months was the day the school bus came late to pick the kids up. It was the day she had walked twenty yards from their front gate to the farmhouse when she noticed Laura was coming behind on her mountain-bike ¡ª Roberta started to dash to be the first to reach the porch, with the laughing Laura chasing her rotund sister.


    The nine-year-old tomboy then slipped and fell flat ¡ª scraped both her knees and elbows. She even later lied to her mother that Laura pushed her from behind ¡ª but Martha knew well of her canard of lies...


    Martha then had chided, that ''plump'' girls should not run because they were unstable on their feet ¡ª Roberta hated that remark ¡ª it was just as badgering as when her mother sometimes called her ''slow'' ¡ª in all her chores, studies and thinking ¡ª but, those days had long been forgotten ¡ª ever since Roberta had kept her record clean, by being the first to reach the porch every day after school ¡ª she had just wanted to prove to her mother that she was not slow in everything.


    Roberta tore the middle section of her notebook and folded up two small paper boats. Seconds before the rain turned heavy, Martha managed to rush towards the porch. She was greeted with the sight of her twins sailing the boats on a puddle by the wooden steps, as the older sister tried to sink them with her slingshots. Lightning accompanied by thunder roared in the distance ¡ª yet Laura still hasn''t returned.


    Soon more approaching thunderclaps were heard ¡ª and Martha was concerned about Laura.Stolen story; please report.


    "Robbie! Get those two in the house!" ordered the concerned mother. The girl looked back at her...


    "But Laura''s not back yet..." she quickly replied.


    As much as Roberta wanted to point out that the eldest one had wandered off with her two friends after school, but she knew that her mother would not buy that. She hated Haley Eastman especially ¡ª who pulled her ear that morning when she rebelled and was disrespectful to Laura at school.


    She was still waiting for the day for Laura to be lambasted at home for doing something blameworthy ¡ª but that day had never seemed to exist.


    *


    Laura limped and pushed her broken lurching bike in the heavy downpour, near her father''s corn farm. She looked up at the lone figure on a tractor in the fields ¡ª Herbert wore a poncho and was working hard turning the earth in the rain.


    The ablution had the dirt on her body washed away, but blood was still dribbling in diluted maroon from her cuts on her knee. She did not want to bother her father about her fall ¡ª nor say anything about the plane she saw earlier.


    She just wanted to go home to her mother.


    Laura then remembered something she kept in her pocket...


    Her fingers ran in, and gently took out the baby Robin that had died ¡ª probably, crushed from Laura falling into the ditch ¡ª she felt instant morose ¡ª and she stopped to bury it on the muddy soil nearby, before limping back home.


    Roberta was minding the ebullient twins, who were using long twigs to tow their paper boats in the puddles from the porch steps. She glanced up and saw her sister coming towards the main gate...


    "Mum, look, it is Laura!"


    Martha dropped the clothes that she was folding in a basket inside the house, and she came out fast to the porch. She saw her disorientated daughter pushing her broken bike in the heavy rain.


    Martha was nonplussed when she ran out towards Laura ¡ª while Roberta held back her screaming brothers, stopping them from following their mother in the teeming downpour.


    Laura''s eyes noticed her mother rushing over to her. She dropped the bike down when she heard her mother''s dulcet, concerned voice calling...


    "Mimi! Mimi, what happened to you? Did you fall?"


    Overwhelmed and shaken, Laura grabbed onto her and started to cry for duple reasons ¡ª like the terrifying plane encounter, and to the demise of the baby Robin. She hugged her tightly for a while, and Martha stroked her daughter''s quivering head to solace her.


    Roberta observed the two of them drenched in the rain from the porch. She now bitterly detested them both on the vindication that when she fell, her unfair mother nagged at her ¡ª but, when Laura hurt herself, she got a big hug instead...


    She deliberately released her repulsive grips in both hands ¡ª the two small boys ran out into the rain towards their mother and eldest sister ¡ª while Roberta stood dry alone on the porch, watching her abstruse family from afar.

 Chapter 3

    TORN POSTERS OF THE RECENT presidential election still waved all over the street walls. Life went back to business after the talks died off of how the older Rosewood had won the preordination, after the younger Senator Cory from Pennsylvania withdrew from the election race for an immorally and disgraceful scandal ¡ª and, he then killed himself at his home days later.


    In the New York City neighbourhood street, a portly old man in his sixties walked with a walking stick in one hand and a duffel bag in the other, that joined a tube to a full gas-face mask that he wore ¡ª Dr Boris Yankoff, a DNA stem-cell bioengineering scientist was inhaling from a mini EMS Oxygen kit.


    He was accompanied by his young female assistant, his former student ¡ª Sonia Petrof ¡ª who was pleading to him...


    "I think you should not mail it, Professor..."


    This choler the old man who was walking ahead of her...


    "Then what do you expect me to do, Sonia? What Mladic has done is totally detrimental, he damn used me ¡ª he took my thirty years of research and my discoveries, and the bastard perverted it by making a weapon of mass destruction!"


    "It is not proven yet. We can still run away back, and go, hide in Russia."


    She was terrified and only wanted a rout out...


    But Dr Yankoff felt that those purview words were coming from an ignorant child, and not from a fellow research scientist because she was rebuffing to see the repercussion damages from the wronging of his life''s works...


    The DNA research, which he had won a Nobel Prize for ¡ª had currently been incorporated by a certain flagitious pharmaceutical industrialist in Moscow ¡ª together with the Slovakian''s scientific influenza virus discovery, the Russian business-magnet, Mladic managed to create a super virus...


    "Remember this Sonia ¡ª that superfluous designed plague from now on is going to kill millions of innocent lives on this planet!"This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Sonia kept repeating that the effectual was not substantiated ¡ª but, the old man''s rancour countered her again...


    "What more proof do you want when I know what that miscreant Mladic is up to next ¡ª that greedy bastard wants to misuse science to play God, by killing the targeted male gender population, genetically here in North America and also in Western Europe...


    "... so that, he and his organization can conspicuously control the world with his pharmaceutical business with a vaccine cure. He must be stopped at all cause! And...


    "...and, that truth too, must be told out to the public, Sonia!"


    They both walked in front of an electronic store with television sets on display. Though Sonia cringed, she still persisted...


    "But what about the implication, Professor ¡ª we can all go to jail if you dispatch that video to the TV station."


    Yankoff knew she was fearful of the dilemma, but he had to be stanched and responsible ¡ª to both her ascetic-self and to the lifelong years of his research. He wished it would be better if the sooner Sonia could grasp about the whole male genocide cataclysm, that was to occur soon in this part of the world ¡ª and the last thing she should mawkishly be worried now was about going to prison.


    He still walked ahead of her ¡ª ranting back in Russian ¡ª probably, she would understand the superfluous dilemma better in their mother tongue.


    Dr Yankoff pulled out a brown package from his jacket and waved it at Sonia when he spoke back while pointing at TV sets in a display showroom of the store ¡ª that showed a plane crash ¡ªreported in the evening news...


    "See! You see that! It is already happening, and I can''t have that guilt in my conscious!


    "Before I die of that same damn virus, I will expose all the truth that is out there ¡ª and the world must know those evil deeds of that greedy and depraved Mikhail Mladic!


    "He is going to terminate millions of people now! So let those who bury their dead finally know of his depraved ambitions. Even those dying, who are about to be buried soon should deserve to know who is killing them ¡ª that it is Mikhail Mladic and not I ¡ª who is the imprudent murderer here!"


    The headstrong Dr Boris Yankoff paced over, and he dropped the brown package into a mailbox ¡ª with Sonia looking appalled in a disbelief horror.


    She heard his intrepid, stentorian voice calling out to keep up...


    "Come on, hurry up, Sonia, we have lots of work to do. We must find an alternative solution to this damn mess."


    They both walked away from the mail-box into the crowded street ¡ª to supervene on their pragmatic mission to exonerate their culpable flaws by saving the future of mankind from total extinction.

 Chapter 4

    THE NIGHT WAS COOLING after the rain had stopped at Jensen''s farmhouse. It was the only lustre in the pitch dark surrounding cornfields, and the next closest farm was the Eastman''s.


    Laura looked out of the window in reverie ¡ª thinking about her friends, after her mum had excused her from going to school for a couple of days until her biking injuries healed.


    What Laura eagerly wanted to tell Connie and Haley was about the plane that flew low over the trees just hours ago ¡ª which also elevated her mountain bike off the ground, tossing her into the ditch. But, would her best friends believe her or would they laugh at her?


    She did not even proffer about the incident to neither of her parents at home.


    Roberta was watching a musical reality talent-show on television, while her noisy, kid brothers were running around, chasing each other in the living room. Little Johnny, then went and grabbed the TV remote control on the couch and ran away with it. Roberta hollered back...


    "Hey, give me that!"


    The two-year-old brother snubbed her.


    Despite the Band-Aids plastered on the lesions on her knees, Laura had insisted that she would wash the dishes for Martha. Her dad had come home drenched an hour ago, looking much worn out and foiled by overworking in the rain...


    Laura knew that her mother wanted to tend to him.


    She later overheard her parents arguing behind the closed bedroom door ¡ª Herbert sounded troubled, saying that he was not getting the loan from the bank. That was why he could not hire farmhands to do the work in the fields ¡ª and now, he was doing everything by himself...


    Laura felt sorry for her dad and instead wished that she was born as his son so that she could help him out after school.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Her siblings were still fighting over the remote control in the living room. Little Johnny and Jimmy kept changing the channels ¡ª and Roberta was getting more miffed ¡ª and she yelled inimically...


    "Shit-you Johnny ¡ª give me that damn thing now!"


    The two-year-old echoed, equally fuming...


    "No! Sponge Bob!"


    "There is no stupid Sponge Bob at this hour, you dummy ¡ª give me back the remote control now!" Both her brothers were now chanting to remonstrate...


    "Sponge Bob! Sponge Bob!"


    The channels on the TV kept on changing before it landed on the national news station.


    Roberta outburst next, she got off the couch and she chased her kid brothers, who ran around shrieking. Laura''s attention shifted from her parents'' argument to her siblings'' racket ¡ª then to the news on TV in front of her...


    She stepped into the living room, wiping a plate in her hand and watched a news anchor in a medical mask reporting from the disaster of a plane crash. He was detailing on a freighter Boeing 717 that was earlier reported hijacked and then was shot down by the US Air force.


    It then crashed outside the dense suburbs of West Valley City, ten miles from Salt Lake City ¡ª killing the five suspected terrorists and the two hostage pilots abroad.


    Laura stood dumbfounded at that moment ¡ª that was the same plane that flew over her head four hours ago...


    The TV reporter included there was no report of fatalities on the ground, from the crash ¡ª but a local eyewitness stated that there was visible yellow smoke dispersing from the cargo section of the plane before it nosedived...


    Laura too saw that same yellow smoke earlier from that same plane.


    Further reports she heard were of a team of CDC Hazmat personnel who were investigating ¡ª and there was also no confirmation from the NSA, whether the yellow smoke was a biochemical attack on the American soil.


    Roberta observed Laura fixated by the news event...


    "Hey Laura, are you done?"


    She sneered with the snatched remote control in her hand ¡ª she wanted to get back to her musical show ¡ª but instead, Laura walked ahead, passing Roberta to the TV screen and she watched earnestly at the developments...


    Laura realized something malevolent was brewing across the country, by the suspicious coincident that she was witnessing ¡ª while, the present, unwitting Jensen household at home ¡ª who were either caught up with the daily money-problems or into comforts of their lives.


    The two TV presenters in a newsroom then spoke on more breaking news received on a similar incident in San Francisco, where similar yellow smoke was spotted after a warehouse explosion, which happened earlier.


    They took the viewers to live to the scene with their reporter Tony Vinca who was there...

 Chapter 5

    AT A WAREHOUSE IN DOWNTOWN San Francisco ¡ª a fully-suited, CDC Hazmat team arrived at the scene of the explosion. The area was cordoned by the stationed enforcements. The firemen crew had just put off the small blaze.


    The bomb squad unit soon coordinated with the Fire Department to break the locked front door of the warehouse. Nearby, the newsman, Tony Vinca was histrionically reporting live, among the growing number of onlookers behind him, who were contained by a small group of policemen...


    "Everything is chaotic here, and the Level-A Hazmat team seemed to be in control of the situation. I think, they want to enter the building to evaluate the situation of the yellow noxious smoke, which was seen coming from after the earlier explosion about an hour ago..."


    The two Hazmat personnel, who stood to wield their lab equipment beside the bomb-squad. They were at the front of the main door of the warehouse with some firemen ¡ª one of the firemen incised the chained padlock with a bolt-cutter...The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The heavy chain dropped on the ground ¡ª and the fireman opened the door...


    Three bomb-squad personnel stepped in ¡ª seconds later ¡ª someone took a stride to knock a trip-wire in the darkened and yellow foggy warehouse. It triggered a second explosion that ripped them out through the front door ¡ª killing all the men indoor.


    Tony Vinca who was reporting outside in the open, dropped on his four, shaken ¡ª before realizing that he was appearing craven on live TV.


    He then stood up with poise, brushing his knees...


    "Oh my God, this is really, horribly bad!"


    Vinca went on to his vigorous commentary on the explosive attack, and of the heroic, dead men on duty in the once again blazing building ¡ª with the deletion in his reporting of the lesser dramatic, yellow smoke fumes, which kept emitting around into the surroundings, in the streets of San Francisco.

 Chapter 6

    IT HAD BEEN TWO DAYS SINCE the attacks...


    In Wellsville, Herbert was on his tractor, turning the ground that morning. He looked wan and was coughing badly.


    Laura had been at home and had not gone to her classes since yesterday...


    She had been listening to every radio stations since ¡ª and even to the world news, during her house chores ¡ª she wrenched hard to understand the report spoken fast in the ''funny'' British accent, about the yellow fume attacks in London by the BBC ¡ª an art museum was now being sealed by the London police, with a high alert being issued in the city. BBC had also reported that there was an investigation by the Interpol to verify ¡ª if it was the same group of the terrorists ¡ª who were responsible for the similar attacks in some major cities in the United States.


    Roberta stepped into her parent''s bedroom, and she saw her mother Martha tending to both her little brothers ¡ª who were sick and burning with a high fever. The boys were groaning in queasiness and tears while shivering uncomfortably under the covers.


    Roberta started to fuss to get her mother''s attention...


    "Mum, I am not going to school today ¡ª let me stay back, and I will look after Johnny and Jimmy." Her mother refused flatly. Roberta contrasted on why Laura could stay back ¡ª despite knowing her sister had hurt her knee.


    Martha was now agitated. "No, you will not give me excuses, Roberta. You have done enough trouble by letting them play in the rain ¡ª if you have only listened to me ¡ª your brothers would not be sick now!"


    Roberta stormed out of the front door and saw Laura sweeping the porch ¡ª she went and stood on the foot of the steps. She spotted afar, her father on his tractor, and was contemplating to ask his permission to stay back at home.


    Laura sensed what her sister was intending to do ¡ª Laura cautioned her not to bother their father, who had a bigger burden to sort out about their future...


    Roberta turned to Laura ¡ª and bellicose aloud, stomping her feet...


    "So you get to stay at home, and I have to go to school. That is not fair!"


    Laura ignored her ¡ª and Roberta kept on venting...If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "I know Mum always takes your side, and she blames me for everything that happens here. She does not listen to me. Why should I go to school when half the boys in class are absent? Even the teachers, Mr Bailey and Mr Dixon are sick too ¡ª and there were no classes yesterday!"


    "It is that yellow smoke," Laura said out inadvertently at first.


    "What yellow smoke!!?" Roberta snapped back at her...


    Laura now wanted her sister to know the big secret, which she had kept from everyone at home ¡ª and even to her best friends, whom she had not seen for the past thirty-six hours. Laura started by revealing about the news on TV, two nights ago where the plane crashed ¡ª but Roberta would not have noticed it ¡ª when Roberta had switched the news station over to her musical talent-show...


    "The plane flew over here outside the farm ¡ª it flew so low that it threw me off the bike ¡ª and that was how I hurt myself." Roberta disbelieved her at once...


    "Hah, get out of here ¡ª it was raining and you slipped, and fell down like a silly bozo."


    "But Robbie, it is true ¡ª the plane was releasing yellow smoke at its tail ¡ª and that is, what is making everyone sick everywhere. Can''t you see Johnny and Jimmy are sick too, and so is everyone else at school?" Laura vindicated further...


    After watching and hearing the news, despite with information told they were still vague, Laura had pieced it all together to make sense to what was going on around in her reality ¡ª but again, will anyone believe her?


    "That is bullshit! Hah, now that is a perfect excuse for you to stay home, while I have to go to school alone," Roberta cynically mocked. "If that is true, Laura ¡ª why didn''t you tell this loony-tune plane story to Mum and Dad? Don''t they believe everything you say around here, hah Mimi? Just because you are older than me, they always believe your every stupid bullshit, isn''t that so, Mimi?"


    Roberta ridiculed Laura by mimicking her mother''s voice ¡ª especially when pronouncing Mimi ¡ª she hated that name ¡ª and probably was envious that her mother had not given it to her instead.


    But, Laura being older knew that both of her parents were having so many problems of their own ¡ª she even overheard that morning where Herbert was suggesting to Martha that he was going to sell a section of the farm to keep their family''s expenses afloat...


    "No Robbie, I just don''t want them to worry..."


    All of a sudden, both the girls looked up ¡ª they heard their mother''s screams from the bedroom. They rushed straight away into the house ¡ª Laura and Roberta were dismayed to discover that Johnny was having an epileptic seizure ¡ª and their mother was in a state of dread ¡ª Roberta rushed to her side. "Mum, what happened? What is going on?"


    "I don''t know! Oh God! Johnny!"


    Laura dashed out of the house, passing by her broken bicycle. She raced into the muddy, cornfield to inform Herbert about her brother. At a distance was the heavy-wheeled vehicle, which was not moving in a straight line. Laura called out to her father while chasing it ¡ª Laura soon caught up ¡ª and hopped on to the tractor. Hebert was lying face down on the steering wheel. She took hold of the vehicle, and she straightened him up...


    "Dad! Dad! Are you okay?"


    Herbert looked up at her, disorientated with a bleeding nose ¡ª he touched her face.


    "Laura, help me!"

 Chapter 7

    HERBERT RESTED ON THE BED, with a damp towel on his forehead, burning with a high fever. At a distinct outer, silky voices were heard singing a Gospel song. A few cars and pick-up trucks were parked in front of the Jensen''s farm-house.


    Outside in the open field, there was a group of twenty people gathered under an oak tree...


    Two, torpor youth shovelled and dropped dirt below; it slowly covered the two, small, indigent coffins of Johnny and Jimmy ¡ª that were laid to rest in peace.


    Martha looked distraught, seeing two of her baby sons being buried, while Roberta and Laura were hugging onto her sides and were crying while noticing the coffins that were almost covered with falling globs of the earth ...


    Three black women sang Ave Maria near them.


    Among the faces of the mourning people, were the men present, looking pale and anaemic ¡ª just as how Herbert was now ¡ª lying helpless on his bed, medically affected by the mutilating, killer virus ¡ª that was playing an equal role of an invisible God with its omnipresence felt in the atmosphere.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    It had even made Herbert, too ill at hand to go to his own sons'' funeral.


    *


    Laura walked her mother into the house with the other folks, who included the parents of Connie and Haley, walking away from the oak tree. Some of the people began to leave in their vehicles...


    That was also the last time, Laura saw her best-friends, who came in at that brief moment for the twins'' funeral ¡ª ''The Farmer Sisters'' ¡ª were later separated for many long years, from that day onwards.


    *


    The amber sunset hung at the horizon, and Roberta stood alone looking at the wooden cross with both Johnny and Jimmy''s names carved on it. She placed her hand into her pocket and took out a small object, and placed it on the cross...


    A Sponge Bob, plastic toy.


    When no one was looking at her, Roberta sank on her knees and sobbed bitterly. All of her fingers were buried into the grave''s loose soil ¡ª as the big ''brother'' mourned.

 Chapter 8

    AT THE SITUATION ROOM TABLE in the Whitehouse, men argued in deciding the fate of the victims, of the attacked cities in the west-coast ¡ª both the Joint Chief of Staff Chairman, General Taylor and the Director of National Economics, John Greenhill were in a verbal dispute...


    They were both trying to get the attention of the seventy-four years old newly elected Commander in chief ¡ª President Walter Rosewood, who was staring blankly at a huge TV screen, with a paused still-image of the self-confession video of Dr Boris Yankoff.


    The old man was pretending to be imperturbable ¡ª but, the real fact was that he was befuddled in thoughts of handling his first major national crisis, after a month becoming the steward of the land.


    "But, we already have the CIA and other agencies working with the Russian government to hunt down the industrial terrorist Mikhail Mladic back in Moscow ¡ª and we also have dragnet for the whereabouts of Dr Yankoff, who is here in hiding in the US."


    John Greenhill informed while he pointed at the TV screen, as he continued...


    "That scientist is somewhere now in the dark, back in New York; despite coming out as a whistleblower with this video confession recording ¡ª the DHS still believes that he is a prime suspect ¡ª and the culprit, who was also a part of the terrorist group conspiracy in Russia...


    "Even, Langley too has named him now as one of the most wanted in its manhunt list!"


    But, General Taylor was irritated with his vague and penurious information...


    "Greenhill, we are beyond that at this current stage. We can''t be wasting time pinpointing who is to be blamed when that damn virus is spreading rampantly ¡ª with the current immense death rate damage is catastrophically alarming ¡ª it is time for us to go in and save lives!


    "We need to call for an immediate evacuation now!"


    The Army General noticed that the old President was not attentive ¡ª who was still staring at the TV screen in reverie, like a deer to the headlights of a car.


    Greenhill next figured out, that the mass demotion decision would cause a major panic nationwide, he argued that things could be self-contained ¡ª by sending medical supplies to the affected areas ¡ª which would be cost-effective and would only cost a fraction of the taxpayers'' money.


    The economist wanted the resources to be focused on the CIA and FBI instead, based on the confession video Intel ¡ª with the Feds doing their task with the investigation at hand, to bring political justice in exposing the foreign traitors of the scientific community working in America. It will also be the world''s marketing campaign ¡ª to promote the newly elected President Rosewood ¡ª in his homeland''s role towards world justice.


    General Taylor became agitated again by him, and picked the brown envelope in which Dr Yankoff''s video came in ¡ª and tossed it ¡ª it slid across the long table towards Greenhill...


    "You call this fucking Intel, Greenhill? We got it from a TV station, for Christ sake!


    "Right now as we argue here ¡ª they would have already aired that video by now ¡ª and the nationwide panic of this biochemical attack has already begun!


    "So, a mass evacuation is still the best alternative in this dire situation!"


    Everyone''s eyeballs that had been trained on a contrite messenger who interrupted ¡ª who entered the situation room ¡ª everyone recognized the cross-dressed, gay man ¡ª who was in the administration, as the personal assistant to the First Lady...


    He whispered something into the President''s ear, the old Rosewood nodded ¡ª and the messenger left the room.


    Greenhill rationalized further and stood firm...


    "That will be chaotic, General Taylor ¡ª and also how on earth are we going to do that?


    "We don''t have the means to evacuate every citizen from eight different cities that have been attacked in those six states, so far! That is close to a massive fifteen million people out there ¡ª and let''s be objective here, with that size of the operation ¡ª it will take several weeks to mobilize it!"


    The ardent General ignored him and stooped his head low ¡ª to connect his view to Rosewood...


    "But we can''t leave them behind to die, Mr President. The hospitals over there are piling up with the death of older men and children ¡ª mainly boys ¡ª and there are also with countless hundreds of stillbirth babies at maternity wards too ¡ª which are all affected by those yellow diabolic fumes."Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Rosewood still remained silent from the argument.


    "What I am saying is that those who want to survive the virus will need to evacuate soon ¡ª and we owe that to them...


    "So what is your decision, Mr President?"


    It took a moment for the President to finally start speaking, especially from the building up of stress into his ageing geriatrics...


    "But, how are these evacuations going to happen, General Taylor?"


    The sagacious Joint Chief of Staff Chairman briefed him of the operation in using all relocation means possible ¡ª by air, sea and road ¡ª but, with the current logistics, time constraints and resources ¡ª but, ninety per cent of the evacuees would still have to travel by land in their own vehicles.


    He added that the US Army would marshal the entire journey with checkpoints set-ups to assist the efficiency of the evacuation flow ¡ª the willing travellers would also be provided with the provision of food, medical assistance and gasoline for their vehicles; until they finally reached their destination in the east coast.


    "If we act now, there is a likelihood that sixty per cent of the fifteen million lives can be saved, Mr President." Taylor elucidated probability.


    The entire operation proposition took a momentous moment to digest ¡ª and Rosewood then thought of the divinity instead, and the old man finally spoke...


    "Funny, this coincidently reminds me of the book of Exodus ¡ª where the great prophet Moses did a similar cause of action at his time of crisis, to migrate the masses from certain death...


    "...it was tyranny then ¡ª and it is terrorism today."


    The old man stood up and eventually, caprice his orders...


    "General Taylor will see to the immediate effect of this operation ¡ª with him in command with the backing support from the NSA.


    "Also, set up a press conference later ¡ª and I will have to be transparent on this, and let the general public know that we are doing something in handling the crisis...


    "Excuse me, gentlemen."


    While gathering his papers, John Greenhill looked dissatisfied by the surmised decisions that had been capitulated. He watched the ceded whim President exiting through the door of the situation room ¡ª running over to his wife...


    *


    The same effeminate messenger saw the President walking over, escorted by two Secret Service personnel. He was standing in front of the Oval Office door.


    "The First Lady awaits you, Sir."


    Walter Rosewood nodded, entering his office alone. Ann was in the far corner of the room on the cell phone, she waved at her husband and she continued her conversation.


    She had to truncate an emergency international Third World Children''s Welfare Conference held in Copenhagen so that she could return to Walter''s side for the current home domestic crisis ¡ª where after a couple of days of dealing with, the occurrence of massive death of children worldwide.


    The President poured himself double bourbon and swallowed it fast...


    He refilled a second and gulped it again. Ann noticed that he was inebriating himself, and she hung up her call. The president was about to replenish his glass again for his third, and his wife held his wrist. Walter then grabbed a bottle of mineral water in its place and settled on the couch. His wife spoke...


    "How bad is it, Walter?"


    The perplexed president rancour back softly. "A real disaster, I don''t know-how in this day and age, this country can be so vulnerable again since the 9/11 attack ¡ª I have just been elected a month ago, and this is what I get?" He shook his disheartened head...


    Ann Rosewood was briefed on the gist of the matters earlier, by the Secretary of State during her flight back to Washington from Europe. She then posed the question to her husband on the resolutions discussed in the situation room earlier...


    "What have you decided to do now, dear?"


    "Seriously, I don''t know, Ann ¡ª for the first time in my life, during the last few days, I am cornered, deep in the far end by irrepressible situations, where I don''t know what to do or say ¡ª things like, what if the virus attacks would soon reach the east-coast ¡ª then, will be even more millions of people falling ill, and dying here too?


    "Oh God, this is beyond me, and I really don''t know what I should do next..."


    His words were coated by both of his feelings of helplessness and hopelessness ¡ª even for the current president of a stalwart nation.


    "Don''t say that Walter ¡ª just keep doing the right thing, as always."


    Walter''s face had ashen by the alcohol effect ¡ª his voice shook when he gave her instructions...


    "Ann listen, if this pandemic continues, it will first kill all the male children and the older men (and who knows what next) ¡ª so, if anything happens to me ¡ª I want you to stay in office and finish the term! I want you to restore the order among the survivors ¡ª and, you do your best to bring things back to how it was before!" But, Ann then replied to her husband with nervous laughter...


    "Come on, don''t be silly Wally, nothing will happen to you..." But, her husband was dead serious, as he had devised a mission for her...


    "Ann, listen please, this is deadly important ¡ª the country needs someone who is caring and also, with integrity and honour ¡ª and it needs someone like you. If the entire male citizens come to an extinct ¡ª you must then step up in those times of uncertainty, and lead this country...


    "Ann, do you understand what I am saying?"


    She looked back dumbfounded with vanquishing thoughts of herself ¡ª presently pushing into her mid-sixties ¡ª and bewildered by the thoughts of her task, as a future leader in a country of the outlived women and their surviving female children.


    *


    Outside the Capitol Hill, an unidentified suspect stepped out of a Ford that was parked on an uphill slope. The hand-brake was disengaged and the car slowly went down in reverse before picking up momentum. A small statue of the Virgin Mary was on the pedestal on the car''s dashboard.


    At the road intersection, a speeding town bus rammed into the side of the backing Ford. The bus driver hit the brake to a screeching halt ¡ª but the car rolled a couple of times before it turned belly-up ¡ª with the miniature holy statue upside down.


    Pedestrians rushed to the scene of the accident to discover yellow smoke ¡ª seeping out of the trunk of the vehicle. It was followed by a lot of clamouring and panic from onlookers that afternoon at the east coast, with the biochemical attack that had finally breached into Washington D.C.

 Chapter 9

    A DISTINCT SOUND OF THE EVENING NEWS was coming from the television, the Puerto Rican maid gently removed an empty glass from her sleeping employer''s hand ¡ª Madeline Cory had drunk herself to sleep on the couch of her luxury mansion...


    This was what she did every day ¡ª watched the news, got depressed and drank herself to sleep.


    On the side-table, was a family photo frame with her recently deceased husband Senator Richard Cory with his teen daughter ¡ª Samantha, who was from his first marriage. There was an open page of a scrapbook with newspaper cuttings pasted, that revealed Madeline''s past of being married to the playboy-politician ¡ª who had recently killed himself after Walter Rosewood exposed his major political scandal.


    ''The undeserving, old bastard then won the presidential election...''


    Madeline presumed that ¡ª but in reality, after her ten years of ostentatious marriage, with the years of her supporting the politics of a man, whose greatest weakness was his infidelity with younger women ¡ª that had ultimately led to his overnight career downfall.


    Madeline Cory''s greatest regret was not to be the First Lady in the White House like Jacqueline Kennedy ¡ª someone, whom she idolized and modelled after since she married Richard ¡ª who was so close in winning the race ¡ª and was also the favourite to be the next president...


    But, Walter Rosewood succeeded in his own fraudulent ways to end it all for him ¡ª and even her...If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    That was why she watched the news ¡ª got depressed and drank more.


    Even her stepdaughter, Samantha had now been admitted in a drug rehabilitation program ¡ª she was dealing with her father''s death in her own way.


    In the parlour, the video of Dr Boris Yankoff''s confession was now televised nationally...


    The old scientist exposed his veracity and clarified openly...


    "What Mikhail Mlavic has done is a grave mistake by taking my genetic research, along with the recent influenza findings of some other scientists ¡ª and he has gone and built a chemical weapon of mass destruction."


    "The virus strain which that rouge Mikhail Mlavic created is dubbed as ¡ª ''The Medusa Virus...''


    "It will cause the genetic death of any male homo-sapiens species coming in contact with this airborne virus. It will cause severe influenza, followed by encephalitis ¡ª an inflammation of the brain and in this case, that will then slowly attack victims at the cellular level, in a matter of days it will leave them all dead...


    "In short, what I am saying is that the Medusa Virus will destroy the healthy immune system of the infected male''s stem cells in a rapid manner within days ¡ª with no present scientific cure to reverse it..."


    Yankoff then burst into sobs of contrition, to the fateful gravamen he had caused...


    "I am so sorry, I am partially to be blamed for the Russians misuse of my scientific discoveries ¡ª but rest is assured that I am going to further find a way to delay and immobilize the contagion process...


    "All I can ask, to whoever is watching me now ¡ª to pray that the virus will not spread that quickly. Please also pray hard that I will have enough time to create the right antidote in devising a vaccine, for a probable cure...


    "This is the very least I can do, for my mistakes for trusting my research in the hand of that depraved Mikael Mlavic...


    "May he soon rot in the depth of hell!"

 Chapter 10

    A BLACK VAN DROVE IN A LONELY, dusty side-road littered with scattered broken frond ¡ª it was the same path with tall trees where Laura had encountered the Boeing plane earlier that week. The government registered vehicle now passed by a lone stalled tractor in an open cornfield, before reaching the Jensen''s farmhouse.


    The van, with darkly tinted glass, then it stopped...


    The side door had a printed sign ¡ª US National Guard.


    The doors opened and three men in full-faced, Hazmat chemical suits alighted.


    The front door of the farmhouse opened, the xenophile natured Martha stepped out, and tagging behind her was Laura and Roberta...


    They witnessed the men present outside from the porch ¡ª the strangers were in some unaccustomed outfits.


    The man, with the clip file, spoke up...


    "Is this the Jensen''s property?"


    "Yes, we are the Jensens," Martha replied.


    One of the other, Hazmat guards was coughing severely inside his covered suit.


    The guard, with the clip file, acquainted...


    "We are from the National Guard Division, Ma''am, how many of your family members are still surviving at this very moment?"


    "Why? What is this regarding, Mister?"


    The curious mother asked ¡ª the man got terse after his dozen visits that hot afternoon in Wellsville in the suit...


    "You probably know there have been chemical attacks in the country? Now, there is going to be a mass evacuation all over the state of Utah."


    The parochial Martha nodded...


    "Yes, the Medusa Virus, we heard it on the TV..."


    It was actually Laura who explained to her the entire virus situation after the twins'' funeral. Even, Roberta felt slightly culpable for the pillory on Laura ¡ª and not believing her sister''s story earlier, about the virus.


    "Yes Ma''am, it is best for your family to evacuate soon, because we don''t know what will the further cause and effect of this virus will be like ¡ª so there is a group leaving at ten tomorrow morning from the meet-up point in the City Hall in Logan ¡ª there from Logan, they will all drive and join up with the other convoys, that are heading to Ohio, where it is safe zone over there...Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "If you are coming, please pack light with only some essentials."


    Herbert came barging out from the front door ¡ª and he pointed a shotgun at the National Guards.


    "Nobody is damn leaving anywhere! You can''t force us out of here ¡ª this is our land!"


    Martha started protesting by calling out her husband''s name loudly.


    All the guards pulled out their sidearm pistols and pointed back at Herbert...


    "Whoa Mister ¡ª nobody is forcing you out anywhere," assured the clip file guard.


    "So this is how you people trick us to give up our lands to the bank, by staging some hocus-pocus government experiment!!? Now get out of here!"


    Hebert reproved and cried out before he got into his coughing fits bout.


    "Calm down mister, we don''t know what you are talking about. We are just doing our jobs by coming here to inform you folks, about the evacuation tomorrow morning ¡ª but, it is entirely your choice if you wish to stay back ¡ª or make the decision to come along to Ohio."


    Laura stepped up, and she held Hebert''s shotgun barrel...


    "No, Dad! No."


    Her father now respired in ease, and he slowly lowered the rifle.


    Martha stepped to the edge of the porch...


    "Help us please, my husband is very ill."


    The guard elucidated...


    "Yes, Ma''am, and so are hundreds of others ¡ª but, we can only help those who will join us at Logan tomorrow ¡ª we have a medical team stationed there to help you if you would only come."


    Martha replied back to the roseate option to her family''s survival predicament...


    "Thank you, Sir, we will be there."


    Herbert then protested to his wife''s easily agreeing to the stranger''s decisions ...


    "Martha, we can''t leave the farm!"


    But Laura firmly explicated on her mother''s behalf, in array to him...


    "Dad, we have to!"


    "The virus is real ¡ª Johnny and Jimmy are gone because of it ¡ª and you are not well either...


    "...we can''t lose you too, Dad...."


    The coughing National Guard at the rear suddenly collapsed ¡ª and the other suited guard went to his aid by helping him back into the van.


    *


    It was dawn when Martha and her two daughters were saying their silent prayers, at the grave-plot of their deceased sons and brothers under the oak tree. They were dressed to leave the farmhouse. Roberta placed some flowers down by the elegiac cross that was raised on the ground just days ago...


    At the front of the house, Herbert was looking under the hood of his old sedan.


    He was breathing hard with respiratory problems, while he also noticed the rest of his family in the field, under the oak tree.


    Hebert in brevity, looked away ¡ª he refused to step into the field to visit the graves of his buried sons ¡ª his abnegation was still strong ¡ª and he could not accept the reality ¡ª that his boys were already dead and gone...


    Martha too had a sudden anxiety attack from her grieving, she then felt terrified at that moment. The woman dropped on her knees and started sobbing out mawkishly ¡ª while both her daughters watched her in the heartbreaking state...


    "I can''t do it, I can''t leave my babies behind ¡ª I just can''t ¡ª Johnny...Jimmy!"


    Laura and Roberta held onto her back.


    Laura comforted her...


    "We have to Mum ¡ª Dad is very sick too ¡ª we have to do it for him. Come, Mum, we have to go now."


    The girls both helped their finally acquiesce mother back on her feet -- before the three of them slowly walked wistfully away from the graves...


    The old Buick drove away from their farmhouse...


    Laura was in the car, looked at their house for one last time...


    She vowed in her heart that she would someday return back to her home.

 Chapter 11

    THE MASS EVACUATION WAS RENAMED as Operation Exodus by General Taylor ¡ª after his President had related it to the biblical homage of Moses'' plight. Majority of the survivors, who volunteered to travel from the six states affected by the Medusa Virus attacks, took east by road.


    The Jensens'' Buick was also along with the other cars, which were packed with other families and their household pets. All the vehicles were crawling in slow bumper-to-bumper pace under the supervision of the US Army. Convoys of hundreds of cars were in front and at the back of Herbert''s Buick ¡ª some were impatiently honking to get ahead.


    Five hours ago, Hebert received some medication and antibiotics shots for his influenza condition in Logan ¡ª and he then insisted that he drove the car, knowing that Martha had not been behind the wheels much since high school.


    Laura sat in the back-seat with Roberta ¡ª thinking of the kaleidoscope of events that had changed their lives since the virus attack ¡ª mostly about their safety, and also the wellbeing of her best friends whom she parted from without goodbyes...


    Neither did Laura see Haley and Connie at Logan earlier.


    The dejected Martha sat at the front passenger''s seat, clinging to a photo-frame of her dead sons towards her bosoms...


    Sadness and tears loomed in the car, whereas outside ¡ª it was totally chaotic.


    *


    In that jam, Laura peered out at a luxury BMW stalled by the side of the road. The male driver was unconscious behind the wheel. A pregnant woman, with her crying blond, toddler daughter in a red dress was outside the car...If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The woman was desperately trying to flag down passing cars for help...


    An old pickup stopped, with a young redneck and two women who stepped out ¡ª and they threw the indistinct driver out of the BMW. The screaming, pregnant woman soon put up a fight, but an older, stout woman struck her enceinte belly with a baseball bat, before smashing her skull...


    The two, hardened women cursed, and then drove away with the stolen BMW, with the redneck''s pickup leading the way. Laura and Roberta looked in horror to notice the hapless, blond girl in red, crying alone at the roadside with the vehicles passing by, with both the parents sprawled dead on the roadside.


    Laura broke down when realizing that she too had joined the lack of mores herd ¡ª by looking away to the other way ¡ª in the everybody-for-themselves belie situation...


    More elegiac tears flowed from Laura''s eyes ¡ª would the child too, die like the little Robin that she had failed to save?


    *


    An Army helicopter hovered over to have a bird''s-eye view of the miles of vehicles inching in the convoy on the interstate highway. Roberta was eating a cob of corn ¡ª looked up blas¨¦, at the helicopter in the sky.


    The others were listening to the radio broadcast. It updated on the nationwide evacuation and the terrorist attack reports in the past days ¡ª but the news concealed the recent biochemical attacks in the east-coast at Capitol Hill...


    That bit of information was suppressed from the evacuees for the greater good ¡ª to avoid further panic attacks among the hopeful migrants who were heading hopefully to the east.


    *


    It rained later that night, the traffic slowed back to a crawling pace again.


    Men in Hazmat suits were burning corpses in shallow pits by the roadside ¡ª despite Martha''s warning to both the girls to shut their eyes, from the grisly sight ¡ª but, Laura watched the horror of how scores of the dead males were disposed of after being dropped by a helicopter...


    Their bodies were burning in shallow dug up pits by the hundreds. They were those, who died by the viral infection ¡ª and others, in the road accidents during the evacuation.


    Laura then heard the gaunt Herbert in coughing fits in the driver''s seat ¡ª she prayed and hoped that her dad would survive the journey ¡ª for proper medical treatment in Ohio...


    She truly did not want him to succumb to the deadly virus ¡ª like how her two little brothers did.

 Chapter 12

    MARTHA BEGAN TO SPEAK MORE during the second day of the journey ¡ª looking back at her daughters in the back-seat, through the rear-view mirror...


    "When we reach Columbus at your Aunt Florence''s place, I want both of you to be in your best behaviour ¡ª especially you Roberta."


    Roberta had met her aunt some years back when she visited them at Wellsville. She did not like that person from the city, whom Roberta felt was even bossier than her own mother...


    "Why do we have to stay with her, I don''t like her one bit! Why can''t we get our own place there in Ohio ¡ª or, we can stay in a hotel, you know?"


    "You listen here, Roberta, we can''t afford to be choosy ¡ª and your Aunt Flo is the only one who has agreed to take us in," Martha retorted back at her daughter''s sass.


    The mother added that it is only temporary, and once everything was settled ¡ª they would go back home to their farm. She knew that was what her husband wanted to hear the most ¡ª about returning to his crops.


    Bored by the journey, Roberta emoted again aloud...


    "When will that happen? I miss my friends ¡ª I just want to go back to school!"


    Laura reposted at her haughty sister''s constant whining...


    "There is no school until this virus problem is over, you dummy!"


    This irritated Roberta, who sarcastically quibbled by mimicking Martha''s voice...


    "Don''t you miss school, Mimi? I bet your injured legs have healed by now, right Mimi?"


    "Shut up, Robbie!"


    Laura turned away to the window, back to her secede-self ¡ª she saw an overtaking truck with many Mexicans who were riding at the back. Most of the men looked sickly like her father. She then caught sight of a Mexican woman playing with ¡ª the little, blond girl in the red dress...


    The child turned Laura''s amort mood into a smile. The angelic, little, blond girl then turned and waved to her in the Buick ¡ª and it startled Laura in a good way before the Mexican truck accelerated further ahead.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Laura''s seraphic Robin had survived.


    *


    Masses of cars were parked in the Colorado Desert for the night, with hundreds of small campfires everywhere. Herbert coughed badly while he slept in the back-seat of his car. Martha fed her husband with some medication and water. She assuaged to relieve him before covering him with a blanket.


    Laura and Roberta walked pass rows of medical, makeshift tents that were attended to the sickly men, where flu shots were given to alleviate their miseries.


    The girls then passed a felicity group partying ¡ª hale, Black women were dancing to a blithe, hip-hop song from a car stereo while they entertained the men who were too stricken to join them ¡ª but they clapped, teased and cheered at their women.


    Laura and Roberta then joined at the back of the line to collect their food ration. The girls gawked at the people around them ¡ª Roberta looked uneasily at the crowd...


    "There are so many strangers whom I don''t recognize at all, Laura ¡ª where are the folks from Wellsville?"


    Laura replied that she did not know ¡ª and assumed that they were probably in a different group from theirs. Roberta then babbled about her class friends and named a half dozen boys'' names whom she missed hanging out with.


    Laura ignored her sister and went on people-watching ¡ª but, she too was thinking more of her best friends, whom she also missed to be with at that moment ¡ª reveries of her penchant of their weekend''s indolent outdoors ©¤ of their itinerant, outings activities on their bikes and swimming in the nearby lake.


    Roberta disrupted her sister''s Wellsville oneiric with a question...


    "Is it possible they are all already dead like Johnny and Jimmy, Laura? Those boys were sick before, and most of them were absent from class."


    "I really don''t know, Robbie ¡ª and I pray too that they are alright."


    Roberta then hoped that her friends were okay too ¡ª and were travelling in a different group. Laura nodded and then peeked at someone familiar ¡ª he laid on the ground with a critical condition that needed immediate medical attention.


    "Robbie, look ¡ª it is that man who stole the car the other day!"


    They saw the redneck, the one who attacked the rich-couple and stole the BMW ¡ª leaving the little, blond girl in the red dress stranded by the road all alone. The man was now sickly and he vomited blood. The two women with him were in a state of panic and called out around for help to the apathetic people around. A couple of medics in full protective Hazmat suits soon rushed over and pronounced him dead. Both the women wailed in grief. Laura gawked at the demised situation ¡ª not knowing that they were in the front of the line until a friendly Black cook in medical mask got their attention...


    "Don''t stare there, girls, come, here is some extra pudding. Eat up well, kiddies and sleep tight ¡ª your next meal will be 12 hours from now

 Chapter 13

    ON THE THIRD DAY, THEIR BUICK travelled down a spiral winding road, convoys of cars drove cautiously along the road that overlooked steep ravines and cliffs ¡ª with only steel guard-railings that separated between life and death...


    A car had earlier crashed on to the railing and plummeted down the cliff, leaving no survivors.


    Herbert was still coughing badly, and Martha offered him some of his medication but he refused it by saying that it would make him drowsy. Further down, there was another accident that occurred with a four-car pile-up ¡ª it blocked the traffic flow from the main convoy ahead. A group of men were helping the soldiers to move the crashed cars aside, and they aided the injured, to get the traffic mobilization flowing again.


    Many cars at the back in the halted convoy were honking impatiently...


    The Jensen family waited in the disorderly jam ahead ¡ª and Martha glanced at the back-seat...


    "The two of you, put on your mask." Laura obliged, but Roberta rejoined...


    "Why''s it for!!? The virus kills only boys and men, right Dad?"


    Even though she was not wearing one, Martha replied back...


    "You may never know ¡ª it might make girls sick too. Now don''t argue with me Robbie and put it on." But, Roberta ignored her.


    The pile-up was cleared moments later, and the cars started moving again. Most of them drove intolerantly, dangerously, exhorting to fast track in order to catch up with the main convoy which was now two miles ahead. This irritated the lassitude Herbert ¡ª he exclaimed to their inconsideration towards the safety of others...


    "Why are those fools driving like maniacs?"


    The accelerating cars and motorcycles begin to carelessly zigzag rapidly ¡ª and in the causative, an SUV rammed into the side of Jensen''s car while going downhill, causing Herbert to step hard on the brakes...


    The girls next screamed when their father lost control of their car ¡ª and the Buick rammed into the metal railing guard that separated the road from the escarpment ¡ª Herbert, who was not wearing his safety belt ¡ª had cracked his skull on the impact after hitting on the steering wheel. He died instantaneously with his eyes wide open.


    Seated beside him was Martha ¡ª dazed with a bleeding nose and broken lips. Laura and Roberta crawled up at the rear, onto the back-seat with some facial bruises.


    The car began to rock on the metal railing guard...


    Both the car''s front tires were hanging down towards the edge of the ravine. The Buick was ready to take a plunge down the cliff; the terrified Roberta was the first to cry out...


    "Dad, Mum!" She next glanced at her sister, crying out to her...


    "Laura, what do we do?"


    "Robbie, don''t move ¡ª don''t flinch, just stay really still."


    Laura peeked over at Herbert ¡ª her father was already dead ¡ª still, in the state of shock, she next gaped for a second at the panoramic full view ahead of the vast canyon through the cracked windshield. Then, her mother''s head moved ¡ª Laura anticipated that the groggy Martha was about to dread into a panic, by the situation they were in...


    Laura moved up, gently induced and placed her hand around Martha''s chest from behind, guiding her face away, from the affright sight of her dead husband.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    "Mum, please stay still!"


    She glanced at Roberta beside her, and once again she regained her fortitude by ordering her to open the door gingerly, to get off the car ¡ª but the terrified, nine-year-old reacted in tears...


    "No, I am scared, Laura ¡ª I can''t."


    Laura echoed assertively...


    "Robbie, listen to me ¡ª open the door now quick!"


    Roberta held her breath and unlocked the door handle cautiously ¡ª the car then rocked ¡ª Robbie screamed back, high pitched and stiffened her recreant back firmly on the back-seat ¡ª and her other frightful hand grabbed and tugged Laura''s tee-shirt collar tightly like a drowning man to a straw.


    The irked Laura then used her other hand in celerity, while she slowly pulled the seat-lever below¡ª and Martha''s seat reclined backwards tardily ¡ª the weight was balanced ¡ª and the car stopped seesawing...


    "Robbie, do it again, open the door slowly now ¡ª and get out!" she enjoined.


    Roberta senselessly ignored Laura''s instruction ¡ª instead she started bursting into tears...


    Her craven eyes darted for Martha''s in the rear-view mirror at the front seat ¡ª in a pesky voice she cried...


    "Mum, I am afraid, I don''t want to die like my friends at school..."


    Laura galled by her sister''s annoying whines ¡ª shouted at her...


    "You get out this instance Robbie ¡ª or else, I am going to slap you hard in the face!"


    Roberta opened the door gently, the car swayed slightly...


    Roberta mustered her courage and crawled out from the back seat ¡ª but, her other hand was still clenching tightly and tugging Laura''s tee-shirt along as she moved out and away ¡ª Laura in return, pinched her sister''s forearm hard until Roberta''s fearful gripping fingers released her tee-shirt...


    Roberta moved on her belly before she dropped out, landed on the hard and warm ground outside ¡ª she had knocked over a round metal cookie container that rolled out, and spewed the contents of the Jensen''s family''s photographs on the road.


    Bright and sunny outside, Roberta saw cars speeding behind her ¡ª but no one stopped to help them as she cried out ¡ª the Jensen''s photographs were flying all over from the traffic''s velocity.


    The Buick rocked again ¡ª Martha and Laura hugged, both held their breath and they froze ¡ª that balanced the stillness and made the car stable momentarily. Her mother looked into her eyes and cadged out...


    "Now go, Mimi ¡ª go save yourself."


    "No, we can do it ¡ª we both are leaving this car together, Mum."


    Laura was flushing roseate of fear when she gently opened her side of the door. Cautiously, placed the tip of her foot out ¡ª then the car shook again, but Laura slipped out of the Buick...


    Outside, she looked at seated Martha who was in tears, as she clutched tightly to her twin sons'' photo-frame towards her breasts...


    "Laura, go now and save yourself ¡ª and take care of Robbie."


    "No Mum, stay still, I will get you out."


    Laura reached in again ¡ª clutched Martha carefully towards the back-seat ¡ª the car begun to tilt downwards towards the cliff. Her mother cried out sharply...


    "No Mimi ¡ª save yourself!"


    Martha''s palm went up and pushed Laura''s face back forcefully...


    The car tilted more forward, while Laura mettled to lung back towards her mother. Laura''s panicky hand clawed to grab onto her mother''s neck ¡ª but instead, her fingers grabbed and snapped the ''Mimi'' pendant chain. But, Laura''s other resilient hand instinctively grabbed to clench the car door...


    The vehicle then fell off the cliff...


    Roberta screamed out in dread ¡ª seeing her entire family falling to their death ¡ª she scrambled up on her feet ¡ª and ran forward to the mangled escarpment railing ¡ª and saw the falling car slamming down at a ravine below ¡ª which had also broken Laura''s fall...


    "Mum! Laura! Mum!"


    Her doughty sister was thrown off further on to a lower ledge, while the old car continued to plunge more into a steep drop, into the waiting depths of the precipice...


    Some of Jensen''s family''s photographs fluttered down in the air with Buick...


    Laura sprawled flat on the rocky ledge with her eyes half-open...


    Clasped tightly in her right palm was Martha''s ''Mimi'' pendant chain ¡ª her vision soon blurred ¡ª but she could hear Roberta shouting out her name...


    It sounded like cheering echoes.


    She smiled, her half-shut eyes looking at the sapphire clear sky above that vaguely reminded her of the bottom of the blue water swimming pool floor ¡ª Laura was ahead of the rest of the swimmers ¡ª competing to reach the end of the finish line...


    Her eyes closed, with blood pooling around her head...


    Laura sank deep below, into the bed of the swimming pool floor ¡ª the cheering faded...


    In her mind''s eye, she saw the little, cherubic girl, in the red dress floating towards her...


    The child took her by the hand ¡ª they crossed over into an underwater white hallway ¡ª the little red Robin flew ahead of them, leaving a trail of bubbles...


    They drifted into an open, hoary door ¡ª that closed the moment when they all entered ¡ª into the bright light inside.

 Chapter 14

    DR JANE MORRIS, THE EPIDEMIOLOGIST SCIENTIST,  addressed the world medical delegates with a projector slide with credence statistics and graphs. She read from her keynotes ¡ª the speech was covered by television crews inside the Pan American Health Organization building in Washington D.C.


    "Our latest WHO statistics revealed that an average of thirty million of the male population is dying all around the world every day. The biochemical attack which first started in major cities in the United States soil has now spread to the other side of the world ¡ª after similar terrorist attacks were made in the western hemisphere.


    "The airborne virus known now as the Medusa Virus has been mutating in accelerated speed and has spread to every country and every city and town ¡ª and right up to the remotest villages, such as in Asia and Africa.


    "This shows that the air that we breathe is no longer safe for any human male species ¡ª but it is still unknown what side-effects it will have, on the female population in time to come. The virus, as you have known was a malice creation made by certain individuals, based from the deep stem cell bioengineering works of the Nobel Prize-winning scientist ¡ª Professor Dr Boris Yankoff ¡ª a DNA stem cell biologist, who descends from Russia and now is an American citizen ¡ª and he had also once worked as a consultant-scientist in the CDC," she reproached.


    There were some bellyaching heard from the flagrant crowd in the hall ¡ª but Dr Morris continued to give her speech after a short pause ¡ª but, the delegates still continued their private discussions loudly among themselves.


    "I repeat, his research as we have all followed in the media has been misused by a group of certain deviant Russian pharmaceutical magnet, and the Slovakian scientists, who have infused it into a combo of the avian influenza H5N1 and influenza, pandemic Spanish, swine flu ¡ª that resulted to this super-powered and deadly bio-contagion...


    "...which we now know it as, the Medusa Virus...


    "This deleterious mutation compound is causing an irreversible manner of effects by quickly killing the human male ¡ª by crippling their immune system through their exposure to the breathing air ¡ª but, on the other hand ¡ª it is sparing the lives of the female gender..."


    The TV camera panned into the crowd of delegates whose boisterous clamours that got even louder. Dr Morris stepped back from the podium when empty plastic water bottles were pelted at the stage.


    A female delegate from the Middle East wrestled to get the floor microphone from an official before she spoke out in a British accent...


    "I am Dr Khadijah Haroon and I want to speak on behalf of the Arab Nation of the Middle East. You said that this unholy, disgusting, swine-filled Medusa Virus attacks on the US were masterminded by the known Russian, pharmaceutical, magnet Mikhail Mladic...


    "My question is ¡ª why is he not brought to justice?


    "His counterpart too ¡ª the fellow Russian you American people harbour, that Dr Boris Yankoff ¡ª who is also at large here in the US, and he too is also not apprehended...


    "My question again is ¡ª why is the United States acting so carelessly slow in detaining this Russian terrorist organization ¡ª that is solely responsible for this global disastrous pandemic?"This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The delegates cheered in support of the dauntless woman''s censure ¡ª Dr Morris waited for their applauding to subside before speaking again...


    "I''m sorry, this is a not a medical-related question ¡ª and I am afraid I can''t answer that."


    The crowd booed and Morris spoke out louder...


    "But, I am sure, the relevant authorities will give you a satisfactory answer ¡ª but for now ¡ª we are here today ¡ª to discuss the health measures and medical implication of the Medusa Vi..."


    The Middle East delegate woman interrupted ¡ª and spoke even louder...


    "Yes, those will be some fabricated answers that are just like what we have all been hearing from your media, which always don''t make any sense. It is so clear that the Russians are using this virus as a WMD on America to gain a position in the Global Economy...


    "Now, the rest of the world is suffering from its ramification ¡ª but yet, not much has been heard about the action by your American government to counter it ¡ª other than your domestic horror-CNN news of the virus, televised daily..."


    *


    A frail-looking President Walter was on his deathbed, while his wife Ann spoon-fed him with clear soup. He gently blocked her hand away and watched the WHO debate on the big screen television in the bedroom.


    Tears rolled down from his eyes, and the old president of the superpower nation was coughing, while listening to Dr Khadijah Haroon on the air...


    She was tearing down the policies of his administration to shreds...


    "In the past, the American government had bombarded several Middle East countries without a blink of an eye for mere suspicion of terrorist activities ¡ª and even for false Weapons of Mass Destruction allegations!


    "Those counties were bombarded severely by your US drones ¡ª resulting with high fatality rates, by the loss of several hundreds of innocent lives per attack ¡ª until these counties, were reduced into war zone rubble...


    "Yet here today, we, the nations outside the United States are witnessing the cowardice country of yours, which is so afraid to take action against the big and mighty Russians...


    "So what is the US now trying to say here? It has double standards on the opponents it chooses?


    "Does your country only bullies and bombs the nations with weak and helpless brown people ¡ª you please answer me now, Dr Morris?"


    Dr Morris stood her ground and responded to the angry woman''s reproaching...


    "Once again, Doctor ¡ª Dr Khadijah, I am not in the liberty to answer that ¡ª because it is out of my scope of discussion."


    The majority of the delegates booed again and Dr Khadijah Haroon blatantly started to foment, by speaking in Arabic to the Middle East delegates, before she threw the microphone to the floor in choler...


    The assembled doctors cheered out louder and drummed on the tables in support...


    A male, German delegate, who wore a medical mask picked up the microphone, there was some feedback when he tapped on it before he spoke into it...


    "Dr Morris, I am Dr Karl Simmons and I would like to know ¡ª what the CDC''s status is currently in the medical investigation?"


    Dr Jane Morris reciprocated...


    "Yes doctor, the Centre of Disease Control and Prevention has been working on a 24-hour alert ¡ª and have so far, as I had mentioned ¡ª they had identified the nature of the Medusa Virus which is a combination of the H5N1 Virus fused into the Spanish Flu..."


    The impatient German countered in spurn when he heard her repetitious casuistry answers...


    "Yes-yes, we are all doctors gathered here ¡ª so stop getting textbook with us ¡ª now truthfully, tell us Dr Morris ¡ª has the CDC found a vaccine for a possible cure like the previous COVID-19 pandemic...?"


    ... to which Dr Morris replied...


    "This will take some time because this virus is one and the first of its kind ¡ª a lot of research will have to be conducted on the Medusa strains ¡ª before CDC can determine the next cause of action, which is the finding of the cure."


    An angry, male delegate from Malaysia choler out with animosity...


    "Every one of us will be dead by then, you fool!"


    More innocuous missiles were flung onto the centre stage, with the whole auditorium of flagrant delegates beginning to jeer back in dissatisfaction and hatred ¡ª it totally drowned the doctor''s voice.


    She inferred that her presence was only causing more hostility among the acrimonious international delegates.


    Dr Morris left the mutinous auditorium, accompanied by some watchful security guards.

 Chapter 15

    A HUGE MAKE-SHIFT, CUBICAL TENT made of transparent plastic was pumped with axenic oxygen by a roaring generator, in a secluded warehouse in Staten Island, New York. Inside the tent, were two other fellow scientists with Dr Boris Yankoff ¡ª they were finding for a cure to the Medusa Virus.


    They looked sickly despite the precautions to evade direct contact to the deviant atmosphere.


    Outside the tent, were six other female assistants and technicians on computers; analyzing the research of the contained three male scientists. Sonia Petrov and another African, female doctor stood and observed the trio looking into a microscope slide, projected on the monitor screen.


    Dr Yankoff punched the table in anger, and ribald in Russian...You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    "The fucking strand structure is so complexly designed and the enzyme has no effect! How the hell did those fucking Slovakian bastards come up with such an abstruse compound mapping ¡ª this is impenetrable strand is far complex than on the one from the pandemic COVID-19...!"


    This worried Sonia who was outside the tent ¡ª she still feared for being incriminated as an abettor to the entire global mess that had been happening over the month.


    The younger, fellow male colleague in the makeshift, oxygen tent suggested to the senior, Nobel Prize, awarded scientist...


    "Maybe we should work on the other theories that you suggested yesterday ¡ª there must be another way to beat the epidemiology rate, Dr Yankoff."


    The old man retorted back in rage...


    "But quick, we have to work fast! This virus is mutating so rapidly ¡ª and for every hour we lose ¡ª I see more blood on my hands...


    "That fucking Mladic, he did not understand what he had done when he released the virus contagion ¡ª this is far worse than a nuclear attack!"

 Chapter 16

    THE WARDROOM WAS SHARED by other three coma patients ¡ª plastic screens curtains separated the space in-between the three beds. On the corner of the room in the Riverside Methodist Hospital in Columbus, Ohio, was Laura''s bed that had a window view.


    Her head was heavily bandaged and both of her broken arms were in plaster-casts and were levitated. The younger sister, Roberta was sitting beside her bed and she toyed with her mother''s ''Mimi'' pendant, in the chain worn on Laura''s neck.


    She walked here every possible day to visit after attending her new school ¡ª she talked to her oblivion, older sister for an hour or two before she took the bus back to her Aunt''s Flo''s swanky condo on the other side of the city.


    "When are you going to come out from your coma, I miss talking to you? Yes, I really do, Laura ¡ª even though in the past, all we do was argue most of the time. I know, I have never listened to you, and that is why Mum and Dad liked you more than me ¡ª yeah, I know that ¡ª they even loved you a lot more too."


    Roberta had seen on a TV show about a coma patient who moved his fingers when spoken to ¡ª she waited for that sign and had not seen it on Laura after being a month in Ohio. She believed that someday it would happen ¡ª and all she had to do was to talk more positive things of encouragement to Laura ¡ª like reminding her of things back in Wellsville ¡ª but sometimes, the talks were more of a reflection in her own personal life...


    ... after losing her parents and her twin brothers in that span of a month.


    "Mum didn''t hate me though ¡ª but, she always kept on saying I am more like Dad. Mum always said I was always stubborn, who didn''t listen and I fought back," admitting to her own cavil nature.


    She knew Martha loved Laura more ¡ª and even called her ''Mimi'' ¡ª which used to make her covetous ¡ª Roberta teased in a funny voice, mimicking her mother...


    "Mimi-Mimi" So, you know why Mum calls you Mimi, right Laura?"


    She told the stories that their mother used to tell, about their late Grandpa Ferrell ¡ª whom neither Laura nor she had met; who used to call Martha as Mimi when she was little ¡ª and after he died, nobody called their mother by that name ¡ª so when Laura was born, her Mum nicknamed her as Mimi.


    "You remember that don''t you, Laura?"


    The nine years old Roberta kept looking at Laura''s motionless fingers ¡ª and that frustrated her at times...


    "Come on, show me a sign that you are listening ¡ª please move your fingers, Laura."


    Roberta curled herself on the chair with her feet up ¡ª sulked and spoke aloud of more frustrations for being there for more than a month in Columbus, Ohio...


    ''I''m all alone with that big, bitching mouth Aunt Flo...''


    Roberta hated the loneliness ¡ª and her only wish was that Laura would come out of her coma and be well again ¡ª so that the two of them can return home, to their dad''s farm in Wellsville and stay over there together.


    She hated the city ¡ª and the school she attended also ¡ª an abysmal with a classroom full of whiny girls after all the boys dropped out since the virus came and made them sick too. She missed the rough and tumbling games with the boys she knew back home ¡ª rather than playing with dolls at her age...


    She laughed when she recalled that Laura had two Barbie dolls that she kept for years, as her own childhood collection ¡ª one day after a fight with Laura at home ¡ª Roberta snipped the dolls'' hair off...


    "I remember you got so mad when your Barbie went bald, and you did not talk to me for a few days ¡ª but you did not complain to Mum ¡ª you just kept quiet!"


    Now, she was angry at herself ¡ª and also at Laura...


    "These are the things I don''t understand about you, Laura ¡ª things like you really don''t like me that much, but, you don''t complain ¡ª things like why on earth did you jump on that falling car? I clearly saw Mum pushing you out ¡ª but you jumped back in, and held on to the stupid car-door ¡ª and you all dropped down ¡ª boom!!?"


    She shook her head at Laura''s foolish bravery and realized that even if she was as old as Laura ¡ª she would not even have done that. After some deeper pondering, she nodded in realization ¡ª she finally understood her sister''s reaction in that split moment, in making that celerity decision...


    "Oh, I know now Laura, you jumped off that cliff, it was because you loved Mum a lot ¡ª and you wanted to save her even when you knew, you couldn''t ¡ª you were even willing to die for her..."


    Her tears flowed while Roberta professed the acumen of her own weakness...


    "I wish I was as brave as you, Laura ¡ª but I am not, I am so scared ¡ª even I am so afraid now, being all alone here in Ohio."


    She was sobbing even more with her face resting on Laura''s chest.


    She made a self-promise openly, that she would be more courageous and would protect her older sister because of her sister''s willingness to sacrifice herself to save their mother...


    "But you will never be alone ¡ª I am always here for you, Laura ¡ª you are the only one I have got left..."


    Her cell phone then rang...


    Roberta reached for it in the pocket of her jacket ¡ª that hung on the chair, which now fell on the floor. She wiped her tears and stepped out of the wardroom ¡ª leaving the jacket behind...Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Disaster called, when Roberta saw the name on display on her ringing phone ¡ª AUNT FLO ¡ª her father''s cousin, who was a single woman in her forties, working as a marketing executive in retail cooperation ¡ª she also lived with her two irritating and yapping toy-dogs.


    Roberta was in a snit that the woman had called ¡ª angrily, she slapped her palm hard on the wall before answering the call...


    The equally, annoying voice was nagging in chafe on the other side ¡ª demanding about Roberta''s whereabouts, after not returning home straight after school. Florence Jensen was piqued by her niece''s rebelliousness to her house rules that she wanted the girl to obey...


    "Do you know what time it is? It is almost 7 pm, and a girl like you should be home after school before it is dark ¡ª it is not safe to wander around in the city as you wish. Why can''t you stop being difficult for once Roberta, and listen to me? You should have been home ¡ª right here and right now ¡ª and having your dinner."


    Her harridan Aunt Flo usually asked the questions and answered them herself when she spoke ¡ª she went on about Roberta''s chores and responsibilities in the condo which they both have agreed upon ¡ª one of it was that Roberta fed the dogs after her dinner.


    Roberta controlled her temper even when she was rebuked ¡ª and she then finally uttered in a drone...


    "Aunt Flo, I am at the hospital ¡ª I am with Laura now."


    "Yes, I know where you are ¡ª I had called the desk, and Nurse Eker said you are there...


    "You even lied to her saying that I gave you permission to visit. What did I tell you the last time, that I will take you there for the visitation? Now here you are ¡ª a nine-year-old girl going out here and there, all alone ¡ª doing things as you like and please!"


    Roberta could also hear the yapping, hungry dogs in the background, joining in loudly.


    The girl broke off from her continence ¡ª vexed out aloud to remonstrate...


    "But it has been 2 days since I last saw Laura, and you are always busy at work!"


    Nurse Eker at the desk looked up ¡ª and so did a sickly, looking male, a Hispanic janitor who was mopping the floor, at the far corner of the corridor.


    "Of course, I am working, and some days I get real-busy, that''s why I am late in coming back ¡ª but, that is no excuse for a kid like you to wander off on your own at night. You get home now, Roberta! You are grounded!


    "From today onwards, you will not visit the hospital nor go off anywhere by yourself after school ¡ª without any adult supervision, is that understood?"


    Roberta flared inwardly, controlling her anger, and she reacted with her heel kicked back, trouncing the wall ¡ª leaving stains on the white wall. Roberta finally, uncontrollably yelled scathing back...


    "Why can''t you understand that Laura has no one but me ¡ª and that is why I have to be here with her!"


    Nurse Eker at her desk shushed her to keep her voice down in the ward. Roberta stormed angrily passing Nurse Eker, who stared at her going away towards the elevator, at the end of the corridor hallway.


    Janitor Monroe was coughing while he mopped the floor. Roberta stepped on the damp floor when she got into the elevator and left.


    The short Hispanic man looked up ahead ¡ª and then saw Nurse Eker picking up a file and was leaving her desk, to do her rounds on the floor.


    *


    Roberta stormed out from the front entrance of the hospital ¡ª heading towards the bus stop. She sat on the bench, panting in choler and waited for the next late bus on schedule. She then slapped her forehead after realizing that she had forgotten her jacket ¡ª left on the chair beside Laura''s bed.


    She mentally anticipated her aunt''s chastening for losing her belongings ¡ª to avoid the chagrin ¡ª Roberta turned back, but walked discomfited at a slower pace back to the hospital ¡ª the nine-year-old, too, was not in a hurry to go back to the condo and face the woman, whom she currently despised the most in the world.


    *


    The door opened, and janitor Monroe stepped in and closed it. He saw Laura in casts and bandages. He approached her bed and pulled the curtain to enclose the girl''s bed. He removed the blanket covering Laura''s legs, while his left hand caressed her, and his fingers went under Laura''s gown.


    The man unzipped his pants...


    He knew he will not survive the virus after witnessing all the male deaths around him in that hospital ¡ª before his own time was up now ¡ª he wanted to leave his ''seeds'' behind.


    *


    Roberta stepped out of the elevator, and she walked on the damp floor again, the janitor''s bucket and mop were near to the wall. She moved in the long hallway and reached the nurse''s desk ¡ª but, it too was vacant.


    No one was around there ¡ª Roberta made her way towards Laura''s wardroom...


    She opened the closed door. Roberta saw the plastic curtain drawn close around Laura''s bed. She stood a passing moment looking around, before she unsuspectingly grabbed hold of her fallen jacket, and moved forward to the door.


    Monroe was lying on top of Laura, his panicky eyes darted around inside the drawn curtain. He was also using his palm to cover his own mouth ¡ª to control his coughing...


    Roberta walked towards the door and placed her hand, turning the doorknob. She heard a faint gagging sound of a coarse male-cough in a room with three coma patients ¡ª it inveigled Roberta to turn back, slowly...


    She stepped towards Laura''s bed, and her hand touched the opaque curtain...


    Monroe immediately lunged forward from behind ¡ª and they both fell on the floor ¡ª knocking the side-bureau ¡ª a tall, metal, flower vase cylinder with artificial flowers bought by her Aunt Flo fell over...


    The vase rolled onto the marbled floor...


    Monroe covered the girl''s mouth...


    "Don''t tell on me! You, you cannot tell on me!"


    Roberta struggled with the sickly, short man who was on lying on top of her ¡ª she used her knee to pound his ribcage. He struck the fighting Roberta back with a weak sock...


    "You bitch! Please, you will not tell! You will not ¡ª or else, I will kill you!''


    He murmured threats, while he coughed on her face, his hands clasped over her mouth. Roberta''s hand sprang ¡ª clawed and gouged Hispanic man''s face. He dropped to his side screaming, and the plump Roberta picked herself up on her fours ¡ª she tried to escape towards the door...


    Monroe reached out, grabbed her ponytail, and Roberta fell backwards by the hard tug. Her panic-stricken hand searched the floor ¡ª and clasped on the metal vase. She swung it, and caught Monroe in the face...


    She repeatedly pounded Monroe on the head and face ¡ª droplets of blood splattered over on Laura''s face, the vinyl curtains, and the bedsheets and on the wall behind her...


    The man kept crying out loudly, in near-death agony, while the tomboy bludgeoned him in full rage.


    Nurse Eker heard the cries from outside and she rushed over ¡ª her eyes checking a row of closed ward room doors in the wing...


    Finally, she found the source of the disturbance, coming from the ward floor.


    Roberta dropped the metal vase, panting hard and she stood up drenched all over in the rapist''s blood. She walked to Laura who had the blood splats on her cheek ¡ª repetitively saying to her older sister...


    "God, Laura, what have I done?"


    She tried to scour it off ¡ª but the blood from her own trembling hand made it smear more on Laura''s face. The disoriented girl gave up cleaning up Laura. She sat amnestic on the chair, pulled her both quivering feet up towards her chest.


    The door opened, and the old nurse saw the dead janitor on the floor. She ran out from wardroom B-415, screamed in terror after her eyes fell on the disfigured dead hospital employee...


    His skull had cracked open, and his countenance caved in.

 Chapter 17

    MADELINE CORY WAS SIPPING HER GIN in her late husband''s study-room ¡ª looking out of the mansion window at the driveway ¡ª it was a quiet night ¡ª just like that night six weeks ago...


    Her coloured maid came in eagerly to notify...


    "Mrs Cory, it is in the news, ma''am ¡ª the American President just passed away a moment ago. Do you want me to switch on the television for you?"


    "No Susanna, please leave ¡ª I want to be alone."


    *


    Madeline continued to look out of the window and called to mind about the night ¡ª less than six weeks ago when she drove into that same driveway. She had to be with her circle of friends after an earlier belligerence argument with her husband, Richard that evening ¡ª who was forced to pull out of the presidential election after the secret sex-video scandal filmed in a hotel room that went viral ¡ª it was later used by Walter Rosewood, to abdicate him from the race.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Madeline was drunk when she reached home that very night...


    She opened the front door, heard the CNN aloud in the living room with the old man, Rosewood talking to reporters about Richard''s sex scandal with the young pop star ¡ª who performed in one of his fund-raiser campaigns. She switched off the television and tossed the remote aside...


    She walked up the stairs ¡ª reached the top floor, she saw her Puerto Rican maid, Susanna, kneeling in front of the opened door of her husband''s study room. The maid was looking up and reciting prayers aloud in Spanish...


    Madeline walked over towards the genuflected maid ¡ª  saw the sight of her husband hanging stiffly on a beam in the middle of the study room horrified her.


    *


    Madeline looked up at the beam where her husband had once hung dead ¡ª the abrasion of the struggling of the dying man''s rope had peeled the paint slightly.


    She drank up her gin and bitterly celebrated the present death of the old man Rosewood, who once openly muckraked her husband''s scandal ¡ª that barred her fading dreams of stepping into the White House, to be the First Lady...


    "Die, Mr President ¡ª Die!"

 Chapter 18

    A SHRINE WAS BUILT IN A PUBLIC PARK for late President Walter Rosewood ¡ª and the people of Columbus, Ohio paid their condolences, by placing flowers in front of the big photograph. The park overlooked the courthouse.


    Roberta with a black eye stood in front of the bench ¡ª in that rare occasion, she wore a dress that morning. Her Aunt Flo was beside her when the verdict was passed by Judge Mills...


    "Roberta Claire Jensen ¡ª on the grounds of self-defence, you are acquitted for the murder of Javier Monroe ¡ª when you tried to protect your sister, Laura Marie Jensen, the rape victim ¡ª from the deceased perpetrator, during the time of the intervention."


    Roberta would also have to attend psychiatric counselling twice a week at University Harding Hospital, for the trauma she had gone through...


    "Is that understood, young lady?"


    Roberta nodded timidly and turned, and smiled at her aunt who placed her hand on the shoulder of her genteel, dressed niece.


    "Good, you are a very brave girl, Roberta, remember that."


    The woman judge concluded before she hit the mallet to hear the next case.


    *


    Roberta and her aunt walked in the hallway of the courthouse, and they saw a seven-foot, tall, Black giant of a man, in heavy chains approaching. Eight, puny-sized, female police officers, some in aviator shades were accompanying him.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    He looked weak and pallid, dragging himself to walk, as he wheezed...


    "Why am I here? I need to be in a hospital, not the damn courthouse. I need my medication, officer ¡ª take me to the hospital, I can hardly breathe."


    "Shut up and walk, Parker!" The woman cop replied aloud to his protest.


    Florence Jensen shielded Roberta by pinning her closer to the wall ¡ª to let the prisoner and cops passed them...


    The Black man was agitated and his voice boomed...


    "No! I will not tolerate this discrimination ¡ª I am really sick and I insist right now, that I see a fucking doctor!"


    A policewoman used her baton to jab Parker''s back hard and barked at him...


    "Walk, you dumb Nigger!"


    He turned back and elbowed the cop, and she was sent flying backwards with a bloody erupted nose.


    The amuck man cried out...


    "You pigs! You will fucking pay for this!"


    The rest of the policewomen drew out their batons and struck the handcuffed Black man who was now on a rampage, slamming at them. Parker was in a rage, he hurled the cops around like rag dolls ¡ª one of them fell beside Roberta, who was squatting on the floor, clinging onto the screaming Florence Jensen...


    A cop on the floor shot a Taser which hit the giant''s leg.


    Parker cried out in pain, but he placed his forehead on to the wall to maintain his balance, with electrical probes sticking on his thigh. Two other cops expertly use their baton to hit Parker vigorously on the kneecaps, until he dropped with his face on the floor.


    More pint-sized, female cops jumped on him, to keep him down by further pounding at him in his back, shouting plebian racial slurs at him...


    "Please, I don''t want to die! I just want to see a doctor!"


    The injured and sickly Black man pleaded aloud to the uniformed aggressors...


    Roberta felt a similar rush, like her first roller coaster, ride back in her hometown at the Wellsville carnival...


    It was both frightening, yet very thrilling...


    She now yearned to be like one of those policewomen someday ¡ª holding the baton and clubbing the skull of her next kill ¡ª till it split open...


    Even though, the act of her first killing ¡ª at her age of nine, will always be her sweetest.

 Chapter 19

    A ROOM WITH TEN CHAIRS IN A CIRCLE ¡ª it was in the psychiatric counselling room, with many young teenaged girls mingling about ¡ª except for two, sang-froid, butch striplings in synthetic jackets, wished to be left alone from the others in the group.


    Both the churlish thirteen-year-olds were seated on the chairs, laughing out loudly jocular while looking at the most-watched video on the planet, on YouTube, on a tablet.


    Roxy Gillman, a White tribade, wearing black biker leather jacket with some facial piercing ¡ª she was with a Mulatto buddy who kept short blond dreadlocks ¡ª who also wore a similar biker jacket and went by the nickname Y.T.


    They were repeating a viral video over and over ¡ª laughing like crazy to the funniest video on the planet ¡ª which was less of three more million hits, to reach a billion viewers ¡ª on the YouTube portal.


    The video showed President Walter Rosewood''s funeral in the rain ¡ª with six sickly, male military, pallbearers carrying the casket. One of them slipped and the rest of them dropped the casket which rolled onto the grass.


    Both girls were waggish and guffawed again ¡ª and Roxy responded that she read some meme in Google+, that the late Walter Rosewood was the second-worst president in the US history, coming after the one known as the ''American Idiot.'' Both the boisterous teenagers laughed aloud again.


    They toned down to titters when the door opened ¡ª their psychiatrist Dr Norah Connors of University Harding Hospital entered the room ¡ª with Roberta ¡ª and the nine-year-old was then introduced to some other girls present.


    Roxy Gillman whispered, after having a hunch that she had seen Roberta from somewhere before ¡ª and Y.T. made a lowbrow remark, that she was Roxy''s long lost sister, whom her mother conceived for the money, by doing surrogate jobs for her crack habit.


    Roxy finally recalled who the girl was, and verbalized to YT''s face in a lower tone...


    "Wait a minute, she was on TV a couple of weeks ago ¡ª that is the kid who killed a fucking Mexican male nurse in some hospital here."


    Dr Connors introduced Roberta to the rest when they all settled down on their seats. Roberta felt extremely out of place, and nodded once and sat close beside the doctor. She was timorous ¡ª and kept looking down at her own feet ¡ª Y.T. sighed to Roxy...


    "What a retard for a killer ¡ª that probably runs in your redneck family too."


    The psychiatrist recapped their last meeting topic on having big dreams, because with the current employment situation after the extinction of the male gender ¡ª there would be lots of opportunities for the surviving female gender, to access into all kinds of jobs and careers, that was left open for them to fill up.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Dr Connors turned to Roberta and instigated her to participate...


    "Okay Roberta, what are your dreams ¡ª what do you want to be once you graduate someday?"


    Roberta looked down nervously, feeling that everyone from the city was scrutinizing her ¡ª someone who is so insignificant ¡ª from a farm in Wellsville, Utah ¡ª would hope to achieve someday.


    "Come on, you are among friends now, Roberta ¡ª the more you share with friends ¡ª the more support you will get from every one of us in here."


    Roberta managed to pull some courage, to voice out weakly towards the doctor''s ferment encouragement...


    "I... I, want to be a policewoman."


    Y.T. retorted instantly with loud laughter and subverted...


    "Whoa, she wanna be a white-pig! Now, how is that even remotely possible? Don''t you have a juvie-record or something ¡ª after killing that Mexican dude in that hospital?


    "Now tell me, Dr Connors, ain''t being racist here but how is that she got away with murder? Is it because she got a White free pass?"


    Even the Caucasian buddy Roxy, broke out laughing aloud ¡ª while the rest of the young patients looked at Roberta inversely, and they whispered among themselves.


    Roberta took umbrage ¡ª she felt really ill-fitting being in that room ¡ª and she left her chair. The giggling Roxy saw her running out of the room after the castigation.


    Dr Connors criticized Y.T.''s insensitivity and offending remarks, but the Mulatto made a comeback...


    "But Dr Connors, I am stating the all the facts here ¡ª look at her ¡ª can that pork-chop there really serve and protect? I will put my last dollar, that this bad-ass, redneck kid might have a better chance of turning up into one messed up, racist, serial-killer psycho someday in a classroom shootout!"


    Roxy guffawed hard again to her buddy''s humorous malediction.


    *


    Roberta sat on a bench in the park. The grass was tall, and the grounds were littered with not much of up keeping, since the lack of demand for menial jobs by women. Some pigeons on the grass approached to be fed.


    She took out a half-eaten, peanut-butter sandwich in a zip-locked plastic from her backpack; she pinched bits and fed the birds.


    Roxy and Y.T. approached her...


    "Hey Roberta, we both came here to apologize...


    "Sorry, we did not know your side of the story, until Dr Connors told us both just now ¡ª about what that spic motherfucker did to your sister...


    "We are really sorry, dude."


    Roberta did not acknowledge their empathy, she was still affronted ¡ª it was the same everywhere ¡ª the older girls just like Haley Eastman from Wellsville, who used to always bully her.


    She got up on her feet, and walked away ¡ª Y.T. tapped Roxy''s shoulder...


    "Forget it, Rox ¡ª let her be."


    But Roxy ignored her. She walked and paced beside Roberta, while Y.T. followed from behind. Roxy took out a pack of cigarettes and introduced herself...


    "I am Roxy Gillman by the way ¡ª do you want a smoke?"


    "I don''t do drugs."


    Roberta retaliated, while Roxy lighted up her fag...


    "No, it is not weed, just smokes."


    Roxy knew that she was a non-smoker ¡ª but, she needed an icebreaker to gain her trust.


    "It is legal. Cigarettes are sold everywhere ¡ª come, have one."


    Roberta looked at the pack before she took a stick. Roxy lighted it up with her Zippo for the rebel-girl ¡ª who was a potential subaltern gang recruitment.


    Roberta coughed after inhaling a puff, Roxy next introduced her buddy ¡ª Yolanda Travis...


    "This is Y.T. ¡ª why don''t you hang out with us, Roberta?"


    Roberta was instantly drawn, and enthralled by their panache appearance in their flamboyant, black jackets with gang emblems sewn-on ¡ª this was her only chance to hang out with older girls of Laura''s age ¡ª furthermore, they were also tomboys just like her.


    The nine-year-old took her hand...


    "It is Robbie ¡ª call me Robbie."

 Chapter 20

    ANN ROSEWOOD HAS ONE OF HER HAND RAISED, and the other on the bible, she repeated after the Chief Justice...


    "I, Anne Christine Rosewood do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of the President of the United States, and will do the best of my ability ¡ª to preserve, protect and defend the constitution of the United States ¡ª so help me God."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Cannons were fired with the huge crowd of female supporters cheering the inauguration of the country''s first female president in history.

 Chapter 21

    FLORENCE JENSEN WAS IN A DISTRESS STATE, she was in discussion with Laura''s doctor, Emma Rickman. It has now been six months since her niece was admitted as a coma patient. Outside the clear, office glass window was a slouching Roberta, feet on the waiting room couch ¡ª mindlessly flipping the health magazine pages.


    Roberta had changed her appearances some weeks ago ¡ª her ponytail had been chopped to a short crew cut ¡ª she wore a black motorcycle jacket like Roxy, with a stud piercing below her lower lip. She was listening to some classic heavy, death-metal music of the 90s on her iPod.


    She then stood up ¡ª vexed by sitting around too long, and she ditched the health magazine impatiently on the side table ¡ª she exited from the waiting room...


    She craved for a smoke ¡ª but it was a long walk to the parking lot of the hospital.


    She got into an elevator instead, suppressed a floor button hard with her jabbing thumb ¡ª while with her other hand, she was toying with a metal lighter ¡ª doing lighting trick-moves that Roxy taught her to do with a Zippo.


    Roberta stepped out while a Latina nurse entered into the elevator...


    She wished it was another Mexican janitor so that she could beat the life out of him...


    Roberta then passed the Nurse''s desk in the hallway, and Nurse Eker looked up with a slight surprise ¡ª at Roberta''s extremely pleasant voice...


    "Hi, good evening, Nurse Eker ¡ª I am going in to see Laura. My aunt will be coming up shortly, is that okay?"


    The old nurse nodded ¡ª the ten-year-old thanked her and left.


    The woman feared what that little murderous monster was capable of ¡ª she still could not forget that night, many months ago, when she found the dead janitor in wardroom B-415 ¡ª with the entire wardroom wall painted red with his own blood.


    *


    It pained Roberta each time in her visits when she opened the wardroom door ¡ª to the very sight of Laura''s selfsame comatose state. But these days, it raged her to see that her sister''s stomach had grown bigger ¡ª with the child of the rapist in it...


    Roberta managed to stay composed, and somehow she felt that she should not bring her furore into the room ¡ª it was negative energy ¡ª and she felt that the incognizant Laura could sense it too ¡ª Laura usually got a fever the following day.


    Roberta also believed that her elder sister was telepathically looking after her in her own enigmatic ways, from the other side ¡ª as it was also her mother Martha''s death-wish ¡ª that Laura should take care of her younger sister...


    Roberta closed the door and locked it...


    She walked straight to kiss her Laura''s forehead. She sat beside her and fiddled with the ''Mimi'' pendant that was worn on her sister, and she went on with her exuberant fake tone of voice ¡ª relating stories that she felt would cheer Laura up...


    "Hi, sorry I did not come to see you for a week ¡ª I got kinda busy in school ¡ª and also was hanging out more with the guys. Oh yes, they are super-cool dudes, Laura ¡ª you will love them because they are about your age."


    But, actually the excruciating sight of Laura''s pregnancy that had made Roberta''s visits to be less frequent these days ¡ª she rather de-stress herself by ignoring Laura''s condition ¡ª by hanging out with ''the guys'' after school or sometimes playing hooky...


    ''Her boys'' had made her part of their motorcycle gang...


    They had taken her to places where minors were barred ¡ª like to Duke Mercury ¡ª the underground dyke-bikers club, with live bands that played great flaming, heavy trash-metal music ¡ª it was certainly not the watered down, pop-rock music that she used to watch on reality TV shows back in Wellsville.


    She also narrated to Laura of how her blood-buddy, Roxy Gillman was going to start a real motorcycle club for their gang ¡ª the kind of bike she wished to own someday soon ¡ª and how Roxy was masterminding the plan, to find ways to pipeline the money to get their monster-bikes...This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Roberta had changed ¡ª and so had her tastes, her wants and dreams.


    Her enthusiasm in narrating her stories to Laura also made her nicotine craving even greater. She stood up antsy ¡ª and she accidentally knocked Laura''s medical chart file down...


    She recognized the signature of someone she despised the second most ¡ª Laura''s doctor, Emma Rickman ¡ª she kicked the chart file under the bed, and went to open the wardroom window...


    It had been more than half a year, since they both came here to Columbus, Ohio ¡ª Roberta would be ten-years-old next month but she smoked half a pack of cigarettes a day these days, and some weed occasionally ¡ª mainly out of boredom, and of her daily frustration at home ¡ª and also, the need to be seen as a cool-guy like her peers...


    After seeing Dr Emma Rickman''s signature on the bedside chart ¡ª ''that useless doctor,'' ¡ª it was really upsetting, she lighted up a Marlboro...


    "Don''t mind me smoking, yeah Laura? But come to think of it ¡ª the secondary smoke will do you good too ¡ª especially if it can kill the piece of crap that is growing in you."


    According to Roberta ¡ª Emma Rickman was just a dumb-fuck doctor, who had not made any progress since the day Laura was admitted ¡ª and yet her dim-witted, stupefied Aunt Flo listened to all the medical craps and excuses, that was prevaricated by that ''unqualified'' woman ¡ª whom in the opinion of the almost ten-year-old, might be a bogus doctor who was just chalking up the medical bills just to profit the hospital ¡ª and her stupid aunt paid them by taking up bank loans.


    Roberta stepped on the seat, and sat on top of the chair''s backrest with both her feet on the armrest ¡ª she continued blowing smoke while looking down at her elder sister''s stomach...


    "Damn, look at you ¡ª you don''t need this shit in your life right now, Laura...


    "I seriously wish there is some way the fucking doctors can kill it!


    "But, your doctor ¡ª that fucking Emma Rickman is totally, a useless fuck ¡ª and she is still against the idea of an abortion. Her lame-ass excuse is that, you are still too young and weak ¡ª and you may get into some fucking complication, just because you are in a coma...


    "Fuck that twat doctor! That is why they have let the cunting bastard, live inside you for now!"


    For months, her mind played of how she wished she could have killed Javier Monroe in the act before he ejaculated during the rape ¡ª and with that, Laura would not have become pregnant ¡ª but also on why, at that moment, she hesitated from returning back sooner to fetch her jacket?


    Her hesitation mistake of that night had also created this pregnancy mess it was now ¡ª it was entirely her fault for failing to protect Laura as she had promised before...


    She could not control her negative out bursting thoughts today ¡ª and she needed to vent her traumata ¡ª just like when her aunt ¡ª who was still getting on to her nerves at home...


    Even though they both lived there more as house-mates ¡ª but these days, she felt even lonelier and neglected ¡ª more like a domestic help in that condo ¡ª taking care of the house chores and her dogs after school ¡ª while that woman went out clubbing after work...


    She sighed deeply before sliding down and sat back normal, on the seat of the chair.


    Roberta gritted her teeth in anger of her frustrations ¡ª her fist went down to strike Laura''s belly ¡ª but stopped inches away ¡ª then, her voice boomed out...


    "Even if it is a baby girl, it is best to give it away, Laura!


    "I know your Aunt Flo is not the mum-like type, and she will not know how to fucking raise it. I bet she will probably feed your baby with dog chow ¡ª then, I will have to shop for a can-opener for the baby shower gift."


    Roberta''s wicked sniggers turned out to laughing aloud when she went over to throw the cigarette butt out of the window.


    She stood awhile with her elbow resting on the window sill while looking back at Laura ¡ª a recurring reminiscence started to playback in her memory...


    It was the day her mother died...


    *


    Roberta was in the back-seat of the Buick when Laura instructed her to get out of the car that was hanging at the edge of the cliff ¡ª but Roberta hesitated in fear ¡ª glanced into the rear-view mirror in tears, and her pleading eyes met Martha''s on it...


    "Mum, I am afraid."


    Laura finally managed to get Roberta crawling out of the car that swayed to and fro. Roberta then saw Martha pushing Laura away before the Buick began to slide downward ¡ª but, Laura leapt forward, grabbing the open door of the dropping car...


    It dragged Laura down the cliff when it fell...


    *


    Roberta was messed-up emotionally, seated on the wardroom floor, and was mawkishly crying aloud...


    "I hesitated and that was the cause for all of this ¡ª I hesitated, I guess Mum saw how afraid I was, and she sacrificed herself by not giving you the chance to save her..."


    She picked herself up and lurched unsteadily to the bedside, and looked at her sister in a coma...


    "Mum wanted you to be with me, Laura. If only I had listened to you and got off the car sooner, you would have saved Mum, and you would have been okay today ¡ª and even Mum too, she would be alive ¡ª it is entirely my fault..."


    She hugged Laura''s chest and cried, even more bitterly...


    "I am so sorry Laura ¡ª Mum, I am so sorry."


    Roberta carried this baggage of self-blame and guilt stigmas for a long time in her life...


    Despite her tough-guy appearance, deep down, she was still a lonely girl in that city.

 Chapter 22

    A WEEKLY MORBID DOCUMENTARY series called ''Funerals'' was the most popular television show on NBC that had very high ratings. It featured male funerals of the high profiles and male celebrities.


    Other segments in the show featured funerals around the world, where mourning women grieved in various nations and cultures ¡ª there were also episodes of global, cultural, burial ceremonies and funeral rituals from the laymen to royalties alike ¡ª such as the mass open grave burials in China to a single impoverished casket that was sardine-stacked with dead boys in poverty-stricken Peru.


    There was an episode on the concerns of lack of burial grounds in the west ¡ª protesting in nude, female tree-huggers societies in Europe, who wanted the dead males to be incinerated instead ¡ª the groups were arrested after they rioted naked by the thousands in the several major cities, and even, torched down coffin-making IKEA factories in Sweden.


    There were also Asian reports on custom-made bizarre geek coffins designs, popular in Japan ¡ª and to the weird anomaly episode such as the Macau cruise-liners funerals, which engaged strippers'' skin-shows for the dead rich-males before their bodies were sunk-buried at sea ¡ª with a ''final gala show-girls entertainment'' before the departed ''souls'' crossed over to the afterlife.


    The other stories that concerned many ¡ª were the rise of necrophilia fascination in pop-culture ¡ª and also the trend of bosom mastectomy, as the in-thing surgery among the lesbian neo-males community.


    When the television station announced that the week''s episode of the popular show would be rescheduled for live special broadcast ¡ª it angered many of its loyal viewers, who jammed up the TV station''s telephones lines.


    But, when the station made another announcement that Oprah would be appearing live in the special broadcast ¡ª the ratings instantly quadrupled.


    *


    Before the breaking news, a female TV show host made an introduction, by reporting the current, world''s population that had significantly plummeted in less than a year ever since the rampant spread of the biological, male genetic-killer feared as the Medusa Virus. The recent World Health Organization statistics showed that there was less than 3% of the male population were left remaining worldwide, with the death toll of millions of men still continuing to rise every day...


    She then ambiguously stated if this was the end of the human civilization race, which was a question the audience might have to ask themselves ¡ª but the TV host was quick to add, the optimistic news of the recent development of miracle happenings ¡ª where the phenomenon reports, of birth of ''male'' babies occurring in the recent days...


    The first accounted finding was in a hospital in New Delhi, India...


    ... where a premature ''baby boy'' was born...


    Days later, many other medical investigation reports were on other TV stations and social-media from all around Eastern Europe, Asia, South America and Africa...


    ... which also, gave similar claims of ''male'' children, birth happenings in the regions.


    The host of the show then adjoined...


    "Is this a miracle that the male species have found strength and resistance in their immune system to fight against the deadly Medusa Virus? We have the full special report from Oprah''s interview with Dr Jane Morris, the current head of Pan American Health Organization."


    *


    Dr Jane Morris was in a TV studio, sitting opposite to the talk show expert, who came out of retirement to make this exclusive interview...


    "So what is going on here, Dr Morris ¡ª has the virus weakened ¡ª so that the male species can be born and survive, grow up and repopulate the world again?"


    Morris replied in a low voice...


    "I am afraid that is not so...


    "The deadly Medusa Virus is still 100% active, despite our Healthy Organization have been fighting it, since the pandemic broke for almost a year  ¡ª and what has happened here in children births is a mutation effect ¡ª which has resulted in a third gender that can survive via breathing into the effected atmosphere, just like any of us females."If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Oprah was astonished, and the doctor elaborated further...


    "Yes, we have examined several of those birth-cases here ¡ª of those, from our local American babies, that were born days ago ¡ª and we have concluded that they are Intersexuals."


    Oprah clarified her doubts with Dr Morris statement on those Intersexual children...


    "You mean as in Hermaphrodites ¡ª like in certain reptiles, having both reproductive organs, is that so?"


    Dr Morris contradicted again...


    "Not at all ¡ª it is clearly a male species of origin by birth, but with congenital disorders. This is how we in the medical research field believed, it had happened ¡ª when the mother who conceived the sperm of the affected father of the Medusa Virus infection ¡ª their conceived child now developed by the merged chromosomal alteration of physical features ¡ª of both the father and the mother ¡ª resulting in an androgynous baby."


    Confused again, Oprah digested the explanation with a comparison...


    "So, is it similar to ''she-males'' of the pornography world?"


    Dr Morris smiled weakly, knowing such comparison would arise from any layperson hearing the conditional effect of the virus...


    "It is nothing like that also ¡ª they are all-natural ¡ª in fact, we projected that 90% of their genetic dominances are of a male, but..."


    Dr Morris took out her iPad tablet to simplify her explanation ¡ª which was hooked into a giant screen monitor in the TV studio...


    The screen showed a computer graphic image of a naked male baby, and the animation grew him graphically into a boy ¡ª and finally into a masculine adult in anatomy ¡ª but ¡ª the only female characteristic was the facial feature.


    "You mean to say that they will be beautiful looking men? That will be fascinating with two his-and-her mirrors in every household home," said Oprah jokingly.


    Then, the talk-show host asked about the new species'' intelligence level compared to an average of the now predicted extinct-male. Dr Morris elaborated that it was too early to determine that ¡ª but, future studies on the subjects would be conducted in their growing up years.


    "So can we say that there will be a future world of possibilities where the women and the Intersexual people will start to repopulate the world again ¡ª is that so, Dr Morris?"


    The doctor looked glum and shook her head slowly...


    "Actually, there will be more complications here ¡ª the Medusa Virus will still continue to kill any male child at childbirth...


    "...and we will still only get the female progeny parturition from any current pregnancy...


    "Furthermore, another bad news is that, when we tested the babies ¡ª and we found out that these Intersexual species are a ''freak of nature'' that cannot reproduce ¡ª their similar species on their own...


    "What I am saying is that ¡ª the Intersexuals will soon grow old and die eventually someday in the future ¡ª but, without fathering another one of their same Intersexual species...


    "...and when that happens, in the forthcoming years ¡ª it will be for the second time where the female species in the future days, who will be all alone like how we are facing now today, in the present-day world ¡ª with the death of the male species...


    "That''s what we had concluded in our recent preliminary medical findings, at this point of time ¡ª for now, what I see ¡ª this as a propitious hope to medical history, and also in the field of other sciences; especially when the Intersexuals come to age later in their lives...


    "While during their maturity, they can work closely with us ¡ª by donating their semen for the preservation ¡ª of the future female offspring generation...


    "In the meantime, our main focus will still be in combating the deadly Medusa Virus in the present atmosphere ¡ª once that can be reversed and be cured with a vaccine ¡ª then, normal genuine male babies can be born once again ...


    "...this is a far better alternative for everyone, to hope for in the future ¡ª when the real boys are back."


    Oprah then dolefully said...


    "It is so sad when you called the congenital Intersexuals as ''freaks of nature'' ¡ª who will only survive a single generation."


    The doctor then rationalized the recent bailiwick genetic findings...


    "Yes Oprah, since the beginning of time, the Law of Nature has not always been favourable...


    "...nor was forgiving to any of its communal of species ¡ª just like the dinosaurs that came to be, and are now extinct ...except for in movies, of course ¡ª so, it will be the same fate, it is coming for these Intersexuals freaks babies ¡ª who will be having a temporary existence of 50 to 70 years of mortality rate...


    "...but someday soon, they will simply be extinct too...


    "But, from a scientific point of view, with the Intersexual species'' co-existence for now...


    "...it is considered as a stead opportunity towards many scientific types of research that are yet to come, for the future preservation of womankind."


    *


    There was a world census statistic made the following year, which showed that there were only 45 million survivals of the one generation ''freaks of nature'' Intersexuals, who was born as a sub-population, globally ¡ª in the ratio comparison, to the existing majority of 3.2 billion women worldwide, since the Medusa Virus breakout.


    Out of the forty-five millions of these new-breeds birth globally ¡ª the United States was ranked as the 18th largest population with her 1.3 million Intersexuals ¡ª whose predominant ethnicity, were of Blacks and Hispanics.

 Chapter 23

    THE SCHOOL BELL RANG and female students were leaving the building. A few dykes in biker-leather jackets stepped out. Roberta was tagging along with the older girls. She had the gang associated emblem sewn on her jacket like the rest ¡ª they were joking and were into puerile jostles.


    Other school girls stepped aside ¡ª feeling intimidated by these growing dyke groups amidst, proclaimed themselves proudly as the ''neo-males'' ...


    Just like seen in that NBC''s ''Funerals'' show franchise, which was popular on TV worldwide ¡ªwhich will be cancelled soon once the last male was networked to be dead on the earth.


    Y.T. and another fellow, school-dropout gang member came running to them at the front gate ¡ª and told of a rival gang attack that was happening nearby, a few blocks away ¡ª it made all of the ''neo-males'' in the black-leather jackets run wildly into the street.


    The ten-year-old Roberta followed her peers from behind. She ran with the pack ¡ª but the fat-girl was the last amongst them to reach the back alley of a street. Seeing ahead, Roxy Gillman and a couple of their gang members were in a fistfight affray with a rival Latina butch gang, that was made up of older girls in their late teens.


    The black-leather-jacket cavalry had come to the rescue of Roxy Gillman ¡ª while Roberta froze behind with hesitation to join in. She had never been involved in any gang-related brawls before, other than beating up bullies of her age back in her former school in Wellsville, Utah¡ª those bullies were just punk boys who thought they could put her in her place among the majority of the weaker sex of the doll-playing girls...The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    But what Roberta was witnessing now in Columbus, was a different ball game ¡ª of older girls and women beating the bejesus out of each other.


    The bleeding Roxy Gillman was lambasted with the rain of blows by two tough, Hispanic female, street-bangers. One of them then locked Roxy''s arms from the back, while the other flipped out a switch-blade...


    The Latina approached menacingly towards her helpless rival...


    Roxy''s face was in fearful consternation because she could not break free from the grip behind...


    The dreadful blade was just a few steps away from stabbing her...


    The young Roberta stood contemplating among some of the disconcerted onlookers of the neighbourhood. She then picked up her courage, seeing her blood-buddy in the peril of death. Roberta bent to grab a rock nearby...


    She dashed forward and smashed the side of the head of the Latina dyke with the switch-blade ¡ª blood splattered, the Hispanic neo-male gangbanger dropped down incognizant on the tarmac, with a serious concussion.


    *


    The place was dark with broken roof tiles that streamed hard rays of sunlight inside ¡ª Roxy Gillman''s gang was nursing their wounds and injuries in that old abandoned warehouse. Their black jackets were ripped and stained with their rivals'' blood all over. A bottle of cheap liquor and a reefer joint was passed around...


    The majority of wild neo-male dykes were laughing away, celebrating their gang victory.


    Roxy went forward and hugged Roberta for saving her life and commended her to the rest ¡ª the ten-year-old from the small town of Wellsville finally earned her stripes in Columbus, city of Ohio...


    The initiation into the gang was one of the proudest moments of her life since then.

 Chapter 24

    PRESIDENT ANN ROSEWOOD ADDRESSED a large crowd on a Memorial Day speech. It was late evening; the vigil crowd held lighted candles. Her speech was broadcasted live nationwide...


    "Today, we have buried the last man on earth. He has left us forever and will only be there in our memories and also in our hearts. Those moments of physical interaction have now gone away ¡ª and we can only remember them in years to come, through the images in our family photo albums and the home videos stored inside our computer hard-drives ¡ª which resonates the past joys and sorrows, that we have personally spent with them in those brief moments together..."


    "Today, they are forever gone in-person ¡ª memories of only their names, as they were our fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, relatives, friends, boyfriends, lovers and all the other male acquaintances, whom we all had known of since they passed."


    Female members in the crowd ¡ª old and young ¡ª were crying openly, and were hugging each other in morose...


    "Today, we will all make a promise that they will not be entirely forgotten. In fact, we owe it to them that we will not give up on them ¡ª and, we will also keep the promise ¡ª of continuing efforts to find ways to bring them back again ¡ª back from our memories and into their actual physical being once again..."


    "We shall all gather and put our strength, our priorities, and our resources into a greater initiative to combat the killer Medusa Virus, from this Memorial Day forward. I truly believe with our collective effort ¡ª where we can finally find a cure to eradicate it ¡ª so that the male species will live again, and soon walk on this earth once more ¡ª and soon, co-exist again with us as they had once before."


    The gathered crowd salvo ¡ª they were invigorating to learn of their president''s future magnanimity vision of promise...Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "That is my tenet in promise to you all ¡ª that will also be my only mission in my office ¡ª which is to lead this country, with all of its rich and innovative platform of our western Medical Science and Technology, to fight and win our war against the Medusa Virus.


    "We, together as Americans ¡ª and together as sisters-in-arms ¡ª we will all work, hand in hand ¡ª and make this pledge and stand united, to achieve this single goal together!"


    The blissful crowd of lonely women cheered in approval again...


    Among the enraptured faces of the enthusiastic crowd was a sullen-looking Madeline Cory ¡ª secretly, glowering at the newly elected president on the stage with repulsion...


    She was in deep thoughts of her covet ambition...


    ''Why just settle to be a First Lady ¡ª when an incompetent simpleton wife of that Rosewood bastard can now be the leader of the nation?''


    Cory swore to have her crown soon.


    "Why I am confidently making this bold declaration is that ¡ª we are indeed a blessed nation ¡ª and now, I am pleased to say, that the saviours of mankind have arrived!"


    Dr Jane Morris and ten nurses walked from behind the President ¡ª each of them was carrying an Intersexual baby in their arms.


    Dr Morris handed a sleeping baby to the President who continued...


    "These saviours will buy us the time to find a solution to overcome the Medusa Virus challenge. These saviours are nowhere amongst us...


    "...and, they will keep our hopes on the male species alive!"


    The President lifted the shemale baby higher above her head to revel him to the crowd ¡ª so did the other nurses with the rest of the new-breed infants...


    "Behold the saviours of mankind!"


    The eyes of the week-old baby in the president''s hands opened and squinted at the flood of media''s photographers and the crowds'' cell phones'' lightning-like cameras flashes...


    All the babies then bawled out loudly in fright ¡ª to the thunderous blaring orchestra band performance that followed after...


    This was just the inception of the many of their other psychological and physical fears to come in their future ¡ª whilst they co-existed ¡ª amongst the current dominant species.


    "Behold the saviours of mankind!"

 THE ORPHANS [2 of 7]

    IT WAS TWO A.M. ¡ª and the torment had not ended.


    The woman was seated on a stool outside of the locked coal cellar door ¡ª she was reading passages of the Bible continuously for the past fourteen hours, to her seven-year-old prisoner behind the locked door. She only stopped once to refuel the oil in the lamp that aided her reading in the dark basement ¡ª she could not afford the cost of electricity ever since her pastor husband died.


    The mother and son did not have a bite to eat of anything since breakfast; as they were fasting for the spiritual Lent period. Sometimes, she would starve her son for the whole of Friday ¡ª as penitence for being born as a freak.


    The boy rapped the door once, it startled her reading...


    "Enough Mother! Give me something to eat. I am hungry..."


    The little voice pleaded, behind the door.


    "The Word of God is the nourishment to your soul, you greedy boy," she snapped back at him ¡ª and was about to go on reading from her holy book ¡ª but the child''s whiny voice persisted...


    "No Mother, give me some bread ¡ª I am really hungry."


    "You starve now!


    "You can indulge in gluttony when you are in hell ¡ª when you will dine in the banquet with your fellow diabolic demons ¡ª but, if you want to meet Jesus in Heaven ¡ª you must fast like the Lord when He was out in the wilderness...


    "Now, tell me, you freak, whose words will you obey ¡ª is it God''s Words or of the Devil''s?"


    The weeping hungry boy answered from behind the door...


    "I always obey God''s Words ¡ª but why do you keep me locked in the dark, Mother?"This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "It is because you refused to accept Jesus as your saviour ¡ª and you also, refuse to speak in tongues. Why is that!!?


    "Why don''t you speak the language of God''s angel, you abomination!!?"


    The boy peeked into the crack on the door. He saw the silhouette figure of a woman in her mid-twenties ¡ª wearing her besplashed nightgown and with long unkempt hair.


    "I can''t Mother, I can''t speak in tongues ¡ª I tried, but I can''t?" he answered.


    His words stung and furrowed her brow ¡ª she had failed her God to instil the sublime heavenly gifts to her prisoner since its birth ¡ª it made her even mad...


    "Then, you are a spawn of the Devil ¡ª because only a child of God will speak in tongues ¡ª now speak after me, you beast!"


    The woman started to speak in the state of glossolalia...


    Her nightgown then burst into combustion, and the flames were spreading upwards towards her face ¡ª melting the flesh to the skull ¡ª but she continued to utter the divine ancient lyrics in full ecstasy.


    The terrified boy''s voice cried out aloud, pounding the door from inside...


    "Don''t die, Mother ¡ª no, please don''t die!"


    *


    The shirtless twelve-years-old, bald-shaven boy was rudely awakened by his nightmare. His fingertips touched his own jagged facial cheek ¡ª and felt the numerous other scars ¡ª that he had received from the past abuses, for failing to speak in tongues...


    He also carried more scar-tissues all over on his back from the whipping he received then as a child from his mother ¡ª the lesions were the lessons taught to her freak-child ¡ª on the sufferings of Christ on Good Friday.


    He sat forward, trying hard to erase the thoughts of the night when it all happened...


    Those memories of the fiery tragedy which happened five years ago...


    He slipped into his monk-robe before leaving the bed.


    Clutching his foot wares in his hands, the monk-boy walked light-footed in the dark dormitory, passing rows of beds of other sleeping Intersexual boys.


    He was hoping not to arouse Michael up from his sleep; he always sensed that the fellow-monk, who seldom spoke to him ¡ª but, he was secretly observing his every move in the monastery.


    The monk-boy now treaded stealthy into the dark top floor corridor of the abbey building, which was beside the convent. He took the stairs down. His sandals plodded on the gravel path, in the misty night ¡ª he walked pass the rusted signboard ¡ª ''St. Mary''s Orphanage.''


    The abstruse scar-faced boy was drawn to the old cathedral in the vicinity ahead ¡ª it was where the ghost of his mother always awaited him.

 Chapter 2

    A BLACK SEDAN ESCORTED A LIMOUSINE that drove away from a private jet at Kellogg airport. Senator Madeline Cory was in the middle of her political campaign from state to state; now she was in Michigan with an apogee ambition to win the state over.


    There were two women with her in the limo ¡ª her trusted friend of many years Lucinda Gates ¡ª and, the other was Nina Schroeder, her speech-writer.


    Cory was upset and threw her speech papers in annoyance...


    "This is totally unacceptable! Why can''t they provide me with a chopper for my campaign? I am losing valuable time here ¡ª and I am going to be late!"


    Gates tried to calm her down; saying that the chopper that was promised by the state governor had broken down...


    "Calm down, Maddie, we can still make it to Lancing on time by road."


    "This is what I hate the most ¡ª damn excuses! It is a goddamn slap in the face each time! They should have then got me a replacement if that damn thing is broken!"


    *


    Two miles ahead, a rowdy crowd of President Rosewood''s supporters have blocked the road. They anticipated and were waiting to ambush the Senator''s arrival, with their anti-Cory chanting and were also frantically waving placards in their hands.


    A spy was in the crowd. She secretly called the chief bodyguard, Abby Blue ¡ª who was driving the vehicle ahead, escorting Cory''s limo. Abby Blue was advised to divert away from the troublemakers who were waiting onward ¡ª and she was then instructed to use the exit to Battle Creek and get out in Route 66. Cory''s bodyguard rogered the message, and now she would have a tough time to convince the old lady.


    Madeline Cory was fastidious and was a difficult employer, who yelled when things did not turn out to her outcome ¡ª though her staff understood that the Senator was having mood swings ¡ª since she was weaning from quitting her drinking habit.


    The speech-writer was directing Cory to follow the speech script because Michigan was considered as Rosewood''s territory ¡ª and the voters here were blindly loyal to her...


    "Your main focus of emphasis, Senator, should be the population that is greying ¡ª whereby, 40% of it being senior citizens making up the current statistics of 98 million women ¡ª but, in the next 5 years in the future ¡ª the numbers will drop to 85 million when more baby-boomers expire in the country."


    Lucinda Gates supported that casuistry and she was also reminding Cory that she should stress that message in her speech later in Lancing ¡ª so to let the supporters know that another term of President Ann Rosewood in office was a pure waste of time ¡ª because after twelve years of research with the massive spending of billions in dollars ¡ª but there was still no cure ¡ª to the omnipresence of the Medusa Virus in the atmosphere.


    After a distracting beep, the TV screen came on a video-conferencing mode, from bodyguard Abby Blue''s car to Cory''s limo...


    "Senator, the road ahead is blocked by Rosewood supporters ¡ª we need to take a detour."


    Madeline Cory hissed curses out...


    "Damn it, now this! This is pure sabotage ¡ª that fucking old hag is as dirty as her mudraking husband that he once was ¡ª and why can''t the damn local authorities clear the roads for our passage?


    "Now, we will be attacked by her bitch-protestors, and what more other shit later!"


    Nina Schroeder sighed and voiced softly under her breath...


    "Welcome to Rosewood''s territory."


    *


    Both the cars passed a broken-down indigent suburb with hovels which were occupied by lots of emaciated, greying, old citizens of Battle Creek. Some of the old, vagrant women were carrying buckets of potable water for their daily consumption ¡ª the living conditions had deteriorated since the tribulation from the virus.


    Nina Schroeder looked at the ageing denizens, and she strengthened their campaign''s prognosis...


    "This is what I am saying, the only activities these old folks here have are their daily survival and attending their neighbour''s funeral, Senator Cory. If you can keep driving this greying augment angle in all your campaign speeches ¡ª we will soon have the prolific crowd on our side."


    Cory was now quiet, observing the neighbourhood out from her window ¡ª she was then distracted by a ball-game across the street and also to the blaring out music. Both the cars passed a fenced basketball court where a large group of Black Intersexuals were playing an intense game ¡ª loud, hip-hop gangsta-music played from the boom box...Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    The plethora of street Intersexuals hoodlums boys ¡ª seemed to control the neighbourhood.


    The bodyguard, Abby Blue spotted a score of younger, Black females in their twenties, running across with the intention of blocking the road ahead of them. She alerted Cory''s limo driver on the radio...


    "Protesters! Quickly reverse the cars, turn back ¡ª we will use the next street."


    The cars transposed while the women outside pelted both the vehicles with garbage. Cory strafe to the rotting cabbage leaves splayed on the wind-shield...


    "Loyal, dumbass, partisan fools! I will get you all someday!"


    The Black kids stopped their basketball game and ran towards the female protesters. The athletic ones chased the cars for a distance but stopped after both the vehicles accelerated to turn to a different road ¡ª from their ramshackle Black-neighborhood in Battle Creek, Michigan.


    A couple of blocks across, a twelve-year-old White Intersexual peered from a park ¡ª and he saw the group of Black kids from another neighbourhood chasing the cars. The sedans came to an intersection ¡ª and now turned to a new street heading towards their park...


    Some section of the park ground had been converted to a cemetery ¡ª due to lack of burial space ¡ª the defiled tombstones with graffiti artwork were done by a small cadre of squalid Intersexual street artists, who were spraying the stones, in gaudy colours with their aerosol cans.


    The Leader-boy of the ''wiggers'' wolf-whistled ¡ª and his gang looked up at him pointing at the advancing cars ¡ª both vehicles were heading towards their direction. All of them followed their Leader, and the boys raced across the rows of tombstones, engaging in parkour stunts ¡ª they oriented fast towards the road to intercept the two black sedans...


    The Intersexual boys blocked the road, the cars halted abruptly.


    The eight wiggers-graffiti-boys scrutinized the dark tinted glass of the stalled cars ¡ª one tried to open the doors ¡ª but was locked. Another one of them made funny faces to the aboard occupant''s dark window of the vehicle before they all laughed robustly. Some Intersexuals started kicking the tires and drumming on the hood of the limo ¡ª while one of them used the camera video of his phone to record their escapade.


    Cory stared at the feral, androgynous boys from inside ¡ª it exasperated her when one of the boys pressed his exposed bare buttocks cheeks to the window where she was seated ¡ª leaving a brown stained spot...


    "Fucking animals!


    "They are no different than the men before ¡ª what they need are leashing around the necks, and whipped like animals," cursed Cory.


    The TV screen came on again, with Bodyguard Blue giving them some assurance...


    "Stay calm Senator, I will go out and see what I can do, to make them go away."


    Cory alerted her with a direct injunction...


    "Blue, don''t engage in any form of violence out there ¡ª because these are Rosewood''s puppies ¡ª if this incident leaks to the press, they will rip my political career apart."


    The TV screen went blank.


    Cory further grumbled, remembering the Rosewood''s Memorial Day speech, twelve years ago...


    "For three terms that senile bitch, Rosewood stayed in office ¡ª and has used these freaks to fool the American public. Look what they turn out to be!


    "Saviors of the world, my foot!"


    The women saw the door of the other car opened...


    Leader-boy and his right-hand buddy Number-2 walked over towards bodyguard Abby Blue, who confronted the adolescents...


    "Hey, what do you kids want? Why are you blocking the road?"


    Leader-boy responded patently...


    "This is our road, you wanna pass-thru'' ¡ª you pay us!"


    Number-2 seconded with his rapacious demand...


    "Yeah, bitch, pay us two hundred bucks ¡ª and us ''Niggas'' let you then pass."


    "Do you think you own this road? What if I don''t pay you?"


    "We will spray smileys'' on your snatch, bitch," replied Number-2, and he spurted a yellow spot on the window of the car ¡ª the unlawful action provoked the confounded bodyguard...


    Abby Blue instantaneously grabbed and yanked the boy''s arm with the aerosol can...


    "What? You still don''t wanna pay?" Leader-boy squirted a spot of paint on Blue''s suit. This further aggravated the woman in the black suit...


    "Hey, damn you!"


    Leader-boy challenged her. "What?"


    Leader-boy next spurt blue paint on Abby Blue''s face...


    The blinded bodyguard shoved Leader-boy away ¡ª and all the menacing twelve-year-olds surrounded close to her. The bodyguard pulled out her service pistol off her jacket and hollered out at them...


    "Stay back, you fuckers!"


    "What? You got a gun now, bitch? First, you trespassed on our neighbourhood, and now you wanna shoot us, hah bitch?" dared the cynical Intersexual leader.


    Cory saw the situation was heading to disaster after her incompetent bodyguard pulled out her revolver. She next tried to open the car door ¡ª but, Lucinda Gates stopped her for safety reasons...


    Cory ignored the warning and stepped out ¡ª calling aloud to get the attention of the Intersexuals...


    "Hey you there, okay, I will pay!"


    Number-2 recognized her and he cried out in amazement...


    "Hey look, guys ¡ª it is that politician woman from the TV!"


    "$200, is it? I will pay you!"


    Madeline looked back into the car at Lucinda Gates...


    "Lu, give me the money now!"


    "Money? What money? I only carry plastic."


    Leader-boy walked towards Cory shaking his head...


    "No, the price just went up, lady. Pay us two thousand bucks now!"


    This reviled Cory who castigated out aloud...


    "What are you rednecks trying to prove here? Are you trying to extort from a US Senator ¡ª you bloody shemale, white-trash, fucks!!?


    "I am not going to pay you a single cent!"


    The pack of Intersexuals was in a snit, each one of them pulled out cans of paint in both hands. It jolted Cory when they came menacingly closer...


    The senator hastily got back into the car and locked herself inside with the other women.


    *


    A large welcoming group of supporters and the media were gathered in a field decorated with banners ¡ª everyone was waiting for the Senator Cory''s arrival into Lancing. They gazed towards the direction of clanking sound of empty aerosol cans tied to the bumpers of both approaching sedans.


    The sight astounded many but the younger crowd was amused ¡ª they were clapping and cheering to see the cars being canvases to a great extent in painted kitsch graffiti.


    The press cameras flashed ¡ª and the marching band orchestrated the tune of Yankee Doodle.

 Chapter 3

    A HAND STROKED THE FOREHEAD of a woman who was in deep spoor. She wore a pendant that once belonged to her mother, with the word ''Mimi'' engraved in it...


    Laura Jensen was now twenty-four years of age and had been in a coma for a dozen years, in that same Riverside Methodist Hospital in Columbus, Ohio. Seated beside the bed was her sister Roberta, in her early twenties, who came during visiting hours ¡ª after her shift duty, as a street policewoman.


    Roberta Jensen was no longer obese inbuilt ¡ª but now, carried an inured gym goer''s physique.


    Behind them, by the bedside wall, was a rococo collage of photographs that had accumulated, over those twelve warded years. It first started off with the Jensen''s family''s photo, and later, the inclusion of Laura''s school swim team championship group shots ¡ª subsequently, more added photos of the birthdays where Laura celebrated while dormant in a coma, over the many years. There were also Roberta''s visiting friends ¡ª Roxy and Y.T.


    Finally, photos of Roberta graduating from the Police Academy ¡ª but, the other miscellaneous pictures included ¡ª which were just images that Roberta perceived as her Aunt Flo''s humdrum, overexposed Polaroid photo shoots of her yapping dogs and indoor flower garden.


    These days, Roberta did not ''speak'' much during the visitations, just watching over her...


    Her chatty habits from her growing up years had long curtailed. Her tear ducts were in drought, after years of crying ¡ª about the ins and outs ¡ª of her guilt trips and loneliness. But, her obdurate sentiment still bled ¡ª to see the accumulated pain ¡ª that Laura was continuously suffering, in her deep sleep...


    "Haven''t you suffered enough, you idiot?"


    Roberta occasionally questioned with the unsettled feeling in her guts ¡ª and she sometimes got bitterly angry at Laura ¡ª whom she felt was fading away, without trying...


    ''But why die now, after twelve years, Laura?''


    Her sister used to be physically active both in sports in school and was always a natural outdoor kind of person. The hint of resentment was still culpable inside Roberta, when their mother, Martha used to allow Laura to go out biking with her friends ¡ª while her mother grounded her at home ¡ª with reasons that Roberta slow, and could not keep up, with the physically fitter older girls.


    Her mother used to then say ¡ª Laura had a strong heart, while hers was weak. Humiliating her back then, because she was overweight ¡ª and panted a lot by day and, snored aloud by night...


    ''She even has a brave heart too, Mum ¡ª didn''t your Mimi jumped off a cliff ¡ª to go down, saving your damn ass back there?''


    Laura'' s physician, Dr Emma Rickman too had suggested that bypass surgeries, as the only option to keep her alive ¡ª and her Aunt Flo was currently getting some loans for that medical expenditure...If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Roberta felt useless that she couldn''t contribute in any way to help Laura ¡ª her salary could not even pay for Laura''s current monthly coma medical and hospitalization bills, which alone were double the figures than what she earned in the police force ¡ª and once again, her rich Aunt Flo had been forking those expenses, and other medical bills for those last twelve years...


    Instead of feeling grateful, Roberta felt shameful, and it was also hurting her pride ¡ª her aunt was just another Martha ¡ª who made her feel small ¡ª another thorn in her side.


    Roberta remembered her own psychiatrist, Dr Nora Connors, reminding her a long time ago, in her counselling sessions when she was ten ¡ª which was to stop being ascetic in life, when facing desperate situations ¡ª instead, exonerating her guilt with some positive actions.


    Stroking her sister''s forehead, she whispered...


    "Don''t worry, I am here for you, Laura, and I will arrange the expense somehow for your surgery ¡ª trust me ¡ª I will do anything for you. I will get the money, somehow ¡ª just hang on in there, Laura ¡ª don''t die on me now..."


    Roberta looked at Laura''s fingers for a movement of acknowledgement ¡ª an observation practice she kept for years ¡ª but yet saw no results...


    Was it because she was just making an empty promise?


    But she needed to find the money fast because Laura had a close call once ¡ª and she nearly died...


    Roberta remembered that night vividly...


    ***


    Above, looking through the glassed gallery of the maternity delivery room was Roberta with her Aunt Flo ¡ª it was a week before Roberta''s tenth birthday when the doctors performed a Cesarean surgery on Laura Jensen ¡ª to deliver the misbegotten child of a Hispanic rapist.


    Some complications occurred during her sister''s surgery ¡ª and it made her heart stop momentarily.


    The EKG monitor in the surgery room showed a flat-liner...


    The butch hoyden became a frightened little girl again ¡ª as she once was before ¡ª in her father''s falling Buick, while in the Exodus trail.


    She kept hugging onto her Aunt Flo ¡ª and she cried scared when seeing her sister in a near-death condition ¡ª with the medical staffs trying to revive her...


    "Please do something, Aunt Flo ¡ª don''t let Laura die, she is all I got!"


    ***


    Outside the delivery room later, Florence Jensen and Laura''s doctor, Emma Rickman stood, drinking steaming coffee in paper cups ¡ª with Florence being acquiesced to Dr Rickman''s medical conversation.


    The younger Roberta Jensen in her biker-jacket, sat alone ¡ª staring at her new Converse leather sneakers at her feet. The nicotine urge was building up, but she was fighting it ¡ª she wanted to see Laura badly after her delivery...


    Her head raised a couple of inches to a sound of a crying baby, and she then heard her aunt, calling for her...


    "Robbie, come here, girl."


    Roberta stood and looked up at a nurse cuddling the bawling newborn ¡ª standing beside were Florence and Dr Rickman. They were inviting her over...


    "No! Give it away! That bastard does not belong to my family!


    "You hear me ¡ª just get rid of that shit!!!"


    The almost ten-year-old Roberta''s temper flared as she yelled out ¡ª knowing that, the bastard-child nearly killed her sister a few hours ago during the Caesarian surgery.


    Roberta walked away and disappeared behind a swinging exit-door. Now, she needed that cigarette more than ever.


    Florence Jensen was ageing, bachelorette at forty-three, who had fears in holding the fragile newborn ¡ª so she only looked on at her swaddled grandnephew from up-close...


    "Is that one of those ¡ª ''males''?"


    The nurse nodded ¡ª and the new-breed baby''s teary eyes looked at those faces ¡ªfor one last time...

 Chapter 4

    HIS EYES PEEKED ELUSIVELY AT THE MIRROR ahead of him, before he answered. The countenance of the Intersexual boy named Reeves was a dead ringer of his mother when she was at his age at twelve ¡ª but, the only difference was that the androgynous had the physical body of a boy ¡ª and also was tan in complexion, due to his mixed parentage.


    He grew up those dozen years, in a boarding school with other orphans, where the place was also a research facility ¡ª The IIRC ¡ª The Intersexual Intelligence Research Center, was where they studied the intelligence of the new species race.


    It was also located in the once well-known Wesleyan University, in Delaware, Ohio.


    Reeves grew up with other fellow-two hundred and seventy-eight other orphans in that facility ¡ª not knowing that twenty-seven miles away was his mother, Laura Jensen ¡ª who was reposed in a coma at a hospital, in the city of Columbus.


    Reeves sat opposite to a woman who was testing his IQ with a series of oral questions.


    This was what the pedagogue women of IIRC do to them ¡ª give them trite class lectures for a few days, followed by group activities, and then tested them individually ¡ª tested them ¡ª gauged them ¡ª graded them from the erudite to the average students ¡ª until to a point that Reeves was blase and was sick, to what those women''s meandering and austere cycles of banal experimentations were resulting up to...


    But, today the dissident boy had a game plan ¡ª he was occasionally sneaking a glance at a mirror on the wall opposite to him. He always knew that someone was observing him, through the one-way mirror ¡ª normally, it was the psychologist Sherlock, who was grading the test-score results...


    Winnie Sherlock grumbled to herself in frustration to notice the continuous mistakes that Reeves was making through the mirror. For every time Reeves made a mistake ¡ª a red light sparked in front of him, similarly, green for the correct answer.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The downhearted Sherlock mumbled while she jotted into her report...


    "Come on you freak, what''s wrong with you today?"


    Reeves then answered another question incorrectly, in front of her eyes...


    "Damn you, Reeves ¡ª that was an easy one, how could you not get that?"


    Sherlock muttered before she heard the clacking high heels approaching from behind. She turned to glance at the director of the IIRC ¡ª Tina Martin, entering into her room...


    She was a very tall woman in a business suit and was a strict no-nonsense employer.


    Martin asked her about the progress of the test ¡ª and Sherlock feigned that it was coming on fine.


    She felt neural when Martin remained longer than her usual swing-by ¡ª and the director was also observing the test subject, Reeves, over her shoulder, who was asked a question in the other room.


    When the red light lit twice in a row, Tina Martin probed...


    "Ms Sherlock, I thought you understood my instruction ¡ª that the advanced series, should be tested on the brightest of the lot."


    "But he is one of the brightest in the group. He is always in the top 10% assemblage." the psychologist kvetched back nervously.


    Tina picked up a file with the name ''Eve'' on the cover ¡ª and read it out the name ¡ª and, Winnie Sherlock responded by correcting her...


    "He prefers to be called Reeves ¡ª I don''t know why, but he is not at his best today, Miss Martin."


    Tina gauged Reeves past test scores in the file which was impressive and was above the average. Martin peered at the dark-haired boy in the other room, who was asked another question.


    Reeves gave another wrong answer, and the red light came on again...


    Tina Martin caught the wiles of the twelve-year-old ¡ª taking a furtive glimpse, at the one-way-mirror ¡ª and he then smiled to himself...


    The director dropped the file on the desk ¡ª laughing to herself, while she walked out the door...


    "Looks like, we got a rebel in our hand ¡ª and obviously, a cunning one too...


    "He knows that you are watching him, Miss Sherlock."


    Winnie Sherlock felt the chagrins after her boss'' visit. She looked back in agitation at the shifty Reeves'' inordinate mistakes that he kept on making, behind the mirror...


    "Damn you, freak!"

 Chapter 5

    THE PRESIDENT OF AMERICA WAS SEATED behind her desk at the Oval office. She was now in her seventies, into the end of her third term in the West Wing. She was now the same age as her late husband Walter was when he was first elected President. She was also facing the same predicament inequity of indecision like him ¡ª while confronted by her two economic advisors.


    At the end of the sitting room area was also Dr Jane Morris, who was currently the Head of Pan American Health Organization ¡ª the epidemiology scientist was also the President''s advisor on the Medusa Virus development ¡ª for those past three terms of the Rosewood administration.


    Dr Morris was now waiting for her appointment, to update on the current situation in the CDC. She could hear Ann adamantly arguing with both economists about the IMF fund allocation to the virus research in CDC ¡ª despite both the female economists were beseeching to her about the implication of the escalating national debt...


    The economic experts and even the general public had distinguished, that Ann Rosewood was responsible for the inordinate in the country insolvency, with the level of the current inflation by her pitiful pecuniary decisions. It had been twelve years ¡ª and the nation had partially been healed, from the consequences of the millions of death caused by the virus domestically ¡ª and they wanted to move on...


    But instead, their president was still waging war with the unseen enemy ¡ª the mysterious virus in the atmosphere ¡ª which caused multi-billions of dollars allotted ¡ª for that single miracle cure.


    Since stepping into Walter''s shoes, Ann Rosewood had done what it took, to do the right thing ¡ª where she championed in fighting the Medusa, to the very end in her three terms in office.


    On the other hand, Ann Rosewood still blamed the viral biochemical weapon of mass destruction, released on the US soil on the rogue scientist named Dr Yankoff. That cataclysmic incident, even after a dozen years, had still stained America''s image permanently worldwide...


    The country under her husband''s brief presidency was still condemned globally ¡ª till today ¡ª for the consequences of the three billion male citizens'' death on the planet.


    Despite the world had moved on ¡ª with other new economical super-powers on the rise, that had overtaken America in trade and development achievements ¡ª but, Ann Rosewood still kept to her pledge that she made on that Memorial Day...


    After she was elected as her husband''s successor ¡ª her solemn promise was to use the country''s technology and resources for two main agendas for the nation...


    Firstly, the health and welfare of the surviving females and new-breed citizens...


    Next, was to find the Holy Grail cure that would eradicate the killer Medusa Virus permanently...


    Her belief was that, once those vows that she made were taken care of ¡ª then, everything would espouse, and the country would then set her tainted history into being honourable again ¡ª America would finally be atoned from her past mistakes in the world.


    Dr Jane Morris'' cell phone vibrated, on the coffee table...


    She picked it up, and her face reddened when she saw a secured number on the display ¡ª someone who should not be calling her, was desperately trying to get in touch with her, on the classified CIA issued untraceable cell phone that she possessed...


    Dr Morris had many other secrets too ¡ª which she had even kept from the President Ann Rosewood pertaining to the virus ¡ª and this was one of them, on the other side calling her ¡ª and trying to compromise her surreptitious position.


    The doctor left the Oval Office with the phone. She would meet up with Anne Rosewood later ¡ª after dealing with her niggling problem in hand.


    The President also left the office some minutes later, with an inordinate postulation to both the perplexed economists ¡ª she wanted them to draw up a better resolution forecast to the fiscal matters, with all her wants included too in the budget ¡ª to keep her Memorial Day promises enduring.


    President Ann Rosewood left the West Wing for her medical appointment ¡ª riding on a motorized wheelchair that was accompanied by her fast striding Secret Service agents.


    She was suffering from severe arthritis, and none of the treatments or prescriptions was working. She made lesser public appearances since she was confided in that chair ¡ª fearing that she would be perceived as an ineffectual in the public''s eyes...If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Will the voters have the same confidence in the woman they had kept in the office for three terms, who today could not even stand steadily on her own feet?


    Since Ann was confined to the chair, her election campaign spin-doctor had cherry-picked for her a model to emulate ¡ª the polio-stricken President Roosevelt, who led the WW2 victories on a wheelchair ¡ª but Anne felt antithetical ¡ª inferring that the good FDR had held the public''s attention with the heroic victories in the battlefields ¡ª while Ann Rosewood, on the other hand, was facing an invisible killer virus in the atmosphere today ¡ª making vague claims at something that the public could not see, nor touch.


    She was still concocting blatant promises in her public speeches that there would be a cure, coming very soon ¡ª which would bring the male species back from their extinction...


    This was ridiculed by many as mere senile talks, especially by her political oppositions.


    ***


    Dr Jane Morris stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial building, reasoning on the video-phone after being accused of being ungrateful...


    "Yes, I am grateful to you ¡ª and in fact, the whole world is grateful to you too! If you had not contacted and given us the warning ¡ª the entire sperm storage worldwide would have been contaminated by the Medusa Virus. You did the right thing, Sonia."


    Dr Jane Morris was surreptitiously speaking to Sonia Petrov ¡ª the research assistant of Dr Boris Yankoff who was still in the hiding in the country.


    Dr Morris was secretly working with the at large, FBI most wanted ¡ª the accused Russian scientific group that was openly blamed for the male-annihilation catastrophe. Dr Morris was also covertly channelling Rosewood''s financial resources to Yankoff''s group, who were also researching and devising their own cure in clandestine ¡ª in their joint-cause against the Medusa Virus.


    The furtive cooperation started when Yankoff himself, came out of hiding to contact Dr Morris ¡ª and he had called and warned her of the effect of the virus on the existing male sperm bank storage.


    Subsequently, Dr Morris used her position as the head of Pan American Health Organization, to alert all the countries to follow the preservation techniques in their respective countries worldwide ¡ª in avoiding the semen contamination by the airborne Medusa.


    "Please Dr Morris, find me a passage so that my son and I can leave America ¡ª and we will go back to Russia."


    It was a complicated situation now, and it would jeopardize all the research efforts for the cure by Dr Yankoff ¡ª as he and his medical team were domestically still on the FBI''s high alert, being the most wanted fugitives in their list ¡ª and also, no one in that criminal database of the Intelligence would ever make a way into the Immigration''s exits of both the American nor the Russian ¡ª in accordance to the terrorist crackdown treaty, between the two nations, made 12 years ago.


    "But what you are asking right now, Sonia ¡ª it is totally out of my hands! Please, Sonia, don''t do anything foolish now, and get caught!"


    Sonia pleaded in tears...


    "Why can''t President Rosewood pardon us all? We have been working in secret all these years, in finding for the same cure."


    The renegade Russians medical team had been operating in the dark for 12 years since the virus outbreak ¡ª and in-between then, Sonia had once requested to come out into the open, and continue Yankoff''s research for the cure at CDC with a false identity ¡ª but, Morris denied the request for security reasons.


    Now after some years, the nettlesome Sonia now wanted to return to her homeland...


    "Please, tell the President that we are on her side..."


    But, Ann Rosewood had strongly branded and blamed Dr Yankoff as part of the malice conspiracy that led to the Medusa pandemic which had wiped out billions of lives. Dr Morris knew the consequences that they would all be apprehended if they come out into the open where they would then be put on trial in the International Court of Justice ¡ª this will permanently terminate their covert joint-research with the Russians scientists to find a possible cure.


    Jane Morris sighed ¡ª and she concluded firmly over the phone...


    "The President would not compromise, and I know her very well ¡ª I am very sorry, Sonia ¡ª please understand that the stakes are too high right now."


    Sonia sobbed before she spoke again...


    "How is my son then?"


    "Marlin is fine. No worries, he is getting top grades in school too."


    "I miss him a lot. When can I see him again?"


    "Not now Sonia, but I will see what I can do ¡ª and, I will make the necessary safety arrangements during his vacation break, okay?"


    "Will he be safe from danger now? It is because ¡ª he is the son of a fugitive."


    Jane Morris had protected Sonia''s only son ¡ª Marlin ¡ª like he was her own. Dr Morris had kept the Intersexual boy''s identity safe, for a long time, by posing as his guardian ever since his birth.


    She emphasized that Sonia should stop worrying, and to focus on her crucial work as the needed assistant to Dr Yankoff, who was still working on his cure for more than a decade.


    Sonia Petrof nodded in defeat when she hung up the video-call...


    She stood on a higher floor that looked down below ¡ª at the entire operation in the secret hideout in a warehouse in New York ¡ª with a built-in plastic oxygen pressurized tent. She gazed at the opaque figures of three men working inside ¡ª they were the last remaining male survivors of the deadly virus, still existing on earth.


    Dr Morris sat on the steps of ''The Lincoln Memorial'' ¡ª and stared out, at the vista of the nearby White House.


    Both the disheartened women knew of their bleak future, if President Ann Rosewood was ever to lose, in the next coming election...


    Finding the miracle cure to the deadly virus was still their only victorious option, to save mankind.

 Chapter 6

    THE OLD NUN WALKED on the dark floor. She usually conducted her night inspection at the wee hours in the orphanage, ever since suffering from insomnia for some time. Her flashlight shone at the rows of beds with sleeping Intersexual boys in the abbey...


    Her mind raced in the dark. Her guess had been truthfully accurate, after discovering a particular bed was empty. Sister Lisa Marie whispered, the missing ascetic boy''s name softly to herself...


    "Doran..."


    Mother Superior who was in charge of St. Mary''s, was a medical graduate before when she later joined the convent, years before the virus widespread ¡ª she had diagnosed Doran''s medical symptom as being a sleepwalker ¡ª a somnambulist monk-boy ¡ª roaming outside their abbey in his sleep...


    But, Sister Lisa knew the boy''s enigma better ¡ª that Doran had never slept on a mattress bed all his life ¡ª because he was once imprisoned, and he slept on the cold basement floor of his parent''s coal cellar since he was a baby.


    The genial nun had also kept many secrets about Doran from others ¡ª and she was the only one ¡ª that the ostracized boy had trusted, to speak his heart content to, in that orphanage.


    Sister Lisa Marie walked outside in the foggy murky grounds, shining her flashlight. She was heading in the dark ¡ª towards the silhouette cathedral, behind the blanch moonlight...


    She had found the tortured soul of the boy, in the past nights, dozed off on the cold cathedral floor ¡ª after saying his daily confessions to his dead mother.


    ***


    The holy altar was lit by a few candles that gave the ceramic statues of the saints over there, an eerie look in the shadows. The scar-faced Doran knelt right in front of the statue of the Madonna holding her child.


    He petitioned piously whispers...


    "Why Mother, why don''t you leave me in peace? Why don''t you let me go to sleep at night? I have obeyed the Word of God, and have even said my prayers ¡ª but yet, you still keep tormenting me ¡ª tell me, Mother, what more do you want from me?"


    ***


    The woman''s fist pounded on the padlocked coal cellar door ¡ª her long flowing hair swayed over her pale nightgown. She held up an open oil lamp in one hand ¡ª since she could not afford the electricity bills, after her husband the Pentecostal evangelist, who died of the cursed virus...


    "Wake up, you abomination! Wake up now, you freak!"


    "Mother? What is it, Mother?"


    The startled half-asleep boy, in the dark, responded from behind the locked door...


    "God spoke to me today ¡ª and he wants to know what your name is?"


    The boy was now confused. "What Mother, what do you mean?"


    There was an abhorrence in her pitched voice...


    "Your cursed name!


    "He wants your name! Now tell me, so that I can tell Him which one of the heathen demons you are!


    "So, my God will cast your filth out of my basement! "Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "I am not a demon, Mother ¡ª I am your son ¡ª I am your Doran!"


    The odious woman yelled at the closed-door...


    "No, I am not your mother ¡ª and, my son Doran is dead. You in there, you are the seed of the Devil, who killed all men on earth!" Loathing further in repugnance, she continued in tears...


    "You even killed my son ¡ª my poor beautiful baby Doran! You are also the Beast who even killed my husband. You are the son of the Devil Himself who has taken everything good away from me ¡ª and sooner or later, you will then kill me too!"


    A tiny hand of a child covered with coal soot, came out from below the door ¡ª the boy was weeping bitterly aloud...


    "No, Mother, I am your Doran ¡ª and I am not dead."


    Her loathing foot stomped on his little fingers ¡ª and the child retrieved his twinge hand into the cellar.


    "No!"


    She objected...


    His mother then demanded, in a growling voice...


    "Tell me who you are, you Devil! What is your true name, tell me now!!?


    "Is it Baal or Molach? Beelzebub, or is it Hadad?


    "Reveal your true self, you fallen angel!


    "Say it, you, abomination child of Lucifer himself!"


    "No! It is Doran, Mother!"


    The boy yelled back...


    The reply infuriated her further ¡ª and she then challenged him...


    "No! If you are truly my angelic-son ¡ª speak in tongues, so that I can believe you!"


    "I can''t, I tried so hard, but I can''t speak in tongues, Mother!"


    The unloved child acknowledged his truth to her, in hot tears.


    "Only a child of God will speak in tongues of His Holy angels! Then, you are indeed the filthy spawn of the Devil!"


    "That is not true! That is not true!"


    The child strived ¡ª he then punched hard on the locked door from inside. She too pummeled her fist at the other side, still equally provoked...


    "How dare you defy the Command of my God, you filthy beast!"


    She remonstrated out, for the boy''s now silence...


    "Speak, I demand ¡ª if you are truly a child of God ¡ª speak to me in tongues now, you demon!"


    The jaded child broke his silence ¡ª he soon parroted back one of his mother''s own stinging curses ¡ª the only divulging message he had ever heard daily from his mother''s tongue since his birth ¡ª that he would someday, be condemned into the depth of hell-fire...


    "No, I will not speak it ¡ª and I hate you too, Mother ¡ª I hate you so much, and may the same God that you believe in, He will burn you in hell too!"


    "How dare you..." she shrieked...


    She snatched the chain that she wore around her neck that bore her husband''s crucifix ¡ª and also attached was the key to the basement door, where she had imprisoned her freak-son ¡ª wanting to open the door and to punish him severely...


    Most probably, to kill that diabolic demon-child if she had to, in the Name of her God...


    In that haste, it was when her dry, frizzling hair caught fire from the open oil lamp in her other hand. In a sheer panic, she dropped the lamp. It shattered below and the oil splattered and spread ¡ª instantly the flames bellowed from the floor, engulfing her diaphanous nightgown...


    The screaming woman dropped down on the floor, rolling over to put the flames out. The frightened boy''s darting pupils were peering into the crack of the door ¡ª seeing his mother now completely burning in flames ¡ª the locked-up prisoner could not save his jailor, who was now ablaze...


    The woman even refused to cry out his name for help ¡ª in her final horrific experience, towards her extinguishing life ¡ª yet her progeny was crying out for her ¡ª with his scrawny, helpless fingers thrusting out from under the gap of the door...


    "No Mother! Mother! No!"


    ***


    Doran wept for his mother''s death consistently, ever since the day he came to the orphanage, five years ago. Sister Lisa Marie came over, knelt beside him and hugged him from behind...


    "It''s okay Doran, it is okay..."


    This made him cry even harder and louder because he had not learned what love was ¡ª it was all 7 years of pain and suffering that he was fed with, inside that dark basement of his perdition playpen ¡ª ever since he was born a freak...


    Why hadn''t his mother been loving and affectionate ¡ª like this affable nun?


    His jailor even refused, to her last breath, claiming him to be her son, before succumbing to her own horrendous death...


    ''Was he really still a demon-like his mother had claimed him to be?


    ''Did he even curse her to her death?''


    The light from the candles glowing around the cathedral made the glacial, marble eyes of the statue of Madonna with her child gleam ¡ª peering an ethereal glance at the living soul ¡ª kneeling below, weeping loudly with his emotions of sorrows, regrets, confusions ¡ª and doubts.

 Chapter 7

    ROBERTA''S BEAT COP DUTIES were patrolling the city''s streets on foot. She just had smoked a joint and was in her spying-mode.


    She normally ended up in Chinatown when she walked her route, heading over to her partner and mentor ¡ª Mandy Thompson ¡ª who was always there waiting before they did lunch together. Everyone at the precinct loved her and called the Black, senior cop, Big Manny...


    She was a year short, from her retirement from Columbus PD.


    But, Roberta was far from hungry today, bothered by lots of muddling personal thoughts. While they both walked over for lunch, Roberta was observing an old warehouse that was across the road and was noticing the presence of an Asian businesswoman in her office window on the top floor...


    Big Manny''s stomach churned ¡ª she interrupted Roberta''s thoughts...


    "Yo, let''s go grab a bite here, Rob. Hey look ¡ª Frankie Sun is still open ¡ª wanna get a hot dog?"


    Roberta jested back...


    "Yuck! Hot-dogs from here, from a Korean stand, Manny? Seriously? I pass, coz they may put real dog meat in it!"


    Roberta laughed ¡ª but frankly, she did not want to hang out with Manny today ¡ª because she needed her space to be alone ¡ª away from their usual bitching-shop-talk which they always do, about their lack of overtime and promotions.


    "You go on ahead, buddy. I want to go over and buy some smokes, soda and snacks ¡ª we will catch up later."


    Roberta made an excuse, and they both went separate ways...


    Roberta knew it was the right time to pay her visit, to the business Asian woman...


    Roberta then walked into the back lane of the warehouse, where she encountered a big Vietnamese woman in security guard vesture, seated at the loading area, with the entrance metal door closed.


    The guard saw Roberta in police uniform coming...


    "You, what want?"


    The big woman spoke out, in broken English, with a tone of aversion to street cops...


    "Your Boss. I wanna see your boss."


    "Boss, no!" replied the sniffy woman.


    Roberta repeated. "Ngu-yen ¡ª your Boss ¡ª I wanna see her."


    "Boss, no ¡ª you go!" she added, with some cuss words in Vietnamese.


    "Hey, step aside! I know Ngu-yen is here ¡ª I wanna see her now!"


    Roberta was a little provoked when the woman once again said something in her own language ¡ª sensing by the tone of voice and body language ¡ª they were prejudicial universally than what the actual foreign language was spoken in ¡ª and Roberta took it as an insult...


    She landed a few hard, retaliating punches, and dropped the big guard down on her face...


    Roberta opened the metal door and entered inside...


    It was an illegal sweatshop that manufactured fake knockout clothes. It was also Roberta''s first time stepping into the warehouse. She had only noticed the boss Ngu-yen before, in her other retail outlet.


    There were a lot of Asian women inside, sewing clothes, and they subsequently stopped working. They froze at the presence of the uniformed, White cop inside the premise...


    At the precinct, Roberta had heard of the ''under-wraps'' street stalks done here ¡ª and the boss Ngu-yen had been generous with her payouts to the Police Strike-force team ¡ª for keeping the local extorting Chinese triad at bay in Chinatown...


    But, times were bad, Roberta was dearth for means of making her own extras on the street ¡ª she wanted her cut too as a beat cop, for her walks in Chinatown to keep the peace of local businesses, that were threatened by gangs and local triads ¡ª so she came today, to negotiate a handout...


    ''Maybe, two hundred bucks a week ¡ª that was a fair asking.''


    A woman soon alerted in Vietnamese ¡ª a door of a nearby room slammed...


    ''Something is happening here...''


    Roberta rushed over and kicked the door in...


    In an isolated room, were about fifty Intersexual twelve year old, working in that separate secret area ¡ª where their little fingers were used, for detailed fabric sewing works, on the knock-off garments. Once they too saw a uniformed White cop entering, the boys started to flee in terror, by jumping outside windows and bolting into the streets...


    Roberta grabbed a slow-moving crippled-boy by the hair ¡ª she slammed him against the wall, yelling out...


    "Where are you from?"


    The Intersexual begged for mercy in a foreign language. Roberta hated the annoying gibberish of what she could comprehend ¡ª but, she could see the fear in his eyes ¡ª it excited her to slap the boy...


    "Hey answer me, you girlie-fuck ¡ª which country are you from?"


    "Cambodia," cried the trembling, puny boy.


    Roberta now saw a larger opportunity ¡ª for a bigger and better reap, from her own personal shakedown.


    An opulent-dressed, Asian businesswoman in a dark blue suit, approached fast ¡ª with more than a dozen of her female employees, following from behind her ¡ª she came to deal with the disconcerting, in the premise of her establishment.


    The woman glanced at the cop''s badge...


    "What do you want, Officer Jensen?"


    Roberta pulled the crippled kid to the front, with her hand clasped to the boy''s nape...The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Hi, Ngu-yen, yo, nice to see you too. So tell me, how come your sweatshop floor, is crawling with these foreign freaks? Don''t you know, it is illegal, having minors working in your place of business?"


    "Good help is hard to find, Officer ¡ª and I have to get the right people ¡ª to keep my business running."


    A straight forward answer ¡ª but, Roberta arbitrated with now the money-ball that had rolled, towards her court...


    "But Ma''am, but it is still illegal, to bring all these coconut plucking monkeys from Cambodian villages into this country, and be working their chimp-tails off, in your sweatshop?"


    Ngu-yen whispered instruction to her floor supervisor, in Vietnamese, who ran to the back of the shop. The boss was beseeching again, ruefully...


    "Come on Officer Jensen, times are really bad here, I have invested a lot, with the US Immigration to get my labour supply ¡ª please don''t make it any more difficult ¡ª please, just look away." Roberta then countered...


    "Yeah, I know about your line of connections, with the US fucking Immigration and all, and their appointed snake-heads in bringing in your cheap labour gooks here, via Canada into Chinatown ¡ª but still Ma''am, it is illegal to have these underage freaks working in here."


    The loping employee returned, holding a clothes hanger with a full Armani business suit ¡ª and handed it to Ngu-yen, who passed it to the cop...


    "Here is a gift, Officer ¡ª an Armani, our finest product. Please accept it, and forget what you saw here."


    The thought of the scrimping woman trying to buy off a street cop, with knock-off goods, was insulting to Roberta. Ngu-yen was willing to pay monetary bribes to the gung-ho, PD''s strike force unit ¡ª but now, she offered fake clothing, because Roberta was seen merely as a uniformed beat-cop...


    Roberta grabbed the imitation suit and threw it back at Nguyen''s face.


    All the employees started to protest loudly in Vietnamese, for the disrespectful demeanour of the White cop. Their clamouring was like of angry ducks to Roberta''s ears ¡ª so she yelled back to drown them all out...


    "Shut the fuck up! And now look here, Ngu-yen, I don''t want your cheap, shitty suit ¡ª I will report this fucking place over, and some authorities will soon be knocking the door here with a through, search-warrant, so that this labour Ho Chi Min camp will be shut-down for good ¡ª and you may even fucking go to jail, Ngu-yen!"


    "Please Officer Jensen, why are you doing this? What do you really want?"


    Finally, that got Madam Gook''s attention ¡ª it was time to demand...


    Roberta hugged the gimp-boy from the back and stroked his hair...


    "I saw about fifty of these she-hoe monkeys, jumping about here a moment ago ¡ª and I want a hundred bucks a head ¡ª and that totals up to five grand. So Ngu-yen ¡ª to keep your full operation running, you will have to pay me five thousand bucks every single month, from this day onwards! Is that clear, or do you want me to repeat it ¡ª with the subtitles captions switched on!!?"


    Ngu-yen was the third generation in their Vietnamese family textile business in America. She countered the dirty cop''s coercion at once ¡ª Ngu-yen instantly protested...


    "You must be joking! I paid a lot of money to the US Immigration to bring these people in ¡ª and it is not feasible to pay a penny more!"


    Now, the gook reminded her lot of her Aunt Flo who used the word like a penny, too very often ¡ª seems like, all stingy rich bitches do that...


    But today, Roberta was going to have it her way...


    "Hey, you wanna do business in my part of town ¡ª then, you play it by my rules. You pay me first, and only then I look away, do you get me!!?"


    "This is preposterous! Who the hell are you? You can''t threaten me this way! It is bad for business ¡ª and also to my huge investment to bring these boys in!"


    Ngu-yen was still refusing to cave into an amateur, uniformed, beat cop''s postulations to extort from her ¡ª and walk away rich...


    "Okay, let me put it the other way, Ma''am ¡ª how about you, see for yourself ¡ª of how, you can lose your investment ¡ª right in front of your very eyes?"


    Roberta kicked the good foot of the claudicating Cambodian boy, and he fell on the floor, hitting his face down ¡ª Roberta pulled out her service revolver ¡ª and pointed at the boy''s head...


    Fear ripped into every one of the employees ¡ª and they backed away slow ¡ª except for the bold Ngu-yen, facing Roberta...


    "Come ¡ª I dare you to shoot him!"


    The glowering Asian woman challenged back...


    Roberta Jensen grinned at Ngu-yen, while her thumb removed the gun''s safety...


    With no sense of apathy, her trigger finger squeezed...


    ***


    Mandy Thompson was having her hot-dog at the Korean stand ¡ª she dropped her food to the sound of a gun blast that was close-by, which also followed by screams ahead. She upholstered her revolver, and searched for the direction of the gunshot ¡ª she saw some Asians pointing at a back alley...


    Some young she-boys were running away, for their lives.


    ***


    The sweatshop employees looked in horror ¡ª at the smirking Roberta Jensen...


    The trembling Ngu-yen was cupping her ears, with both of her shivering palms. She suspired hard, with tears building up from her shut eyelids...


    .


    The sound of a boy, crying was then heard ¡ª there was a hole on the floor, with chipped concrete bits, close to the boy''s head. The fallen Cambodian boy was now half-deaf ¡ª and also had lost his continence, as he urinated in his pant.


    Big Manny rushed into the open metal door of the sweatshop after seeing a beaten unconscious guard flat on the ground ¡ª and inside, Manny saw the Asian workers gathered at the far end of the warehouse.


    She approached and then overheard Roberta''s threatening voice...


    "How about it Ngu-yen ¡ª the next shot will not miss. So, it''s a deal or what!!?"


    Roberta''s revolver was firmly pointed at the boy''s head again. Manny gaped and stood still like a living statue, holding her gun ¡ª and listened to the crying businesswoman, replying back...


    "Okay-okay, I pay you 5000 a month ¡ª just don''t do these horrible things in here, please!"


    "Good, I will come back tomorrow then ¡ª and I collect. See you then, ciao from your friendly neighbourhood spying-cop."


    Roberta tapped the Vietnamese businesswoman''s shoulder, while she made her way through the retreating and imperilled employees. Roberta then saw Mandy Thompson staring at her, from behind them...


    "Hey Manny, you are here too. That was a quick lunch, buddy ¡ª did you get any of your favourite sweet-and-sour doughnuts for desserts?"


    Roberta remarked casually to her partner and walked away...


    ***


    They both stepped out of the sweatshop and were back in the busy streets. The older cop saw Roberta was still fleering to herself, for the effectual deal that she had just made.


    It got Mandy upset. Still distressed, Mandy shoved Roberta to the wall of the building and hollered out...


    "What were you trying to prove in there, Rob ¡ª you fired your service revolver in the middle of Chinatown. We will be in trouble if someone called 911 ¡ª and what if, this incident gets to Captain Miller, we both are fucked!!?"


    Roberta burst out laughing, while still gloating...


    "Yeah, you should have seen the looks in those cunt eyes, a moment ago!"


    Mandy''s face was near Roberta''s. Her piercing eyes locked, as she shouted on to her face again...


    "Do you think this is fucking funny, you asshole!!? I have been your partner for the past three years ¡ª since when you became a lowlife cop, who is on the take!!?"


    Roberta pushed Mandy Thompson away and started walking ahead again...


    "Manny, stop busting my chop with your bullshit. Stop acting righteous on me too ¡ª you, are no different either, okay?"


    On hearing this, Mandy came back fuming, striding from behind...


    "What are you saying ¡ª I am clean, I don''t do these kinda dirty-things!"


    Roberta turned acrimonious and was pointing at the Black cop...


    "Fuck you! I never saw you pay a dime for the loads of food you pig around here, and I bet you been doing that for many piggy years, since the days of Adam and Eve ¡ª but the only difference is that I have to do it this shit, big time ¡ª because I need the fucking money for Laura''s surgery.


    "Do you fucking think that I can afford that, with my shitty pay-check!!?


    "Think about that before you preach your Gospel around ¡ª and judge others!"


    Both the beat-cops became quiet, to avoid further exacerbation. They walked in deep thoughts, cooling off their tempers.


    "Just look away on this one, Manny. I will sort out the shooting, and fill in the incident report later, okay ¡ª don''t worry, I got everything covered, buddy." Roberta said gently with one hand, squeezing Big Manny''s hefty shoulder ¡ª before she crossed the street alone...


    Mandy Thompson looked at the younger uniformed beat-cop wove her way across, before disappearing into the lunch crowd ¡ª a sense of let-down was inside Manny, that her partner had also gone dirty ¡ª like some of the other fellow iniquitous cops in the precinct, who plundered the foreign business community.


    She then felt a sense of good relief that she was looking forward to her coming retirement ¡ª happening eight months from then.

 Chapter 8

    SCORES OF STUDENTS IN UNIFORMS walked towards the direction of the university''s cafeteria hall for their lunch recess. Reeves ambled with his buddy Joe among the hungry herd, flocking over after their Math class. The red-haired Joe was a taller Intersexual and was slightly hefty framed ¡ª making the pint-sized Reeves looking much smaller, as he moved beside him.


    Reeves was looking feisty ¡ª today was Thursday ¡ª the day which he kept looking forward to...


    "Come on man, let''s go over there."


    "Why? What''s with you, and that place? Please let''s eat here, at the cafeteria, dude."


    It was Thursday ¡ª for Reeves, it is that same shitty fish and chips for lunch ¡ª a menu created by their in-house British nutritionist who happened to be the sister of a once-famous, but now dead TV male celebrity chef from the pre-Medusa era. She was hired to give the Wesleyan students a bit of palate variant, and an appreciation to food culture.


    "No, we grab the food, as usual, Joe ¡ª and, we head to the wall."


    "Reeves!"


    Reeves was then interrupted abruptly by a woman''s voice ¡ª calling his name from behind him. Both the boys turned to see the psychiatrist Winnie Sherlock pacing over...


    "Now what?" Reeves mumbled inwards.


    "Hey, what happened just now ¡ª you scored only 20% out of the 50 questions? You were the only one who flunked in the group ¡ª explain that now to me!"


    Sherlock pretended that she was unwitting of Reeves'' chicanery ¡ª of knowing about the one-way mirror ¡ª and, his ruse was in fact spotted by her own boss earlier...


    Reeves shrugged, and he was tongue-tied a second ¡ª he subterfuge a suitable excuse...


    "The test questions were tough, I guess, Miss Sherlock."


    The woman found his excuses to be parochial...


    "Cut the bullshit, smarty pants! The next lowest guy before you passed, and scored 55%, ¡ª and many others were 70% and above ¡ª but you, you got only 20% ¡ª now how is that possible?


    "Are you trying to screw things up here!!?"


    He had admonished himself to study hard in the past, to become part of the top ten per cent of the brightest students in the IIRC ¡ª it now seemed like he was a lab-rat, to their inordinate experimental system...


    So Reeves was trying his best to be dropped off as a test subject, and he wanted to be among the below-average students like his buddy Joe here ¡ª but now, he was found out...


    "No Miss Sherlock, like I said ¡ª this advanced test series is too tough for me ¡ª and I think I can''t cope with it."


    Winnie Sherlock pointed a finger close to Reeve''s nose to further censure...


    "You are lying again to me now!


    "I want you to re-sit tomorrow ¡ª and redo the same test, all over again. Go hit the books, and this time you better stop fooling us ¡ª and, get those damn answers correct too!"


    Sherlock warned, and walked away...


    "Fuck! I hate doing these damn tests. I don''t know why they keep picking on me to do it?"


    Reeves fumed inwards, Joe replied back...


    "Coz you are one of the good students, dude ¡ª now, how come you flunk this time?"


    Reeves felt like punching Joe in the mouth because he was not the one, who had to do these additional tests in the IIRC advanced test series.


    Another group of boisterous Intersexuals came from behind, laughing out loud. They were the loud-mouths from his class ¡ª Kiki and Hank were the ringleaders of these misfits. Reeves took a glance at them ¡ª he despised their annoying presence in gym class earlier...


    "I am sick of this place. Come, Joe, let''s go to the wall. I can''t stand to be with these kinds of people here anymore..."


    "What kind, bro? They are all the same Intersexuals, to me ¡ª are they not our kind?"


    Joe teased back, but Reeves vexed and riposted...


    "Wrong, they are the same kind as you, fat-ass ¡ª the stupid domesticated type!"


    ***


    Reeves and Joe were in the line, to be served with their fish and chips lunch. The cafeteria was noisy with over two hundred boys chatting aloud. Their metal cutlery clanking on the ceramic plates, when they ate, it sounded like clashing swords at a battlefield.


    "Come on, let''s eat here, Reeves."


    "No!"


    The noise in the cafeteria was getting into his head ¡ª he needed to respite elsewhere ¡ª Joe sighed, kept finding an excuse. "The tartar sauce, I can''t eat the fish without lots of it, okay?" Reeves grabbed a plastic bottle from above the service counter and passed it secretly below to Joe...


    "Here, put it in your pocket."


    Joe looked around nervously before he slipped the sauce bottle into his tight pants pocket while reminding further...


    "So you are bringing the ketchup for the fries, right bro?"


    Reeves ignored him, and ordered back again...


    "Get lots of napkins ¡ª I will get the damn fish, and you grab the fucking fries."


    The sound of high-heels was distinctively heard and was approaching near. It got louder, and all the Intersexuals boys looked up ¡ª to detect the facility director, Tina Martin walking into the door.


    Over the counter, two Latina cooks too were hurrying each other in Spanish, to start preparing brewed coffee, and putting it on a clean tray for Miss Martin...


    She only drank a latte for lunch.


    The cafeteria was now dead silence ¡ª except for the IIRC director''s footsteps. Everyone ate proper and was quiet.


    "Your coffee, Miss Martin."


    "Thanks, Rosa."


    Tina Martin picked her tray with a cup of coffee and walked past those standing in line waiting, for their food to be served. She recognized Reeves from the test-room earlier and smiled at him when she went past him. Reeves gave her a surprised look.


    Joe poked his back in fervour and whispered back...


    "Dude, she smiled at you. Damn bro, is that love at first sight for the Cat-woman?"


    Tina Martin sat at her usual table, facing the serving area of the cafeteria with a senior behavioural scientist, Ira Kirby beside...


    "Did you see the preliminary proclivity-scores, Ira? We fared quite well, and in fact, better than some of the top girls'' school."


    "I think it is just a stroke of luck. This is just preliminary, and we need to run more tests to determine the accuracy of the scores," the older woman responded.


    Martin looked up and noticed Reeves now walking away with the tray of food from the serving counter ¡ª with the bigger built Joe following him.


    "But from the way, as I see it ¡ª we can soon reach our goals...


    "With lots of past theories of the possibilities that the new-breed may all grow up with learning disabilities, especially, with Klienefeller''s syndrome or Muller''s ratchet ¡ª well, those days are over ¡ª we have passed that worrying stage to finally knowing that ¡ª these new-guys are really as intelligent as their female counterpart gender."


    Tina Martin stated in positivity while stirring her cup of latte.


    Kirby undermined her with a derisive joke...


    "Don''t be too sure of that, Miss Martin ¡ª genetically, they are still predominantly male, and maybe their stupid-genes will kick in soon."


    This was now the golden age for women in general, since the post-Medusa ¡ª to those like Ira Kirby ¡ª it was best to keep their new-breed competitors in their place.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    .


    Tina Martin observed Reeves did not join the rest of the students at the long tables ¡ª he was now with Joe at the clearing area, where dirty trays were disposed of after their meal.


    ''They are certainly not stupid ¡ª and, these two fellers were up to something...''


    Both Reeves and Joe started to pack their food into the layers of paper napkins before they looked around for any spying eyes. A minute later, Reeves then opened a side fire escape exit door nearby ¡ª they both facilely left the cafeteria unnoticed...


    Tina Martin was distracted at that moment, from where her colleague''s bias statement was coming from ¡ª she cogitated that Ira Kirby who was an advocate feminist of the neo-superior, sex dominance ideology ¡ª that had been the mantra to many women today ¡ª but, to Tina Martin, the work in IIRC should be endured and conducted truthfully with quantifiable results in their studies...


    "I hardly see them as lesser in intelligence ¡ª and that is why it is of my best interest to study the new-breed species thoroughly. It is also my goal that the IIRC should spearhead these studies into the next level ¡ª because what will be ultimately fascinating, is whereby, when all these fellows..."


    Martin drank, gazed up ¡ª and realized that both Reeves and Joe were not in the cafeteria ¡ª she cleared her irritated throat of the latte''s froth and got back to complete her sentence...


    "...they will soon come of age, and will then contribute their semen to the sperm banks. When the future women populations are inseminated ¡ª then, this is when our real paragon research ensues ¡ª where it will be our discovery, to determine whether the female children fathered by the Intersexuals are of even of higher intelligence than our current female population?"


    The behavioural scientist raised her eyebrows now ¡ª agreeing to where the espoused vision, of the director of IIRC, was heading, into its next phase...


    "That will be a remarkable breakthrough study ¡ª we can make a long-tailed career out of this."


    Tina nodded in agreement and continued...


    "Yes Ira, we will be the pioneers worldwide, and is why, what we are doing here now is very crucial, so that we can be the global leaders with these studies, as our inroad race towards the further epitome steps ¡ª which will be on to the next female evolution."


    ***


    Reeves and Joe ran with their food wrapped in paper napkins. They passed through the old Stuyvesant Hall of the university wing ¡ª that section had been abandoned, since the Medusa endemic. The lecture rooms were vandalized with broken furniture and windows, after the virus outbreak many years ago ¡ª but, there was a security post on that floor that was looking out at the abandoned wing, to keep any future trespassers away...


    Even though the wing was out of bound ¡ª yet, Reeves was the first orphan of the residing students, to explore the place out of his curiosity. He had since dragged and assimilated his buddy, Joe here for several Thursday afternoons ¡ª to have their fish and chips lunch at their secret place.


    Joe, who was corpulent in his built, got left behind by the smaller, fast-moving and nimble Reeves. They soon came to an intersection hallway, with a rotating CCTV surveillance camera. They hid and waited for the camera to turn away before they moved out again. Joe was in haste and unwieldy in the dash, he dropped a few fries on the trail.


    There were more than a dozen CCTV monitors active in the guardhouse, but the surveillance feeds were picayune to the four, female campus guards inside ¡ª they were absorbed into their bridge card game, during their shift duty


    ***


    The fish and chips were on the paper napkin spread. Joe bitched, wiping his pants...


    "Damn dude, the freaking Tartar sauce dripped inside my pants pocket ¡ª the shitty thing is gonna stink on me, in class later."


    Reeves ignored him, while he bit on the crispy deep-fried Dory fish. They were sitting at the parapet of a balcony ¡ª facing the old, orange-brick wall with broken, barb-wires on top...


    Outside the wall, according to Reeves was civilization ¡ª it was just a less bustling neighbourhood, with some, small mom and pop stores, with people going through their daily normal activities...


    Reeves came here frequently to respite and watch the people over there ¡ª especially at the free-males out there, in the real world with families.


    He then saw an Intersexual boy and his mother coming out from a store carrying grocery bags. Both of them were laughing to something the friendly butch-grocer had told them. Seeing them happy, somehow made Reeves heavyhearted.


    Joe interrupted his moment of silence ¡ª and Reeves was irritated when Joe started trifling...


    "Where is the ketchup for the fries? You brought it, right?"


    Joe was always a revelled gourmand about ingesting ¡ª the fat boy lived to eat.


    "No!" Reeves snapped back ¡ª Joe started to fuss...


    "Come on, man ¡ª I told you that I can''t eat fries without the ketchup."


    Reeves glowered...


    "Just shut the fuck up and eat the crap, Joe ¡ª just leave me, fucking alone, for a moment okay?"


    Joe noticed that his buddy Reeves was looking more troubled than his usual discontent level ¡ª Joe sighed...


    "What''s bugging you, dude? Take it easy, man ¡ª Miss Sherlock said you can re-sit the test tomorrow."


    "That is what I hate about it here ¡ª we are all just like a bunch of rhesus lab monkey-boys to them ¡ª always doing all their idiotic research!"


    He pointed at the Intersexual with his mother over the wall walking to their car...


    "That boy over there ¡ª hey, look at him, Joe ¡ª why can''t we live our lives like those free-breeds out there!!?


    "We can be doing things that matter more in life, rather than taking some stupid-damn tests like in here!!?"


    Joe nodded and chuckled out.


    "Okay-okay, I know where this conversation is heading into now ¡ª and boy, I have heard this a million times before...


    "So, you still wanna jump over that freakin'' wall ¡ª and run away, is that right?"


    "Hell yeah, why not, Joe? Tell me ¡ª what is stopping us both? Is this really life over here for us ¡ª by being someone''s test animals!!?"


    Joe then reasoned. "Come on, we all know these tests are part of the design of our education system, for the IIRC program. Just be patient, man ¡ª we all will graduate out from here in a few years'' time ¡ª and then, we will go out into the real world out there."


    Reeves tossed away his half-eaten fish over the balcony in aggravation, and he stood up...


    "I don''t know if they will ever let us go like they had promised when the time comes ¡ª they may still hold us back in captivity ¡ª maybe for more, fucking further research!"


    Joe laughed robustly at his buddy''s choice of words...


    "What captivity, man? Damn, Reeves ¡ª you make it sound like we are locked in cages."


    "Yes, mental cage, Joe ¡ª and it is not fucking funny too if you have thought about things like these ¡ª that, they had owned us all since we were babies ¡ª so do you actually believe that they will just let us go from here, once we graduate ¡ª or whatever fuck, they have planned to do next with us!!?


    "No man, they will not let us go Joe, and ¡ª and, you keep forgetting that we are all a one-time species, and we cannot breed our own kind, because of what shit the fucking virus did to us ¡ª and we also don''t know how long we can live further, Joe ¡ª (and, according to that Oprah YouTube video) ¡ª maybe 40 years? 50 years, tops, okay ¡ª so tell me this ¡ª are you going to waste your time, for the rest of your live in here, doing shitty research tests for them!!?"


    Joe was dumbfounded ¡ª but he allowed Reeves to ventilate a little ¡ª he saw Reeves turned away, and kicked the parapet in deterrent before he spoke aloud again...


    "If that is the case, our lives are no better than that documentary, they showed in class a few weeks back ¡ª remember that farm-cows video, yeah?


    "We are bred just like that livestock here ¡ª so that one day, when we are of no use to them, Joe ¡ª we will all be fucking going to some slaughterhouse!"


    Joe now got into bigger laughter...


    "Come on dude, nobody is gonna slaughter us, anyway what choice do we have, man ¡ª we are all just orphans here, bro ¡ª we just listen and we obey them, as long we are in here."


    Reeves knew that Joe did not comprehend his analogy, he retorted at the obdurate Joe''s insular for unable to grasp matters beyond the IIRC facility ¡ª and also, Joe was adamantly buying into their empty promises of future freedom, like the every one of his classmates...


    "We do have a choice, Joe ¡ª and yes, the truth about our lives lies over there ¡ª beyond that wall!"


    Reeves was pointing over at the old, orange, brick-wall filled with cracks and green moss, while he further articulated...


    The redhead boy listened to him elucidate more thoughts...


    "Maybe, there is someone out there who knows us, Joe ¡ª maybe if we get our hands on our records locked in their office, we can then trace back and find some clues ¡ª before we both escape out of here...


    "Yeah, jumping that wall is the easiest part ¡ª but we are clueless now, we should first have a plan!"


    "Now, that is your boner-hard plan this time, hah Reeves ¡ª we break into the admin office to get our records ¡ª is that it?"


    The laughing Joe played along, while Reeve imparted more...


    "Yeah man, we have to start somewhere, am I right or right? I believe when the Medusa Virus first broke out ¡ª there was a lot of confusion, and people may have got separated...


    "So think about it, Joe ¡ª there is a possibility that you are not an orphan at all, as you now think you are ¡ª and maybe there is your mother, or an older sister and probably a twin of you out there ¡ª over this very same, goddamn wall."


    This made Joe uneasy to the precarious idea ¡ª all he just wanted to do, was less of any kind of deep thinking but to have a heavy as possible lunch ¡ª probably, he would get to wolf Reeves'' portion of the food, before they both resumed their classes later.


    "These are just assumptions, Reeves, but what if, we are truly orphans ¡ª then how, we are totally fucked, you know ¡ª how are we going to survive out there, man?


    "Hey! We have not stepped out of this Wesleyan grounds alone without the teachers taking us out, just like on our field trips ¡ª and hey, we are both not going out this time alone, to see some hippos in a zoo, bro ¡ª fuck no, I think this is a big risk you are talking here..."


    Reeves came close to him, nostrils flared and upbraided...


    "To continue staying in here is our big risk, you fat-fuck!


    "Not doing anything and continue being some research monkeys for them is a bigger risk! All of us ¡ª all 278 of the new-breeds in here, would then rot and die here, in this IIRC prison forever!


    "... and just talking, without us both doing anything about it ¡ª well, that is the ultimate risk!


    "The truth about our lives is waiting out there, Joe! We have to take some fucking risk, to get out there ¡ª and we, just have to go for it!"


    Reeves turned away again, and used both his hands to grab, his own hair at the back of his head in frustration ¡ª he then, calmed down from his bout of restive outrage...


    He was now looking over the wall in sadness, where people were moving in freedom ¡ª while he felt imprisoned in here...


    "You are my best buddy, please be my partner, and let''s do this together ¡ª because it is a 2-man''s job ¡ª and I can''t do it alone..."


    He turned back to Joe, with his firm hand reached out for a handshake ¡ª to infuse their precarious plan...


    "Well Joe, are you with me?"


    Joe looked nebulously at Reeve''s stretched out a hand ¡ª and then at his forceful eyes next ¡ª he had not seen Reeves this impetus before ¡ª Joe''s assumptions were that Reeves was not thinking straight, nor was speaking rationally ¡ª and seemed to be under severe duress, from all of the extra school exams that he was taking on.


    So Joe had to put his indisposed foot down...


    "No Reeves, I can''t."


    Reeves grabbed a fistful of the French fries and threw it at Joe''s face in spite.


    "So you are happy to get fat and die in here, Joe!!?"


    The bigger boy tried pushing Reeves away, when his buddy next grabbed and yanked his uniform shirt, yelling with aggression...


    "Look at how domesticated they have made you become, Joe!"


    Joe countered back...


    "Hey listen-you, if you hate it so much in here, then go! Just don''t drag me into your problem!"


    Joe started walking away...


    "Yeah walk away, you fat cow ¡ª the next time, you will not fucking see me here, you hear me?"


    Joe was also hurting ¡ª and he too kept on responding back some scathing remark ¡ª from afar...


    "Go on, jump over the fucking wall, you moron!


    "Go out there alone and learn that you are just an orphan like the rest of us here. Don''t you ever fucking come back ¡ª just stay out there, in that fucking new, asshole-world of yours!"


    "Yeah, I will ¡ª and fuck you, Joe!"


    "Yeah, fuck you too, Reeves!"


    Reeves struck the paper napkin with their lunch down, and he was next stomping on it, messy with the tartar sauce squishing out of the plastic bottle.

 Chapter 9

    SISTER LISA MARIE WAS ALONE that afternoon, doing some month-end bookkeeping, in Mother Superior''s office ¡ª she was ardent with numbers. An Intersexual in a monk robe ran in next, without knocking the door, and he was panting...


    "Sister Lisa Marie, come quick, now!"


    She looked up at him, while her own fingers were still punching numbers on the calculator pad...


    "Yes Pete, what is it?"


    "It is that weird Doran ¡ª he is acting bat-shit crazy again..."


    The affable nun smiled...


    "Don''t say that Doran is not weird ¡ª he is just special in his own ways."


    But Peter differed...


    "I don''t know, he is not like any one of us, Sister Lisa ¡ª and we think he is looney too!"


    The nun now laughed at what the young boy had just said.


    "Where is he now ¡ª and, what has he done this time?"


    She stood up ¡ª and the boy babbled back...


    "He is back in the yard, and he is scaring us all by doing weird and dangerous things with two sticks, Sister Lisa ¡ª even yesterday, he was tossing the sharp wood-chopping ax in the air, over his head ¡ª and he was then trying to catch it."


    Peter made his point, the nun had heard of so many things on a frequent basis about Doran ¡ª but, it was the trust Doran had grown to give her ¡ª that made the nun from not judging him severely.


    "You run along now, Peter, I will come now."


    The boy-monk responded...


    "Come fast, Sister Lisa!"


    She laughed again while following the monk-boy...


    "Peter, I am 68 years old, I can''t walk that fast these days, my boy."


    She saw the monk-boy running ahead, while she trailed behind gradually...


    She divulged her memory by recollecting the first day, when the maltreated and undernourished boy, with facial scars, was brought by a social worker to the St. Mary''s orphanage in Hammond, Ohio...


    It was after some days later when he was freed from his locked cellar in his mother''s basement.


    Sister Lisa Marie remembered the scrawny seven-year-old, who was terrified after seeing the women wearing strange, black nun habits at the Convent. He hid behind the social worker during the meeting with the nuns, grabbing tightly to her skirt...


    .


    He later cried uncontrollably in deep fright when the social service woman left him behind ¡ª assuming the dark-robed females were hell-bound demons that his dead Pentecostal mother had once spoken of.


    ***The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Thirty orphans in monk robes were standing at a distance in the yard, observing an angry Doran holding two self-made, cudgel sticks ¡ª hitting them hard on a trunk of a tree, while he made short grunting cries.


    Peter ran towards a smaller coterie of monk-boys, whose leader was Michael.


    They all looked at the direction of Peter pointing at Sister Lisa Marie, who was coming from behind...


    The boys knew that the nun was overt in disciplining Doran ¡ª and he only obeyed her ¡ª it was why they had summoned for Sister Lisa Marie, whenever he got out of hand ¡ª with his abnormal, aggressive behaviour in the quiet abbey.


    Sister Lisa Marie walked up towards Doran, and called his name ¡ª but he ignored the nun, and kept on madly striking the tree.


    She finally raised her voice...


    "Doran, give me those sticks, now!"


    Doran stopped, dropped the cudgel sticks on the ground, panting in exhaustion. The nun came over, placed her arm gently around his shoulder.


    "Come with me."


    Michael observed both of them sitting by an old stone well, from afar.


    "What is the matter, why are you acting like this? You promised me that you will behave the last time, right?"


    Doran remained quiet as she continued speaking...


    "What is troubling you now, Doran?"


    "Why are we here?" he finally spoke.


    "No, you answer to your question now ¡ª tell me now, why are you here, Doran?"


    Sister Lisa Marie asked him back. He responded truthfully...


    "So that we can be trained as priests ¡ª and someday serve the Holy Church!"


    "Good," said the nun.


    "No, it is not good," replied the boy, shaking his head. "What is this?"


    Doran took out a ripped-out, headline newspaper page from a recent Catholic publication from his robe and handed it to her ¡ª it was slightly drenched with his sweat.


    The nun looked at the article title with a photo of a female Cardinal from Ireland...


    The now, first elected female Pope of the Catholic Church.


    Doran stood up, disgruntled...


    "Then, why this nonsense is happening? This is not right ¡ª first the female bishops ¡ª and now the Pope is also a female ¡ª this is blasphemy ¡ª a woman should not be the head of the Holy Church!"


    Sister Lisa Marie smiled widely and was even amused by his latent awareness of reality...


    "It is a different situation now Doran ¡ª the bad virus as you know has killed all the men on earth ¡ª and until an Intersexual grows up to lead us someday...


    "...until that time comes, someone has to step in to keep the ways, of our Church in its proper order."


    Doran kept objecting...


    "I still feel it is not right ¡ª the position of the Pope should be reserved to a new breed ¡ª a male!"


    "But Doran, all the new-breeds around the world are only 12 years old just like you ¡ª and it will be a long time before you all will grow up ¡ª so until then, the Catholic Church needs a ''head'' to be a temporary leader ¡ª or else the whole faith in the Catholic world will collapse, do you understand now?"


    She elucidated gently...


    Doran did not argue nor respond to her, and the nun touched his crown...


    "Would you like to be the Pope someday, Doran?"


    After some hesitation ¡ª he replied in a faint voice...


    "Yes..."


    "Then, you have to work very hard each day to be a good leader ¡ª and to be knowledgeable about the Christian teachings, and all Church doctrines." She pointed at Michael who was close-by, talking to some boys...


    "Look at Michael over there ¡ª he is a good aspiring leader ¡ª and his affinity ambition is to be a bishop someday."


    Doran did not like Michael and his friends very much ¡ª because he felt that they treated him as though he did not belong there, among the brotherhood in the abbey ¡ª they all saw him differently because he was raised as a Pentecostal Christian in the past.


    "You must be a good leader like him too, Doran ¡ª and you should then work ten times even harder ¡ª if you want to be the Holy Father of the Catholic Church.


    "Do you understand what I am saying, Doran?"


    Doran finally agreed and nodded...


    Sister Lisa Marie stood up and hugged him, and kissed the top of his head...


    "You will always be my special boy, Doran."


    Tears rolled down from Doran''s cheek, as he whispered...


    "I will never let you down, Sister Lisa Marie, I will be the Pope someday ...


    "...you wait and see..."


    The nun who brought him up with suffused love in that orphanage, for the last five years ¡ª had also, planted the seed of ambition into his head, that afternoon.


    The monk-boy''s legacy manifested since then...


    It soon became flesh when the Soldier of God was born that day ¡ª in the Second Coming of the post-Medusa era, which the world had long awaited for...


    Years later, this fearless monk-led his invincible army outside the abbey, and he fought for his people against the dominant circle, as it crossed his path ¡ª bringing out their fear of the zealous monastic warrior in him ¡ª who then waged a civil war ¡ª which swayed those high-powered of America, vanquished as they dropped on their knees.

 Chapter 10

    JOE SAT ALONE, AND ATE HIS BEEF STROGANOFF STEW for dinner, in the noisy cafeteria hall. A group of gay Intersexuals finished their meals, they passed by him.


    The effeminate one who called himself Mara maligned...


    "Hey ''girls,'' look at Josephine here, eating all alone. Where is your little boyfriend, Josie ¡ª did you fellers both break-up?"


    "Fuck off you fags ¡ª and stop acting like cunts!"


    He hated them ¡ª and most of the other bullies at Wesleyan ¡ª Big Joe was also an abstruse loner just like Reeves ¡ª and that was why they both got along well in all these years ¡ª but, it was all over now ¡ª after the dichotomy argument that afternoon, during their abrupt lunch at the old wall...


    For the first time, he had stepped out of Reeves'' shadow ¡ª and he still couldn''t believe that it had happened ¡ª It was either he should start making new friends ¡ª or had to agree with Reeves'' idea of devising a plan together, to escape from Wesleyan.


    The homophile group left him while they jeered out aloud ¡ª Joe then stopped a moment to think where Reese was ¡ª he had not seen him all evening...


    Joe felt sad and alone...


    ''Had he jumped the wall and left Wesleyan for good ¡ª like he earlier said ¡ª that he did not belong here anymore?''


    ***


    Mice were running with scavenged food, gnashed between their teeth ¡ª mainly of the fallen fries dropped earlier on the corridor floor, from that Fish and Chips Thursday afternoon menu.


    The half-moon that night was blanketed by clouds...


    Reeves stared at it ¡ª as he sat alone on the parapet in the dark, peering next morosely at the wall ¡ª while he vacillated about his options of escape.


    The neighbourhood streets were dark, empty and quiet, with all the stores closed for the night...


    Tears rolled down from his eyes, and he wiped them off. The twelve-year-old was now afraid that he would be all alone out there ¡ª to face the real truth behind the tenebrific wall...


    ***


    Tina Martin was a penchant for working late hours with her research reports, at her top-floor office.


    It was the only moment at night, where behind the locked door when she extricated her alone-time ¡ª smoking a cigarette with a glass of bourbon...


    She skimmed at the test scores of that day, with the only red marking ¡ª under the name Eve.


    She knew the top five students'' names from the 10% ¡ª who consistently gave her perfect scores in their IIRC research assignments ¡ª but, she had not really known this student Eve ¡ª the furtive subject that preferred to be known as Reeves ¡ª who thought he could cunningly getaway, by cheating in his test results.


    Rolling back her office chair, she turned to a stack of files in the lower cabinet drawer¡ª she pulled out Reeves'' file from deep inside. She skimmed through it while dragging a puff of smoke ¡ª she saw a copy of the adoption papers...A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    It was signed by one Florence Jensen in Columbus ¡ª and Reeves'' mother''s name was Laura Jensen.


    Something aroused more curiosity, of that sneaky rebel from the test room ¡ª whom she later saw again in the cafeteria ¡ª who picked up his lunch, with the other fat-boy following him, to the area where dirty trays were disposed...


    ''What happened then ¡ª they both were gone after that?''


    Tina Martin was in an inquisitive mood, and she logged the password on the computer for access into the campus security video recordings library ¡ª she touched and swiped the screen to get the cafeteria''s video-feeds of that day ¡ª she saw the two boys exiting via the fire escape side-door. She logged into another CCTV security recorded video file ¡ª they were seen running in the restricted old abandoned Stuyvesant wing of the University...


    She smiled alone when she found their secret hideout facing the old wing...


    Seeing them having their lunch, she then fast-forwarded ¡ª came to the incident when they started to fight ¡ª before Joe walked away from Eve...


    There was no audio ¡ª and she wondered what happened that led to their row...


    Her cigarette ash dropped on the keyboard, and she tried to brush it off with her fingers ¡ª she accidentally suppressed a keyboard key of the CCTV cameras access ¡ª getting into the real-time live-feed...


    Tina saw a silhouette figure sitting in the dark facing the wall...


    She used the zoom function on her keyboard, to get a tighter shot of the sullen Reeves ¡ª the clarity of the image was pixilated while she tapped the key repeatedly, to get a rendered close-up of him...


    Tina spoke to herself...


    "Why are you alone and sad, little boy?"


    She now saw his lips moving under the moonlight illumination...


    The melancholy Reeves was seen to be talking to himself ¡ª Tina sipped on her bourbon, and she kept watching the image, with no audio...


    "What are you saying, boy? What is going on in your little mind right now?"


    The psychologist briefly analyzed her subject...


    ***


    He sat on the balcony facing the old wall and was talking to himself...


    "Whoever you are out there, I don''t know, if you know that I exist here ¡ª are you waiting for me? But, I will promise you this ¡ª that I will find you soon, and I will come back home to you."


    A shooting star streaked in the dark sky, right up above him...


    ***


    Twenty-seven miles away, was the comatose woman in her ward bed, lying on her bed with tubes in her mouth after her successful bypass heart surgery.


    Her index finger moved for the first time...


    She felt the distant vibration of a spoken-thought beating hard ¡ª and the word ''home'' was lucidly pulsating her emotions ¡ª before, she slipped deeper into one of her repetitive dreams, in her genial limbo ¡ª where she was always alone...


    In the back-seat of the Buick, driven at night...


    The twelve-year-old Laura looked at the rear-view mirror ahead ¡ª and saw her father''s eyes ¡ª he was driving the car slowly, on a lonely road filled with crawling mist ¡ª the car''s headlights shone dimly on the phantasmal highway...


    "Dad, where are Mom and Robbie?"


    "Look out the window Laura ¡ª they are all going home..."


    Laura squinted to glance at a bright headlight, reverberating from behind into the mirror ¡ª before it overtook their car. The effulgent lucent turned the night, to cheery daylight ¡ª and Laura saw a truck driving beside the window of the car ¡ª a little, blond, cherubic girl in red dress smiled and waved ¡ª a woman held her ...


    Laura peered hard ¡ª and realized that it was her mother, Martha ¡ª who cuddled the child.


    "Mom!"


    The twelve-year-old girl cried out, from the Buick''s window when they left...


    Next, an old, yellow school-bus drove by, and it overtook the Buick ¡ª behind the bus was a picture of a naked beautiful boy eating a big red apple by a tree ¡ª it had a moving snake coiling, which was literary, slithering ''alive'' in the Third-Dimension, spiralling onto the tree trunk...


    The ten-year-old Roberta looked out of the bus window ¡ª distracting her...


    "I am going to reach home before you, Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi!"


    At that moment, Laura saw herself in that other dream ¡ª riding on her bicycle, chasing behind the fast going school bus, she was shouting out...


    "Wait, Robbie, wait for me!"


    But the bus, with the laughing Roberta, then took off from the ground ¡ª and it flew away ¡ª leaving behind, a streaking-trail of yellow smoke in the sky...

 Chapter 11

    THE RIOT POLICE TRUCK STOPPED in the parking lot of the Columbus Civic Centre ¡ª the rear-door opened, and twenty policewomen jumped out in full riot gear and were holding their helmets in their hand.


    Roberta was amongst them, doing some overtime ¡ª by volunteering in the auxiliary unit ¡ª which bolstered the Riot Police Division''s crowd control task.


    She detected the cheering of pro-Cory supporters calling for economic reformation the moment she alighted ¡ª and further down the road was the din of the Rosewood''s crowd, protesting to preserve the ruling right-wing government.


    Sergeant Zena rounded the cops closer for an incumbent briefing...


    "Okay guys, gather up, you know the routine here. In less than two hours Senator Cory will arrive, and we will ensure her safety and keep the crowd in order. Remember, we are the reserves here, who will be backing up the Riot squad ¡ª and each one of you will be assigned to follow one of theirs...


    "Don''t lose your head ¡ª try to stay cool and be vigilant at all times. Listen to your senior partners from the Riot squad, and don''t resort in any confrontation with them or with the crowd ¡ª that is an order!"


    *


    Over the hour, the crowd swelled to copious thousands, with Cory supporters and the rumpus protesters from President Rosewood''s camp voicing loud-barks, as it neared to the estimated time of arrival. Roberta was assigned close to the banner of the embellished entrance of the Civic Center auditorium, where the stationed pro-Cory group was gathered.


    It was a long wait facing the crowd, the listless Roberta used her 2-way radio to contact her beat-cop partner, Big Manny ¡ª who was walking the streets, in another part of town.


    Mandy Thompson was buying a single doughnut from a stand when Roberta radioed in ¡ª Mandy was bandying with the store owner at that moment when the seller refused to accept payment. Mandy insisted, and she paid for her doughnut.


    "How''re you doing there, Manny?"


    "It is all dead-quiet here. It looks like everyone is at your side of town. Has she arrived yet?"


    "No, not yet. Dang! Speak of the devil, here she comes ¡ª Manny, I gotta go!"


    The distant sirens of police cruisers escorted a black limousine which soon approached the entrance of the auditorium.


    The pro-Cory supporters were ecstatically loud, to wane out the barricaded Rosewood supporters on the other side of the street ¡ª who chanted back cries of anti-Cory warlike slogans.


    Roberta controlled the crowd, while the illustrious Madeline Cory alighted from the limo, and she walked past her ¡ª the Senator was smiling and waving at the ecstatic crowd in a poised, nonchalant manner...


    Roberta grinned back at her too, with admiration...


    The heavily escorted Senator soon disappeared into the entrance of the Ohio Civic Center, where there was the sound of a marching band and with a larger cheering of supporters, that was bursting in cacophony from inside the packed auditorium.


    *


    Big Manny ate her doughnut and strolled the night streets, and she noticed up ahead, across the road was four Black Intersexual boys in hoodies. They were with an under-age White girl, who was wearing a pink wig and a yellow, short corduroy-overcoat.


    She had an albino skin disorder, which made the make-up on her face ¡ª to strike out in the street-lights.


    From across the road, Big Manny stood in the dark and spied on more activities happening ahead ¡ª a car stopped with two Black, obese, middle-aged executive-classed women in it ¡ª those Janes, who had the big-money to burn into vice services in the street. The leader of the four Intersexuals was Bing ¡ª he swaggered and approached the automobile''s window...


    He greeted them and procured...


    "Hey Sistas, you wanna play with my Snow White here?"


    He dragged the White girl nearer to the vehicle...


    "Come on up front, my juicy-pussy ¡ª and display us your luscious-stuffs, and turn us all on."


    Big Manny watched them in the dark from across, at the sullen-looking Snow White, who was now doing a few sensual modelling poses on the spot where she stood. The woman in the passenger seat then asked...


    "How much?"


    Bing started his sales-pitch...


    "200 bucks an hour, one-on-one; but if you want a threesome ¡ª I will give you a discount ¡ª 300 bucks. Is that fine?"


    The customers did not haggle ¡ª so Bing enticed them by poncing more of Snow White...


    "Come on baby-doll, show ''em your titties."


    The fille-cocotte opened her yellow overcoat baring her skimpy top and G-string that she wore beneath. The black women ogle amorously with big grins ¡ª on the side of the girl''s overcoat were various sizes of dildos.


    "Snow White comes also with her own toys, and you can do her ''with'' it ¡ª and she can do you too, how about it, Sistas?"


    Bing then picked the girl''s slim arm up, to the women...


    "If you are not into toys ¡ª see this pretty slender white arms ¡ª she can even fist you both ¡ª and God-Almighty, believe me, these slim-arms can go in real deep."


    The two women seemed lured, and Bing the pimp, who was better known in the streets as Prince of Ponce ¡ª was also known to be famous to profits from the art of up-selling, with his memorized script to maximizing his lucre to $500 ¡ª as an amateur, skin flick filmmaker...


    "How about it, Sistas? Want a threesome with the Enchanting Snow White?


    "Yeah, I know you ladies like your meat white, come on ¡ª threesome is just 300 bucks an hour ¡ª but if you throw in an extra 100 bucks, Leroy, my movie-man here, will video your spellbound journey of coitus fantasy with Snow White here, taking you both into her enthralled, hardcore, interracial, carnal knowledge that she practised in her lusty fairyland ¡ª all of these will be done with customer satisfaction guaranteed of course, with everything recorded on high-resolution HD ¡ª for your personal skin-flick collection."


    The wide-smiling Leroy stepped up, displaying his palm-size Sony camera to them ¡ª and Bing next grabbed another Intersexual, who stood beside the rear-window of the car...


    "For another 100 bucks more, ladies ¡ª my porn-star buddy, Shagging-Sega here, will double your fantasy pleasure by jumping in, and joining your anal coition fetish ¡ª so how about it, ladies ¡ª do you want the action-filled full package?"


    Sega chafed after noticing the two smiling fat-assed women, who were staring at his crouch. They were nodding, envisioning the action to come ¡ª of the albino''s two-way fisting them with young, Black, Intersexual buck as the backdoor-man.


    "No way."


    Sega whispered skittishly to himself, noticing the large physique of the two rotund women.


    *


    Roberta radioed back to her partner again, and she told her story in fervour...


    "Hey Manny, you there, copy? Cory just passed by me a moment ago ¡ª I think, she smiled back at me."


    But, Mandy Thompson''s main scrutiny at that moment was on the vice activities across the road...


    "That is good to hear ¡ª hey Rob, do you remember the missing girl from the foster home that Sergeant Zee mentioned in the roll-call a couple of months ago...


    "Remember, that twelve-thirteen-year-old girl with that Michael Jackson kinda skin disorder?"


    Roberta chuckled out...


    "Yeah, I have seen her mug back then, and she was as pale as Casper the ghost ¡ª yeah Manny, what the fuck about her?"


    "I spotted the kid near Lincoln Bronzeville. Four shemales are pimping her to some Janes right now ¡ª I am going in, to get her."


    Roberta instantly protested...


    "Hey! Are you crazy Manny? Call for backup!"


    "What backup? Come on, there will be no backup even if I were to request one. Every personnel are tied up on your side of town, for Cory''s speech tonight..."


    Manny Thompson seemed concerned...


    "If I let her slip now ¡ª she will go missing once again."


    "Hey Manny, she has got four freaks with her ¡ª and they will not give her up that easily!"


    Roberta reasoned out...


    "What if they attack you ¡ª have you thought about that!!?"


    Mandy Thompson was resolute to her obdurate action of going in solo. She pulled out her baton...


    "They are a bunch of kids, Rob ¡ª I will scare them off, and bring the girl back to the precinct in no time.''


    "It''s a bad idea, Manny ¡ª and you are all alone ¡ª don''t be a hero, let this one go!"


    Roberta tried to talk her out...This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    It agitated Big Manny ¡ª as she now had a low opinion on her beat-partner ¡ª ever since Roberta had gone dirty with criminal extortion...


    "Hey Rob, that girl is just thirteen, and she has been on the streets for months ¡ª and she is now being forced into prostitution ¡ª dammit, I can''t let her go missing again."


    As an honest-cop, Mandy Thompson felt the intractable reason to rescue the girl was the right thing to do, and there was no reason to listen to anyone ¡ª especially to the corrupted Roberta Jensen.


    Mandy Thompson was obdurate into taking action, and just wanted to do the right police work ¡ª and later retire next year ¡ª with a clear conscious that she had served and protected her street well on her watch.


    "No worries ¡ª everything will be fine, I am going in ¡ª out!"


    Big Manny started to cross the street...


    *


    "Mandy! Manny, over!"


    The communication was cut off, Roberta held the walkie-talkie on her temple ¡ª thinking hard, and thought came of the grave and imminent situation that Big Manny was walking herself into...


    Mentation of the past revoked her at that moment, to recall her partner who used to proudly say, during her walk together during their beat...


    She never took out her revolver and shot at anyone for the past twenty-eight years in the forces. That was a record her partner ¡ª Manny Thompson ¡ª would want to keep, until the day she retired.


    A Riot Police Captain shook the reverie Roberta''s shoulder ¡ª she wanted Roberta to be incumbent to her duty...


    "Hey Jensen, ditch the radio, and focus on the job ¡ª it is not over yet, yeah!"


    After the reckoning of what might happen to Manny ¡ª Roberta wanted to leave her post instantly, to stop an imminent disaster...


    "Fuck that..."


    Roberta brushed the woman''s handoff and started running into the streets. She saw a highway-patrol policewoman standing alone beside her big bike. Roberta rushed the cop and dropped her down on the tarmac with a hard shove. She then got on ¡ª started the bike ¡ª and set out speeding pass the pavements lined with the political supporters ¡ª after seeing the fallen patrol policewoman, the street crowd cheered on for Roberta.


    *


    Leroy was the first to see Big Manny crossing over to their side of the road. He alerted by tapping the leader...


    "Yo Bing, we got a black pig coming at us at two o''clock. Let''s split man, we don''t want no trouble with cops."


    Bing fumed, when the two women in the car bearing, dreaded looks at the sight of the approaching policewoman...


    The car then sped away ¡ª it was a loss of income for the Prince of Ponce.


    Bing was still chafed when he grabbed the albino girl''s arm, giving a brief instruction, to protect his street-asset...


    "Snow White, go walk away now, and wait for us at Long Necks." He next turned, to take charge of his anticipating gang...


    "No need to run, my Niggers ¡ª this is my street, I will handle the pig!"


    Mandy Thompson saw Snow White walking away from the group, she audaciously yelled out...


    "Hey you, stop! I said stop ¡ª or, I am coming over and I will break both of your stick legs!"


    Snow White froze on the spot ¡ª Mandy walked over to her with her baton ¡ª it surprised the rest of the pimps who had anticipated the policewoman to confront them instead...


    "What the fuck?"


    It further flustered Bing, they all too started walking over...


    Mandy reached Snow White first...


    "I know who you are, girl. You are coming with me now!"


    Snow White saw the gang walking towards them, and she softly warned Big Manny...


    "Please go away or else they will kill you."


    Before Mandy could react, the four Black Intersexuals surrounded her and the albino girl. Mandy pointed out her baton at them...


    "You four, back off ¡ª she is coming with me!" Bing stepped up...


    "No, can''t do ¡ª she''s my slave-bitch, and she works for me!"


    ''Wasted youth,'' Manny thought and she reacted...


    "Slave, you said? You dumbass kids have no idea about the things you say these days."


    "What? I paid top bucks for the bitch ¡ª she''s now my property, and she is following me now!"


    Bing tried to grab Snow White ¡ª but, Manny stood in-between, realizing the predicament...


    ''Roberta was right ¡ª it is hard to control them with no backup.''


    "No, she is not going anywhere! Listen, boy, I let you four walk away, even for the big trouble you all are in here for prostituting a minor ¡ª scram now, Godammit!"


    The big cop raised her voice.


    Bing whipped out his pistol, and the others pulled out theirs too...


    "Shut your labia-lips up, you pig! You don''t come walking in here ¡ª twerking your fat pig-ass and tell to my face what to do! Snow White is my slave-bitch, and I ain''t going nowhere without her!"


    Mandy Thompson was panic-struck, with their four guns training at her face. She took a few steps back ¡ª and her thumb at the same time switched on the walkie-talkie...


    Roberta who was on the way over on the speeding bike listened in to the conversation...


    "You little guys are packed with some serious hardware here ¡ª now, you are going down for obstructing and threatening a law enforcement officer with illegal firearms. My advice is that ¡ª you all be smart before more cops come in now...


    "It is best if you boys all walk away!"


    Bing laughed...


    "Nice bluff, Big, Fat-Mama Pig ¡ª there are four of us, and one of you ¡ª you all alone, Oink-oink ¡ª there is no backup coming for you!"


    They all looked up to hear a police siren approaching, even Mandy looked astounded that her bluff worked ¡ª what was even more surprising to Manny was that Roberta was the saviour, back-up who had come to her rescue without a second thought. Roberta had switched on the siren on the bike after she overheard that the freaks had thought that Manny was alone...


    One of the boys named Pok¨¦mon spoke out. "Fuck, how did she do that?"


    Leroy then panicked more...


    "We will be cornered, let''s all run!"


    Sarcastically, Big Manny pronounced to the twelve-year-old unnerved boys...


    "See, I told you so."


    Bing got assertive and echoed back at Manny...


    "Was that so?"


    Bing then shot Mandy Thompson twice in the stomach ¡ª and she fell back on the pavement with an impact.


    Bing then grabbed Snow White''s arm and instructed again...


    "Runaway, bitch ¡ª go wait for me at Necks."


    The albino hooker ran away in the opposite direction in a hurry...


    "Holy fuck, Bing ¡ª you just shot a cop!"


    Leroy exclaimed, seeing Mandy in agony, while she tried to unbuckle the holster to get her service revolver with her hand...


    Sega saw her. "Fuck! She is not dead!"


    Bing barked at him. "What are you waiting for then ¡ª Christmas? Waste the bitch!"


    Sega hesitantly with his quivering hands ¡ª he shot Manny''s forearm once to stop her from reaching for her gun. The four Intersexuals next looked up to a police patrol bike coming in full speed, with the sirens on...


    It was just a block away.


    Bing glanced at Pok¨¦mon and smiled...


    "Yo Cousin, this next little piggy is all yours!"


    Pok¨¦mon stepped up and pulled out an Uzi from under his hoodie jacket ¡ª he aimed at the fast-approaching Roberta and opened fire...


    Roberta was now all-Cowboy, aimed her revolver and onslaught ¡ª while riding straight into them.


    The three other boys ran for cover ¡ª except for the Uzi firing Pok¨¦mon...


    Bullets hit Roberta''s Riot helmet, Kevlar front and the patrol bike ¡ª the front tire ruptured. The bike dropped, it crashed and skidded, dragging along the shooting Roberta...


    A bullet penetrated Pok¨¦mon in the chest ¡ª he fell back dead ¡ª Bing cried out to the rest while glaring at his dead cousin in the pavement...


    "Fuck! Kill that pig!"


    All of the Intersexuals opened fire, Roberta hobbled away fast from the road, and took cover behind a dumpster bin. Her left side of her pants was shredded by the skidding bike, and her leg was bleeding badly.


    Leroy uttered in fright. "Bing, let it go, man! Let''s fucking run away!" Bing pointed his silver-plated pistol at the coward...


    "No way! She killed my cousin ¡ª we are not leaving until we get her blood!" He ordered them...


    "You two ¡ª take both flanks and flush her out ¡ª and I will nail her once she is out in the open!"


    Roberta removed her helmet, and she dropped it down, in pain...


    Roberta sensed someone''s presence nearby, and she moved in, with fast reflex ¡ª and discovered Snow White hiding behind the next dumpster. She recognized her description right away, by Manny''s earlier conversation of the albino ¡ª Roberta went over and grabbed her...


    "What are you doing hiding here? You will get caught in the crossfire!"


    The girl was shaken and started to cry...


    "I warned the Black cop ¡ª but she did not listen ¡ª Bing shot her."


    She looked at the cop''s name on the badge ¡ª Roberta Jensen...


    it was a very familiar name which she had heard in the past ¡ª but she could not recall wherefrom ¡ª she was too shaken by the scary shooting in progress.


    Roberta saw a partially broken wooden fence ¡ª she kicked a plank down ¡ª and dragged the teenaged girl to the hole...


    "Quick, run away through there!"


    "Don''t fight them, they will kill you too ¡ª please come with me!"


    "Go now!"


    Roberta yelled out, and the frightened Snow White disappeared into the gap...


    Roberta loaded her remaining bullets into the revolver. Those shemales had shot her partner ¡ª she raged to avenge her death.


    The cop took a peek, and saw some movement nearby ¡ª Leroy and Sega were sneaking up on her. Roberta then saw the hole on the wooden fence which she made for Snow White...


    The two tween gangster boys came and checked the row of dumpsters.


    Leroy signed to Sega to split-up ¡ª and they widened the search...


    Sega went glancing into the dumpster by opening the lid to confirm ¡ª Roberta''s gun barrel came from behind ¡ª and shot him in the back of the head...


    Leroy bellowed out...


    "Yo Sega ¡ª did you nail the bitch?"


    There was no reply and Leroy went up front to investigate ¡ª and found Sega dead in a pool of blood with a hollowed head...


    He yowled in panic...


    "Oh shit! Bing! Bing, Sega is dead too ¡ª I don''t like this, I am leaving now!"


    "No, keep finding her!" The leader''s voice squalled back.


    "No man, two of ours are dead now ¡ª I am leaving, man!"


    "Leroy! You fucking stay put, you Nigger!"


    Roberta came from behind and grabbed, slamming him on a dumpster ¡ª she gagged her gun barrel into Leroy''s screaming mouth ¡ª and pulled the trigger...


    Drenched in blood, Roberta then picked up the dead Leroy''s gun.


    The avenging cop now limped towards Bing''s shouting voice...


    "Leroy! Leroy! Motherfucking pig!"


    Bing came to realize that all three of his boys were already dead. He cursed more ¡ª and now, he started his own hunt for the cop, in the dark street.


    He surprised Roberta when he saw her trailing movement ¡ª and began to discharge shots. The cop took cover, and they both exchanged rapid-fire ¡ª until Roberta was out of bullets in both of the guns.


    She needed to think and act fast to survive ¡ª Roberta glanced at Mandy Thompson body about fifty feet away ¡ª and she decided to take the chance, without any hesitation...


    Roberta went for Big Manny''s revolver...


    Roberta dashed forward fast, and Bing came out into the open ¡ª and started to fire at Roberta''s back ¡ª the Kevlar took some of the hot slugs ¡ª but, one penetrated into her bicep and another bullet, burrowed into the back of Roberta''s thigh...


    A sharp pain rocketed within her before she took the next running step ¡ª Roberta collapsed five feet away from Mandy Thompson.


    She then inched over despite her encumbered injury...


    Bing walked over nonchalantly to the crawling policewoman, he was now laughing...


    "You think you can outsmart me, and outrun me, you fool! No way, Oink-oink ¡ª tonight you are dead, Miss White Piggy!"


    Roberta kept on slinking, and she was almost two feet away from the reach of Mandy''s revolver ¡ª Bing pointed his gun at Roberta ¡ª ready to pull the trigger...


    Roberta gritted her teeth to the palpating pain of her injuries. The Black Intersexual looked at the crawling Roberta reaching the revolver...


    He was barring his teeth and he cried out ¡ª and was kicking Roberta''s ribs...


    "Yeah go for the piece, you fucking bitch-pig ¡ª you wasted all of my best buddies ¡ª including my cousin ¡ª I wanna see how good you are, as a back-up pig!"


    Bing then aimed his gun again at the back of Roberta''s head, at close range...


    "May all yo'' souls rest in fuckin'' peace in hell!"


    Big Manny''s eyes opened at that moment...


    Her debile injured hand raised her revolver, and Big Manny fired once...


    Bing was shot through in his jugular vein ¡ª it ruptured, and blood squirted out at both-end. Bing dropped on his fours on the pavement, trying next to plug up the mini-red-fountain sprinkling, from the hollowed bullet holes at both sides of his neck with both hands ¡ª making a deep croaking noise.


    Big Manny''s shivering bloodstained fat fingers then touched Roberta''s hand ¡ª in tacit appreciation ¡ª before she slowly died.


    Roberta too was about to lose her consciousness, when she saw a blurry figure of Snow White reappearing...


    The girl was looking down ¡ª at the three of them lying on the ground...


    The albino hooker then picked up Big Manny''s revolver ¡ª and shot the dying flagrant pimp named Bing twice in the head ¡ª to really finish him off for good...


    She dropped the gun and knelt in front of Roberta, and stroked her hair. Roberta mumbled before passing out...


    "Mi-mi..."


    Snow White reached to dig up the dead Bing''s wallet, and she pulled out a thick wad of banknotes...


    Her severance after a year of being sold as a porn-videoed sex slave ¡ª there was enough money if she wanted to get out of the city ¡ª but, where would she go?


    She has got nobody back, from where she came from in Mississippi.


    She then searched into Roberta''s pocket and found her wallet. She took out the driver''s license ¡ª and returned the rest of the wallet into Roberta''s pocket...


    She finally recalled knowing Roberta Jensen, after seeing her younger childhood photo with Laura in the wallet ¡ª she was someone whom her mother had spoken of in her growing up years ¡ª during her bedtime stories when she was told about this particular child-hero...


    The girl snapped off from her brief childhood reverie when her head went up towards the sound of a siren. It was coming from a few blocks away. A patrol car was approaching in fast. Snow White hurried and she left the scene of the crime in festinate ¡ª by slipping through the earlier broken wooden fence.


    She then ran far away.

 THE NEW ORDER [3 of 7]

    THE SUPERANNUATED, BUT YET esteemed building stood the test of time, on a remote hilltop. It was a private rehabilitation facility, which treated substance addiction and mentally depressed patients ¡ª amongst the shamed, socially rich and famous ¡ª whose primary request, was to remain discrete from the public''s eyes. In it, was one of its long staying resident ¡ª a red-haired woman, who was twenty-eight years of age ¡ª suffering from substance abuse and elation since her teens.


    Samantha stared out of the window, disregarding herself from the other fellow patients behind her, who were minded by some female nurses and orderlies on duty. She was sedated with her medications this morning, and she stood like a statue ¡ª gazing out blank at a nearby tree branch with a bird''s nest ¡ª her only movement was the tips of her fingernails ¡ª caressing the glass window pane, like she was stroking the baby chicks, in the nest outside ¡ª putting the two babies to sleep.


    A nurse came over and guided the logy Samantha away from the window.


    *


    A limousine arrived at the facility. The director of the facility, Betty Hendrix opened the front door of the medical unit to welcome her distinctive visitors ¡ª Senator Madeline Cory and her assistant Lucinda Gates. The new bodyguard, Agatha Wolfe opened the sedan door for the Senator, while the obsequious director, Hendrix was declaiming flatteries since their arrival...


    "Senator Cory, I am so delighted that you are paying us a visit in between your busy schedule Ma''am. You must be very busy in your campaigning, and I am too following that enthusiastically in the news and also on Twitter, of course." They walked into the hallway of the facility ¡ª and the spouting director went on vehemently...


    "I am your big supporter, Senator ¡ª I know you will win this time around, and you will then fulfil the legacy of your late husband, Senator Richard Cory. I believe you will soon be stepping into the White House in his place, and I was also his big supporter back then ¡ª when he first visited us here, twelve years ago before the virus attacks."


    That was when Richard Cory admitted his cocaine addict, teenaged daughter over there ¡ª and he never came back again to see her.


    Madeline Cory spurned back and grumbled with bitterness to the director''s fawning. "You can stop patronizing that bastard, Hendrix ¡ª well, you saw the news back then ¡ª and commonsense will unquestionably point the finger to what an asshole my late husband was at that time ¡ª he was so close to being the next damn President, but he screwed it all up ¡ª with his pants down with a pop star, who in fact, was just a few years older than his own damn daughter ¡ª and that shit led to old man Rosewood gained the footing by exposing the damn scandal ¡ª and after then, the senile fool became the President."


    Cory sighed out while recollecting the past...


    "So now, how is his daughter?"


    Although, Hendrix was put into her place, yet ¡ª she still responded back with milder fawning...


    "Samantha is fine, Ma''am, and she is the model patient in this facility for her good behaviour. Yes, Senator Cory. We have always been providing the very best of nursing care for her, since the day she brought into our doorstep twelve years ago."


    *


    Samantha was seated in a private parlour and a nurse was with her in the room.


    "There are no windows in here, I want to see the mother bird feeding the baby chicks in the nest..."


    The sedated patient said anxiously at the unacquainted milieu ¡ª and the tolerant nurse replied...


    "We will do that in a moment, Samantha, we will see the birds later, okay? You have visitors coming to see you now, dear."


    "Who is coming to see me? Is it Daddy?"


    The door soon opened, and Senator Madeline Cory stepped in with the rest of the women. Although it had been umpteen years ¡ª but, Samantha still recognized her, and screeched out...


    "You! Why are you here? What do you fucking want from here now!!?"


    Cory ignored the comment ¡ª and turned to Director Hendrix...


    "I would like a moment alone with her."


    Hendrix bowed slightly and replied. "Most certainly Senator Cory, I will be just outside if you need me. Some refreshments are ready to be served for you at my office, once you have done your visitation."


    Bodyguard Wolfe snapped her fingers, at the standing nurse beside Samantha. "You too, be out!" Hendrix and the rest of the women left the room ¡ª leaving only the two Corys behind.


    The younger woman turned away, in the least imperturbable state ¡ª the sedative that she was under, was wearing thin when Madeline initiated her conversation...Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "How are you, Sam?"


    "Why do you fucking care?"


    Madeline reciprocated with small laughter, after detecting some old resentment...


    "Is this how you greet your mother?"


    "You are not my damn mother, Madeline!"


    Samantha glowered again. Madeline Cory kept laughing to herself...


    "Yes, I am not your biological mother ¡ª but, ever since your father died, I am the only damn family you have now, Sam."


    Samantha retorted vexing when it came to her mind that she was in-between the delusion effect of her medicament ¡ª to finally realize of her father''s demise ¡ª that made Samantha to release more of her exasperations directly...


    "I don''t need you, bitch ¡ª and he is better off dead too! He was never much of a father to me back then ¡ª it is because he listened only to you ¡ª and you had influenced him ever since you married him. You made Daddy send me away, to all those screwed-up private schools ¡ª and nowhere, in this fucking nut-house!"


    She was still the same angry girl that Madeline last saw twelve years ago ¡ª it was then ¡ª when she had followed her husband, to admit her stepdaughter in that exclusive and private medical institution.


    Madeline elucidated vehemently...


    "You were not an obedient child yourself back then, and your father had to do what was necessary because he was then at the peak of his political career ¡ª and he could not have his reputation ruined by dealing with his party-animal daughter, who snorted cocaine since the age of 14...


    "Well Sam, he needed to focus on his career then, rather than you craving, for his attention by acting like a super-brat from hell ¡ª with those amounts of trouble you had caused your Daddy at that time, which was really distracting him into many sleepless nights...


    "O yes, my sweet dear step-child, I did support your father to have you sent away ¡ª so that you, Samantha ¡ª you can get a decent education, somewhere far away from Richard as possible."


    But, Samantha refused to listen. She was trying to float back into the zone of the sedation that she received from her nurse earlier, but it could not block the scathing words, which the woman standing in front of her was declaiming.


    Madeline stopped reproaching and paused before she spoke again...


    "But whatever it is, Sam ¡ª your Daddy loved you a lot ¡ª always remember that."


    "No! I still blame you for separating me and Daddy ¡ª and look now, where he is today! He is dead, and I did not even attend his funeral!" Samantha was still accusing her bitterly about her erstwhile.


    "Hey you, listen to me, you were overdosed on pills and booze that day, remember? You were sent to a different rehab some months back then. Then, I really thought that you would meliorate since, and come to your damn cow-senses ¡ª but, your damn rebellious nature got even worst since..."


    "What do you mean worst!!?" Samantha''s voice rose in denial.


    "You don''t remember any of it, do you, you fool?


    "Your father sent to one of the best schools so that you could get a decent education ¡ª but instead, you majored in sex, and you got yourself pregnant ¡ª hah! With the other countless trouble that we had to put up with your addiction since then ¡ª and not telling about all the cover-ups from the damn press, of your other shameful behaviours that you displayed back then...


    "Well, it was a real fucking blessing at that time too, when that the goddamn virus struck us ¡ª and everyone''s focus was diverted on those dying males in their own families, and not into the razzle-dazzle attention-craving world that you hoped to revolve around yourself in, my dear step-daughter ¡ª and also, me dealing equally too with your Daddy ¡ª the once-disgraced-senator Richard Cory!


    "Hah! Enough now, Samantha! I don''t want to talk any more about it ¡ª furthermore, I did not come all the way here today, for this damn conversation either."


    Madeline sighed and lowered her voice...


    The two women became subdued, with their personal yesteryear thoughts...


    Samantha was still seated on the couch ¡ª noticing Madeline with her back turned, staring at a painting on the wall of a boy playing with building blocks.


    "Madeline, my boy ¡ª where is he? He is not dead ¡ª is he?"


    "No, he is not ¡ª and he is fine and well ¡ª he is now somewhere safe," Madeline divulged...


    She sensed Samantha, who was intrepid earlier in rebellious confrontation, was now mellowing down in her tone to the topic of her child ¡ª it was a good opportunity to use it as a bargaining chip.


    "Madeline please, I want to see him."


    The senator slowly went over and sat on the couch beside her.


    "In due time Samantha, but first you have to work with me to earn that ¡ª can you do that?"


    "What? What do I have to do?"


    Samantha''s voice choked in tears, with the impending possibility of being with her child for the first time ¡ª while Madeline appraised their near future together...


    "It is that simple, Sam ¡ª right now I am making great inroads into the White House, and once I am there ¡ª the eyes of the world ¡ª will fall again upon you, my only surviving family...


    "I honestly don''t want the world to see you in this sorry wretched state ¡ª but, if you promise me that you will be obedient and listen to what I say from now onwards ¡ª and only then, I will let you see your ¡ª boy."


    "You will really let me see my son?" the younger Cory responded docilely.


    "Yes, Samantha ¡ª do you want to?"


    "Yes, I do so very much. I keep thinking of him a lot."


    Senator Cory looked into her teary eyes ¡ª and she firmly expressed...


    "Then, promise me that you will take care of yourself better, Sam ¡ª if you start loving yourself more, that is the only way you will heal faster and get better soon ¡ª only then in return, your son too will love you even more, or else ¡ª if he were ever to see you in the way, as you are now, he too will even abandon you someday."


    Madeline stroked her red hair...


    "Can you promise me that, Samantha?"


    The younger Cory was now submissive to the auguring words of the older woman...


    "Yes, I promise ¡ª I promise I will get better for him."


    Madeline hugged her crying step-daughter, with her own canny deep thoughts calculating...


    Now, Senator Cory had to sordidly find a ''substitute,'' to fit into Samantha''s inevitable wants ¡ª because the newborn who was known in his birth certificate as Joseph Edgar Cory was given away ¡ª and he was never spoken about since his birth...


    Her long-time friend, and now her election campaign manager ¡ª Lucinda Gates ¡ª remembered that there were actually ''a set of twins'' ¡ª born that day, twelve years ago ...


    But mysteriously, the female baby was claimed to be stolen from the maternity ward two hours after Samantha''s delivery the twins ¡ª even Madeline Cory had covered up that track too ¡ª prevaricating to her close circle that both the infants were of distinctive stillbirths.

 Chapter 2

    ON A HOSPITAL BED IN OHIO was Roberta Jensen, lying motionless, recuperating after surgery for gunshot wounds. A Hispanic nurse came, and she checked on her chart. Roberta''s eyes were closed, fluttered with REM twitches, as she was in the middle of a dream...


    On an open road with loud winds howling, the ten-year-old Roberta was riding a bicycle against it. She peered up at the two cyclists, in the lead afar. She recognized that it was Laura riding her bicycle with a stranger ¡ª it was certainly not any of her sister''s BFF ¡ª certainly not that Haley Eastman, whom she loathed for bullying and teasing her always for her tomboy ascribe in their campestral Wellsville school, that was equally unkind too, to her sexual preference...


    ''Robbie, show me your pee-pee ¡ª if you don''t have one ¡ª then show me your titties!''


    Roberta paddled fast to catch up, while she called out ¡ª to slow the cyclists ahead of her...


    "Laura! Laura, wait ¡ª I am coming!"


    But, Roberta was left far behind in the cornfields road ¡ª she next saw a figure of a woman standing by the tractor on the wayside ¡ª she cycled closer to discover that it was her mother, Martha. Then, Roberta kvetched in a whining tone to her...


    "Mum, Laura is going too fast ¡ª and I can''t keep up."


    "Robbie, you are slow because you are fat."


    The determined younger daughter reacted back...


    "No, I will catch up with her, Mum!"


    Roberta rode harder and she looked up and saw four people standing in the middle of the road ahead ¡ª it was Bing, Pok¨¦mon, Sega and Leroy ¡ª the four Black Intersexuals who pimped the albino girl in the streets.


    They all raised their guns up and started firing at the approaching Roberta, who eyed at the bullets coming at her like a swarm of angry hornets. She shut her eyes tightly and peddled even arduously ¡ª she rode straight crashing into them...


    They all shattered like a mirror into thousands of shard bits, falling on the road. The sunlight was reflecting on the pieces of mirror bits ¡ª it was like a golden path on the road ¡ª while Roberta panted in relief, raced on it, with the sound of crackling glass beneath her.


    She foraged ahead to gestate that Laura was still a distance away. It made her peddling even harder to catch up. A yellow school bus came from behind her ¡ª and out of the windows, some ten-year-old boys cheered for her...


    "Your sister is not far ahead ¡ª you can do it, Robbie!"The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The flesh on their faces peeled off and dropped ¡ª the boys turned into skeletons ¡ª and their skull faces kept on encouraging by chanting her name...


    "Go, Robbie, Go!"


    The bus then overtook her bicycle, and Roberta saw an advertisement poster pasted on the back of the bus ¡ª it was a grinning, Big Manny, her beat-cop partner ¡ª who was seated among a group of pedigree toy dogs, the kind that her Aunt Flo owned. Mandy Thompson was now the ambassador of the Korean food-chain called Frankie Sun. Manny held up a Korean chilli-dog made of canine meat, with the word caption below the advertisement...


    ''Eat for free.''


    The yellow bus vanished into a fog ahead on the road ¡ª and the surroundings now got darker, and gradually it turned to nighttime. Roberta rode with her headlights flashing into the murky mist on the path. She saw the blurry figures of Laura and the stranger cycling, just a few feet ahead of her. Roberta exclaimed out loud in excitement...


    "Laura! I caught up with you."


    Her elder sister glanced back and replied cheerfully...


    "Hey Robbie, we are going to the lake ¡ª do you want to follow us?"


    "Yes!"


    Finally, her sister had bidden her be part of the circle that went outdoors ¡ª but, Laura was not riding with her friend, ¡ª neither it was Connie nor Haley ¡ª and it was too foggy to distinguish the stranger''s face.


    "Laura," Roberta asked out. "Who is that with you?"


    The stranger turned and revealed her face ¡ª Roberta identified a second Laura ¡ª and the dead ringer who looked exactly like her.


    The unnerved Roberta instantly hit the brakes ¡ª and stopped her bike...


    ''How can there be two Lauras?''


    She heard Laura''s voice disappearing into the thick fog ...


    "Robbie, if you change your mind ¡ª we will be at the lake."


    *


    The older Roberta''s eyes opened in the darken wardroom, she started to groan and grimace out from her post-surgery pains. A shadowy figure of a nurse approached nearer and comforted her in the darkness...


    "Relax there, the morphine will kick-in ¡ª and the pain will soon go away."


    The sweating Roberta looked up at the nurse with her indistinct vision ¡ª and saw the adult Laura in the nurse''s uniform, smiling down at her after she had administered the dosage. The person in the white uniform started to walk away ¡ª Roberta''s hand reached out, and she slurred ...


    "La-u-ra."


    Before her death, their mother had said that Laura should take care of her...


    ''But, two Lauras? How was that even possible?''


    Roberta closed her tearful eyes ¡ª and drifted back into a deeper state of spoor, backing away from the pains of her gunshots wounds...


    ''Two Lauras?''


    *


    Twenty-seven miles away was the same cop''s Intersexual nephew ¡ª who was born identical to his consanguineous mother ¡ª someone whom he does not know that she even existed. Reeves was burning the midnight-oil, by the window, studying for his re-sit of the Q n A in the advanced series exams, while the rest of the Wesleyan boys were in the middle of their deep slumber.


    Somehow, his mind was not there at that moment ¡ª he looked out of the window into the night at the campus grounds ¡ª at the far end of the vast vicinity outside, was the old wall ¡ª it waited for his decision of being a free-male in civilization, the moment he jumped over it...


    It had been three days since he had an argument with Joe at their ''secret place'' ¡ª and he had been scheming with his solo getaway plan, ever since that day.

 Chapter 3

    IN THE TEST-ROOM, the woman asked the question, the reflection of the boy was in the mirror, he was thinking expressionlessly for a moment. When he answered, the woman suppressed a button ¡ª a green light blinked behind the one-way mirror, where Winnie Sherlock smiled to herself and ticked on a paper in her file.


    She then overheard the woman telling Reeves that he was done. The dark-haired Intersexual got up and left the room...


    He avoided glancing at the mirror.


    Outside, Reeves walked tardily in the empty hallway to his classroom. Another door opened ¡ª the psychologist Winnie Sherlock came out with a cynical smile, and she intercepted Reeves...Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    "Congratulation ¡ª you scored 64% Reeves, well done! Now, this is an honest and sufficient score ¡ª compared from the 20% scant you pulled a couple of days ago...


    "...now just take my advice, Reeves ¡ª don''t cheat, cos you can''t fool us ¡ª we know everything that is going on in here, you get me?"


    Reeves nodded once as prosaic, but...


    Mumbled quietly to himself. "Whatever," he walked slowly away...


    ''Bitch!''


    He was in detestation that he was still enthralled to their controlled system ¡ª but that would end soon, and this would be his last of their lab-rat test, that he would ever sit for again ¡ª because he had determined to escape before long...


    ''One missing lab-rat, hey, bye-bye all you bitches!''


    He would then jump the wall ¡ª after ¡ª he got the relevant information of his family background record from the administration office.

 Chapter 4

    THE YOUNG GIRL WALKED on the pavement of the old forgotten suburb, passing rows of houses on both sides of the road, with peeling wall paint and some barking hounds greeted her, early that morning. She wore the same yellow, corduroy overcoat and knee-high boots...


    Her sweaty, pale albino face was without any makeup ¡ª it was looking smutty now in appearance, under the approaching daylight.


    She was finding for a place to sleep ¡ª and to hide away ¡ª from those who still ''owned'' her.


    She even doesn''t know if she had wiped her fingerprints off when she used the Black cop''s revolver to kill their leader, Bing...


    She glanced at something in her hand ¡ª it was a driver''s license...


    She was searching for the house address of Roberta Jensen''s ¡ª who saved her ''again'' last night. She was glad about her impulse for being canny in taking her driver''s license, after the confusion of recalling of that name from her past...


    It was a miracle too, of how she had finally found her Guardian angel, after many forgotten years, since she last heard of the name ¡ª Roberta Jensen ¡ª from ''the little brave-hero girl'' stories told by her mother, during her bedtime when she was small...


    Ever since then, the nomad girl always wanted to be a subjugator like that brave girl.


    The girl finally found a house, with the matching address on the mailbox...


    She spied around, before moving over towards the side of the old house. She peeked inside through the dusty, grimed window before proceeding to the facade of the house, which stood without a garage. She passed by a big motorcycle that was chained and bolted to a post ¡ª she smiled...


    ''What is this? The household, pet guard-dog?''


    She then saw a CPD crest on the door side ¡ª but, she kept on searching under the doormat, and behind the withered, potted plants ¡ª she stood on her toes, finally found the hidden spare door-key on top of the ledge of the front door. Snow White looked around for one final time ¡ª before she turned the key, and let herself inside...


    ''...seems to be a careless cop, relying on her cop-image scare tactics ¡ª but, Oink-oink, I am in...''


    It had a small living room that was a messy dump, but she had seen worst hovels ¡ª when her Janes took her back to their homes, for their hourly shtup. Snow White explored the place and saw some photo frames around the house of Roberta''s parents and her male siblings.Stolen novel; please report.


    She then picked up a photo frame of Roberta as a dumpy kid with her older sister Laura ¡ª it was taken at a county carnival fair.


    She saw another dusty-photo-frame of a slightly, older Roberta with two other teenagers. They were all wearing black biker- jackets with the same gang-related emblem sewn on.


    All three of the butch-girls, or ¡ª ''Sister-boys'' ¡ª as they were called back in Mississippi...


    Surprised, she had recognized one of them ¡ª who was also, from her hometown in Mississippi...


    The weary, albino girl could not put her head together on how Roberta had known the one named ¡ª Roxy Gilman of her past ¡ª someone who she would pull the trigger at if she met next...


    She next stepped into the untidy, master-bedroom with some posters of handguns on the wall, and the girl placed the two photograph frames that she was holding on the bed ¡ª and lit a joint. Snow White open the attached door into the discoloured walled bathroom ¡ª and stood in front of the medicine cabinet mirror ¡ª gazed at her pale albino skin that was begrimed.


    She ran her fingers into her short, spiky, dark hair for a long moment, staring at herself, stoned...


    She then removed her yellow overcoat and she stood in her skimpy, two-piece lingerie worn beneath. She then got naked, turned on the hot water shower; and the suffused water felt ambrosia, trickling on her albescent skin, and made it pinkish momentarily...


    She stepped out of the shower ¡ª staring back again at her wet face, reflected at the mirror of the cabinet, for some extra seconds ¡ª noticing her pink skin gradually turned to her albino-self...


    ''The show is over...''


    Her head was wrapped in Roberta''s bath towel ¡ª she walked in dripping nude, back into the cramped bedroom with the oversized bed. In the built-in wall closet, she saw Roberta''s clothes jumbled messy on hangers. She ran her fingers on a black-leather, adult biker jacket before she wore it.


    The girl found another worn-out and smaller leather jacket with the faded sewn emblem ¡ª similar to the one worn by Roberta, in her younger day''s photo with her gang. She placed it on the chair near the bed...


    Then her hyped-senses of the weed that she smoked ¡ª had something caught her attention...


    Squatting in the nude at the bedside, she spotted a partially hidden footlocker. She had found a metal case of Roberta''s cache of gun-collection with several sized pistols ¡ª she picked and loaded a 9mm, and placed it under the pillow. Snow White then dropped on Roberta''s bed, holding and observing the two photo-frames again ¡ª she still could not figure the Roxy-Roberta connection...


    But she could feel her personal Lilya-Roberta connection...


    But it was the destiny of the Universe that led her to believe that Roberta was brought over last night to the face-off, with those armed, Black-pimps who held her as their White sex-slave for a year ¡ª until, her Guardian angel-cop that night, then turned into the Angel of Death ¡ª who slew those lowlifes, Nigger-whoremongers pitilessly, in the corrupted streets of King Lincoln''s Bronzeville.


    She was grateful to finally meet her hero in person ¡ª who had already saved her life twice ¡ª the first time was a long time ago according to her mother...


    It occurred then when she was only two years old.


    The albino girl felt deep gratitude of subsisting, from the shootout madness in the street last night ¡ª and she even felt like a hero herself ¡ª for blowing out the brains of the leader of the panderers, at the final moment, before she escaped...


    The thirteen years old, Snow White counted her blessings before she fell into a deep peaceful sleep.

 Chapter 5

    OVER THIRTY INTERSEXUALS who were wearing monk robes with their hoods covered their shaven, bald heads ¡ª they sat on the pew rows of the Cathedral ¡ª while the senescence, Mother Superior taught them at the foot of the altar.


    Doran was seated on the last row and like the rest of the androgynous boys, and he was taking notes ¡ª with a blunt pencil in his paper notebook, in the digital-age era.


    Doran had been struggling for many years in relearning his faith from the two schools of religious practices ¡ª his heterodox, Pentecostal mother in the past, would have preached by interpreting God''s words literally by quoting straight-up from the Good Book ¡ª while here, the Catholic nuns at the orphanage were teaching him more of the ossified traditions and rituals of the old. His mind had assimilated to accept the oddity of both the praxes, after his five years of staying in the abbey.


    Beside Mother Superior stood near a goofy, looking boy, Peter, who was dressed up in a Catholic, altar-boy cotton habit ¡ª he was holding a chained metal, thurible censer, smoking with the rosy aroma of the burning myrrh. Although, Peter was not the brightest of the monks at the orphanage ¡ª yet, he was proud with his pride to be chosen to stand in front of every one of the boys, by not wearing a heavy monk robe that morning.


    "Can anyone of you tell me when the thurible is used during the High Mass?" Mother Superior questioned her twelve-year-old students ¡ª Michael soon raised his hand...


    "During the Gospel procession," answered Michael.


    He was the brightest among the scintillating group in the front pew ¡ª whom Mother Superior had transcended them as the potential lot who will someday become excellent trained priests. The old nun added...


    "Very good Michael, but in fact, it is used even much earlier during the Mass ¡ª like in the priest''s entrance procession, where he or she first incensed the Holy Cross and the altar. Then, as Michael has said just now, it is used during the Gospel procession and proclamation. This is followed by the thurible censing, which is done after the bread and chalice are placed on the altar..."


    Suddenly, everyone''s attention turned to the sound of a siren outside the window ¡ª that made some of the twelve-year-olds to stand up and gawk.


    Mother Superior declaimed out aloud. "All of you, stay seated!"


    An ambulance was in the compound of the Cathedral ¡ª and it was driving towards the Convent and orphanage buildings. Mother Superior took out her cell phone and switched it on. She was calling Sister Margaret ¡ª as the curious, on looking monk-boys anticipated her to start speaking...


    A younger nun ran into the cathedral hallway at the same time, and her phone rang with a Christmas carol ring-tone. Everyone''s head turned to notice the nun ¡ª who stopped halfway inside the Cathedral, to answer her phone...


    "Hello?"


    "Sister Margaret! It is me ¡ª I am trying to call you."


    The older nun voiced out at her when she saw Sister Margaret inside the church. It made some of the boys laugh at their confusion ¡ª Sister Margaret looking astounded, as she strode fast over to the altar...


    "O Mother-Superior, we are trying to call you too, a while ago ¡ª but your phone was switched off."


    "Of course, I switch off this phone during my lectures, in the house of God. So, what is going on? Why is there an ambulance in the church compound?"


    "Mother, it is Sister Lisa-Marie ¡ª she collapsed just now."


    The dismayed voice of the approaching nun replied back ¡ª Doran looked up shocked like the rest ¡ª he couldn''t believe what he had just heard.


    "What happened?" Mother Superior uttered in incertitude.


    "She had a stroke, and we called the hospital ¡ª then, we tried to reach you..."


    Doran stood up, and dashed out toward the front door ¡ª he badly wanted to be at Sister Lisa''s side.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "Doran! Doran, come back here!" Mother Superior called out in vain.


    Most of the other excited Intersexuals monks, got up on their feet when they spotted Doran leaving ¡ª someone said out...


    "He is going to do something crazy. Come, let''s go and see!"


    The twelve-year-olds all started running behind Doran ¡ª and even Peter, in the altar-boy attire ¡ª left the smoking censer of incense that he was holding behind, as he too joined them running away...


    "All of you, get back here ¡ª and sit down!"


    Mother Superior hollered again in the Cathedral, but no one heeded, except for the boys in the front pew ¡ª the obedient Michael, Matthew and the handful few ¡ª who were all the old nun''s favourite students.


    Mother Superior shook her head in disbelief and together with Sister Margaret, they too walked out. Michael and his disciplined group meekly followed the two nuns from behind.


    *


    Doran dashed into the Convent front yard with the parked ambulance, and he was followed by the group of rumpus cheering monk-boys. They were all stopped by some shouting nuns at the entrance...


    "Stop! You know the house-rules ¡ª no boys are allowed inside the Convent."


    The garboil continued when Doran disobediently slipped inside...


    He ran in to encounter three female paramedics, loading the unconscious Sister Lisa-Marie on a gurney ¡ª he called out her name aloud and approached, but one of the medical EMT pushed him aside while carting the gurney outside to the waiting ambulance. Doran was still in a state of shock ¡ª he just followed them quietly when they wheeled her out. They deracinated the unconscious nun, inside the back of the vehicle...


    Doran tried to get in...


    "I am following Sister Lisa-Marie to the hospital." The woman driver at the vehicle blocked him...


    "No, it is against the hospital policy for minors to catch a ride with us."


    "But I insist!"


    Doran shouted back in desperation, holding on the door tight. A Black nun inside the ambulance disclosed...


    "You cannot go, Doran, Mother Superior will not permit any of you boys to leave the premise."


    Doran became aggressive when he heard Sister Anita''s excuses, and he retaliated...


    "No! I will follow Sister Lisa!"


    He was then pushed aside by the adult ambulance driver before closing the back doors. Doran paced in aggravation to the driver''s seat ¡ª and he pulled out the ignition key.


    The approaching Mother Superior sensed a commotion ahead at the Convent, she turned to Michael. "Michael, go and see what is going on there." The dutiful monk nodded in assent and raced ahead, with Matthew following him from behind.


    "Give me the key, boy," the female driver demanded.


    The rest of the startled young-monks observed the accrued Doran, challenging the woman driver...


    "No, if I can''t go ¡ª I will not give the key!"


    Nobody at the orphanage had seen him this intractable, even the nuns around were afraid to approach nearer, when Doran was inveighed in hostility. Doran heard a lot of annoyed, scolding voices that were loud and piercing around him ¡ª and there was also a laughing woman at the back ¡ª it was a familiar taunting voice from his past.


    Michael turned up and spotted the disorientated Doran holding the key of the ambulance, and he closed into him. "Doran, what are you doing?" The scar-faced boy was repeating...


    "Michael, I will follow Sister Lisa Marie to the hospital ¡ª go now and tell that to Mother Superior!" He kept reiterating to himself...


    "No matter what, I will follow Sister Lisa Marie to the hospital!"


    Doran was trying to drown the voices around that were still rebuking him ¡ª especially that single annoying laughter...


    "Doran, what will you possibly do when you get there, tell me now!!?"


    The dazed Doran was baffled...


    "I, I ¡ª she will need me, Michael ¡ª and I need to be there with her too!" But, Michael was now firm with him...


    "What now? Are you a doctor, Doran? You listen to me here right now, Sister Lisa is in serious danger, and she truly needs medical attention."


    But, Doran kept repeating to himself. "I must go with her!"


    He still could not block the scornful laughter ¡ª mocking inside in his head.


    Michael grabbed his arm and was unfaltering. "Hey, and do what over there, Doran!!? She is dying right now, and she needs a doctor ¡ª but you are delaying them...


    "Do you want Sister Lisa to be dead, Doran ¡ª answer me now!!?"


    Doran was thrown off-guard ¡ª he shook his head, looking dumbstruck ¡ª Michael was still unwavering, and came over closer...


    "Give me the key now!"


    Michael snatched the key off Doran''s palm ¡ª and passed it to the ambulance driver.


    The crying Doran was now gripped Michael''s arm, sounding helpless ¡ª which was a forlorn attempt to get into the vehicle when he heard the ignition key had started the vehicle''s engine...


    "Why none of us is following!!? Now, what am I to do here!!?"


    "Let''s go and pray for her. We pray to God that the doctors at the hospital will save Sister Lisa Marie ¡ª come, my brother..."


    Michael''s voice resolute him ¡ª Doran tearfully caught a final glimpse of the ambulance, with the howling siren driving away ¡ª while Michael and Mathew led him in the path towards the Cathedral.


    Michael was being supportive ¡ª despite the rest of the monks, who saw Doran as a crazy balking roughneck who arrived five years ago ¡ª rather than someone of the compliant to their serious Catholic faith, like the rest of them at the abbey.


    The outspoken Michael in the group understood Doran''s predicament, and he empathized ¡ª knowing how much the old nun meant to him. His small supportive group of the monk-boys soon took him to the Cathedral ¡ª and they prayed together for the recovery of the ailing nun.


    The stroke that Sister Lisa was suffering now was a new emotional welt among the rest of the other scars that Doran physically bore.


    He cried more than he prayed.

 Chapter 6

    MASUDA SCHOOL OF SCIENCE & TECHNOLOGY was an International Japanese school in Washington DC. A blond, Caucasian Intersexual was the only odd one out there ¡ª he was walking in school uniform, among the other all-Japanese females and androgynous students during their recess break.


    His cell phone beeped and he saw a text message in Japanese ¡ª he smiled while he replied back with a text, in similar Japanese kanji characters with a lot of funny emojis.


    Three Japanese boys espied him before they split up. Each of them followed him separately from different locations of the school. The short Japanese boy then saw him entering a male-washroom. He followed him inside, to find the twelve years old Caucasian locking himself in an enclosed stall. The Asian boy went out to the other two boys outside and informed them humorously...


    "He is inside like yesterday, the last time he stayed for 20 minutes ¡ª it must be the hot, Wasabi that he must have eaten."


    "Then you stay, and wait here ¡ª until he comes out, Shorty"


    The dumpy boy was now fussed...


    "Why must I be the one, to wait here, for that White-shit taking a shit? This is not fair ¡ª you two always leave me to do, the most mundane jobs as always."


    "Shut up, you are not of our rank yet ¡ª so you damn well listen to us. We both will now go and inform Ken, that you are on his tail ¡ª and when the ''Whitey'' comes out, you will trail him wherever he goes...


    "Remember this ¡ª he must not go near that girl, or else Ken will kick all of our asses ¡ª and we will later find you after school, and we both will kick yours, even harder ¡ª do you understand?" Shorty mumbled in displeasure despite the threat...


    "I still feel it is not reasonable ¡ª why I get to do all the stinking job here?"


    "Shut up Shorty, and don''t complain," the two taller boys walked away, leaving the griping Shorty behind, who then sat on a nearby bench with his manga comic book.


    ***


    The Caucasian boy opened the ventilation slide window just above the stall''s rear wall and he jumped outside the washroom. He started to run in the back area towards a quiet park near the school. The boy checked around until someone hit his back with a pebble ¡ª he turned and reacted...


    "Suki?"


    She usually played ''hide and seek'' and other pranks on him ¡ª just like any twelve-year-old.


    Nobody was around, and he called out again.


    Next, a condom filled with water hit a tree and burst ¡ª the blond, haired boy jumped aside to avoid getting splashed. He then turned back to laughing, petite girl with dyed, blond hair like his, running to him ¡ª she then jumped straight on him. He lost his balance and they both fell on the grass ¡ª the two tweens began to revel and kiss, with Suki Takahashi on top of him. The young lovers rolled on the grass.


    The boy spoke in Japanese next when he cautioned her. "Suki, we will get into trouble if we keep meeting like this?" But, Suki teased him back...


    "Are you afraid that Ken will find out?"


    "Yes, your racist cousin is out to kill me, for his honour."


    "His honour, my ass!"


    The Japanese girl encouraged an option impishly, "You know martial art, and you are a good fighter ¡ª then, why are you then afraid of him?"


    He was wishing that Suki would stop testing him, and would get serious for once ¡ª because the situation was getting riskier, for them to meet each time.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "I am not afraid of him, and yes, I can beat him anytime, anywhere ¡ª but, I know what Ken is capable of, when he plays dirty ¡ª he will inform your family about us, and you can get into big trouble for it," he replied, with a long sigh.


    She looked back affectionately at her boyfriend when he spoke. "You do care a lot for me ¡ª and I also feel the same way for you too." She moved forward and hugged on to him tight before they both began kissing again.


    The school bell rang when it got amative...


    "Suki stop, we got to go now." But the girl differed, and she suggested...


    "No, come, dear, let''s skip class and we can stay here longer."


    "No, we can''t ¡ª Kenaki will get suspicious."


    The Caucasian boy stood up and left in a hurry from the lonely park, while the smiling Suki took a separate way back to school.


    Somebody in a black sedan was spying on the blond boy, who was running towards the side gate of the school.


    ***


    The Caucasian boy walked out of the door of the washroom, and Shorty stopped reading his manga, and he followed him after his fifteen minutes of the surveillance stake-out. A visitor trailed them both, from the back.


    Students were now returning to their respective classes, the Caucasian boy was walking in a hurry with the last few pupils to the stairs ¡ª and he turned to hear a woman calling him...


    "Marlin!"


    It was Dr Jane Morris, his guardian, who had posed as his adopted mother, in all the years of his life at the boarding private school ¡ª and her name was even stated in every document he owned, since his birth.


    The perplexed, Intersexual boy babbled, "Dr Morris, why are you here? Is it my mother, is she okay?" His guardian didn''t reply ¡ª but gave him a stern look...


    "Your mother is fine ¡ª but, who was that girl, you were with just now?" He now stuttered in denial. "Come on, don''t lie to me, Marlin, I saw you frolicking out there just now. Who is she?" He blushed and looked away.


    "It is nothing, she is just a friend."


    "Marlin, I have told you so many times to keep a low profile, or else you will jeopardize everything. Beware here, you must remember that you should not attract any attention to yourself, or even get into any trouble. That was only the main reason ¡ª I put you here in this Japanese school so that you will remain anonymous...


    "Hey, do you understand what I am saying?"


    He nodded remorsefully, she further inquired...


    "Did Sonia call you? Now, don''t lie to me again, boy!"


    Ruefully he nodded and answered softly...


    "Yes."


    The doctor shook her head in disappointment. Her mind was currently deluged with tons of pressing matters pertaining to her scrupulous collaboration with Dr Boris Yankoff, and his renegade scientific group involved in finding a cure to the Medusa Virus for the CDC deadline before the next coming election ¡ª where President Rosewood stood a slim to none chance, against the growing popularity of her opponent Madeline Cory.


    Morris sternly queried more...


    "Does she call you often?"


    Marlin acknowledged with a docile nod again. Dr Morris opened her handbag, and took out a cell phone, and handed it to him...


    "This is a new number, you are going to use this cell phone from now onwards ¡ª and I don''t want your mother to call you unnecessarily anymore. I want you to also discontinue using your old phone, and you dispose of it now ¡ª am I clear, Marlin?"


    He tried to dissent, but Morris was firm...


    "No, Marlin, Sonia is not thinking straight ¡ª and she will jeopardize Dr Boris Yankoff''s research. It is very important that we keep their research work going ¡ª because the future of mankind is at stake here.


    "Please, you too don''t do anything foolish here, like your idiotic mother, and soon messing up the years of progress that is done ¡ª can you promise me this, Marlin?"


    "Yes."


    He expressed his accord truthfully, but his head was still muddled...


    He understood the juncture, that his mother was a fugitive hiding in the country. Matters too can go awry for everyone, if he did not take Dr Morris'' instructions seriously, so he should have lesser contact with Sonia from now onwards ¡ª but what about Suki?


    That stuck him hard ¡ª they both were madly in love ¡ª will Dr Morris make him break up with her too? That would really tear him apart.


    "Good boy," she bent and kissed both of his cheeks. "Now run along, you will be late for your classes, I will keep in touch."


    Marlin watched her walking away, before looking at the new cell phone in his hand. He pocketed it and raced upstairs to his classroom.


    He entered and bowed ¡ª to apologize to his teacher, who had started her physics class. Suki Takahashi''s eyes were smiling, as her ocular followed her beau until he was seated.


    Her cousin, Kenaki Kimura, who was seated at the rear ¡ª he was observing her ¡ª he noticed both of them having similar grass stains spots on the back of their uniforms...


    He then glowered at the Caucasian boy, with venomous spite.

 Chapter 7

    SHE WAS HIGH on analgesic morphine. She smiled a lot and was giggling softly to herself with her eyes closed...


    Little Roberta was floating like the teacup carnival ride she had with Laura at the county fair. She looked up at her parents each holding her baby, twin brothers, who were watching and waving back at her. The teacups rotated and whizzed on the floor tracks, Spinning voices of Johnny and Jimmy, were calling out her name. "Robbie! Robbie!"


    The Chief Police Commissioner had visited her earlier that morning ¡ª where there was a public-relations request by the police department, wanting Roberta to appear on TV cameras to comment about the shooting incident, happened a few days ago.


    Despite being in pain, Roberta did the interview but she could not look straight into the camera lens ¡ª it was more of the shame and her own guilt from the lies when she had revealed to the media about Mandy Thompson being her guiding mentor. It felt detrimental at that moment, when facing the eyes of the world, when in fact, it was a letdown ¡ª as she could not save a good, ''clean'' cop that night ¡ª whereas, an ambidextrous cop like herself had survived the shooting ordeal.


    Later that same evening, Roberta had another visitor...


    Roberta giggled when she slowly opened her eyes ¡ª seeing the albino girl sitting beside her bed, smiling back at her. She was in a princess costume in Roberta''s hallucination state, as she herself was in her ten-year-old person ¡ª where she grew up watching lots of Disney tales on the TV network at the farm with her sister Laura ¡ª making fun of her sibling''s fascination of fairy tales'' princesses.


    "I know you ¡ª you are...fucking Snow White."


    "That is my street name, but my real name is Lilya Devon."


    Lilya doubted that Roberta will recall her name later, judging by the drug stimulated agog-state that she was in.


    Roberta was chuckling and slurred...Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    "Snow White yeah you, I shot...and shot and killed your...fucking dwarfs ¡ª those-Black-shemale-Niggering-bastards...fuck shit Niggers..."


    "How are you feeling, Roberta?"


    The cop''s eyes were now closed when she replied in a slur. "I feel good, really...good, I like the morphine...they drip me with ¡ª it takes...away from the pain. They shot me, you know, your...fucking dwarfs. Them, Niggers...shot me...


    "Niggers shot Manny too, Manny is in...dog heaven now...and she is happy over there, you know ¡ª she is happy... wherever there is...free food."


    Roberta snickered and when she reopened her eyes and stared at the emblem on Snow White''s dress ¡ª the dress then transmuted into a black, motorcycle jacket with the sewn gang-emblem. It made the cop squint in seeing the vivid transformation...


    "Eh! That is my jacket ... you are wearing, how you get it?" Roberta uttered in a slur, swallowing most of the words.


    Lilya confessed. "I am staying at your house, Roberta. I found the spare key, and I let myself in."


    "Why did you do...a thing like that? Your family, they are looking...for you ¡ª they made a ...missing-person report." The debilitated Roberta was slowly drifting back to sleep...


    "Manny went into all the...trouble, to, get you to reunite ¡ª you with your, family ¡ª I got no family like you ¡ª but why...are you, still hiding? Why there? Why... at my place?"


    "I have to go now, Roberta."


    Lilya Devon stood up.


    It was no point explaining about the actual realities concerning the streets, which were her home for almost four years ¡ª the Serbian prostitution ring now officially owned her because her Black pimps had owed them some substantial amount of drug-related-money. She was now like a commodity in their trade-off ¡ª their collateral for the loan. But when Bing the ''Prince of Ponce'' refused to pay them back, the Serbs made a false police missing-person report to make their claim on her.


    "Rob ¡ª call-me-Rob."


    Lilya touched her arm. "Okay, Rob."


    "Wait, Snow White ¡ª my sister...Laura ¡ª you go and see her...there, she is, all alone. Talk to her ¡ª call her...Mimi, she likes that, yeah, she likes fucking Disney too..." deliriously Roberta blabbered...


    "Mi-mi..."


    Lilya heard her say again of her sister''s name like before ¡ª after the gunfight in the streets, drifting back insentient then.


    The thirteen-years-old looked around before she bent forward, and she gently kissed Roberta''s chapped lips. She left Roberta''s driver''s license on the bedside table ¡ª and like a ghost, the albino girl disappeared, from the patrolling watch guard and nurses in that ward.

 Chapter 8

    NURSE EKER WHO WAS NOW in her fifties, stared at her ¡ª and so did the ageing female security guard beside her...


    "Who did you say you are again?"


    "Norah Jensen."


    Snow White had gone through many of Roberta''s personal documents while she was nesting in her house. Lilya Devon had taken the first name of the psychiatrist, who treated Roberta during her trauma counselling treatment, after killing a Hispanic rapist-janitor in that same hospital ward, many years ago...


    "And how are you both related?" the curious and cautious nurse inquired.


    "I am the youngest cousin to Roberta ¡ª and so, I was asked to come and visit my cousin Laura because, you know ¡ª if you had followed the news on TV, Cousin Roberta is admitted back at the St. Andrews Hospital, after being shot while on duty ¡ª so I am here on her behalf," the albino girl rattled her lies in front of the two adults.


    "Yes, the shemale gang shootout ¡ª I saw it in the news ¡ª how is Roberta, by the way?" the nurse said with a concerned look.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    "She is recovering fine, and will be starting her physiotherapy sessions soon."


    The nurse handed a clipboard with an attached form. "Okay, sign here Norah, Room B-415, down there on your left." Lilya walked away.


    The gawking security guard soon jested. "She really is freaky-white, I would be scared as hell, and may get a heart attack if I were to bump into her alone, in my night rounds."


    ***


    Lilya closed the door. She saw three coma patients inside the room. She went towards the mid-twenties Laura''s bed ¡ª and placed her pallor hand on her arm, and caressed it gently.


    "Hi Mimi, I am Lilya," she whispered into her ear...


    She had heard of stories that her mother told about her boyfriend Javier Monroe ...


    ...who raped Laura as a girl when she was still in a coma ¡ª and the little sister then came to the rescue. The hero-girl killed the ''beast'' ¡ª while trying to protect her elder sister...


    If Javier Monroe had not died that day ¡ª Lilya and her mother would have been also dead, hours later that very same night ¡ª had that Hispanic janitor boyfriend returned to their home after his evening shift.

 Chapter 9

    ON THE FOURTH DAY, the science teacher was lecturing in front of the classroom with her Intersexual students ¡ª Reeves was at the back of the room, totally listless and brooding in a foul mood. He was clenching a pencil in his hand with his thumb, pressing hard on it, while waiting for the boring class session to end.


    Joe was in that class too, he would normally switch off his attention from the class lectures, with his affinity of sketching cars. He was doodling, a hot-wheeled, sports car on the page, while in the pretence of taking notes.


    Joe was among some students in the IIRC, who were diagnosed with ADHD and he lacked focus ¡ª and was given some mild medication every morning. He once told Reeves before that he could not participate in his past escape-plans because he was on his meds ¡ª but, Reeves promised that he would procure his prescription somehow, once they both had jumped the wall onto the other-side into civilization. Even that did not convince him ¡ª and Joe stuck to his excuses.


    It was now time for Miss Freda Mitchell''s assignment...


    "That concludes on Madam Marie Sklodowska Curie ¡ª the two-time winner, of the Nobel Prize for multiple sciences. Now, for your assignment of the week; and to commemorate the coming ''Science and Technology Day'' ¡ª I want you all to write an ''original'' 250-word essay on Marie Curie ¡ª the scientist who founded the theory of Radioactivity, and the discovery of polonium and radium ¡ª hey listen here boys, no copy and paste works from the internet, I will double-check every one of your papers."


    The entire class murmured, while Reeves sighed aloud at the back ¡ª shaking his head to the kind of grandiose assignments, that this woman assigned them to do every week...


    "Come on boys, this lady is a legendary icon and a role model to all the scientists around the world, who wants to reach her greatness ¡ª especially the present scientists, who are working hard to find a solution to cure the Medusa Virus," said Miss Mitchell overconfidently.


    ''Such pompous adorned bullshit told to a class full of docile cows, that will someday be slaughtered if no one discovered a cure to the fucking virus soon,'' the dissident Reeves'' thoughts were brewing...


    He was also thinking about the other names of the past scientific icons, which the science teacher had used without any honour of sanctity in today''s pragmatic dying world. It was a fact after twelve years, that none of the present scientists had come close, in finding a cure to the Medusa contagion.


    The pencil in Reeves'' hand broke in two with a sharp crack. Students who were seated around him turned to look ¡ª including Joe ¡ª someone whom he was not in speaking terms with any more. Reeves mentally barked back at him gawking...The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ''What are you looking at, you fucker?''


    "I want you all to honour this woman with your assignment ¡ª so we will go back in our pairing groups of A and B ¡ª now, who is in group A?"


    Half the class raised their hands, "Group A will do the research and write 250 words on Madam Curie''s family background and education ¡ª while Group B ¡ª put your hands up..."


    Reeves did not raise his hands for either A or B...


    "Okay, those in B, will write 250 words on her achievements and discoveries ¡ª both you and your partner will work together in this assignment, okay? I want to see your best effort in this homework."


    The school bell rang at that moment, and Reeves was the early one to walk out of the class. Joe followed from the rear and saw a broken pencil on Reeve''s desk. He then glimpsed at his classmate Victor calling out, running out of the classroom door, "Reeves, wait up."


    Joe anticipated trouble, so he followed from a close distance, and listened to Victor who caught up with Reeves at the hallway...


    "So you will be doing Marie Curie''s achievements as B ¡ª so, when can we meet up later and discuss the assignment?" Victor comprehended.


    What Victor was saying sounded like quibbling in Reeve''s ears...


    ''Like the grades mattered for these rhesus monkeys once they graduate from this IIRC institute ¡ª and go out to the promised fucked-up world someday, to get some menial serving jobs as servants, to the current dominant gender.''


    "I am not doing it! You can go screw yourself if you say one more word!" was Reeves'' immediate reply.


    That perplexed Victor a second before he responded back firmly. "What? But, you are my study partner ¡ª this is our assignment, and we will be graded together." Reeves chided, despite not wanting to create a scene in the hallway ¡ª but, his decision was unwavering...


    "Screw this crap too ¡ª and with their great female hope-bullshit to find a cure. For all I know is that there is not going to be any ¡ª because the brainy people who came close to finding a cure to the Medusa Virus, are all dead and buried ¡ª period. You hear me Victor, period ¡ª now fuck off!"


    Joe almost snickered aloud ¡ª when he looked at Reeves walking away from the speechless Victor, who was befuddled in his own intellection ¡ª whether the class assignment was on Curie''s Radioactivity or, was on the Medusa Virus.


    Joe knew Reeves too well ¡ª that once he said no to anything ¡ª it was difficult to change his mind.


    Victor turned around and saw Joe walking towards him. "What''s wrong with him?" Joe chuckled at the dichotomy of Reeves'' earlier argument...


    "Chillax, dude, just ignore him ¡ª he has been really stressed up lately. Hey, I am also in Group B and guess what, I think I can help you out here ¡ª yeah, I will do Reeves''s part of the assignment for you. Come, let''s go, it is lunchtime now, Vic ¡ª I will serve you later, your side-order menu dish of beef Marie-curry soon!"


    He shook his classmate''s shoulder and chuckled loudly and left.


    Victor who was about to bring the matter to the science teacher, he was still perplexed of his decision...


    "You would really help me? Hey, thanks a lot, Joe."


    *


    Reeves stepped out onto a corridor and he stared at the empty campus ground with a lone, female gardener trimming a hedge below. He saw the old, orange wall at the far end of the campus ¡ª feeling more of the exasperation of anger, for overstaying the years there, with the rest of the domesticated herd.


    It was time now for him to finally leave this inflated place for good.

 Chapter 10

    THE HUGE CRUCIFIX was above the altar''s wall in the St, Mary''s Cathedral. Doran was kneeling on the pew in prayers and staring at it with incoherent thoughts of the death of Christ ¡ª which was now affecting his devotional prayers.


    He used to fear to look at the bloodied Christ statue on the wooden cross when he first came to the Catholic orphanage ¡ª but he was taught by the nuns that the Lord Savior had suffered and died for the sins of all men, women ¡ª and the Intersexuals alike.


    A provoking voice of a woman started to laugh then ¡ª it was the same annoying voice that was laughing earlier at the Convent yard. It now echoed in the empty Cathedral, where he was alone, in that wee hour after midnight.


    His mother was here somewhere ¡ª where was she?


    He had questions for her...


    "Why? Why her? This is not fair!" The vexed monk-boy hollered back in wrath.


    "Come out, and show yourself to me, Mother ¡ª tell me, why this had happened to Sister Lisa Marie?"A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "Why should it not happen, you abomination!!?"


    Doran turned to the direction of the voice ¡ª he looked at the statue of the Madonna with her child. The countenance of the Madonna had turned to his mother''s face ¡ª the glazed ceramic face cursed him further...


    "You are eternal damnation from hell ¡ª and unto hell shall you be cursed, to lead those whom you love into its fires!"


    "No, that is not true, Mother!" he declaimed...


    "You killed me and my family ¡ª you ugly she-demon of Lucifer ¡ª now, you are paying for it!"


    "I did not kill anyone!"


    Doran stood up objecting to the voice, stepping away backwards from the statue that further accursed him. But he did once cursed his mother ¡ª before he saw her tragically turned into a ball of flame and was burnt to her death ¡ª those were heartbreakingly memories of what happened when he was a child prisoner, in the basement dungeon, not very long ago.


    "You and your kind will burn for eternity! That nun-bitch will burn in hell too ¡ª for her love to an unholy beast like you!"


    Doran noticed the ceramic faced baby statue in her arms, was snickering evil back at him.


    The distraught Doran stormed away in a hurry to the closed front door of the cathedral. He kicked it open, in the rage of betrayal of his faith. Outside the old building, the incapacitated Doran shut his eyes and placed both of his hands on his head. Squatting then on the ground in the darkness, his body reduced to trembles...


    He was gazing at the stars of the nocturnal heavens outside. Doran started to sob bitterly for any hope from beyond...


    "Please no God, please don''t let Sister Lisa die!"

 Chapter 11

    THE RECREATION LOUNGE was there for a purpose. The behavioural psychologists'' department headed by Dr Ira Kirby, studied the random behaviour patterns of those present in there. The lounge was opened for rec-time, after their class hours in the evening. It was normally occupied by about fifty regular faces every night ¡ª mainly by those who ditched their school homework to indulge in the mediocre activities over there as means of escapism.


    But there were also those who were taking a refreshing break from their dorm, by coming over in between their studies ¡ª some boys like Reeves, sometimes used to do that...


    Tonight, he was there on a different purpose ¡ª he did not do his Marie Curie assignment, and most importantly, he needed an alibi when the hall closed up for the day at ten pm. After when the lights were out, he had decided to break into the IIRC director Tina Martin''s office to search for his information background records, before he escaped into civilization.


    Some boys were playing table-soccer. Others were hooked on video-games, while most of them lazed, chatting in the lounge around the television set. Reeves was sitting on a small table nearby, playing a board-game of chess by himself ¡ª mentally ruminating strategies when he moved the game pieces on the board ¡ª but, his ears were closely listening to the nine o''clock news to keep track of the time...


    ''It will be an hour before the rec-room closes.''


    He occasionally looked up to see the TV screen with the local newscaster that night, who was reporting on a surviving policewoman who gunned down the four Intersexual gang members dead ¡ª and the woman cop was now recovering at the St. Andrews Hospital for serious injuries sustained in the gun battle...


    "Officer Roberta Jensen, aged 22, was rushed to the emergency room 5 days ago after the incident where the four street gang-related criminals had earlier ambushed another policewoman, Mandy Thompson. Thompson, aged 64, lost her life when she was shot at point-blank range."


    The group of Intersexuals was glued to the news. "Today our reporter, Kim Robinson interviewed the heroic police officer Roberta Jensen from her hospital bed at St. Andrews." The newsroom image then super-imposed into Roberta''s bedside interview...


    Reeves stopped moving the chess pieces, and he watched the butch in the hospital garb speaking from her bed. He noticed that her eyes avoided looking at the TV camera lens ¡ª she seemed nervous, and her voice shook when she communicated...


    "I am really gonna miss my partner Manny ¡ª Mandy Thompson. I was out of the Academy four years ago, she had been my partner ever since ¡ª and was a good cop and friend. She taught me a lot on the meaning of duty, integrity ¡ª and standing up to the truth, while we are in the uniform.


    "Today, she is just ¡ª gone ¡ª killed in the line of duty ¡ª if only I had been there, two minutes earlier ¡ª Manny would not have faced those street punks alone, all by herself and ¡ª we both would have brought those gangbangers down together ¡ª and, Manny would be alive today..."


    Roberta was too distressed to continue and she sobbed...


    "Please, I can''t do this ¡ª I can''t ¡ª please go..." Roberta shielded her face from the camera.


    One of the Intersexuals in the rec-room lounge who was watching the news was touched by Roberta''s act of valour. Reeves continued back to playing his board-game, but his ears eavesdropped on the boys'' conversation...


    "What a hero, I wanna be a damn, good cop like her someday," said Kirk ¡ª who was known to his circle as Kiki-boy. His sarcastic, buddy Hank then asked...


    "Will you do what that bitch did ¡ª and shoot those free-males, huh? Will you kill one of our own kinds and brag about it later on TV?"


    "Hey, what''s with our-kind bullshit? Those are hardcore criminals with Uzis, man ¡ª whether it is a female or shemale criminal pointing a gun at me ¡ª I will damn well be like Dirty Harry, blow away their tits or their nuts off, to save my ass!"


    All the preteens laughed and jeered out loudly at Kiki-boy.


    Some turned next to glance, at the rec-room door opening, and they noticed Big Joe walking in. Reeves detected him too walking over, he then looked away.


    It is forty minutes to closing time. ''What is the fat-boy doing here? Get lost, will you!''


    The red-haired boy approached gingerly over, still anticipating that Reeves would pounce back ¡ª and punch him square in the face. Joe sat on the opposite side of his small table. "How have you been, Reeves?" No reply while Reeves pretended to concentrate on his board-game.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    "Mind if I play?"


    Joe started to move a chess piece. "Get lost Joe, this is not your game ¡ª just go play some stupid video-games, and stay away from me."


    Joe chucked and teased back. "I am playing anyway, and I will let you win this time." Reeves killed it, and took out one of Joe''s pieces, and tossed it out of the board.


    "It has been 3 days since we had last spoken ¡ª but, we never fought this long many days before, man," the redheaded boy reminded.


    Reeves was still annoyed, but he remained lull by not raising his voice. "What is there to speak anymore ¡ª we have said what was on our minds, and it is best that we go on our separate ways."


    Joe nodded, educed another chess piece...


    "Just think straight before you make that move ¡ª it is a dangerous world out there, bro."


    Reeves at once beat him again with his move on the game-board, the unfaltering rebel countered...


    "I know what I am doing, and I don''t need any advice at this point in my life." But, Joe grinned, shaking his head. "Do you really have a plan once you leave Wesleyan, by the way?"


    Another annoying question that was vexing Reeves inside...


    Yes, he was going to break into Director Martin''s office later ¡ª but, Joe''s presence right now was just jinxing him.


    "That is none of your business! Now, why do you want to know? Are you going to tell on me?"


    "Hey, fuck that Reeves, you know me ¡ª I will not tell them shit ¡ª I am just concerned for you, man, that''s all..."


    Reeves finally looked at him straight in the eyes ¡ª and evinced bitterly. "Don''t give me that bullshit, Joe ¡ª you don''t care at all, or else you will be on my side now ¡ª and, we will be doing this thing together.


    "You just damn pussied-out, you fat-fuck ¡ª and I blame this place for what it has done to you, and with the rest of the other idiots here. Those IIRC bitches have screwed you all emotionally and make you think like soft and flabby sissies ¡ª so that they can control you all easily ¡ª they have given you their ''Fear-Factor'' thoughts, like everything outside the damn wall, is so scary and dangerous, isn''t that right, Joe?"


    Joe laughed out as usual to the same personal-evaluation of Reeve''s relentless, psychoanalysis of profiling people and situations ¡ª whereby, he had heard such clich¨¦s rantings, many times in the past.


    "Come on, that is not true, Reeves. I don''t have to do anything irrational to prove anything to myself. If you don''t want to think rationally ¡ª fine ¡ª what am I to do about it, huh?"


    Reeves rebuked back sarcastically...


    "Just look at the choice of your words, they have taught you all... like ¡ª ra-tio-nal ¡ª what a real pussy-word that is ¡ª you wanna hear the science behind rationality? Here it goes...


    "What if that guy Edison had listened to his rational wife, he would have given up after a thousand failures, and then he would not have invented the fucking light bulb. If those Wright brothers thought like their rational wives, then a piece of metal called an aeroplane would not be flying in the fucking air, isn''t that right, Joe? What more can you humour me with about your reality, of being rational in this shit-prison?"


    Joe was abashed by his friend''s misanthropic cynicism, but he kept on laughing in a nervous tone.


    "You are really a top-grade, A-one class, A-hole ¡ª and I think you know that too."


    He came tonight, to talk Reeves out of whatever he had up his sleeves about escaping ¡ª but, Reeves seems to be adamant in his decision.


    Reeves discoursed bitterly. "Yeah Joe, go on ahead, and laugh yourself stupid ¡ª I will rather be an asshole than to be one of you fools ¡ª swallowing their defeating feminist philosophy that they are preaching here...


    "They even have already decided role models like fucking Marie Curie for you sissies to clap, cheer and jack your dicks off to. Yeah, go ahead Joe, and wait on for the next 100 years, for your next female hero scientist, to find you guys a cure to the Medusa Virus.


    "Yea, Good luck to you all, you sorry-believers, ¡ª since I know what I want in my life, which is to be outside that wall, and before you know it, I will be long gone away from here..."


    Reeves'' animosity was escalating with Joe''s unassertive attitude ¡ª he stood up to leave, but Joe stalled him.


    "Hey, where are you going, bro ¡ª we have not finished the game."


    Reeves was too chafed ¡ª when he saw the lamentable Joe''s submissiveness, and his stubborn refusal to see the picture with a clear head ¡ª nor did he believe in any kind of incantation of the possibilities, and hopes outside the wall.


    Reeves finally felt that he had been in the company of a buffoon, in all those years together with Joe.


    Reeves swiped his palm and knocked a few chess pieces off the board, some dropped on the floor. The boys who were watching TV nearby were distracted ¡ª and they caught Reeves warning Joe...


    "No, we are done here, you fat-fuck! You come to irritate me one more time again, and I promise I will break your face ¡ª just keep the fuck away from me, from now on!"


    Reeves walked to the door and left outside with a loud slam. Joe bent down and picked the few fallen chess pieces. One of the boys voiced out to him...


    "Everything okay there, Big Joe?"


    "Yeah, all is cool, Hank."


    Kiki-boy then goofed...


    "Wow, he told you off to stay away. You both have some marital problems, Big Joe? Is darling Eve having a headache tonight ¡ª and he can''t blow you, is that it?" The others laughed...


    Joe threw a chess piece and it hit the boy''s chest, Joe castigated out loudly...


    "Fuck you, Kiki! Stop acting like a leaking douche-bag, you bitch-cunt!"


    The boys all laughed aloud again, watching Joe leaving the recreation room too.


    They liked bullying the big, fat-boy Joe ¡ª but, it was different with the reticent Reeves ¡ª the last time they had picked on him, they backed away when the plucky, pint-sized Reeves challenged Hank for a fistfight ¡ª and Hank was the biggest sized, in that loudmouth group.


    Kiki-boy chuckled, held up the chess piece that Joe threw at him...


    "Damn, he hit me with a Queen ¡ª see that, a fuckin'' Queen ¡ª now who is the bitch-cunt?"


    They all laughed again.

 Chapter 12

    IT WAS THE LONGEST HALF-HOUR that he waited for to be 10 o''clock, after storming out the rec-room¡ª after his tiff with Joe earlier. Reeves was still mad at him, but right now, he had to stay focused.


    In the dark, he observed the facility director Tina Martin''s car was not at the parking bay, and the lights were out in her office. It was his lucky night. The woman was not working late like yesterday.


    The twelve-year-old maverick scaled up the outer wall before he walked along the third floor''s narrow ledge ¡ª and he came to the office''s closed window. He peeked into the dark, office room ¡ª next, using a stolen screwdriver, he pierced and jacked open the window from the exterior ¡ª while at the same time, he was carefully maintaining a balance on the narrow ledge, with his other hand.


    It took him almost twenty minutes before he managed to slide the window open.


    The sweaty Reeves started climbing into the office, with one of his feet placed inside the room windowsill ¡ª then, the room light switched on...


    The unsuspecting Tina Martin stepping into her office, hanging her coat...


    ''What the fuck!''


    Reeves scrambled in panic, to get back outside on the ledge ...


    ''Why the fuck is she back? Shit!''Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    He accidentally slipped and fell off the ledge ¡ª but, he managed to get a grip on the edge, he hung on with one hand, while in the other he was still holding the screwdriver. Reeves bit the screwdriver in between his teeth, and he now held on with both hands ¡ª soon his sweaty fingers were slipping...


    It was more than a thirty feet drop down on to the sharp-pointed, metal spearhead, tipped fence below him ¡ª that can either impale him into serious injuries, or even death.


    Tina walked over to her work area, and next switched on the desk lamp. She had driven out earlier to get her night supplies of junk-food snacks, soft drinks, a pack of smokes and a bottle of Evan Williams ¡ª because she was working late again tonight.


    She lit a cigarette, and she turned over to notice ¡ª the window was open...


    She was meticulous about closing her windows, ever since her pet cat died, falling a few years ago, from that same window. Even though she did not own a new pet anymore, but she continued the practice of shutting it each time, she left her office...


    Reeves hung on to his dear life, and he occasionally peered down at the sharp pointed spikes below. He managed to pull his upper body up. Tina then stepped to the window...


    She looked outside while exhaling smoke...


    Reeves was now back standing outside on the ledge, just a couple of feet away, with his back affixed like a wallpaper ¡ª he knew that she could not notice him, in that moonless night.


    The woman stood there for a whole two minutes, as she smoked her menthol to its butt, before tossing it out ¡ª and then she shut the window close.


    Reeves looked anguished by the turn of events. He removed the screwdriver from his mouth, climbing down the drainpipe. Reeves left into the dark enclosure ¡ª and he was hoping to succeed tomorrow.


    He snuck back to his dorm, still cursing to himself to an excuse ¡ª that Joe''s presence earlier at the rec-room had jinxed him.

 Chapter 13

    THERE WERE ONLY FORTY PEOPLE, seated in the huge auditorium in the police HQ. Aunt Flo and Dr Rickman were among them in the front row. When Roberta peeked down from her seat on the stage, she felt despondent at the poor turnout. She had expected a bigger attendance for a national hero ¡ª and now, she felt like old news.


    A large portrait of the late Corporal Mandy Thompson was on stage with a wreath beneath. A young, Black civilian woman received an award on behalf of the deceased, from the Police Chief Commissioner, who commended...


    "Your grand-aunt was a brave woman," and shook her hand. Everyone present in the almost empty edifice clapped.


    The master of ceremonies in her police force uniform made the next announcement.


    "SERGEANT ROBERTA JENSEN, PLEASE STEP UP."


    Roberta approached, supporting herself with her forearm crutch towards the Police Commissioner ¡ª she cursed herself within, in every step of the way that she took, where she had to depend on a support in front of everyone, who she thought was looking at her like a disabled veteran.


    Everyone then clapped in the almost empty hall, when she gaited ¡ª before an unexpected announcement was then made, which astonished everyone who was present there...


    "WE ARE PRIVILEGED FOR A BIG AND UNEXPECTED SURPRISE THIS EVENING. WE ARE PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE THAT ¡ª THE NEXT AWARD WILL BE GIVEN BY A DISTINGUISHED GUEST OF HONOR ¡ª WHO HAS JUST ARRIVED HERE, ON SUCH A SHORT NOTICE FOR THIS AWARD CEREMONY."


    The remittent audience looked around wondering who it was. Even Roberta seemed confused at that moment ¡ª until the side doors of the auditorium were opened ¡ª and hundreds of members of the public and TV crew reporters rushed in. Roberta was awed to witness that so many people were now attending her award ceremony. In less than a few minutes, the entire auditorium was packed to the maximum.


    Through the front main entrance came a blaring marching band next, that was followed by Senator Madeline Cory with her campaign officials, walking in. Hundreds of cameras flashed, and the crowd was roaring with cheers and with presidency election campaigners'' chants...


    "WE WELCOME SENATOR MADELINE CORY NOW TO THE STAGE, TO PRESENT THE AWARD TO SERGEANT ROBERTA JENSEN."


    The crowd roared even louder while they clapped along to the tune of the band. Roberta grinned proudly to see her admired senator, stepping onto the stage, waving at the crowd while was escorted by the Chief Police Commissioner. The orator announced in gaiety...


    "FOR SUCCESSFULLY AND INTELLIGENTLY PERFORMING YOUR ACT OF EXTRAORDINARY HEROISM, WHILE ENGAGING IN A PERSONAL COMBAT WITH ARMED ADVERSARIES, UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF IMMINENT, PERSONAL HAZARD TO YOUR LIFE ¡ª SERGEANT ROBERTA JENSEN ¡ª WE HEREBY, AWARD YOU THE MEDAL OF THE POLICE COMBAT CROSS."


    The crowd of two thousand people salvo out clamorously, along with hundreds of cameras flashing ¡ª and the TV crew cameras were capturing Senator Cory pinning the medal on Roberta Jensen''s uniform. In the front row was Dr Rickman recording the occasion, on a small HD handy-cam, while the joyful Florence Jensen applauded proudly. Wanda Callahan placed her fingers in her mouth and blew a high pitched whistle.


    Lilya Devon was smiling soberly at the observance gathering but was not as mirth as the rest of the celebrating crowd. Since being a wolf in sheep''s clothing ¡ª she was still a strong Rosewood supporter. The albino realized how the cynosure Cory was manipulating Roberta''s bravery award fete ceremony, for her own political popularity platform.


    Lilya too had a reminiscence of the protest rally in the past, where she attended with her buddies when she was ten in Jackson, Mississippi. It was during one of Cory''s previous election campaigns ¡ª when Cory had lost before to President Ann Rosewood. The rally in Jackson that year, ended up with a riot caused by her ex-butch boyfriend, who was a member of the Aryan Sisterhood hate group.


    Roberta saluted to both Cory and the Chief Commissioner ¡ª who then escorted the Senator to the podium to deliver her speech. Everybody simmered down from their excitement and they sat. Madeline Cory looked at the crowd gathered before her, and she began addressing in a low tone...


    "This ¡ª this is really hard for me to say ¡ª when on the night of this gang-related shooting incident ¡ª I was here in this very city of Columbus at the Civic Center, delivering my campaign speech. Later that night, my PR secretary informed me that a police officer was gunned down dead ¡ª and with another police officer was admitted at the St. Andrews Hospital with gunshot injuries, resulted from that same shootout..."


    Roberta looked down at her own feet ¡ª disappointed ¡ª why could Cory not open the speech of how she had bravely gunned down those Niggers? She did not want any pity from those hundreds, who were present there, at her moment of triumph.


    Cory continued to foment. "I am not going to pull out any statistics here, to prove you all that street violence and gang-related crimes, have tripled in urban areas and cities ever since the virus attack. Yes, we had the lowest rate at one time during the ''slow-disappearance'' of the male population ¡ª and also, after a couple of years of healing for our losses in the community. But since then, poverty had filled in the gap ¡ª and people who have no means of incomes, soon, have slowly revived the drug-economy again. Thus, the baton has been passed back to the ghetto dwellers, and crime is once again rearing its ugly head ¡ª and it has been increased to a scary and alarming, record speed ever since then."


    Lilya Devon looked annoyed in the heeding crowd because she had heard this filibuster speech before ¡ª and she knew whom Cory was going to blame next...


    "Today, 60% of all of our dying cities are transforming into ghettos ¡ª with a high concentration of poverty, racial heterogeneity and segregation which are the causes of many cases of murders, sexual abuses, robberies, burglaries and aggravated assaults, which are happening rampantly today...


    "Despite the increase of arrest counts by the police task-force departments, all over the country ¡ª but, it is still not safe for our citizens to live in any cities. Many have even opted to move out because of safety reasons, and away from the poorly run societal structure, under the current ruling government of the Rosewood administration."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The influenced crowd jeered in loath when they heard the current President''s name being mentioned, and they debased.


    "This unreliable Rosewood''s administration has also bankrupted this very country, with little or lack of economic opportunity structures for prosperity ¡ª something which, we once long ago were privileged to be known for, as a land of opportunity ¡ª but, we will soon take back, what was rightfully ours!"


    Cory had the crowd chanting her name now...


    "Calm down please, I am not finished with the ''wheel-chaired'' crippled American society of ours." Everyone laughed to her mockery reference to Ann Rosewood ¡ª even Roberta on the forearm crutch was chuckling away.


    "This current, ignorant administration has further crippled many of our families in the cities, to live their lives below the poverty threshold, with the spread of the high concentration of poverty rate ¡ª this has also increased the involvement of citizens'' participation in the activities that are associated with crime and violence, for the sake of their survival-hood.


    "But now, the current social ecology of these women participating in violent street crime ¡ª has got a new accompanying ''players'' aiding them ¡ª the Intersexuals or the ''New-breeds'' ¡ª or however, you want to call them..."


    Someone in the crowd yelled in derisiveness...


    "Shemales!"


    The crowd laughed out aloud and even Cory smiled before she further censured...


    "yes, those kinds ¡ª they have now filled in the gaps, that was once held by the deceased and extinct male-specie population. In years to come, (and I mean, it has already begun) ¡ª with these new ''players,'' who are now only 12 years-old today ¡ª (but, don''t ever let their preteen age fool you), because with the current state of the economic structure ¡ª these so-called ''children'' will soon be the fore-runners, who will very soon dominate and lead the illegal, street drug economy ¡ª and also, many other felonious, underground economies which will follow¡ª so to earn their ill-begotten profits, from vices like prostitution, extortion and firearms smuggling into the black market...


    "Yes, the patterns will re-emerge once again ¡ª and they all will start recreating racial territories ¡ª and next, every street of every city, will become crime war-zones once again, infested by the Intersexual gangdom ¡ª similar to how, the now, the deceased male population had done before in cities ¡ª yes, that same similar destructive pattern of 12 years ago ¡ª will happen again soon!


    "But, we are going to fight them hard ¡ª and we will get back our cities from them!"


    Every affronted, neo-woman ideologists in the crowd, the ones who called themselves the Dominatrix Power Party, stood up to give a standing ovation ¡ª but Cory gestured them all to be seated, because her speech was not over yet, even though she had the crowd eating right from her hand...


    "If this present irresponsible Rosewood''s administration continues to remain in office, they will prolong and lengthen the periodic recession of this country further ¡ª and with the lack of economic opportunities of growth in the job network, skill development and proper education ¡ª we will all be doomed very soon!"


    "One of the societal goals in my campaign, in the New Order of America, is focused on the security sector of the general public ¡ª where you and I, can safely live in peace as a civilized society, and at the same time, we will also get to enjoy the fruits of a new economy ¡ª where jobs will be abundant with the society among the highly educated ¡ª and where, everyone will be highly trained in trade skills ¡ª and in a nutshell, it is a promise that all individuals in this country will benefit from good health and wealth creation opportunities, which should be rightfully theirs ¡ª as the proud American citizen that we were once before.


    "Yes ¡ª I can assure you all that because I am confident enough that I am going to defeat our handicapped President Rosewood in this coming election ¡ª but, I truly need your support to do that!"


    The crowd cheered again and chanted her name for a whole minute before Cory closed her speech...


    "Do make a difference in yourselves for wanting positive changes, by backing me in my future war against street violence in the urban and city areas ¡ª where I promise you all, a restructure and the changes of the composition of the inner cities in my pipeline, which will happen in time to come.


    "I will personally severe the root-cause of the illegal drug market, that is brewing red-hot currently ¡ª and also, with the right funding to our Police enforcing organizations, we can all eradicate the street gang-related drug activities, which are the major causes for notorious crimes, resulting with the raising death-toll of decent citizens, and the police personnel alike ¡ª like this upright civil servant, the now-deceased Officer Mandy Thompson ¡ª who died recently ¡ª while defending and protecting your very city of Columbus, Ohio during her line of duty...


    "We will soon being law and order and justice back in every city ¡ª thank you very much!"


    Cory had targeted the support of the police organization in every state that she campaigned in, during her speeches ¡ª and she had promised them bigger budgets and opportunities if they backed her strongly in winning the upcoming elections.


    The crowd kept on cheering, while Cory stepped down the stage ¡ª she was escorted by the Police Chief Commissioner. They followed the marching band performing in the aisle, heading to the main entrance. Cory shook some hands while her bodyguard, Wolfe stopped some well-wishers from rushing towards the Senator.


    *


    Lilya Devon lurched among the horde of well-wishers, swelling towards the aisle. She saw Senator Cory, who was fifteen feet away and was approaching slowly towards her. Lilya''s hand then slipped into the black leather jacket that she wore, looking intensely at Cory''s distance.


    Lilya pulled out a 9mm pistol...


    She raised it at Cory and shot twice closely at the Senator''s chest...


    The old woman slumped to the floor. Lilya then pointed the gun at Wolfe and shot, when the bodyguard responded by pulling out her service weapon. Wolfe trashed backwards.


    The Police Commissioner looked horrified beyond words at the shooter. Lilya shot her next in the head, at close range. Among the background of screams and movements of the panicking crowd, Lilya saw the Senator on the floor, breathing her last breath.


    The girl''s head then turned, to a figure approaching fast from her side ¡ª rushing over with her service revolver in her hand was Roberta ¡ª pointing the gun at her ¡ª and Lilya dropped her 9mm to the floor, an impendent surrender. Lilya uttered softly back at her hero...


    "I love you."


    Shots were fired at adjacent ambit ¡ª the bullets hit the albino girl straight in her heart.


    *


    The distressed screams of people in Lilya''s head, were drowned by the sounds of the marching band, and the cheering crowd ¡ª it snapped her out of her reverie ¡ª and Lilya encountered Madeline Cory in person, standing and facing her in front...


    The senator shook the dreamy-eyed girl''s hand in the auditorium, among the other supporting well-wishers, before she exited the main entrance.


    Lilya retreated backwards slowly, and she turned to look dazed at the main-stage where Roberta was standing below the platform and was conversing with the blond Wanda Callahan over the bravery medal ¡ª they were both sharing a joke and were laughing.


    Lilya realized that Cory and the loud marching band had already left the building. She turned back at the stage again to notice Roberta was hugging Wanda. Lilya Devon was distending with anger and jealousy ¡ª she kicked a seat. She clenched both her fists tightly, and she followed the rest of the energetic, chanting crowd that left the auditorium.

 Chapter 14

    A GIGANTIC SCREEN IN TIMES SQUARE replayed the inauguration of Madeline Cory as the second elected female president of the United States. The googol of outdoor party-spirited revellers outbursts aloud while gazing to the prismatic fireworks that lighted up the night firmament, as her godlike voice was amplified on the gigantic outdoor TV screens in New York...


    "I, MADELINE CORY DO SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT I WILL FAITHFULLY EXECUTE THE OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES AND WILL DO THE BEST OF MY ABILITY ¡ª TO PRESERVE, PROTECT AND DEFEND THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES ¡ª SO HELP ME GOD."


    Sonia Petrov watched the street celebration from afar, after Anne Rosewood''s defeat in retaining her presidency ¡ª it was too late now, as there was no future and hope to the ''Three Kings Project'' ¡ª with the last three scientists of the surviving progenitor males who remained alive, and were still finding an epidemiological cure to the Medusa Virus, after failing for more than a decade.


    She was now desperate to find her son and take him along with her ¡ª following her only cardinal option at hand at the moment, which was to flee the country.


    *


    Cory supporters everywhere celebrated in streets and also, indoors like in various larger capital-cities, and so was it in the city of Columbus, Ohio ¡ª one such place was Larrie''s Bar, where cops hung out after duty ¡ª tonight, Cory posters festooned all around the taproom. Over fifty policewomen were cheering aloud while beer mugs were clinking to Cory''s inauguration repeated on a television set. Sergeant Roberta Jensen and Wanda Callahan were among the merrymakers.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    There had been lots of promised goodies coming into the Columbus PD that were granted by this newly elected president ¡ª and tonight, everyone was buying.


    *


    Many hours later, Larrie''s Bar was quieter, Roberta was drinking tequila shots on a table alone, and she chain-smoked, while a few of her butch police friends were at the pool table.


    Someone was observing Roberta from outside the bar window, in the less bustling street at that hour. Roberta soon passed out drunk with her face on the table, knocking down the empty bottle. There was laughter from behind...


    "Mayday-Mayday ¡ª Rob is down!"


    Roberta''s eyes were closing but, her mind-eye had just prevued a shady glimpse of someone outside the bar''s window ¡ª it was the same pale face from the dumpster at Lincoln street, where she once had bled and passed out, lying on the tarmac ¡ª it was the similar visual memory of her glancing at the albescent vestige of someone that she was ''seeing'' now ¡ª who had once pulled the trigger twice when she shot her pimp dead...


    The front door of the bar opened at closing time ¡ª her two butch friends in uniform shouldered the drunken Roberta out to a nearby car, while they were laughing out aloud.


    The hidden albino girl was watching them driving off...


    ... before she hailed a cab.

 Chapter 15

    THE TWO BUTCH COPS dropped the fully uniformed Roberta on her oversized bed in a dark room. One of them, by the name of Giggs got amusive while removing Roberta''s shoes.


    "Night-night Sarge, sleep tight, you ''dude.'' "


    Her partner, Morrison, looked on and teased back...


    "Like she can hear jack-shit ¡ª she is out for the count, ''bro,'' ¡ª what were you expecting, the worm in her tequila bottle to reply back to you?"


    "Was that a worm, Morrison? I thought it was your fat, alpha-clit."


    The two laughing butches closed the room-door and they started to get puerile trying to poke each other''s lumbus in the hallway ¡ª this turned on Morrison, and she grabbed Giggs ¡ª and they both started kissing and began arousing each other''s crotch before Giggs beseeched...


    "Let''s go to your place."


    Morrison replied, "Sure dude, but tonight, if you ever fake an orgasm looking like a mongoloid she-bitch ¡ª I will strangle you in your sleep, and later take a dump on your corpse-face in the morning!"


    Like Roberta, Morrison was also part of the deviated, butch-lesbian, subculture clan and was a follower of the Lingam-Initiative, a spiritual cult that derived from India, growing in popularity worldwide ¡ª where a new-age ontology guru preached that the butch neo-males will be the next, evolved male species, once when the ''one generation freaks of nature'' ¡ª the Intersexuals ¡ª became extinct in years to come...


    That reckoning day would come according to the Lingam-Initiative cult when their neo-males'' clitorises would develop into the size of full-grown penises ¡ª and they would then be at the helm of the lesbian strata hierarchy as the alpha-superiors.


    The cult had encouraged the devotees to gain control of their ''evolution process'' ¡ª and to become the early innovators of the alpha neo-male lifestyle ¡ª for its ascendance strata above the rest of the majority populated, dominatrix gender and of the remaining beta-butches.


    Roberta drowsed deep on the bed, to the din of her laughing friends outside the room door.


    Seconds later, Lilya stepped out of the bathroom and she noticed Roberta passed out on the bed. She peeked out of the window, seeing the boisterous, drunk, butch cops ¡ª provoking the neighbour''s barking dog by reading to it the Miranda before they drove away, giggling...


    The albino girl removed her clothes and lay naked beside Roberta ¡ª she hugged Roberta, stroking the cop''s hair from the back. She then recalled an incident at Larrie''s Bar earlier...


    *


    Walking with a slight limp without her forearm crutch and was still recovering from her pain-management of the gunshot injuries ¡ª the drunken Sergeant Jensen gaited unsteadily from the barstool to the washroom, with an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips.


    The butch cop found both the toilet stalls occupied after a slight actuation ¡ª while waiting, she had an urge to smoke. She fished for the lighter in her pants pocket ¡ª but dropped the Zippo on the washroom floor. Roberta crouched over to pick it when one of the doors swung open outwards. Roberta was hit on the head by it, and she stumbled backwards. Wanda Callahan stepped out with a bewilderment reaction, she apologized...


    "Opps! Sorry Rob, are you okay?"


    Roberta held her head looking vertiginous ¡ª both from the bump on the head, and the alcohol intoxication. "Ooh, feeling woozy." Wanda was quick to grab her and backed Roberta...


    "So sorry, come on, lean on the wall."


    Roberta met her gleaming eyes ¡ª and she grabbed the blond cop and kissed her passionately. Wanda backed off when the inebriated Roberta began groping her bosoms, and she accorded out with laughter...


    "Whoa, take it easy Sarge, we are all drunk here."


    Roberta raised her palm as a sign of apology, but she could not stop her liquid courage palavers. "When I am drunk, that''s when I am stupidly brave. It is funny though, I never asked you out for a coffee and such, Wanda, even when all the opportunities were right there before me. You were the only girl whom I always wanted to be with since we stepped out of the Academy. Now, we are even fuckin'' working in the same precinct ¡ª but somehow I never got the guts to ask you out, Wanda."


    Roberta finished blabbering with a sigh, while Wanda was still flushed after hearing her colleague. The disquieted Wanda now laughed nervously, and kissed Roberta''s cheek ¡ª before she responded as nothing happened...If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Let''s get out Rob ¡ª and, get more beers."


    "Screw the beers, I just want you."


    Roberta tried to kiss her again ¡ª but, Wanda placed her palm in between their lips...


    "No Rob, stop I can''t ¡ª I am with someone."


    Roberta looked at her in disbelief, and jealousy crept in...


    "Who is it? Is it one of the Dicks out from your hawkshaw department?"


    Wanda turned to the mirror and fixed her make-up...


    "No, I don''t date cops."


    "Who then, Wanda, I am curious?" pleaded with a defeated weak smile.


    Roberta really wanted to know and she got persuasive, yet was jocosely jesting. "Tell me to damn it, how long have you been fooling all of us here, with this double identity, playing your detective gumshoe games?"


    The blonde then laughed...


    "About less than a year ¡ª but, I am not telling you anything more beyond that, then, the bitching-chick inside you will make you wanna gossip ¡ª and before I know, I will soon be this big-bimbo joke-of-the-day to all you guys at work as always," she candidly laughed more while dabbing on her lipstick.


    "Fuck that, now who is this special person?"


    Roberta joined in with pretentious laughter as she thought...


    ''Who is this contemptuous douche bag who was better than an Alpha neo-male, hero-cop ¡ª that deserves to get a special girl like Wanda?''


    Roberta soon poked her hips playfully, but Wanda''s lips were sealed. "Yo, I am your good friend, tell me now, please."


    It was after more pleading and teasing, it finally made the blonde policewoman talk...


    "Okay. My boyfriend lives across my apartment ¡ª we have been seeing each other a lot since she moved here from Washington."


    "Hmm, okay, she is not a cop, so what does she do? Come on now, tell me, Wanda, I am a busybody."


    "Promise, you will not laugh ¡ª well, she is a horticulturist ¡ª and she has just started her own landscaping business here."


    It silenced Roberta, with more thoughts...


    ''So, the douche bag horticulturist has the big dough ¡ª and Wanda fell for it ¡ª what a stupid bitch!''


    Roberta laughed out loud despite promising not to laugh, and then she mocked rascally...


    "That is really great, having someone skilled with her hands, so how did she trim your bush lately? Was it some triangle or a Hitler?"


    Wanda laughed and she played along, "Asshole! This is the very reason ¡ª I like to leave my private life private because everything is toilet-humour to you fuckin'' butches."


    Both Wanda and Roberta left the washroom giggling away hysterically.


    "Okay, I am sorry and I will not tell a soul, but Wanda seriously ¡ª you chose a bush trimming landscape-artist over me?"


    "Rob, shut up ¡ª or I will personally shoot you, in your other foot."


    The second stall door soon opened, when they both left the washroom. The albino stalker by the street-name of Snow White peeked out.


    *


    The brokenhearted Roberta folded inward later ¡ª and sat alone, betrothed the bottle of tequila in front of her. She was sadly observing everyone in the mirthful mood of socializing and even romancing ¡ª glancing occasionally at Wanda Callahan at her table, drinking with a few detectives, while she was busy talking on her cell phone ¡ª and laughing with her ''boyfriend'' at the other end of the line.


    Roberta downed the tequila shot, and she kept refilling her glass ¡ª she would kill to be in Wanda''s lover''s shoes ¡ª but for four years, it was the same hesitation that held her back ¡ª it was a little too late now, as she only became bolder into her Alpha neo-male persona after receiving her sergeant promotion.


    She felt inadequate again to deserve someone as ''special'' as Wanda ¡ª just like the tequila bottle on the table ¡ª her debased life, it was half empty...


    Everything and everyone then moved fast in the bar ¡ª and occasionally the spinning slowed down, like when she glimpsed out of the bar''s window, noticing Wanda was still on the cell phone in the street ¡ª before she hailed a cab and left to be with her ''special'' one. More tequila shots refilled her glass, Roberta drank more until she passed out on the table ¡ª and next thing she heard was, the laughter of Giggs and Morrison while driving her home ¡ª the ceiling was spinning when she opened her eyes again after her cop buddies dropped her on the bed.


    She laid in darkness and soon, she felt someone was making love to her ¡ª it felt corking with the soft fillip hands, touching her all over at the right spots ¡ª whoever this succubus was, she did not want the arousing indicant to stop.


    *


    Roberta''s eyes opened to the bright daylight, from her drapeless window, while she switched off the pesky alarm clock. She sat up on her side of the bed with a throbbing hangover and noticed that she had slept naked ¡ª which never was her habit.


    She needed to piss really badly ¡ª when was the last time, she thought? She recalled bumping onto Wanda in the Larrie''s Bar''s washroom, but she did not use the facility ¡ª as she was too busy getting jealous over a horticulturist.


    Roberta left the empty bed and hurried to the closed bathroom door, warm drops of piddle trickled onto her thighs while she passed by a chair ¡ª unnoticing that her uniform was neatly folded, her holster belt with her pistol, hung on the chair.


    The bathroom door then opened ¡ª the naked Roberta stared speechless at an old newspaper cutting, stuck on the medicine cabinet mirror ¡ª the headline divulged an incident that happened, many years ago...


    ''HOSPITAL SERIAL RAPIST DEAD.''


    It was about Javier Monroe, who was Roberta''s first kill when she was about ten.


    Fear then scurried out to clutch her palpitating heart, only to realize that someone was actually present, in her dark bedroom last night ¡ª and, was sleeping next to her on the same bed with her. That someone could also have easily slit her throat and left her bleeding to her death.


    Her fixated eyes were staring at the paper stuck on the mirror with reverie imagination of her own death ¡ª that had uncontrollably, made her pee on the spot that she stood.


    With hot urine dripping in her inner thighs, Roberta then stepped closer to the mirror and also saw redden marks on her neck, left shoulder and both of her breasts. She examined the love-bites all over her body...


    Even being a national hero-cop, she felt that she was losing control of her life, at that edgy moment ¡ª she was once again like the unsecured nine-year-old self ¡ª who had suffered severe trepidation ¡ª inside the Buick that was about to plunge off a cliff.

 Chapter 16

    THE NEWLY ELECTED, President Madeline Cory was seated behind her desk in the Oval Office. Lucinda Gates saw her lock horns with the disgruntled African-American Vice President, Mary Freeman ¡ª on their first day at the office. But, Gates was relieved that Cory was more cogent than her usual querulous-self while handling her questioning deputy, who said...


    "We just got into the White House ¡ª and this is what you propose for us to do?"


    Madeline Cory would have to convince the questioning VP once again ¡ª who was failing to see the bigger picture of her provident masterplan...


    "Calm down Mary, and listen to my reasoning once again ¡ª to implement and achieve the New Order for, the economic stability ¡ª and the future of our workforce labour, necessary steps like these should be taken...


    "Firstly, you have to understand that the population of the greying society growth is alarming, and they are also dying out fast right now. Next, are the alarm bells of the country''s sperm banks, which are also drying out fast ¡ª and Mary, we can''t keep up with the impregnate application demands...


    "Unless you suggest we sit on our laurel asses, singing ''Que Serra-Serra'' like how that senile Anne Rosewood damn-bloody well did ¡ª for her three terms in this very office, hoping for that an imaginary Holy Grail of hers to cure and restore humanity back ¡ª or ¡ª we can now put both this information that I said earlier together. But, remember this, Mary, the consequence for inaction will be that the American female population would dwindle fast, to possible similar extinction like those males before ¡ª and those middle-aged females remaining ¡ª they will soon revolt against us, the very new government that we have ambitiously founded, after our hard effort of years to get in here. So the faster we move on into this ¡ª the better we are in control of the future."


    Mary Freeman still could not accept the stature nor was she amenable...


    "But Madeline, what you are espousing is that we incarcerate these twelve-year-olds! What if the press and the public find out ¡ª the entire nation will be outraged!"


    Madeline Cory sighed and repeated the fastidious details again...


    "Listen-listen, nobody is going to find out anything ¡ª everything will be a hush-hush, top-secret in executing this operation. So with this current 70,000 of these New Breeds, placed in orphanages and foster care homes across the country, who are mainly the Medusa''s offspring ¡ª the repercussion from that old man Walter Rosewood''s implementation of the great migration redeploys, many years back ¡ª so right now, those Operation Exodus Trail boys will now be put to serve a higher cause, in our New Order policy."


    It was a true fact that many current families do not want to adopt these freaks, and some even label them as the new-pariah of the society ¡ª Cory was certain that nobody was going to miss them either ¡ª after she had compared and surmised statistics, that 4 out of 5 women would rather conceive baby girls through the sperm banks rather than adopt ¡ª these single generation freaks.


    Then, there was the concerning possibility, that in years to come, these Intersexual orphans will start joining the growing street gangs ¡ª and that affect will deleteriously mushroom into more drug-related wars, just like the male generation''s doings of the past.


    Cory''s masterplan was to contain these orphans, into the abandoned male penitentiaries, in the few states under their political party stronghold ¡ª which was by far an excellent option ¡ª except, for now, her number two in-command was vacillating the New Order''s proposed plan...


    Mary Freeman trenchantly refuted...


    "Look, Madeline, locking up innocent children in prisons is also inhumane!"


    Cory discerned with a stare, but she still was calm when she said...


    "But, this is for the greater good, Mary ¡ª we narrow down and we treat the cause, not the damn symptom. My proposal is that we have to re-stockpile the sperm supply for a faster re-population...If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Yes, Anne Rosewood''s women-expectancy welfare policy back then was that more than a million free-males in the country living with families, who will then later voluntarily, to donate their semen to the sperm banks when they reach 18 years of age...


    "...but Mary, that is 5 years down the road ¡ª and we can''t wait for 5 damn more years!


    "If our national birth rate is low, almost half of the country''s population will be old and be dead in those 5 years. This should be our main concern for now ¡ª we need more female babies to be born in the hospital every hour, every day. It will be part of the New Order stature that will aid the women in their given rights to gravid, right?


    "Yes, we let Rosewood''s policy strategy to also continue, as our long term plan, with the free-males as voluntary donors in the future 5 years-plan ¡ª but, for the tactical purpose of the now ¡ª these strays of 70,000 orphans should play their stead role with immediate effect...


    "Well Mary, now they are in the right age ¡ª with their testosterone level rocket-high, and instead of shooting their load into the toilet bowl and flushing it down, that commodity will be instead be collected in those prison facilities ¡ª and only then, our sperm-banks will later be constantly in full-stock, to repopulate the female citizen of our country¡ª for further generations to come...


    "Frankly speaking, I don''t see what we are doing here is anything wrong at all, when this whole measure is for the greater good of the country ¡ª and the future survival of our female citizens."


    The Vice President was still only half-convinced, and she sighed out...


    "Okay, let me sleep on it and get back. Excuse me, Madeline; I have got a press-conference in half an hour."


    The indisposed Mary Freeman left the Oval Office. The newly elected Head of Secret Service Agatha Wolfe secured the door from outside ¡ª and acknowledged her.


    "Madam Vice-President."


    Freeman then left the West-wing, with her own Secret Service women-agents.


    *


    Madeline shook her head in a histrionic chafe, and she then scoffed aloud to her advisor Gates. "What a short-sighted weakling. I can''t imagine how the moron ended up at the party in the first place."


    Lucinda Gates reminded...


    "We need her Maddie, remember it was her minority votes, which had determined our victory here into office."


    Madeline hated the fact that she had only narrowly beaten Ann Rosewood to gain footing into the presidency.


    She then pressed an intercom button and spoke...


    "Wolfe, get in here."


    The Head of Secret Service walked into the office. Agatha Wolfe was now a new member of Cory''s inner circle cabal of her New Order manifestoes.


    The President pointed at the chair...


    "Sit ¡ª okay right now, based on the sperm bank stats ¡ª we have only 20% of the supply remaining, ever since the last-man in the country donated and died 12 years ago. We will freeze-hold that 20% as our premium, for the use in scientific researches ¡ª and, we will also give out some to the privileged members from our own party...


    "So our game-plan for now is these 70,000 freaks ¡ª who will be rounded-up soon and transported to these 35 penitentiaries in our States'' prisons. Those freaks will be milked on a daily basis ¡ª and that replete semen will be distributed later, to repopulate the country''s baby demands...


    "Any questions?"


    "Will there be a difference ¡ª will those shemale''s semen produce normal-healthy girls?" Lucinda Gates was curious.


    "I don''t want to concern myself on that for now, but based on the W.H.O.''s research that I read ¡ª they prognosticated that those offspring will be normal, and so, we stick to that facts for now. When the first batch of girls born later, let them monitor for any physical genetic defects and intelligence."


    Cory replied, and tossed a file to Gates ¡ª who opened to see a report and photo of Tina Martin from IIRC in Wesleyan University in Ohio...


    "Here Lu, this subsidiary research facility, which belongs to Pan American Health Organization ¡ª and they are conducting their on-going studies and researches on these matters for over a decade ¡ª well, they too confirmed and predicted, that the offspring will be born healthy.


    "Anyway, let''s not focus on any unseen problems ¡ª but instead, we get this operation down for mass-production."


    Madeline left her desk ¡ª to fix herself a glass of gin and tonic.


    "I want all the sperm-banks to be 100% prolifically stockpiled, by the end of my first term in office ¡ª and only then, it will be an easier walk in the park for all of us to stay on for the second term," she said with prideful laughter.


    "All I can say that this is a blessing that our very timing here today, in this office is so perfect ¡ª that senile old Ann Rosewood''s ''Saviors'' are at the right maturity age, and right now at our disposal. In time to come, the entire population of the single, shemale generation will also be ours to control!"


    She slammed the empty glass on the desk with stern injunction...


    "...provided, we implement our groundwork right now at this very moment. And once the current female population gain our trust, and have confidence in our New Order policies ¡ª then, that is the day, we will have total control once again ¡ª both over this country''s economy and its military dominance..."


    "...and trust me, ladies ¡ª that glorious day is coming very soon!"

 Chapter 17

    A SLIDE-SHOW presentation was showing photos of women scientists working in the CDC. Reeves was paying attention in his Science class today ¡ª because it concerned the Intersexual species'' survival into the future ¡ª but he also was self-apprehended, that this was just a cursory textbook material, and was not the actual progress at the disease centre.


    He noticed that Dr Jane Morris was in some of the photos slides ¡ª who was currently the Head of the Control Disease and Prevention Center. Reeves had done some digging up in the past, on Dr Morris in YouTube footage recordings, made before his prenatal existence. The early recordings were when, the epidemiologist scientist proclaimed to the world about the congenital freaks of nature ¡ª who would survive only a single generation ¡ª in her interview with Oprah...


    Reeves had seen it repeatedly, so many times over ¡ª that sprung more of his thoughts of freedom, and escape...


    The school bell rang, and the Science teacher, Miss Freda Mitchell''s voice was heard in the darkened classroom. "Okay, turn on the room lights. For your homework, read up more on CDC and I will pop-quiz you all in our next class."


    All the murmuring students began to stand up and started to leave the classroom. Miss Mitchell called out again...


    "Reeves, stay back ¡ª and you too, Joe ¡ª I want to have a word with you both."


    Reeves froze with the thoughts of embroil...


    ''Why the both of us!!?''


    ''Did Joe tell Ms Mitchell about his intention of escaping from Wesleyan???''


    The teacher held up two sheets of paper, looked at both the boys, and she surmised...


    "I see that the assignment on Madame Curie is quite identical in both of your works ¡ª with just some minor tweaks here and there, but overall ¡ª the points given are alike ¡ª so, I am failing you both, because I don''t tolerate cheating and dishonesty in my class.


    "Hey, listen smartass, I have an eye for details from my 20 years of teaching ¡ª so who copied whom? Come on, spill it out."


    Reeves was relieved for the moment that he was not ratted out, but at the same time he was also puzzled ¡ª he spoke out first and exculpated...This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "I ¡ª I did not submit that."


    The teacher still wanted the anonymous incognito, to step up and admit ¡ª even though she knew by the quality of the assignment, that it was more of Joe''s doings ¡ª but yet she questioned the more erudite Reeves...


    "So you copied Joe''s work then?"


    Tension built up inside Reeves. He stared intensely at Joe when the fat boy soon started confessing out softly...


    "Actually Miss Mitchell, I submitted his assignment to you ¡ªwithout his knowledge."


    Freda Mitchell knew Reeves as the brainy backbencher, who was an unguided potential that would succeed in class if he showed more zest in his studies...


    But, it was not her role here to nurture any prot¨¦g¨¦ ¡ª but, more to didactic the ''test-subjects,'' with the proposed textbook knowledge, in following the syllabus system set up ¡ª so that the research system could meet the IIRC requirements and objectives of the facility''s study in the Behavior and Intelligence ¡ª of these ''contained'' Intersexual subjects...


    But as a teacher, Freda Mitchell was also slightly thwarted at that moment ¡ª when knowing that Reeves had not completed his assignment for the first time in her class...


    She then questioned Joe...


    "Why would you do that?"


    Reeves had to speak his mind too ¡ª but, he was too choler to think straight at that moment...


    "Yeah, you asshole! Why did you do a shit like that? Haven''t I warned you the last time, not to interfere with my life!!?"


    Reeves was then caught up emotionally, with his building into an acerbic rage ¡ª the moment, when Joe went on and defended his cause of action...


    "Hey, I was just looking out for you, man!"


    "Then, look out for this!"


    Reeves snapped and he threw a sucker punch at Joe''s face ¡ª that caused him to fall back, on some desks behind. The science teacher screamed out at the paroxysm that spurred in her classroom...


    "Stop! Reeves, what are you doing!!?"


    "Something I should have done a long time ago ¡ª to not let others dictate my life ¡ª nor, anyone making any damn choices for me!!!"


    Reeves had lost it by then ¡ª he released the rebellious beast out from within himself, by overturning the teacher''s table next.


    Freda Mitchell ran screaming out of the classroom, seeking for security assistance ¡ª while Reeves dived right at Joe who was on the floor. Joe kicked him back like a mule ¡ª and the smaller framed Reeves was thrown back in the air before he crashed his back on some desks...


    Two security guards entered the class to see the punch-out altercation...


    Both Reeves and Joe were on their feet, both were trading sparing blows and kicks at each other.


    Joe tripped and fell on the floor again...


    Reeves dropped on him and repeatedly punched the bigger Joe on his face. A Black, hefty security guard moved in fast ¡ª and she shot pepper-mace on Reeves'' face.


    He yelped in pain with stings in his eyes...


    Blinded, but his fist was still buffeting with instincts ¡ª pounding-downs onto Joe''s face in hatred.

 Chapter 18

    A HELICOPTER hovered over the closed dome of ''The Cowboys Stadium'' in Dallas, Texas. Inside the passenger-holding, were the seated Lucinda Gates and Agent Wolfe.


    "We are going to make a short stopover."


    Agent Wolfe then inquired in surprise, looking below. ..


    "In a football stadium, Miss Gates?"


    Lucinda Gates responded with a nod, "Yes, since you just joined the White House staff, so I have got some classified details to show you ¡ª and bring you up to speed."


    The chopper landed on helipad, the visitors from Washington D.C. descended. A military brass was waiting for them with a dozen female soldiers. Everyone including the brass saluted them...


    "I am Lt. Col Brighton, second-in-command ¡ª and I will be escorting you in the facility for inspection, Ma''am!" Lucinda Gates did not look impressed...


    "Where is Colonel Sutherland? She has not been sending her reports regularly to Washington ¡ª I want to see her now."


    "Colonel Sutherland is absent from the base, she is on maternity leave, Ma''am!"


    Gates glanced back at Wolfe and shook her head in disbelief, she made a Cory-like remark...


    "Oh, she is having a baby? I thought she was a dyke like you, Brighton ¡ª (okay, don''t answer that) ¡ª now hurry on, and take us to the Kraken."


    "Yes Ma''am," the discomfited Lt. Col Brighton responded.


    They stepped into a state-of-the-art elevator ¡ª and Wolfe''s jaw dropped, by what she saw from the top-tier view of the domed structure interior ¡ª the entire gigantic stadium had all the spectator seats removed. Lots of cables zigzag-ed from the ground, to the roof of the dome...


    "Ms Gates, what is this place now?"


    Lucinda Gates gloated, looking at the befuddled Agatha Wolfe''s looks...


    "This is Operation Kraken. Welcome to the future of our country''s super-military."


    On the field were about five thousand Intersexuals in maroon army fatigues, moving in unison, practising their combat martial art moves. Other hundreds of the Intersexual were climbing and swinging down the suspended cables. Some smaller groups in circles were on the ground ¡ª they spared in vigorous, unarmed-combat moves among themselves.


    Agent Wolfe was still baffled...


    "How did you manage to recruit, these many shemales?"


    Lucinda Gates, who was the President''s sycophant counsellor, responded...


    "Not recruited Agent Wolfe ¡ª we actually bred them. This is Madeline Cory''s pet project that she did her visionary groundwork much ahead, before going into politics."Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Her deceased husband, Richard Cory was one of the private defence contractors, during the pre-Medusa government administration ¡ª and one of the classified projects back then, that he was involved in ¡ª was in devising the country''s super-soldiers'' projection. Richard later left the defence industry to pursue a career in politics ¡ª and years later, became the Senator of Pennsylvania.


    After his disgraceful suicide death, Madeline had used his resources to initiate the project back again. She then took advantage of the Medusa situation of males'' death ¡ª to gain access of a totally new global military power, which she intended to accomplish by using the Operation Kraken project ¡ª with her very-own breeding of an army, of mind-controlled Intersexuals.


    "It has been the President''s philosophy that to be a global leader ¡ª a country must rebuild and possess the best possible defence and offence army ¡ª and today, this is our proof in hand ¡ª with these ultimate-combat soldiers, who in years to come, will give rise to our country back to the dominant military force again, like she once was."


    "But, what do you mean that they were all bred, Ms Gates?"


    Lucinda gave a summarized background as they walked along the circular pathway, watching the spectacle of the military training below...


    "Okay, to give you a better understanding ¡ª we backtrack to when the Medusa Virus first hit us, and the male species back then had produced the contaminated bodily semen ¡ª that resulted to the birth of these shemales, as we know now.


    "The infected male donors too contributed their semen at that period, for less than a year to the National Sperm bank ¡ª but, it was stored separately from the rest of the healthy semen, donated during the pre-Medusa days...


    "At that moment of time, there were close to a million Free-males born into families in America ¡ª and even old Anne Rosewood was smart enough, and did not want to use the contaminated semen for breeding, with the fear of over-population of shemales, or else ¡ª we will be like China or India, if that happens, with the ratio of one shemale to 4 females...


    "Anyway, ours currently is at a safe zone ¡ª of one freak to 20,000 females...


    "Then, without the knowledge of the Rosewood administration, we had secretly, acquired the bulk of the contaminated semen ¡ª and we then, we bred these futuristic soldiers that you are witnessing now...


    "They are also 12 years of age like the rest of the shemale population ¡ª but, by the end of our first term in office, they will be older teens ¡ª and also, they will be well-equipped for combat, and ...


    "They will be an integral part of serving our current armed forces."


    Agent Wolfe''s voice shook when she asked next of what she was afraid to know ¡ª being an ex-Marine, Wolfe was capable to evaluate the emerging calamitous possibilities ¡ª and she opined...


    "Miss Gates, have you ever considered the disastrous implication ¡ª if these fuckers should revolt against us?


    "The female population will not have any chance, or the hope ¡ª to fight against them ¡ª if, there was one happening, in the near future..."


    The adherent of the president laughed out, with self-assurance...


    "A good question Agent Wolfe, and in fact, our Madeline Cory had envisioned the contingency to that, and ¡ª she has also thought of that virulent scenario too. You see, all these soldiers have a microchip implanted into them ¡ª and with a flick of a switch to a frequency, their brains will be fried by a small certain electro-magnetic microwave impulse to disable them ¡ª and in a matter of days, they will be more like ''Fried Comatose-cauliflower Vegetable'' from a Cantonese restaurant menu...


    "No worries too, these inferiors being have also been conditioned, ever since their birth to obey our orders ¡ª and not the other way around."


    *


    The Cory''s New Order government was rebuilding and shaping itself up fast ¡ª where it now moulded its rapacious dominatrix specie ¡ª to be back in full control of the country ¡ª by being one of the Alpha-leaders in controlling of the global economy with its military superpowers dynamics, as it once gloriously was, during the pre-Medusa era...


    Soon, when that day arrived ¡ª Madeline Cory would be the most feared president in the world.

 THE ROUND-UP [Part 4 Of 7]

    MARLIN STOOD IN A BUSY STREET CORNER in Washington, wearing a hooded jacket. His eyes peered at all of the passing faces of women ¡ª and he was especially wary, of any Intersexuals'' presence. Finally, he saw who he had waited for ¡ª seeing a blond-dyed haired, Japanese girl who was running towards him. She was also delighted to see her boyfriend, and she called out to him in Japanese. They hugged and kissed...


    "Hey Marlin, you came! It has been a long time since we both went out together. Come, let''s take a cab now, and go to the arcade in Kenzu Plaza ¡ª my friends say that they have got new arrivals of game machines from Japan."


    "No Suki, it is too risky."


    "Why not?" she replied while they both stepped into the busy pedestrian crossing, Marlin looked out back at the oncoming faces, which were crossing them...


    "Too many Asians hang out at Kenzu ¡ª and somebody will recognize us both, and inform Ken."


    Suki was disgruntled. "It is always Ken with you ¡ª why are you so afraid of him? I know you can kick his ass."


    He raised his voice, reminded her again like the many times before ¡ª to that rich and naive girl ¡ª that it was not safe to be spotted together in public...


    "Hey, you stupid cousin is the son of the Ambassador ¡ª and he can do lots of dirty things behind my back to get me in trouble. Now, even my guardian Dr Morris knows about us both ¡ª and I have to lie low and play things by her book for a while ¡ª here, wear my cap."


    Suki was also aware that her boyfriend was being very cautious lately ¡ª and also, he had lots of discreet secrets that he did not speak about to her ¡ª like the phone calls he occasionally received, where he spoke in English ¡ª to someone, whom he addressed the caller as Mother.


    Suki tugged her blond hair into the baseball cap ¡ª and she rested her head on Marlin''s arm while they stroll...


    "You are right, dear, we lie low then ¡ª so, where are we going now?"


    "Anywhere that is safe," Marlin then pointed at a building, "How about that mall?"


    "What''s interesting there?"


    "I don''t know, never been there too ¡ª we can walk around a bit, eat some pizza and then catch a movie or something that suits your fancy." He laughed ¡ª but his suggestions were not galvanizing enough, for Suki''s canty, extrovert-self ¡ª she pestered...


    "Boring! I can stream movies at home, I am here to be with you ¡ª let''s do something really fun like we always used to do in Kenzu."


    Marlin teased by whispering into her ears. "Guess what is fun, we can kiss inside the dark cinema, and I know you will like that, yes, yes?" She bashfully laughed aloud. "Yes, but don''t eat any stinky Italian Gorgonzola cheese pizza ¡ª or else, I will throw up inside your mouth."


    *


    Shorty the Japanese boy was following them from across the street, and his cell phone rang...


    "You are right, Saturo ¡ª they are so sneaky. He is with Suki now, and they are heading towards a White-man''s mall. Come quick, guys ¡ª we can corner him there."


    *


    Suki removed the cap in an upmarket-teen department store, and placed a dress from a hanger on herself and looked at the long mirror. Marlin stood behind, gambolling at her in Japanese. Two teenage, White girls who were nearby, kept gawking at them ¡ª and one of them bitched...


    "Look at that hot freak, he is going out with a Jappie ¡ª what''s wrong with that dick, can''t he get a better skank elsewhere?"


    "The bitch even dyed her hair blond to bait her fish. Hey, see that look ¡ª they both are speaking in Japanese ¡ª it is like an anime cartoon!"


    Marlin''s cell phone then beeped ¡ª he inserted both his hands in his jean pockets ¡ª and pulled out two cell phones.


    He had not disposed of the older phone as Dr Morris had instructed him.


    He excused himself, left Suki behind and he stood by the store window. "Mother! Yes, what is it?" Sonia was prattling back in a distressed tone, on the other end...Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Where have you been, Marlin? Why have you not picked up my call for the past 2 days?"


    "I was busy with school, Mother."


    "It is not safe to stay in this country, Son," Sonia then continued by speaking in Russian before Marlin interrupted her. "Please Mother, speak English. My Russian is not that good any more ¡ª I stopped speaking it since I was 6, when I started attending school here, you remember?"


    "It''s President Rosewood, Son ¡ª she is no longer in power, and it is not safe for us both to be in America. We must both now leave for Russia!"


    Marlin shook his head in disbelief. He knew his mother was constantly in the state of paranoia, over slight changes in any consequences around her ¡ª it was her price of living as a fugitive.


    "Calm down, Mother ¡ª Dr Morris did not give any of us, such instructions to leave the country."


    "Where is she? I have been trying to get in touch with Jane Morris for the past few days too ¡ª and even she is not answering her phone ¡ª has she called you?" The distraught woman roused.


    "No, but she visited me in school last week. Mother ¡ª but, she told me that you should focus on your work with Prof Yankoff." Marlin said truthfully ¡ª repeating what Morris had instructed.


    "Something is not right, Marlin ¡ª we cannot stay here, and we should run now." The boy reasoned with her, but she kept interjecting. Suki stood behind him and she overheard her distressful boyfriend in conversation...


    "No Mother, listen to me, we will not be doing such a thing unless Dr Morris ¡ª (no Mother), But she knows what is best for us both, and we should listen to her (please Mother) ¡ª okay, I will try to call Dr Morris, okay Mother ¡ª I got to go, bye!"


    He respired and turned to find Suki behind him. She then held his hand, and she asked in English. "Marlin, are you okay?" He nodded after sighing...


    "Phew! Can we go and walk around ¡ª I need to breathe."


    They both stepped out of the warm halogen lighted departmental store and took a short walk before Marlin looked up ¡ª thoughts of his contentious mother vanished ¡ª when he exclaimed aloud...


    "Oh, shit ¡ª look there!"


    They saw their three Japanese schoolmates pacing forward towards them. Both Marlin and Suki next started to run towards the escalator ¡ª and the Intersexual boys were closing in on their tail. The couple ran up brushing people aside, some were annoyed and nark back at them.


    On the next level, they continued to ascend to another escalator to the highest floor of the mall. The Japanese boys were nearing them. The blonde couple raced on the corridor-walk to a foyer ¡ª and they both entered a free, public exhibition hall with the banner...


    ''ANCIENT WARRIORS''


    The exhibits were wax mannequins of feted masculine per-Medusa men standing in display ¡ª with real-life weapons, of different tribes of continents from different eras. The hall was not crowded, Marlin and the girl hid behind wax mannequins ¡ª while they were trying to snake to the exit door, at the other end of the hall. The Japanese Intersexual trio fanned out ¡ª and they swept the area, looking for them.


    Marlin discovered that the exit door was locked ¡ª then, Shorty spotted them from afar...


    "There they are!"


    The two bigger boys went over and seized an African spear from a Zulu warrior, and an axe from a Hun barbarian display ¡ª they charged over, cornered the escaping couple. Marlin pushed Suki out of harm''s way...


    "Run, Suki!"


    After a second of hesitation, Suki started running, and the boy with the spear came swinging in ¡ª and he tried to stab Marlin. The blond boy dodged and overpowered him before he grabbed control of the spear. The other Japanese with the axe charged at him, with raging barbaric cry.


    *


    Suki stepped out of an elevator ¡ª and wanted to run towards the main entrance of the hall to get security help ¡ª but, someone grabbed her from behind ¡ª it was her cousin Kenaki Kimura, with some other adult Japanese women with tattoos. Suki remonstrated aloud in Japanese...


    "Ken, what is the meaning of this?"


    Ken ignored her and instructed his faction. "Take her away!" Suki was kicking and screaming when they dragged her away. Ken signalled the rest of the women present with him to stay back, and he now entered the elevator alone ...


    *


    Marlin avoided the swinging axe that swooshed above that missed him ¡ª it beheaded a Roman gladiator wearing a helmet. Several other wax mannequins beside dropped...


    Ken walked out of the elevator, He paced on the aisle towards the two fighting opponents ahead ¡ª he glanced at a Ninja mannequin with a katana sword ¡ª and seized the glittering blade...


    Marlin rammed the butt of the spear on the axe boy''s jaw ¡ª and he fell, out cold. The blond boy heard pique of angry words in Japanese, growling from his back...


    "You''re a disobedient mongrel! I told you to keep away from my cousin ¡ª and yet you defy me!" Ken charged forward with the katana ¡ª the blond Intersexual skillfully dodged the swinging blade. He used the spear to ward Ken away to a distance ¡ª but, Ken hacked off the spearhead with his razor-sharp blade...


    Ken struck the short sword onto the middle of Marlin''s spear, splitting the wooden pole into half ¡ª Marlin used the two poles as cudgels and he fought back with aggression. The Adonis managed to disarm the katana off Ken''s hand, ablated with a hard blow ¡ª that also fractured his opponent''s fingers.


    Several security guards soon swarmed in from the rear, and they tasered them both. The deadlock between the two rivalling Intersexuals halted, when both of them collapsed on the floor, screaming, as their bodies jolted in neuromuscular spasm from the current shock. The female, mall guards then stepped over and cuffed them both.


    *


    A limo with the Japanese diplomatic license-plate halted at the mall front ¡ª a huge tattooed female of the Japanese Yakuza syndicate was dragging the crying Suki out from the mall ¡ª and then threw her into the backseat. The limo drove off before the WPD siren, police cars reached the mall.

 Chapter 2

    THE BLACK SECURITY WOMAN opened the door and escorted Reeves into the director''s office. He was strapped in a straitjacket. Reeves was earlier vexing, for being belted-up in restrains, for more than an hour in the security office. Finally, he was physically brought here for the first time inside Tina Martin''s office ¡ª after his own five days of failed in breaking an entry attempts.


    The interior was capacious. He sat there, with his half-opened red eyes, still tearing profusely from the smarting sensation of the pepper mace spray. His hands were bounded inside the jacket ¡ª restricting contact to his smarting eyeballs...


    He thought of his failed attempt to break into that very office a couple of nights back, where he almost fell off the ledge outside on which he stood. He had been coming back for five consecutive nights ¡ª but, each time he returned to his dormitory thwarted, after seeing the facility director always working late in her office ¡ª she was a true workaholic, just like she was now...


    Tina Martin was present there this time too. She was ignoring him and was busy doing her report work, while Reeves sat across her desk...


    He went on his habitude observation of the IIRC director, and her surrounding ¡ª his gaze was searching for the filing cabinets where records of the Intersexuals might be stored ¡ª or maybe the info that he was looking for, was in her password-protected computer that she was utilizing now ¡ª it brought him nervous thoughts, of how was he going to hack into her password?


    She did not look up, and was constantly typing on the PC keyboards ¡ª then she finally spoke to Reeves, who was still in the restrain bound, with a Black security guard nearby...


    "Do you remember Morgan, about three years ago? Well, he was the last boy whom I last saw wearing what you are wearing now."


    It then got Reeves thinking hard of who was this Morgan that she had just spoken of. He finally recalled the field trip for Sports Day at Templeton Girls School, when he was nine. An ugly incident happened over there, when some girls teased one of the visiting Intersexual boys from Wesleyan ¡ª the Mulatto named Morgan got really mad, and physically attacked them. Since then, the boy was removed from IIRC ¡ª and was neither seen nor heard of again.


    ''Was that one of the ways out from Wesleyan?''


    Reeves thought ¡ª if he was not in the jacket, he could do something eccentric, like he did in the classroom earlier ¡ª by overturning of the Science teacher Freda Mitchel''s table...


    Maybe, he would be soon sent away like Morgan for earlier beating up the big-cow sized Joe ¡ª but, would he escape from wherever they will send him to next?


    His reverie was interrupted when Tina Martin spoke up again in between her typing...


    "So Eve, do you want to be another Morgan?"


    He was quiet. Tina Martin finally stopped her work, she cracked her fingers and it popped loudly. She looked at the security guard standing at the door...


    "Farah, remove the jacket."


    The bulky, Black woman censured. "Are you sure about that, Ms Martin? The way I saw him beat the fat kid up ¡ª it was really scary brutal. This kid here is some whacked-job psycho."


    Tina smiled back, and as a trained child psychologist she knew about angry-boys ¡ª and the Intersexuals were no different ¡ª it was always the same cryptic rebelliousness behaviour residing in every one of them. She even based the views from Dr Ira Kirby''s Wesleyan recreation lounges studies on some of the wayward boys, which were not any different from per-Medusa normal boys of that age.


    "Remove it ¡ª I am sure, Eve has calmed down by now."


    She then smiled at Reeves. "You must be a very-thirsty-boy in that thing, yes?" Tina stood up and paced towards her mini-refrigerator ¡ª while the security guard unbuckled the jacket''s straps.


    "Okay Farah, that is all ¡ª you can go now."


    "Are you sure again, Ms Martin?" Even the guard was still concerned ¡ª while she had broken up the fighting between the two boys, some hours ago.


    "Yes, Eve and I will get along well."


    While Tina was looking inside the fridge, Farah the security guard pointed the can of pepper spray on her belt to Reeves ¡ª as a silent-warning before she left the room. That annoyed Reeves even more.


    Tina returned with two cans of Coca-Cola. She placed the Diet-coke can in front of Reeves, and the red-regular can on her side of the table. She turned over to grab a box of tissue serviettes. When she turned back to notice ¡ª that Reeves had switched the two cans ...


    The thirsty boy drank the regular red-canned beverage. Tina smiled at his latest cunning moves by switching the cans ¡ª she sat down at her seat, observing him drinking up while wiping her damp fingers with a serviette ¡ª this was the same boy who alleged that he could tamper with his grades in the test room, the woman thought...


    "Okay, Reeves ¡ª what is the problem here, why did you beat the living daylights out of your best friend?"


    "He is not my best friend."


    Reeves mumbled back. He was still disgusted that Joe had turned out nothing like a friend he once knew, during his times of need. Reeves was now back in his vexing mood while placing the chilled cola can on his closed, hurting eyelids.


    He anticipated Martin would start lecturing now like his cavil Science teacher. If she ever did that, he would then definitely overturn the director''s table ¡ª and next, he would attack the fat, Black security woman with the pepper spray when she rushed in, after the director hollered for help...


    But, the director stumped him instead...


    "Of course he is ¡ª if this Joe was not your best buddy, then who is going to accompany you, when you sneak out the cafeteria the next time to have lunch with ¡ª o yes boy, I know all about your secret place, at the old wing of the campus in Stuyvesant Hall?"


    Reeves became bewildered, when he heard her...


    ''She knew this all the while.''


    The director grinned back. "The cat got you tongue, Reeves? Of course kiddo, It''s my job to know everything that is going around here ¡ª I have eyes all around me, and I know everything that is going on ¡ª from the research we do, and right to the wellbeing of every boy, residing here."


    Reeves figured out fast ¡ª that her omnipresence that made it possible, was because there were more CCTV cameras than he was unaware of ¡ª so, she had also been spying on him...


    ''What about those nights when he came there, just to be alone?''


    "So what is bugging you?" the woman asked again ¡ª and Reeves did not want to express much or else, she would suspect about his planned intention of escape from Wesleyan. He just mumbled again in reticent...


    "Nothing is bugging me, Miss Martin..."


    But the psychologist was persistent...


    "Talk to me, Reeves ¡ª come on, I am listening. What is really bothering you? Why do you keep sitting on the parapet sometimes at night, staring out there ¡ª is it a girl problem? Did you find a cute-skirt outside the campus, is that it?"


    Once again Reeves felt totally unnerving, that she had been spying on his every surreptitious move ¡ª and he shook his head again...


    ''Does she also know of his incipient attempt of trying to break into from her office window, off the ledge outside?''


    "Since you had gone that far, where no other boys had been before ¡ª you have dodged the security guards and yet, you did not escape from here ¡ª it is clear that you are not satisfied with something in here, in this IIRC facility, am I right?"


    He heard her bombarding more telling questions, while he was being more withdrawn into his self-conscious nature, to concealing his actual getaway plan. Before she suspected something ¡ª he had to talk his way out to divert her curiosity ¡ª maybe ask her a germane question instead ¡ª based on his own personal curiosity that had long bothered him...The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Ms. Martin, yes, tell me this ¡ª will we get to leave this place, once you have finished ''testing'' us? I remember everyone here talking, that they can leave once they graduate." Tina now grinned at the word ''testing'' that he used...


    "That is true, once you are all no longer a minor, you can leave Wesleyan ¡ª but, we will counter that with a beneficial offer to everyone ¡ª with an option of employment here with a salary ¡ª where you get to stay back here, so that we can continue our research on you boys ¡ª err, young-men by that time." She laughed, and she continued...


    "So Reeves, would you be interested in staying back, when that time comes?"


    "No," Reeves flatly replied.


    Tina laughed again, slightly nervy...


    "Why is that ¡ª you don''t like some of us here?"


    "It is not like that Ms. Martin ¡ª you are doing some research on the species'' intelligence ¡ª but I am just an average guy ¡ª you don''t need me." Now, she wanted to know more...


    "So what do you intend to do ¡ª get an employment outside?"


    "No, I haven''t thought about it ¡ª maybe I want to travel, and seek some answers."


    He now regretted for having said too much ¡ª and just like he had anticipated ¡ª Tina Martin started probing...


    "How are you going to survive out there without working ¡ª you make it sound like you won the lottery ¡ª or having someone who has an inheritance, waiting out there to support you?"


    "Well Ma''am, I am just a single generation species ¡ª I don''t want to waste any of my time left, by working my life away. I will survive somehow, when I am out there." They both laughed it off.


    After breaking the ice, Tina was beginning to like this boy''s aplomb candidness. His dissidence that differed from the others, whom she had spoken to so far ¡ª those who were the sequester cream of the crop group, of the top 10% of the best erudite students, in which her research was based...


    Next, the twelve-year-old boy stumped her again, when he solicited jokingly...


    "Who knows there may be an inheritance out there ¡ª so Ms. Martin, I know you have some stashed records on all of us over here ¡ª I am presuming maybe some of us may not all be orphans ¡ª and we may have some rich aunts out there. So will you be giving out any information of those people out there to us, when the time comes for us, say, to leave this place someday?"


    She was now feeling precarious, when the boy said that...


    Tina Martin recalled, looking into his file lately ¡ª and she knew that Reeves has a mother, Laura Jensen, who was nearby in Columbus. But what the boy was requesting now was totally confidential, and was against the facility''s policy to be disclosed. She needed to prevaricate about his background records, in some way to protect her research.


    She cleared her throat and took a sip of her cola, before she spoke again...


    "When we started the IIRC, we had handpicked the candidates with no strings attached to any family backgrounds ¡ª I am afraid that is so, Reeves ¡ª I am sorry that, there is no one out there for you."


    She expected to see disappointment or some sadness in him since she had seen him crying alone some night before on the parapet ¡ª but, Reeves'' tearing, red eyes kept staring straight at hers, with no facial expression, despite they were smarting after the pepper spray attack ...


    He was not credulous either...


    Reeves had a good practice on eye contacts. He always detected oddity in Joe''s and other students when they mislead ¡ª right now, he saw that occurring with Tina Martins''...


    The director changed the topic...


    "You mentioned that you want to search for some answers ¡ª what answers? Can''t you do it here?"


    Reeves shook his head; he then replied earnestly in a disappointed tone. "I am not going to get the bigger picture of life staying in Wesleyan. But, my truth lies beyond the wall."


    Another slip of the tongue when he gullibly mentioned it ¡ª and the psychologist was quick to capitalize it...


    "What wall?"


    Reeves chuckled at his forgettable melds. "Oh sorry, it is that orange, brick wall outside the old University wing, where I sometimes go to ¡ª Joe and I nicknamed that."


    Tina grinned back. "For a moment ago, I thought you were referring to Pink Floyd."


    She said that out of her own cognitive state ¡ª she had written a paper during her University days at Stanford many years back ¡ª on the effect of music on rebellious youth.


    "What is Pink Floyd?" Reeves asked out of his curiosity.


    "Never mind, let us not go there."


    The intercom on Tina''s table buzzed, and the director responded...


    "Yes, Linda." A voice on intercom replied...


    "MISS MARTIN, YOU HAVE GOT SOME VISITORS ¡ª THEY SAID THEY ARE FROM WASHINGTON D.C."


    "Okay, thanks ¡ª show them in."


    She then glanced at him. "We talk again soon," she pointed at straitjacket and jested. "Hey Reeves, don''t forget your tuxedo."


    Tina used a serviette paper to wipe the droplets on her table and dropped both the empty cola cans into a wicker trash-basket.


    Reeves walked to a door and reached out his hand to the doorknob, but it opened from outside...


    A woman in a black business suit stepped in. Lucinda Gates smiled at the sore-eyed Reeves while he avoided her eye-contact ¡ª he left the IIRC director''s office.


    XXXXXXXXXXXX


    Yikes! I missed a Chapter in here... my bad, probably its that Kung Flu, messin''...


    Anyways -- here it is...


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    REEVES WAS BACK FUMING outside the office. Despite what the director of IIRC was prepossessing earlier in their conversation ¡ª he had made up his mind that Tina Martin was a damn liar ¡ª and, he was now more resolute to escape from Wesleyan.


    His assumption had been right all the while ¡ª Tina Martin will retain her ¡®captive test-monkeys¡¯ for their ongoing unctuous research ¡ª and nobody will get to leave as promised when they graduate.


    He wished Joe was here listening to what he just heard during the drivel conversation he had with Tina Martin ¡ª but anyway, Joe was credulously stupid ¡ª and he would not spot her bullshit nor would he understand about body-language like he just did.


    The only thing that fat glib knew was to do the ''rational'' things ¡ª like eating a lot and wanking himself hard in the safety of the comfort zone enclosure, created inside the walls of Wesleyan.


    Reeves sauntered along the windowed corridor of the third floor. Something outside the building then grabbed his attention. There was a group of uniformed women on the campus ground field ¡ª it was not the campus security, but more of those he had seen on the TV news¡­


    The black para-military uniform gears, matching the SWAT team.


    One of the cops below was pointing to a roof of an opposite building block. Another black-attired officer stood on one of the building tops ¡ª she was communicating with the policewomen on the ground via a 2-way radio...


    ¡®Something is going down here¡­¡¯


    Reeves was stirred to sense that someone was behind him. Agent Wolfe grinned at him and with a supercilious glance at the straitjacket that he held in his hand ¡ª she taunted the boy¡­


    ¡°Hey kid, what¡¯s with the straitjacket? Have you been misbehaving or are there some kinky curriculum activities going on in this school? The shit you she-boys are taught nowadays, are totally hard-on amazing!¡±


    Reeves paced away without acknowledging the stranger in the corridor...


    Wolfe''s laughter echoed behind him.


    **


    Tina Martin was baffled and was in the middle of an argument with Lucinda Gates, she then defended out aloud. ¡°You can''t do this to us ¡ª we have been doing studies on these boys for the past 10 years for W.H.O. ¡ª and our research data on the species intelligence has been speculated globally¡­¡±


    Gates interrupted. ¡°I am sorry Ms Martin but...¡±


    She did not allow the woman from Washington to complete her sentence ¡ª the upset, Tina Martin protested in a shrill voice...


    ¡°You cannot shut us down! Right now, we are heading now into the second phase of our vital research, where we are determining, if the offspring of the Intersexuals produced, can substantiate a higher intelligent of female babies!¡±


    ¡°Yes Ms Martin, yes I understand ¡ª and even President Cory is a big aficionado of your in-depth research ¡ª but the buck stops here ¡ª it is really not cost-effective to carry on funding you people, while that same budget that is numbering to millions in dollars, can be used for other avenues to rebuild our country¡¯s ailing economy,¡± said Gates firmly.


    ¡°But Ms Gates, what we do here is one of the greatest breakthroughs of the 21st century ¡ª and you cannot shut us down now at this point! I am going to contact W.H.O. now so that we can carry on to continue our work here,¡± the distressed Tina picked up the telephone receiver.


    The woman in the suit slammed her palm hard on the desk¡­


    ¡°Please don''t waste anyone''s time now, because the decisions have been finalized from the top. Remember that, this is no longer the Rosewood''s administration ¡ª that has starved the country economically ¡ª so it can feed the national budgets into ego-driven projects like these!¡±


    Martin sneered back...


    ¡°I did not expect the current Cory¡¯s administration to be this myopic, with such short term visions!¡±


    The unfaltering Gates condemned...


    ¡°You listen here, Martin ¡ª the Cory administration will not tolerate tax payer''s money on any research based on some assumptions by a group of psychologists ¡ª so who gives a damn anyway, if those Intersexuals can produce smart-sperms?


    ¡°What this impoverished and insolvent country needs right now, is the future in its economic growth in areas of trade and development ¡ª and we are all focusing, that every penny of our budget will be funnelled towards that direction!¡±


    The woman from the Whitehouse finalized.


    Both were quiet after that, with Tina looking defeated out of the window with tears flowing. Lucinda Gates reproached her in a softer tone¡­


    ¡°Look, Tina, we are also offering you an alternative too, where you can still continue your research ¡ª but you need to scale it down. We have Dr Jane Morris who has stepped down as head of the Pan American Health Organization ¡ª and, she is now currently running CDC...


    ¡°We can fit a small division over there for you. So all you have to do is, you handpick a few of your key personnel in your current research team ¡ª and you report over in CDC in a week.¡±


    ¡°What happens to the rest of my teaching staff?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you have to let them go ¡ª and with some compensation, of course.¡±


    ¡°What about my boys?¡± Lucinda Gates prevaricated.


    ¡°They will be put into regular schools. Well, they are a bunch of twelve-year-olds ¡ª I am sure they can sure fit well, into any schools outside the system -- they will be fine, trust me.¡±


    Tina Martin sat down and used the serviette tissue to wipe her uncontrollable tears, of being let down by the newly elected government.


    Gates then walked to the door...


    ¡°Don''t get too attached, Tina, just let it go.¡±

 Chapter 3

    ROBERTA JENSEN WAS HOLDING a bouquet of flowers when she stepped out of the elevator and still walked with a slight limp. The off-duty and the newly promoted Sergeant passed by a female Black butch janitor mopping the floor ¡ª she was in her own world, listening to gangsta music on her headphones. Roberta stopped at the nurse''s desk...


    "Roberta, how have you been? How are you healing?"


    "I am doing fine, Nurse Eker ¡ª (and you?) ¡ª I came by to see Laura."


    "Okay, sign here ¡ª by the way, your cousin is inside."


    "What?"


    "Your cousin ¡ª Norah."


    Roberta finally heard her name for the first time ¡ª the virulent stalker was back. She now feared for Laura''s safety ¡ª and left the flowers on the nurses'' desk ¡ª before pulling out her pistol, rushing over to her sister''s side.


    Nurse Eker was in consternation after seeing the big gun drawn ¡ª she backed away, and held the visitor''s sign-in file towards her chest...


    ''What is going to happen now? Another murder?''


    The old nurse had always known of the protective Roberta, being arbitrary in action, with anything in regards to Laura ¡ª the evidence was when she stepped into the bloodbath wardroom twelve years ago, to discover the trodden skull of a dead janitor ¡ª the handiwork of a raging, ten-year-old girl back then...


    Now, Roberta, the cop had capriciously left her to be at Laura''s side again, with a gun in her hand...


    The nurse immediately alerted the hospital security department.


    *


    Voices and images of the pale-faced girl reflected inside Roberta''s head, while she took floppy steps forward. She attempted to move faster but with the discomfort of her injuries, made it seemed like a long walk to her sister''s wardroom...


    Big Manny''s voice was reminding aloud in her head...


    ''Hey Robbie, that girl is just thirteen, and she has been on the streets for more than two weeks ¡ª I can''t let her go missing again.''


    Roberta too recalled clearly seeing the albino girl at the police headquarters on the day she received her bravery medal. But, the Lolita hooker slipped away, just like the night of the shooting at the dumpster with her pimps ¡ª where she disappeared through the broken wooden fence after saying...Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ''Don''t fight them, please come with me!''


    But she returned again, and shot dead the Black pimp twice in the head before she vanished again ¡ª she had come back again later, to taunt the past with the old newspaper cutting on the bathroom mirror ¡ª reminding her of the past killing of Laura''s rapist, twelve years ago ¡ª and the girl was also the same perpetrator in that dark bedroom, who had even left love-bites all over her body ¡ª it baffled the hero-cop...


    ''Who is this stalker ¡ª and, what does she want now?''


    *


    Roberta''s hand slowly opened the door ¡ª and pointed her Magnum hand-cannon in, before stepping inside the wardroom. She checked around and saw Laura was fine, with the two other comatose patients sharing the same floor space.


    The albino girl was nowhere around.


    Roberta returned her gun into her holster, inside her leather jacket, and went over ¡ª she stroked Laura''s hair, relieved that she was unharmed.


    Roberta set her eyes on the photo collage on the corkboard on the wall, besides Laura''s bed ¡ª and distinguished some odd newspaper cuttings, stuck with headlines...


    ''COP KILLS 4 GANG MEMBERS,'' ¡ª and the other...


    ''CORY AWARDS COP HERO PCC MEDAL''


    The ghost-girl was confirmed here ¡ª Roberta shuddered internally by her lack of control of the daunting imposition situation ¡ª and again, for Laura''s safety.


    She ripped the printed papers strips from the wall and stuffed it into her jacket pocket. She turned around quickly, when she was distracted by the opening door ¡ª and spotted two women, security guards entering.


    *


    Roberta stormed back to the nurse''s desk, with the guards following her. She declaimed in front of the older woman for the breach of security on the floor...


    "Nurse Eker ¡ª that girl, where is she? Did she pass by here?"


    "No, isn''t she there?"


    The senior nurse felt intimidated by Sergeant Roberta Jensen''s aggression, by yelling out, despite she was in a hospital...


    "Why did you let a stranger, come near Laura?"


    "But, she is your cousin ¡ª isn''t she?"


    The overwhelmed nurse responded, and also feared, if Roberta filed a lawsuit against the hospital ¡ª then, she could lose her job. Roberta was clearly disconcerting her, with more questions...


    "Nurse Eker, how long have you known me ¡ª do I have a fucking cousin? All these years, it is just me and Aunt Flo who visits Laura ¡ª there is no one else, right?"


    Roberta''s cell phone buzzed at that moment ¡ª the old nurse was relieved when it happened, so it would preoccupy the irked cop momentarily...


    "Yeah, what!!? (err...) yes, Lieutenant, yes...hmm, yes... (okay yes...) and I will come over now, Sir...okay."


    Roberta turned back her focus to Nurse Eker ¡ª but, she had toned down her voice...


    "Nurse Eker, please be vigilant. There should be no visitors at all for Laura, other than that Aunt Flo ¡ª I got to go now."


    Roberta had wanted to inspect the CCTV security recordings on the wardroom floors, she was sure she would spot that slippery albino-bitch escaping. She wanted to nab her on her own during the intrusion ¡ª but for now, duty called ¡ªshe had pressing priorities from Captain Miller, who assigned her to lead a team to back-up the SWAT team ¡ª in the raiding a Christian run orphanage.


    Roberta walked to the hospital parking lot, as she lit a smoke and got on her antique, Harley Sportster bike. The albino girl looked from above, out of a window from a higher floor ¡ª noticing her hero cop speeding away.

 Chapter 4

    VARIOUS CLASSROOMS were in progress, with the first lesson of the day that morning. The pedant history teacher in the classroom was lecturing while her students were listening and taking notes in their electronic tablets.


    Reeves had a black-eye, and was literally bored to tears taking the stodgy notes on his device ¡ª he was wiping tears away from his smarting eyes, after the yesterday''s pepper spray incident, and even his nose was running too ¡ª the irritation was infuriating him a lot that morning until the school''s P.A. systems came on aloud...


    "HERE IS AN ANNOUNCEMENT ¡ª ALL STUDENTS, PLEASE STOP WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING NOW ¡ª AND KINDLY PROCEED TO THE GYMNASIUM ¡ª TEACHERS, PLEASE LEAD YOUR RESPECTIVE STUDENTS TO THE GYMNASIUM AT ONCE ¡ª THANK YOU..."


    *


    Students were coming out of their various classrooms, and they were all walking in confusion, towards the gymnasium ¡ª the P.A. was heard again...


    "EVERYBODY STOP WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING ¡ª AND SOON, WE WILL ALL BE GATHERING AT THE GYMNASIUM ¡ª PLEASE PROCEED THERE NOW ¡ª YOUR ATTENDANCE IS COMPULSORY ¡ª WE WILL SEE YOU ALL IN THE GYM, IN THE NEXT 10 MINUTES."


    Reeves was equally puzzled ¡ª he sauntered outside and noticed Joe and two other prying Intersexuals prot¨¦g¨¦s ¡ª looking out of the window in the hallway. He stopped over out of curiosity.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Joe turned his head with both black-eye contusions, and he found Reeves approaching. Joe spoke to him without any hint of umbrage ¡ª he had forgotten about the brawl, they had in class yesterday...


    "There are about a dozen cops on the roofs, Reeves."


    Reeves nodded...


    "Yeah I know, they were here since yesterday, surveying the entire campus ¡ª something is going down." His voice was then drowned...


    "WE SHOULD ALL BE IN THE GYMNASIUM IN THE NEXT 5 MINUTES, PLEASE HURRY UP ¡ª STRICTLY, STOP WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING ¡ª AND PROCEED TO THE GYMNASIUM IMMEDIATELY!"


    Joe probed. "Dude, any idea what is going on?"


    Despite not in favour to respond, Reeves still replied him back ...


    "No."


    He did not want to share about his time in Tina Martin''s office yesterday, where she later had some visitors from Washington ¡ª who looked like some suits that were probably from the government.


    Psychologist Winnie Sherlock came from behind ¡ª and spotted the arrant Reeves and Joe, both were gazing out of the window while others were scuttling to the gym. She thought the cunning Reeves will avoid going over...


    "Okay, Reeves ¡ª start walking now ¡ª they are waiting for you all in the gym." The inquisitive Joe questioned back...


    "Who is waiting, Miss Sherlock?"


    "I-don''t-know, let''s go there ourselves, and find it out, okay ¡ª move it, guys."


    Reeves glanced at the rooftop for one last time before picking up the pace. He had noticed the incipient SWAT team in twos, armed with sniper rifles, nested on each building top.

 Chapter 5

    REEVES WALKED BEHIND Sherlock, and he observed more uniformed female policewomen stationed outside the gym''s hallway. One female cop was using a small click-counter gadget, to count the total number of people entering the gym main entrance. Reeves went through the gymnasium door.


    He discovered all the Wesleyan teachers were gathered at the back, while some policewomen in uniform were on the other end of the hall. There was with a mike stand on the floor where a friendly cop hallooed to the puerile crowd gathering there, before speaking...


    "Hi, all of you, are you all here? I am Sargent Harriet, thanks for being here now. Today, we have got a special treat for you all ¡ª there will be no further classes today ¡ª Yay!"


    In an instant, the gym was roaring, with espousing cheers and clapping of over two hundred and seventy-odd students.


    Harriet continued declaiming...


    "That is right, you handsome-guys ¡ª we are going on a field trip today ¡ª and we are going to the Police Academy!"


    More students started getting excited and the rhapsody became louder. It suffused the gym like they were at a rock concert responding to the band''s vocalist...


    "Okay, settle down, guys ¡ª there is going to be a carnival today at the Police Academy, so today will be a day of all fun and games ¡ª do you all like that!!?"


    The ecstatic twelve-year-old boys jumped exuberantly, and danced in the seventh heaven, while the policewoman in front instructed next...


    "Okay, okay boys ¡ª shush, listen up ¡ª there are 278 of you guys, and we will be leaving in 9 buses that are waiting outside now. We are going to separate you all into groups now ¡ª and each of you will be given a number that starts with an alphabet ¡ª everyone should memorize your number, okay clear?"


    The alacrity boys okayed her, in unanimity echo.


    "So, when I call your name and number ¡ª you come up to me, and sit in your designated group, okay? Listen, there will be 4 groups ¡ª Group A ¡ª B ¡ª C ¡ª and ¡ª?"


    Most of the boys cried out, "D!"


    "Wrong ¡ª it is H."


    Harriet laughed after fooling them. "So, it is Groups A, B, C and H!" The boys instantly liked the comical presence of this prepossessing policewoman...


    "Now all of you move to the right side of the room now." Another policewoman stepped up, and blew a pea-whistle, while hand signalling to all of the Intersexuals, to shift themselves to the right side of the gym.


    "Move on quickly, we don''t have all day, we have to organize fast. The longer we waste time over here ¡ª the lesser time we have to spend at the carnival ¡ª come, move faster!"


    The entire Intersexuals were rabbling over to the right side of the room, all chatty and noisy with excitement, drowning Harriet''s further instructions...


    "Shush, quiet down, I will read the names and numbers, and you come forward to me ¡ª and, this officer will seat you in your group. Okay, here I go ¡ª Abdullah A-01, Ali A-02, Chandra A-03, Chong A-04..."


    Most of the Intersexual orphans did not have last-names ¡ª even if existed, the confidential records were not revealed by IIRC.


    Minutes later, Reeves understood what he saw ¡ª the students were segregated ¡ª and they sat on the floor behind four signboards placed on chairs that are in bold ¡ª A, B, C and H.


    The order of the segregation soon made him suspicious...


    *


    Twelve minutes later, Officer Harriet was still reading out the boys'' names. "Jason C-52, Janice C-53, Joe C-54..." Joe walked over, and the cop with pea-whistle sat him in Group C.


    Reeves turned and observed the teachers at the back of the gym ¡ª where some were crying, and others were consoling each other. He sensed something was wrong, even among his teachers ¡ª is someone retiring from IIRC, or has someone died?


    "Finally, Vincent C-97"


    Reeves realized that he was standing among the ethnic group, of Hispanic Intersexuals of the IIRC ¡ª Officer Harriet further communicated...


    "Now for Group H ¡ª Alejandro H-01, Carlos H-02, Chako H-03..."


    Reeves next looked up, and heard a familiar sound ¡ª the high-heel D''Orsay clacked on the concrete floor. It vexed him a little in seeing the deceiving director Tina Martin, walking in with the government woman, from the office yesterday. Once all of the noisy Intersexual too heard the director approaching ¡ª they got really quiet.


    Even Lucinda Gates was impressed by this Pavlovian conditioning ¡ª the tractable boys had been skillfully silenced to the sound of her high heels ¡ª just like the quondam experiment conducted on dogs, in studies of behavioural patterns...Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    But, the restive Reeves thought of it differently ¡ª the pithy words she threatened him with, in her office yesterday, still rang crystal in his head...


    "So, do you want to be another Morgan?"


    He now knew ¡ª why ¡ª everyone was afraid and shuddered at Tina Martin''s presence ¡ª it was because, three years ago, she dispelled Morgan away for his bad behaviour ¡ª and ever since then, he was never seen nor heard of again in Wesleyan...


    But, Reeves was not afraid like them...


    This made him determined, to abscond from there even more...


    "Diego H-37..."


    Tina Martin and Lucinda Gates walked to the teachers gathered at the back of the room. Some teachers were inquiring some matters, and Ms Martin was calmly answering them. Gates soon led Martin away from the teachers to the front of the gymnasium ¡ª her heels sounded the cement floor, while Sargent Harriet was still reading out the names from her list...


    "Eve-H-38..."


    No one was stepping out from the group...


    Reeves'' mind was absorbed by the enthralled thuds of Tina''s heels steps. ''What if she puts up a struggle when breaking into her office tonight?''


    She is an adult, can he fight her? He does not want to hurt her either. But, the thoughts gripped him, and his hands began to tremor.


    "I repeat ¡ª Eve, H-38 ¡ª Eve, who is Eve?"


    Far ahead, Harriet articulated again. A Hispanic boy tapped him from the back...


    "Isn''t that you, Reeves?"


    The staggered Reeves stepped up, and he sat on the floor with the rest in Group H.


    He still kept observing a worried Tina Martin, who was speaking to Lucinda Gates ¡ª she seemed to be pleading for some requests ¡ª but, the woman from Washington''s body-language indicated abnegation.


    Joe who was in Group-C made his way closer to Reeves, who was separated by a three-foot gap between the seated groups. He whispered in a low tone...


    "Hey Reeves, you saw the look on Ms Martin''s face ¡ª she looks like her grandmother''s cat had just died falling too off a window. I think she has been crying, man. I have never seen her distressed before ¡ª but she is one tough cookie, am I right?"


    Something was totally wrong since entering the gym ¡ª and even a dumb-dolt like Joe could notice what he had mulled over. But Reeves seemed bewildered that he could not still connect the dots ¡ª especially, why were there SWAT snipers on the rooftops?


    Reeves nodded passively to him, and Joe continued his incoherent babbling...


    "One day away from classes, I gonna love this surprise field trip, man, I guess, it is going to be lots of fun ¡ª what say you, you hate going to classes too, right, bro?"


    They both do ¡ª but for different antipodal reasons.


    "You all right, Reeves? You, seem very quiet."


    Reeves responded softly, from his rumination...


    "I don''t know ¡ª something does not add up here ¡ª you saw it a while ago Joe, there are cops on the roofs, and now this unexpected field-trip ¡ª while some of our teachers are crying back there, and even Ms Martin look troubled...


    "It is like there is more to it and they are not telling us something ¡ª and finally ¡ª here we are, all seated on the floor ¡ª after being racially segregated?"


    "What you mean? What racially segregated?"


    That response irritated, and it got deep into his nerves ¡ª and Reeves disclosed by his growling whispers back at the red-headed boy...


    "Sometimes Joe, I wonder whether you are totally ignorant or just plain stupid ¡ª or simply both. Look at Group-B ¡ª they are all Blacks and the dudes in Group-A ¡ª they are from all parts of Asia."


    Joe argued softly pointing at some boys, "No way, then why are Steven and Bianca in Group-B ¡ª they are not Blacks, right?"


    These were the things the boys had been subjected since their birth, to be oblivious like to the colour of their skin during socializing in their controlled test subject environment at the IIRC facility ¡ª but, Reeves noticed it now by Sargent Harriet''s grouping sequestration...


    Reeves retorted...


    "I am no fuck-expert ¡ª but, my guess is they are of mixed blood ¡ª probably some Mulatto or so, so they certainly look all-White to us. That Ms Martin seems to have that record on all of us too..."


    Joe looked perplexed for a moment before he interrupted again...


    "If that is so, why are you in ''H''?"


    "You are in ''C'', right? I guess that is Caucasian ¡ª and probably I am not all-White like you guys too ¡ª and ''H'' is probably for Hispanic."


    Now, Joe was more baffled...


    "Really, you are not White? And Reeves, you did not know that?"


    Reeves felt like punching his face once again for each irritating and undigested question, that he was hearing Joe uttering at that moment ¡ª he then upbraided with accusation...


    "I just knew I''m now half-Hispanic, just a moment ago, you dumb fuck. If only you had helped me to break into Tina Martin''s office back then ¡ª I would have known earlier, you fat, shitty-dumbass!"


    Joe retracted his head back...


    "Whoa, let''s not go there, man ¡ª coz I am not still doing it. See this proof ¡ª you have already given me two black eyes, bro ¡ª so, thank you very much."


    Reeves allowed his bitterness to pass, and he realized to accept his expiration plan to escape over the wall, to seek his true domicile lifecycle outside in civilization, as a free-male ¡ª and that plan, was for him alone to execute...


    It was of no use to be cavil, nor blame anyone ¡ª those who did not believe in his ways and adumbration of freedom ¡ª but, he would surely miss his simpleton redhead buddy, after he jumped over the wall later tonight, after their Police Carnival visitation.


    Joe surprised him by placing his fist out, "Friends?"


    Reeves smiled with sadness, as his fist-bump into his ¡ª the way Joe acted was risible, it also made him laugh when Joe bespoke in excitement with his panda-like shiners...


    "Let''s go enjoy the day at the carnival, dude."


    Harriet concluded...


    "Okay boys, we are all done. In a moment, we move in a single-file out in your own groups to the buses, okay?"


    Lucinda Gates came over and whispered something into Harriet''s ear, and she nodded. The cop then passed the mike to the IIRC''s Tina Martin, who cleared her throat ¡ª and expressed herself in a bittersweet tone...


    "Boys, you are all going on a trip. Enjoy yourselves, and don''t get into any trouble when you are over there ¡ª be safe and, farewell."


    Joe chuckled...


    "Farewell? What a dumb choice of word."


    Reeves was thrown off balance again by it ¡ª was he the only one, still with distrusting thoughts that something was wrong?


    The other boys were standing; some started stretching their backs and were excited about their soon field-trip. Reeves heard the cop blowing the whistle, and Harriet''s voice came back on again...


    "Okay Group-A, make a single-file and walkout ¡ª followed by Group-B!"

 Chapter 6

    GROUP-H WERE THE LAST ones out. They followed behind Group-C in the hallway outside the gymnasium. Reeves kept observing that every door exit was guarded by a policewoman...


    ''Why do they need these many uniformed cops, to accompany some couple of hundred boys to go to a police carnival?''


    He heard some garrulity from the class-clowns from Group-C up ahead. They were speculating that it may be a recruitment to join the police academy, once they graduate and leave IIRC in the future; Kiki-boy had always wanted to be a cop and many like his buddy Hank, would join too ¡ª Reeves figured out that, even Joe would also enrol because he was a good ''rational'' follower of any popular crowd.


    But Reeves was the dissident. His mind went back into his solo escape mission, after returning tonight from the police carnival visit ¡ª and, he hoped to be miles away by dawn.


    He looked up ahead, Lucinda Gates handed a document and Tina Martin signed it. Gates shook her hand ¡ª and she followed Group-A out of the main entrance door. Tina looked doleful and Reeves wondered why the director was distressed ever since the government women in the suits visited her yesterday ¡ª who was that lady anyway?


    He then blocked the unrelated thoughts ¡ª and was back focusing in finalizing on, how he was going to break into Martin''s office later tonight ¡ª what if she worked late ¡ª he then would be forced to gag and tie her up, before getting the needed information on his record files in her computer. He also needed to rob her of some money because he was impecunious ¡ª and then, he would jump over the wall, hop into a Greyhound, and be as far away as possible before daybreak.


    Tina Martin now walked back in the hallway, towards Group-H ¡ª she then saw Reeves among the boys, and she smiled weakly at him...


    She placed her cellphone to her ear, and she pretended to speak into it ¡ª she abjured the withheld truth that the boy had wanted to know before, during his visitation to her office in a straitjacket...


    "I guess you are right there ¡ª life is actually over that orange wall, but if you don''t scale it now ¡ª you never will. Yes, go find for Laura Jensen in Columbus ¡ª yes, Laura Jensen, she is your mother."


    Reeves was baffled on the spot ¡ª and his legs froze still, grounded after the IIRC director hinted, as she walked passed him ¡ª and a Latino Intersexual nudged him from the back, and he walked again. Reeves heard the boy grumble...


    "What''s with you, man? You are always slowing down."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Sargent Harriet stood there at the main entrance door, and she called out...


    "Okay, Group-A! Go out and get on the bus outside ¡ª Group-B ¡ª you all wait here for your turn..."


    His eyes darted around. Reeves was now mentally searching for an exit to egress...


    But there were cops everywhere at all exits...


    He noticed the large French-window ahead ¡ª he focused and he took a few deep breaths, to pump up his nerves. He clenched both his fists tightly...


    Tina Martin has given him the needed information that he was desperately searching for ¡ª now, he has a mother out there in the free world ¡ª and her name was Laura Jensen.


    While waiting in torpor with his Group-C, Joe turned and checked on Reeves'' group behind. Joe was then nonplussed in seeing Reeves running ¡ª and crashed head-on into the French window...


    ''Fuckin'' A, he really did it!''


    Joe thought that instance, seeing Reeves falling out from the trashed window. The rest of the boys were all clamouring for the vagary of Reeve''s imprudent actions, during the eleventh hour in their visitation to the carnival.


    Reeves grew up living an anonymous life in the IIRC, and he was considered to be esoteric to many Wesleyans, who branded him to be an arrogant loner ¡ª he was known to be embroiled into unpopular arguments in the past with those around him, and most of all ¡ª he was a nobody to them, but until now ¡ª he was now seen as the next-Morgan in line.


    Reeves was on his fours outdoor, on the ground outside of the campus ground. Dazed by the concussion, after falling out fifteen feet down. Blood was trickling from his forehead. He tried to stand up slowly, but he was still stunned with some mild shock. Everyone else looked at the broken window ¡ª they heard from behind, the distressed Sargent Harriet''s outcry into her talkie-radio...


    "Team 9-er over ¡ª one has broken free at the entrance sector ¡ª request for an immediate search of the ground, over!"


    The policewomen and the rest of the Wesleyan boys then saw the considered-craven Joe, who was the next one, to have boldly bolted towards the same broken window ¡ª and he too leapt outside, to their surprise...


    Reeves was up on his feet, still staggering, regaining his composure ¡ª the midday sunshine outside was blinding bright, and he was squinting, until he sensed an ''eclipse'' of the sun coming dark ¡ª Joe the clumsy maladroit landing at where he stood ¡ª and, knocked him down again from his feet...


    They both lolled on the broken window glass shards...


    "Joe, what the fuck?"


    ''Has the rational, fat fuck jumped out ¡ª to stop him from escaping?''


    Reeves was too foggy to get mad or to hit him back.


    Joe then cried out at him...


    "Let''s go, man, I am bailing out too ¡ª and you are not leaving me here alone!"


    Joe spied up at the two cops looking out of the broken, French window from above ¡ª they were training out with their dart guns. Joe dragged Reeves to his feet, and the shots fired missed them.


    They both started running away, while Officer Harriet hollered into the walkie-talkie...


    "Team ''bird''s nest'', over! Two have escaped, and both are coming your way, over ¡ª take them out, over!"


    *


    The Sniper Squad-leader in the roof replied back...


    "Roger that, over."


    She pointed her finger to signal her team on the opposite roof ¡ª and the female SWAT shooters all corked their rifles. Their eyes were into their scopes ¡ª they saw the two fast approaching Intersexuals on the run.

 Chapter 7

    COMMANDER ESTER PETERSBURG peered into her binoculars from the main road, scanning at the milieu of all the three buildings in the vicinity ¡ª the old Cathedral, the abbey-orphanage house and the Convent cloister at the furthest end. She then thought she saw ¡ª something, or someone ¡ª moving fast among the trees in the enclosed greenery. She focused a beat longer at the verdure ¡ª but, gave her curiosity up, when she next saw ahead on the sentry setup road, at the arrival of the backup unit.


    Petersburg was the commanding leader of the SWAT team which was now known as the e-SWAT (Elite-SWAT) after their recent tactical revamp ¡ª ever since President Madeline Cory had in-cooperated military tactics to combat the transgression gangs fighting in the inner cities ¡ª battling in the urban drug and crime war-zones.


    The paramilitary unit was also known in several states by other cognomens such as ¡ª The Elite Police Force, The S-Cops-U (The Super Cops Unit), The Urban Soldiers'' Unit and The Special Police Force ¡ª before finalizing it as e-SWAT.


    Her team utilized the advanced military technology facets ¡ª and Petersburg was gallant to be a pioneer member in the outfit to lead her elite squad, who were assimilation trained in both as policewomen and the military ¡ª Petersburg was a leader with an impressive track record of successful busts and kills in urban warfare against the growing drug wars with gangdoms.


    Her assignment today seems to be ''a piece of cake'' ¡ª to accomplish a top-secret Washington mission in Cleveland ¡ª which was to extract over thirty Intersexual monk-boys alive, from the custody of a hostile group of ''rebel'' nuns at St. Mary''s. An Elite-force soldier was cutting the multiple padlocked chains on the main gate before the troops would have access to the church grounds.


    The two riot police truck arrived ¡ª outside the locked-down, facade main gate of the Cathedral compound. Women cops in Riot-police uniforms alight from the truck ¡ª and among them was Sergeant Roberta Jensen.


    Roberta noticed that the entire area had been besieged by the e-SWAT squadron. She was not briefed much about the operation details but could sense something major was going on in clandestine ¡ª because the entire sector was sealed from public access.


    Since stepping into her sergeant promotion, this was her first major ambulatory assignment, after some months of doing desk-job because of the injuries she had sustained. Roberta had always been volunteering in the reserve Riot-police unit assignment in the past for the overtime ¡ª but, she was not so keen to be selected here today, to playing backup for the SWAT mission.


    Roberta too cogitated with antipathy that the newly partition e-SWAT outfit, whom to her opinion were just some haughty over-salaried cops, doing the same job in the streets like her, as a regular police division like hers, in crime-fighting.


    Her mind was also too pre-occupied back in Columbus ¡ª thinking of Laura''s safety from the danger of the psychotic albino stalker ¡ª but, it was her Captain Miller''s intent to pick her to lead the task-force today, in the inter-departmental, joint-mission special-detail with Washington D.C. ¡ª so to assess her leadership skills, as a newly promoted unit sergeant.


    The roisterer Commander Petersburg spoke aloud ¡ª and panache forward to Roberta''s team...


    "Which one of you are Sergeant Jensen and Sergeant Wilkins?"


    Roberta saluted, "I am Sergeant Jensen, Sir!" ¡ª and, Sergeant Olivia Wilkins from Cincinnati PD did the same.


    Petersburg nodded at both the saluting reserve riot-unit sergeants ¡ª and she soon recognized Roberta ¡ª she responded cynically with a mocking smile...


    "Oh, it''s you ¡ª The-Jensen¡ª that Columbus hero-cop from hospital bedside interview, in the TV news ¡ª sorry to say, there will not be any TV crew around today to make you look pretty, so you don''t cry, okay?"The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Commander Petersburg''s elite team had been fighting hardcore criminal gangs on the street battle-front ¡ª and now, Petersburg despised this cop who was awarded an undeserving hero-bravery medal ¡ª and also received the nation''s cynosure admiration in the media, for gunning down four mere lowlife nigger-pimps at some back alley.


    "Okay, both of you girls follow me."


    Petersburg soon briefed both the sergeants, as the three of them paced towards a group of Elite-force platoon members gathered ahead...


    "Both your teams are our reserve back-up for the e-SWAT ¡ª and you will be stationed outside the Cathedral''s perimeter. Our mission today is to go in and extract 37 girlie-freaks that are hiding inside the premises ¡ª which are barricaded by 22 ''armed'' Catholic nuns...


    "This mission is classified ¡ª and our orders are to get the freaks away from those revolting nuns ¡ª who will be going to be posing some resistance later. We were also gonna make sure that these religious extremists will not leak this mission to the public or the press ¡ª so, it is our objective also, to put all those 22 penguins to sleep ¡ª while we pull out as many of those she-boys alive, from their custody..."


    "Finally, we are gonna torch this entire goddamn place down to the ground ¡ª and make it fucking look like it was an unsuspecting incident from the public ¡ª with that all done by my e-SWAT team in no time ¡ª while you two, the backup units ¡ª you can go singing the damn Kumbaya at the meantime, when you secure the outer premise from any external intrusion ¡ª with all that done by the hour, you girls can then head right back to your respective home-sweet-home ¡ª is that clear ¡ª or do you both have any problem with that?"


    "Yes Sir, everything''s clear, Sir!"


    Roberta replied attentively with a poker-face ¡ª after being insulted earlier of her acclaimed national hero recognition, for someone who was in tears during that TV interview.


    Sergeant Desiree Brown of the Elite-SWAT came and intercepted them ¡ª and she whispered something circumspect into her Commander''s ears ¡ª Roberta and Wilkins stepped aside.


    The nervous Cincinnati sergeant who was a devoted Catholic whispered out...


    "Rob, did she say that those nuns are not walking outta here alive?"


    "That is what I heard too," Roberta nodded and murmured back.


    Sergeant Brown left ¡ª and the three women in diverse uniforms proceeded on towards the group of female Elite-force SWAT, all suited in black ¡ª they were instructed by Agent Wolfe of Washington, in her Secret Agent dark suit with a Kevlar jacket strapped on. She was wrapping up the briefing...


    "Remember this, our operation is highly classified ¡ª and no word of what so ever we do here should leak out to the media. Keep everything elusive, understood?"


    The SWAT team echoed yeses, and they left following their Commander Petersburg. Agatha Wolfe turned to both law enforcement officers, who were of different uniform accouter from the Elite-force...


    "So you the reserve unit, step up." She too recognized Roberta...


    A few couples of months ago, Wolfe was still a bodyguard for Cory, when she was still the senator ¡ª they had arrived at Columbus for Roberta''s hero award presentation ceremony.


    "Oh you, the hero-cop ¡ª it is good that you are here too ¡ª I am Agent Wolfe, the President''s Head of Secret Service, and I am heading this mission here today."


    Wolfe checked into a file that she held. "Wilkins, you and your team will be stationed here in front and left and right of the Cathedral premise." She then tapped Roberta''s arm with the clipboard...


    "Jensen, I want your team are manning the back of the Cathedral. There is a big river running there ¡ª and also the possibility that the shemales may use it as an escape route outta here...


    "Those monk-boys should be captured alive, at all cost."


    *


    Sister Margaret spied from the window in Mother Superior''s office, on the second floor of the Convent. She saw the uniformed militarized police outside the Cathedral gates and remarked...


    "Mother, they have sealed the traffic off the whole street in front of the Cathedral."


    The old nun slammed the receiver in dander on the cradle. "The lines are dead, even the corrupted Justice Dept. office is not picking up any of my calls. Those cowards from D.C., have now sent their top best soldiers to scare a bunch of debile old nuns."


    "Should we get outside help, Mother?''


    Mother Superior sighed and she sat heavily on her seat behind her desk, seeing the repercussion of Washington''s surreptitious moves ¡ª after the refusal of the church to voluntarily hand the monk-boys over, on their request.


    "Nobody can help us, Sister Margaret. They have cut the phone lines and jammed all telco-signals in the area. We are isolated from the outside world. We are now, all alone with God."

 Chapter 8

    THE SNIPERS ON ROOFTOPS were firing at them, with M99-animal tranquillizer, sedative darts ¡ª while Reeves and Joe were scrambling along the side of the building. Reeves'' mind was thinking clearly after his hard hit on his head earlier when crashing out of the French window. He realized that it was not safe to be out in the open, with the snipers on the perch above.


    He spotted an exit door nearby and he crashed into it ¡ª the impact of the opening door knocked off a lone female uniformed cop guarding against the inside. The falling woman rolled onto the floor, and she then pointed her pistol to shoot Reeves ¡ª but...


    ... Joe came from behind ¡ª he tripped and fell bulk onto the cop''s face ¡ª that inadvertently knocked the woman out unconscious.


    "Is she dead?"


    The baffled maladroit Intersexual looked scared, at the cataleptic soldier beside him ¡ª he apologetically muttered, Reeves ignored him,


    He carefully opened another door slightly from the inside, and he peeked out at the main hallway, which was crawling with cops. Joe was looking over Reeve''s shoulder and he asked...Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    "There are cops everywhere ¡ª how are we going to get past them?"


    Reeves gently closed the door. Reeves saw up above at the false-boarded ceiling and got an impromptu inkling...


    "We use the top, yeah Joe ¡ª we cross over from the top, through the ceiling vent."


    He turned to the bigger boy ¡ª and next gave a stern warning...


    "Promise me something, Joe ¡ª you be very careful and no noise or sound, when we are up there. Also, you don''t scream like a bitch if you see any fucking spider."


    Joe chuckled and nodded sheepishly back. The fat fuck was flippant, a glib in idle most of the time on his ADHD meds ¡ª and sometimes, he had the tendency to forget that they were at a critical stage in this deadly cat and mouse game ¡ª so, Reeves poked him hard on his chest, and boded again...


    "Hey you fat-fuck, I am serious, we will not get caught if you just follow every move that I make. Just don''t get clumsy, and come crashing down when you are up there ¡ª if they ever catch your fat-ass, they will seriously hurt you badly, just remember that always!"


    The threat brought in the fear, and Joe stopped smirking.


    "Now give me a boost-up," Reeves stepped on Joe''s clenched palms and opened the board in the ceiling ¡ª he surveyed the ventilation shaft and checked a dark tunnelling void ahead...


    "Let''s go..."

 Chapter 9

    AGENT WOLFE HEADED A SMALL four-woman Elite SWAT team ¡ª and they approached the Convent''s main door. She observed two members, using a battering ram to breach the sturdy oak door. Nearby, another duo was also trying to smash down into the heavy door of the orphanage, Commander Ester Petersburg was leading her own tactical crew ¡ª they were in a position to search and capture the hiding Intersexuals monks, inside the abbey.


    Another elite-force member was in the compound, firing smoke-bombshells that crashed into the glass window panes of the top floor of those two antediluvian buildings.


    *


    Sister Margaret was still peeking out from Mother Superior''s office window, and she betokened anxiously. "Mother, they are breaking the main doors." The old nun was searching in her drawers and brought out two dusty gas masks that had been stored since the Medusa Virus scare.


    "They will smoke us out next."


    "How do you know that, Mother Superior?"


    The old nun tossed a mask to the younger nun, while she pursued their possible attack to be faced...


    "I watched some TV cop shows at night ¡ª and I know how they think. Now put on your gas-mask, Sister."


    Sister Margaret knew of her superior, watching the news channel to update the nuns of what was happening in the world outside the convent ¡ª but she was taken aback that Mother Superior had a lure for crime shows.


    "What will happen to us now?" The prioress then implied in rectitude...This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    "They would probably shut the Convent down, and most probably will imprison us ¡ª but what is most important is that the children would have escaped, according to what we had planned ¡ª and they would reach to safety."


    *


    A two-woman e-SWAT team was outside, breaching the sturdy main door of the Cathedral. Inside, three panicky nuns were assembling the large group of thirty-odd clean shaven-headed Intersexual boys in monk-robes. They had earlier used the secret underground minster passage, to gain their access from the abbey-orphanage ¡ª sneaking inside the cathedral unnoticed.


    The three nuns then proceeded to the back of the main altar as instructed earlier by Mother Superior, and they removed the floor carpet ¡ª where there was a trap-door concealed beneath...


    They opened it ¡ª to catch sight of a running sewer passage below...


    Sister Sarah instructed the leader of the monks...


    "Michael, you have to lead them ¡ª and keep going left till you come to the end of the sewer that leads to the river ¡ª then follow the right side of the river, where you and the boys will then, a walk-on for about a mile without being detected ¡ª and you will all finally come, to the back of the St. Anthony''s Church ¡ª Sister Michaela will be waiting for all of you there."


    The pulsating at the Cathedral main door''s breaching was deafening, and another younger nun hollered to prompt her...


    "Sister Sarah ¡ª quick, let''s get the boys down ¡ª that door will crash in, any moment now."


    The boys set down on a small rusty ladder on the wall, and they landed in knee-deep of reeking water ¡ª their robes were soaking in the dross. They heeded to Sister Sarah''s voice above from the trapdoor...


    "Michael, lead the flock ¡ª all you boys, say your prayers ¡ª and may the Good Lord bless and keep you all safe."


    "Yes, Sister Sarah."


    The distressed Michael replied ¡ª and was the last to descend down, while the nuns pulled down the lid of the trapdoor ¡ª with the boys glancing above to it closing...


    The nuns covered the furtive passage at the altar back, with the carpet over it.


    In the shadowy sewer tunnel that was a quarter of a mile long ¡ª Michael led the boys into the knee-deep of gushing cold water, towards its turbid exit at the river end.

 Chapter 10

    POLICEWOMEN WERE GUARDING EVERY exit doors, in hallways ¡ª while others were corresponding by tightening the security search after the earlier escape incident of the two boys. The latest info was radioed by the snipers, that the runaways had reentered the building...


    Unknown to them all below ¡ª Reeves and Joe were silently crawling on their fours, on the beams above the stifling ceiling. Their sweat trickled down their faces, and they cautiously inched away...


    The duo came to an intersection, with three varied passages ¡ª one was straight, others were serpentine shafts leading to the left and right ¡ª Reeves stopped to ponder the memorized bearings in his head. He started using a finger to draw the floor-plan on the dusty board. Joe was edgy in the cramped constricted space, and also hearing the sound of squeaking rats ¡ª he whispered out...


    "Hey, dude which way?"


    "Shush, let me think..."


    After Reeves drew more circles on the dust, he pointed...


    "We go to the right."


    The perplexed Joe followed the leader again and murmured...


    "Hey Reeves, what''s the plan ¡ª where we''re going?"


    Reeves turned over to look at Joe...


    "We are going over to the wall."


    Joe paused and confounded a second, before joining Reeves who then turned right...


    ''What are they going to do outside the wall? Living as two itinerant vagrants?''


    He still could not comprehend his own impulsive decision a moment back, of jumping out of the broken French window ¡ª and he was now blindly following Reeves, in his lawbreaker quest to escape from Wesleyan. He was also worried about his daily meds, for his ADHD once they were out.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    They crawled up further and Reeves halted and peeked into the gap of the false-board ¡ª cautiously, he opened it. He saw the rubber-floor mats below.


    "Bingo!" he smiled back to the bigger boy...


    He slowly lowered his head down, and had an upside-down view of the cafeteria''s kitchen where no one was working there.


    "You go down first, Joe."


    Joe dropped down ¡ª he slipped and fell clunky on the floor rubber rug below. Reeves shut the gap in the ceiling while he hung with one hand, before he dropped on the floor, and landed in a squatting position beside Joe.


    They both flashed their pearly whites ¡ª observed each other''s dirty soiled uniform, faces and arms ¡ª that were thick with grime and sweat. Joe was about to get jokey, but he silenced himself when the two boys heard some voices and laughter from nearby. At one of the table in the dining area ¡ª six shiftless cooks were conversing and laughing with two female cops, they were all speaking in Spanish, over coffee.


    Joe did not get his regular waft of food aroma, like each time he stepped in the cafeteria. He whispered...


    "How come nobody is cooking?"


    "It is field-trip day, remember?"


    Reeves responded to the susurration. Joe respite down on his butts, he then uttered frivolously with a quiz...


    "It is Friday ¡ª can you guess what is for lunch?"


    Reeves heaved a sigh and ignored the vacuous glib, he started to crawl away on his fours.


    "It''s meatball spaghetti, dude."


    Joe gave the answer as he smacked his lips. He followed Reeves while looking, over at the oblivious cops at the dining area nearby.


    They both inched behind the service counter, where the cooks used to stand and serve the food to students ¡ª they heard the repartee clearly, across in Spanish.


    The duo kept sneaking away to the dish-washing area where the exit-door was. A Hispanic woman came out, carrying a rack tray of washed glasses ¡ª she was startled by the grime-covered boys, crouching on the floor. Petrified, she dropped the glasses down and was screaming aloud, followed by exclaiming the names of saints...


    The female cops and cooks responded instantly, and they scurried over...


    Reeves regressed and bolted towards the fire-exit door. The boys both got out, slammed shut the door. Reeves barricaded it so that the cops could not follow. They both next loped to the unoccupied old wing of the University path ¡ª catching their breath but still peering around for the unexpected...


    They have outfoxed their vanquishing captors so far ¡ª and, they both were now headed to the wall.

 Chapter 11

    MICHAEL AND MATTHEW WALKED AHEAD and noticed the boys were falling back in the grimy water. "Please keep up and walk faster," Michael heard their grumbles in response in the dark. He could not see the boys in the translucent milieu ¡ª and so he called out again ...


    "There should be 37 of us ¡ª is everyone here ¡ª check now?"


    Someone hollered in enthusiasm...


    "Michael, guess what? Doran is not here."


    Peter instantly snarled out ¡ª thinking of the oddball and contravene troublemaker ...


    "That stupid, crazy Protestant! Now he is getting us all in trouble if Mother Superior finds out that he is not with us."


    None of the na?ve monks knew that their priesthood pedagogue ¡ª Mother Superior and the many other sisters who had raised them up since childhood, were at that moment to be extirpated, by the enforcers at the Convent.


    Matthew questioned as he loomed closer to the leader. "Do we go back to find him, Michael?" Michael turned to the monk-boys nearby...


    "No, he will not leave the Convent, come let''s go."


    Matthew was baffled before he spoke up again...


    "But how can we abandon a lost lamb ¡ª he is one of us, Michael."


    Michael knew that the gullible Matthew had made some sense ¡ª and as a leader, he should go back and search for Doran ¡ª it was the Christian thing that they were taught to do. His perception on the aberrant Doran had altered for the better since the episode on that day of Sister Lisa'' Marie''s stroke attack ¡ª ever since then, Michael had then instructed his clique to be more tolerant and lenient towards Doran ¡ª even though he did not fit in like the rest of them. But, most of the other monks in the orphanage were still judgmental, and they still disliked Doran for many reasons that usually transgressed into trouble in the peaceable abbey.


    "Matthew, as long as the bed-ridden Sister Lisa Marie is out there in the Convent, Doran will not leave this place. Come ¡ª let''s go now."


    Michael then felt ashamed after saying that ¡ª while he kept on leading them ahead into the dark waterlogged passage. He wished he could be more like Doran, who was willing to lay his life down in the path of danger, by standing up and protecting those he loved.


    He now understood why Sister Lisa had always referred to him as special for his unknown qualities ¡ª those little-known attributes were now emerging, during the present test of vulnerability...


    Michael began to recognize that Doran, who in his own enigmatic ways, was a greater leader than himself, and the rest of the other 36 monks put together ¡ª who were all down in the sewer, taking the cowards'' path at the risk of being captured.


    *


    In a small room, the ill-fated Sister Lisa Marie laid flat on her bed. A Black nun, Sister Anita was beside the wan and emaciated nun who was suffering from a stroke. Sister Anita was nervously reciting her rosary ¡ª while the pounding sound of the battering-ram on the Convent front door was heard trashing from below...This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    The Black nun was reciting words of prayers aloud, but her mind was in the direction of dread ¡ª in comparison to Sister Lisa''s quiet prayers on the bed, which were a composed mental felicity ¡ª in her preparation to meet her Lord soon in heaven...


    *


    Doran hid in the bushes, in the compound yard behind the Cathedral ¡ª with his two cudgel sticks in hand. His shaven head was tricking in sweat. He spied upon a muscular Elite-force cop with a metal tank strapped to her back ¡ª using the flame-thrower concoct to torch possible furtive holes, where any Intersexuals might play hide-and-seek with her...


    He had decided earlier not to follow the boys, and he hid away.


    The monk-boy could also pick up the trashing noises of the Cathedral front door, being rammed behind him. He must get pass the flame-thrower in the open ground ¡ª to get to the Convent, and reach out to Sister Lisa Marie at the nunnery.


    But now, he was in two minds ¡ª with the danger of Sister Sarah and the other nuns who were in, after setting his fellow monks-brothers to escape into the sewer. He had to attempt something swiftly now, and help those nuns, who were trapped inside the Cathedral ¡ª before proceeding to rescue Sister Lisa Marie.


    The turkeys in the caged coop were clucking aloud to the lurking danger, like guard dogs. Doran eyed an axe that was protruding on a tree stump nearby...


    It was a good weapon to have now because he had been practising on it for some time during his chores ¡ª the tossing axe would work well to make his attack work because the enemies were carrying firearms ¡ª unlike his wooden cudgels were now ineffective, unless at close range.


    Doran prayed while he hid ¡ª interceding invocations to all the saints and angels for protection...


    He had seen the statutes of angels in the Cathedral with swords and spears, fighting the evil serpent ¡ª but, he could not recall any of the divine patrons with an axe ¡ª he would whole-heartedly intercede, if there was such one providential angel that subsisted in the history of the church annals, that was armed with an axe ¡ª may that one, protect him now, for what he was about to attempt next...


    *


    The smashed facade Cathedral door swung open, at the final ram...


    Two Elite-cops stepped inside pointing their rifles. They trained their weapons at the altar ahead, where they heard voices ¡ª sighting the three nuns who were kneeling at the altar, on the carpet that concealed the trap door beneath. Their transfixed eyes were looking up at the huge crucifix above ¡ª and the three women in black habits recited the Apostle''s Creed while rolling their holy rosary beads in their fingertips...


    "Our Father in Heaven ¡ª Holy be Thy Name ¡ª Thy Kingdom Come ¡ª Thy Will be done on Earth, as it is in Heaven..."


    The two uniforms e-SWAT soldiers stepped up, to the altar while guardedly checking the surrounding ¡ª for any hiding or lurking shemales.


    *


    The heavy door buckled open ¡ª and Elite-force Commander Petersburg and her team of four stepped into the orphanage house.


    "Search every corner ¡ª they are hiding somewhere here!"


    Less than a minute apart, Agent Agatha Wolfe slipped on her gas-mask when the Convent heavy door also broke in half from the hinges as it fell. They all strode into their incursion ¡ª and the team was confronted by six nuns who were also wearing gas-masks ¡ª they charged on forward with wooden sticks to attack them...


    The troops shot them with rifles, which were fitted with silencers on the nozzles.


    Some nuns slumped down dead, but some others lie wounded...


    Wolfe ambled from behind the strike team''s path. She had earlier before the mission, had snorted some cocaine and her senses were sharpened. She saw a dying nun on the ground, gasping her last breath, Wolfe sadistically shot the woman in the face with her silencer fitted pistol...


    Wolfe was enjoying the recollection of her Desert-Storm tour on duty-days. This special-detail was just like her pre-Medusa heydays in Afghanistan with the U.S. Marines ¡ª where after tossing in a grenade back then ¡ª she went in, and shot the fallen, maimed Muslims rebels in their faces...


    It gave her the exhilaration to have the control ¡ª to plunder their last breath of life.

 Chapter 12

    THE CCTV CAMERA FITTED ON THE CEILING rotated in the corridor of the Stuyvesant Hall. Joe and Reeves were hiding close-by. They scrutinized the inside of the guard-house, on the same floor ¡ª there were three guards and a few local PD uni-cops inside. The women were looking at the security monitors. Others were outside the guard-house in idle chat, with their smokes and coffees.


    Reeves hinted, looking over his shoulder at Joe...


    "The bitches are watching the monitors, and there is no way we can outrun them all ¡ª well I can ¡ª but I am more worried about your fat-ass"


    Joe got the picture of what Reeves had just disclosed ¡ª and now, he was getting both nervous and the sense of regret for separating from the herd of the Wesleyan boys, and coming through this far ¡ª he was unwieldy when he noticed that those PD cops were ''lean-bitches'' ¡ª and there was no way in hell that his ''fat-ass'' can outrun them to the wall outside the building...


    "What''s the plan now?" the red-haired boy anxiously acknowledged.


    *


    The uniforms in the guardhouse were rewinding and replaying the footage, where, one of the female e-SWAT snipers who was running ¡ª and she slipped and fell off the roof minutes ago. "Oh my god, look at that ¡ª the poor girl!" one of them expressed.


    The voice of Officer Harriet then came aloud on the radio...


    "GUARDHOUSE OVER ¡ª THE TWO FREAKS ARE HEADING YOUR WAY ¡ª STAY ALERT! WE ARE SENDING BACKUP NOW, OVER!"


    *


    Reeves answered Joe...


    "Okay, here is how it goes ¡ª listen, I will create a diversion, and most of them will come after me ¡ª Joe, once you see that, you have to outrun anyone who remains behind. Once you get to the wall, I will buy you more time and you don''t wait for me ¡ª and, you should start scaling over it, and remember, don''t wait for me ¡ª I will soon join you by then, okay?"Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Joe was now apprehensive and got scared ¡ª grabbed Reeve''s forearm. He wanted to cohere...


    "Hey Reeves, it looks risky ¡ª let me come with you."


    It choler Reeves, and he growled back...


    "No! Stick to the plan, Joe ¡ª or else, we both will not make it out from here ¡ª I am serious!"


    Without any forewarning ¡ª Reeves got up and dashed towards a row of old abandoned classrooms. Joe looked edgy after being left alone...


    The female cops and guards were still engrossed with the fallen e-SWAT sniper incident ¡ª they were not paying attention to another monitor with Reeves, visible in the screen...


    "Oh the poor thing, I hope she is well. The ambulance should be here by now."


    Someone else retorted negatively...


    "She fell off four stories down ¡ª I think maybe she is dead now for a fucking fact."


    Outside, Reeves stopped and looked puzzled ¡ª and he started to wave at the CCTV camera to get the guardhouse''s attention ¡ª he was muttering to himself...


    "What is wrong, are you all blind? What are you all watching there ¡ª soap opera?"


    Reeves found a half-used paint container on the ground nearby.


    The guards and cops were all still gripped with accident event on the monitor in the guardhouse...


    "There ¡ª the hospital''s EMT is here."


    The paint canister came crashing into the windowpane glass of the guardhouse, at that precise moment ¡ª they all shrieked in scared shock, and a few women dived on the floor. The cops drew their guns out when they spotted Reeves, dashing across towards the abandoned rundown classrooms in the old wing...


    Joe anticipated the open window of opportunity ¡ª with all the four lean uniforms, were now out hounding after Reeves. He stood up ¡ª and scrambled pass the guardhouse. Two over-sized security guards, who had remained in the guardhouse, saw him dash by ¡ª one of them was ''pepper-spray'' Farah, who hollered at the running red-headed Intersexual...


    "It is the fat boy!"


    The two obese security guards then pursued after him.


    Nearby, Reeves outpaced his chasing shadows too, by his slippery facile runs in and out of the broken down classrooms, the uniformed cops were frustrated ¡ª by his cunning agility in dodging them.


    *


    In Columbus, Reeve''s mother in the coma ward, on her bed ¡ª her fingers twitched before her body shook with slight spasm.


    Laura Jensen was having a first-string of nightmares.

 Chapter 13

    THE THREE NUNS were kneeling at the altar, reciting the Apostle''s Creed with the two elite force cops, drawing closer behind them, hearing them praying...


    "Give us today our Daily bread, and forgive us for our sins ¡ª as we forgive those who sinned against us..."


    One of the female elite cops vociferated loudly to the nuns...


    "Hey, you holy-roller cunts ¡ª where are those shemales? Where are they fucking hiding!!?"


    The nuns disregarded the loutish language in their house of worship ¡ª the nuns continued their praying. The e-SWAT cop nodded to her partner, seeing the nuns recited the closing of the prayer...


    "Lead us not into temptations, and Deliver us from the Evil One, Amen."


    The Elite-force cop also echoed. "Amen," before she shot one of the nuns ¡ª the blood plashed and defiled the white linen cloth of the holy altar.


    It was the e-SWAT''s mandatory orders from Washington ¡ª that all the dissenting nuns should be executed ¡ª in their mission to eradicate the rebels who opposed the President''s New Order.


    The rifle shot slumped the nun from her kneeling position to sprawling flat on her face. Her face was soaking into her own pool of blood. The other two nuns were frozen in shock. A younger sister who was covered with blood splats of the dead nun soon burst into frightful tears. The shocked Sister Sarah picked up her courage, and glanced at the crying nun beside, clasped her hand firmly ¡ª and she instructed in a shaky voice...


    "Sister Theresa, come now ¡ª let us recite the Hail Mary..."


    "Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with You..."


    *


    Doran at the yard ¡ª did not hear the silencer fitted gunshot fired inside the Cathedral. His attention was both on the axe that was lodged on the tree stump ¡ª and also at the flamethrower who moved closer towards where he was hiding.


    He would be immolated ¡ª incinerated to his death if he jumped the flamethrower while armed with only a pair of cudgel clubs ¡ª he would be burnt to death like his mother in his once prison basement...Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    But he still needed that axe...


    The flamethrower''s attention was diverted by the loud clucking...


    She saw the coop with three plump turkeys, she then humoured herself. "Roasted yummy turkey ¡ª gobbling fucking ''Happy Thanksgiving'' birdies!"


    She approached and torched the birds ¡ª their feathers burst in combustion when they attempted to fly away, they dropped down as burning carcass.


    Matthew and Peter would have been horrified if they had witnessed the mindless snuffing of their prized birds, which they daily fed during their chores ¡ª and both would have sworn never to crave nor indulge the taste of roasted turkey ever again.


    The big uniformed woman was walking past the tree stump laughing ¡ª but, the axe was gone ¡ª and so was Doran from where he hid...


    The monk-boy had other plans now, as he headed towards the Cathedral...


    *


    "Holy Mary, Mother of God..."


    Doran heard Sister Sarah''s pitched voice praying at the altar when he reached the broken front door. He crept on the floor with the axe, and he hid behind a pillar inside the Cathedral when he saw both the black-uniformed enemies ahead.


    His eyes bulged in aghast to discern that the two Elite-force members were letting the sisters finish the prayer ¡ª before they aimed the rifles at both of the nuns'' heads from the back...


    He wanted to cry out to warn them, but was flummoxed at the moment ¡ª if he did so, the enemy will shoot him dead too from the distance where he was hiding ¡ª he was too far ¡ª about seventy feet away from the altar to physically strike both the soldiers down.


    He then heard the weeping Sister Theresa joining in the prayer...


    "...pray for us sinners now ¡ª and at the Hour of Our Death, Amen."


    Shots off the silencers rifle were fired ¡ª and both the nuns'' heads ruptured. They died instantaneously. The two cops went to check their kill, by kicking the three mission''s sacrificial corpses that were sprawled at the altar floor ¡ª but, they both were caught off-guard by a cry of rage, that come from behind them...


    The axe slammed deep into the helmet of one of the Elite-force cop...


    Doran knocked down the other elite force member; she received multiple raging facial and bodily blows from the wooden cudgels ¡ª the rifle was whanged off from the beaten cop''s grasping fingers.


    *


    "What da'' fu..."


    The flamethrower outside turned to the sound of the broken glass smashing ¡ª witnessing a fellow Elite-force member coming crashing out of the Cathedral''s stained-glass window.


    The muscular woman ran over, examined her dead colleague who was missing an eyeball and had a cudgel-stick lodged deep into the throat...


    "Holy Mother of blowjobs!" bellowed the shocked flamethrower.


    Then, she noticed Doran''s movement inside the Cathedral ¡ª she rushed forward to the broken window to shoot a line of flame at him ¡ª Doran ducked the fiery jet attack. The woman now jumped into the Cathedral broken window, to get a next clearer shot inside ¡ª to kill him...


    The mission details were to get the shemales out alive ¡ª but one less headcount of the monk-boys, would not make any difference today ¡ª after he had just killed two of theirs...

 Chapter 14

    THE COP USED A FIREMEN AXE to hack down the fire-exit door, in the cafeteria ¡ª that had been earlier barricaded. The rest was vexed because it took them almost fifteen minutes, to bring the fire-door down by its hinges. Almost a dozen cops ran through it ¡ª Sargent Harriet hollered her orders from behind...


    "Find them ¡ª and bring them back alive!"


    *


    The IIRC Director Tina Martin was monitoring the escape, in multiple camera shots of the CCTV, on her computer screen ¡ª she toggled back and forth ¡ª to see Joe and Reeves outrun the pursuers at the old Stuyvesant wing...


    "Come on boys, go!"


    She lighted a menthol, and clasped the neck of the bottle of Evan Williams ¡ª saving it as a repast celebration, once the boys had jumped the old wall.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Her main span of attention followed Reeves ¡ª who was rushing and dodging the cops in the broken down lecture room of the university wing...


    *


    In the coma ward in Columbus, Laura was having a nightmare, and her body went into the constriction. Her reminiscence was of the vehicles that drove in haphazard helter-skelter at the Exodus trail...


    An SUV vehicle collided on the side of their old Buick that caused Herbert Jensen to lose control. Their car then crashed and drooped over the metal railing guard ¡ª it seesawed and was about to slope ¡ª to plunge down from the crag peak. Laura was then attempting, to save her mother but the car tumbled down instantly. Laura screamed ¡ª and her view of being dragged along deeper, plunging into the bowel of the rocky cliff below.


    Her mother''s hand came up...


    The coma struck Laura''s eyes then opened ¡ª and her whole body shook in violent spasm. Her right hand slammed out and clutched the barricade railing of her bed.


    She reached out to grab her falling mother''s hand, in her mind''s eye ¡ª screaming, in-between her fight or flight state of her panicky mind.


    Her tremor shuddering body leapt out over the bed railing ¡ª she plummeted on the concrete floor, her eyeballs rolled white ¡ª and her body continued to outburst in paroxysm seizure.

 Chapter 15

    GAS-MASKED ELITE SWAT TEAM LED by the commander ferreted for the Intersexuals whereabouts, in vain ¡ª foraying into every corner of the old, abbey-orphanage house. An elite soldier among them was using a hand-held heat-sensor motion detector device, to scan the walls.


    The smoke-bombs had made the place very hazy, and that exasperated Commander Ester Petersburg...


    "Too much goddamn smoke ¡ª go and open all the fucking windows ¡ª and radio the stupid cunt-hole down there, to stop shooting any more of the damn thing!"


    The Elite cop with heat-sensor device responded. "I have searched the entire floor, Sir ¡ª no sign of them in the building."


    Another woman e-soldier stepped in howling in excitement...


    "Sir, come over here ¡ª I think I''ve have found a hidden door to an old, creepy basement below!"


    Petersburg was back beaming at them...


    "Okay ''boys'', let''s search down there."


    *


    In the Convent building, the four e-SWATS toddled up a flight of stairs vigilantly with Agent Wolfe tagging them from behind. Some more nuns in gas-masks jumped at them with wooden croquet mallet clubs on the first floor ¡ª but they were gunned down noiselessly by the elite cops.


    *


    Mother Superior stood on a chair and was searching the top of a cabinet in the storage room, Sister Margaret was in qualm...


    "Are you sure it is there, Mother? Probably someone might have sold it at the pawn-shop."


    "No, it is here somewhere ¡ª I know it is."


    Her ageing hands rummaged around, and she finally found it...


    "Hah, there you are!" Mother Superior brought down an old dusty Winchester rifle...


    "Say hello to Father Benny''s hunting rifle, I hope it works after being here a long time ...


    "The poor Father Benny, (God bless his soul) ¡ª he passed away a year before the Medusa Virus hit us back then. He was a big gun-freak, and his Sunday sermon analogies were always about hunting."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Do you have shells for it?"


    Sister Margret asked while she helped the oldest nun in the Convent down from the chair. Mother Superior opened a drawer and held out a worn-out cardboard box ¡ª she started loading the rifle chambers with the shells.


    "This will scare them off."


    "Mother, have you used a rifle before?"


    "No ¡ª but, how complicated can it be?"


    Mother Superior raised the barrel ¡ª she accidentally fired a shot ¡ª and it made a large hole on the wall. She was thrown back from the recoil, but Sister Margaret grabbed the old nun...


    Somewhere nearby, Wolfe heard the booming shot that was not muzzled ¡ª the White House agent exclaimed to the E-cops...


    "Those Jesus-whores are armed!"


    *


    The Elite-force troopers led by Petersburg exploited their flashlights attached to their rifle ends and helmets into the dusty, dark basement of the orphanage ¡ª they descended beneath a flight of stone stairs. There were ancient crypts that were centuries old embedded on walls, with heavy cobwebs, hung in the ceiling as they passed inside passage.


    *


    The thirty-six torpor Intersexuals treaded, in knee-deep murky water and their soaked monk robes were pulling them down. Ahead, Michael was still leading them. They arrived at an intersection with two passages ¡ª Matthew asked...


    "Left or right, Michael?"


    "I am not sure, Sister Sarah did not say about this. Come, let''s take the right." Michael turned to look behind and instructed the rest of the boys.


    "Come on everyone, keep up the pace ¡ª we are going that way!"


    *


    The leader of the Elite-force took point at the storage-room door...


    She displayed a silent three-count with her fingers. A second cop kicked the door down while Wolfe watched the e-SWAT storming inside ¡ª Mother Superior and Sister Margaret were caught off guard...


    The Elite force started shooting and the two nuns dropped on the floor.


    Wolfe stepped up ¡ª and stared morbidly at the old, dying Mother Superior, who had sustained multiple abdominal shots. She was gasping for air like a goldfish while puking blood in exhale...


    The iconoclast Wolfe imposed her predilection of execution ¡ª her insensate eyes stared below ¡ªbefore shooting the old nun right in the face...


    "Rest in Peace, you damn harlot of Christ!"


    *


    The Intersexuals monks drew closer to a dead-end ¡ª and the passage had iron prison-like bars barricade, the exhausted Peter cried out in disappointment at the flustered looking Michael...


    "It is a dead-end, Michael ¡ª what do we do now?"


    "Turn back ¡ª we will use the other passage, it may lead us outta here."


    "Who placed those bars on the passage?" Matthew was curious.


    "The City might have put it up, and the sisters were not aware of it ¡ª let''s try the other way out ¡ª and let''s pray we can get out of here," Michael responded in desperation, and he turned to the rest of the monk...


    "Come on, let us go, brothers."


    They all doubled back, grousing beneath their breath ¡ª most of the monk-boys have lost their trust in Michael''s leadership, because he seemed just as lost as the rest of them, after almost half an hour in the foul water, wearing their burdensome soaked up robes. Some of the boys lost their footwear, toddling thick in the muddy sewer floor.

 Chapter 16

    JOE WAS THE FIRST TO ARRIVE, at the parapet of the abandoned Stuyvesant Hall building that overlooked the wall. He was panting hard from exhaustion ¡ª and he glanced over at the old, orange-bricked wall with a broken, barb wire fence on top. It looked monumental to him, like the pictures of The Great Wall of China from his History textbook...


    He travailed in with more self-doubt after seeing it ¡ª how was he to scale it without a ladder?


    He looked down from the parapet, and the rarefied thought of jumping down fifteen feet to the patch of green grass below was now overwhelming ¡ª even though he had jumped the same height earlier from the French window ¡ª but now, the ponderous redhead had acrophobia fears.


    The timorousness spread over him of why he made the decision of separating from the rest of the Wesleyan boys¡ª and running away with Reeves'' accentuate plans. His knees began to tremble hard ¡ª he felt like sitting on his nates and closing his eyes¡ª and to let everything pass by, allowing himself to be captured by the pursuing guards...


    A panic-stricken voice then came yelling from behind him...


    "Joe, what''re you waiting for? Fucking jump!"


    Joe witnessed Reeves hurdled beside him and leapt over the parapet wall, and he landed, tumbling on the grass below. He cried from below at the hesitant bigger boy...


    "Come on, Joe, come!"


    Joe spotted the rest of the cops and guards were coming fast from his rear. He took his quivering leg over the parapet and he sat on it ¡ª the pursuers were nearing him ¡ª and Joe, out of his fear, forced himself to plummet ¡ª he dropped down like a hot-potato and landed on the grass. He grimaced in pain after he twisted his ankle from the fall.


    Reeves came over to grab him up, tugging him by his grubby uniform shirt...


    "Come on Joe, you can make it!" Reeves glanced up at Guard Farah''s angry eyes from the parapet above, hollering back at him...


    "You bitch-boy, I will get you!"


    The rest of the cops and guards arrived at the balcony but, they were apprehensive to jump down, they halted their pursuit ¡ª they saw the two boys reaching towards the far wall. Farah, the oversized security guard, was still glowering, and she bellowed again to everyone beside her...


    "Turn back, there is a stairwell over there!"


    She had the access keys to all the locked exits of the old Wesleyan wing, which had been secured from trespassers and vandals since the Medusa attack.


    "Come on, come on ¡ª you can do it, Joe!"


    Joe lurched sluggishly to keep up. Each step on the twisted ankle was a sharp jolting pain to him. Joe was perspiring in a dread panic to the pitched voices of the tumultuous cops and guards hollering nearby on the ground and on the rooftops. He was panting hard with panic-attack. Joe had to place his back on the orange, brick-wall to respite or else he may collapse with a heart attack...


    Reeves surveyed in seconds at the uniforms running down the stairwell ¡ª Guard Farah was now unlocking a barred gate with her key-bunch at the base of the stairs. There were also some activates above on the rooftops, with snipers running over to take a position...A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Both the twelve-year-old Intersexuals would have to move fast now ¡ª to scale over the wall in that paucity of time...


    "Come, Joe, I will give you a boost ¡ª come on, put your good foot up." Reeves cried out in anxiety at him. The taller and heavier Joe stepped on the buddy''s clenched palms. Reeves grappled and heaved the heavyweight Joe, no higher than above his own doddering knees.


    "Mmpphff ¡ª Joe, start scaling up quick!"


    Joe only needed to pull himself up three feet, to get on top the wall. The red-haired struggled in tiredness, but, he slipped sideways in the failed attempt ¡ª he tumbled and fell on the grass below...


    His capitulated falsetto voice then, cried out in defeat to the ordeal ¡ª seeing the cops scuttling out of the narrow opened gate...


    "Go, Reeves, I can''t do it! You go-go... escape now!"


    "I am not leaving here without you! Okay, I will climb over, and pull you up instead."


    "No man ¡ª you go alone!"


    Reeves looked affright for a split second, at the state of his abject fallen friend. He could not just abandon him ¡ª after when Joe had finally taken the leap of faith ¡ª to follow his plan to escape from this place with him...


    "Shut up! We are leaving this shitty place together!"


    Reeves started scaling and he reached the top of the brick wall. He stood abut on top and had a quick glance for a sec, over his shoulder ¡ª at the ''civilization ¡ªthat he longed to be in...


    Freedom was a matter of only a jump down behind, and escape...


    "Hey! Virgin-boy! Over here!"


    He even heard people behind, cheering for them. Some rowdy, teenaged girls outside the mom and pop store were teasing, followed by an encouragement too, when one of the older girls lifted her skirt, exposing her gamy knickers ¡ª the others teenagers with her were laughing out at her naughty spirited self...


    "Hey boy, jump on down, if you wanna get laid by a Virgin-boy Killer!"


    *


    The woman looked at the multiple windows screens off the CCTV-feed on her computer ¡ª Tina Martin was on the edge of her seat, spotting the cops on the ground and snipers on the roof who were posing the imminent danger...


    Every footstep and every rifle scope target was closing in the propinquity of the chase.


    Martin made out the image on the screen of Reeves ¡ª reaching his hand to the bigger boy below, who looked ceded...


    "Leave him behind, Reeves ¡ª just go, jump dammit!"


    *


    His outreached hand clasped Joe''s ¡ª while he hauled him up.


    "Come Joe come, you can make it!"


    His best friend was the only family he grew up with all those years in Wesleyan ¡ª and he could not give up on him. He would take him along when they go outside the wall ¡ª and, they would find for Laura Jensen once they escaped.


    *


    The snipers on the roofs aimed at the two boys on the wall. Joe''s back was hit by multiple shots of M99 tranquillizer darts...


    "Arrr...Reeves!"


    Reeves looked in horror ¡ª when he discovered a sharp pain from a dart hitting his own forearm. Within seconds the Etorphine took effect ¡ª he was in the state of catatonia ¡ª his grip went flaccid and released his hold...


    The corpulent Joe plummeted back again on the grass ¡ª inside the Wesleyan campus ground.


    Reeves held his arm with the dart impaled, he looked back with distorted visions, at the snipers on the roof on the adjacent building. He fought hard to stay awake ¡ª but, the sedative drug kicked in instantaneously...


    Two more darts then hit Reeves'' chest.


    Reeves dazed out, and fell back on the broken, barbed wire fence on top of the wall ¡ª it ripped his Wesleyan uniform shirt, and the ectoderm skin of his back...


    But, the fence wires also broke his twelve-foot fall, into the civilization-side of the wall. Reeves dropped with a thud on the concrete pavement outside ¡ª and his senses faded, after he heard the frightened girls screaming behind ¡ª and finally, his tortured body passed out...


    He laid there motionless, his consciousness fled ¡ª and the merciful darkness swallowed him ¡ª just like his mother Laura Jensen, who was on the floor of wardroom B-415 in Columbus, Ohio...


    Both the mother and her unknown son have failed in their final attempt, to save someone, who was worth saving...


    *


    Looking at the screen in disappointment, a tear rolled down from Tina Martin''s eye...


    She saw the bottle of bourbon in her hand, before dropping it into the wicker basket ¡ª after knowing that there was nothing left to celebrate anymore in IIRC in Wesleyan University. She then cleared her worktable, to head for her new m¨¦tier, at the CDC in Druid Hill, Georgia.

 Chapter 17

    THE ELITE-FORCE cop with the heat-sensor motion device scanned the cenotaph walls, while rats scuttled nearby her feet in the abbey basement. She placed the device towards the floor ¡ª and she saw lots of red-spots, heat signatures on the screen ¡ª she alerted Petersburg...


    "Sir! I have got a reading now."


    The Commander and the others gathered, to see into the contrivance ¡ª with a cluster of lots of moving red-spots from below them...


    "How the hell the fuckers got below this basement?"


    The trained corporal gave her expert opinion back to Petersburg...


    "There might be an underground sewer beneath, Sir ¡ª and they are using it to get to the river."


    The Elite-force Commander laughed, "I''ll be damned! Real sneaky bastards! So, there must be another entrance here somewhere, right?"


    Another team member suggested...


    "Sir, that will take time ¡ª how about we use the C-4 and blow a hole here ¡ª and we get them out?" The Elite-force corporal with the heat-detector device contradicted, with the impetuous demolition expert...


    "The floor''s diameter is too thick, and your C-4 won''t work."


    Petersburg had a sudden ploy...


    "Hmm, I got a better idea ¡ª call Radio to get someone from the nearby dam, and ask them to flood the sewers ¡ª that will flush those fuckers out, into the open like turds!"


    The Commander guffawed now at her own genius strategy, and the rest of her agreeing sycophant team joined her in laughing.


    *


    Roberta was listless after being sidelined, with the role as the reserve unit leader. She gaited by the strong current river bank, behind the Cathedral. She had forgotten to bring along her bottle of pain-killers. The twinge was throbbing on her thigh, making her limp like the Cambodian coconut plucking monkey-boy...


    She was conscious that the others would soon notice her pathetic gimp. The sergeant hated that.


    But her mind was still preoccupied in Columbus; with the psychotic albino stalker who has been terrorizing her life lately. The perpetrator had accessed into her home before ¡ª and her biggest fear right now was Laura''s safety ¡ª after the newspaper-clippings that were found by her bedside in the wardroom.


    Even though hindered with her job assignment of today, that took her away from Columbus, Roberta needed to find out later who that albino girl was ¡ª and deal with the perpetrator personally, before she attempted her next move. Her CPD department also should not find out about the break-ins into her house ¡ª or else, it would be an embarrassment for her, as a nation''s hero cop, who could not manage her own backyard.


    Roberta observed that her indolent volunteer team was equally ennui at that moment, dithering in idle. It was her time to put on her leadership browbeat game-face ¡ª she stepped up from behind of two policewomen seated on a fallen tree trunk, and she insinuated...


    "Hey, Beth! Diana! Look sharp ¡ª and don''t fuckin'' slack around!"


    When Roberta walked away, the two vexed cops bad-mouthed...


    "What''s wrong with that bitch?" whispered Diana,


    "She is an adrenaline junkie ¡ª she is pissed that she is not deep into the action over there," Beth responded softly while pointing at the Convent.


    "Dick that! She has already got her screwing hero''s medal from the President ¡ª what more does that cunt want?" They both broke into mocking hushed giggles, to malign their newly elected sergeant.


    *


    A huge mass of vertical falling water dropped from above at a dam ¡ª an engineer instructed a female worker, to turn a sluice gate-valve to flood.


    The water now overflowed, into several underground water tunnels.


    *


    "Sergeant Jensen!"


    Someone called out to Roberta at the river bank. It was the Elite-force, Sergeant Desiree Brown. She approached with a radio-woman with communication equipment back-pack. They both stood facing Roberta. Brown instructed and pointed at the far end of the river...


    "The Commander has ordered us to move half a click over there ¡ª those she-boys are now using the underground sewer, and we are gonna flush them out with water from a nearby dam. Now move your team to the mouth of the sewer tunnel ¡ª and we will nab them there."


    Roberta okayed, and she gathered the reserve unit.


    *


    The Intersexuals orphans were moving in the murky water, which was now waist-deep, clad in their heavy monk robes ¡ª some were cursing at the confluence of impurities that were floating.


    Matthew spoke out ...


    "Michael, have you noticed that the water is getting deeper?"Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "Yes, we might be reaching the river mouth," Michael replied while he soldiered on in the harsh condition ¡ª and Matthew added in a whining tone in front of the other monk-boys...


    "It is difficult to move Brother Michael, will it be a good idea to remove our robes?"


    Michael chafed loudly at him in frustration...


    "Use your head, and have some respect and dignity, Matthew! We are going to be priests in the future ¡ª and this consecrate robe that symbolizes our faith. We can''t just remove it, and walk around in our underwear ¡ª when we escape out of there!"


    *


    Roberta Jensen and Elite-force Sergeant Brown were first to arrive, and both inspected the end of the sewer mouth ¡ª Roberta noticed that the tunnel mouth was prison-barred, she questioned...


    "How are we to extract them with those bars intact?"


    Before Brown could find an answer, they both turn to see Commander Petersburg and her small jocose team of four from the abbey-orphanage raid ¡ª coming over to them, to watch the fun.


    The gloating Elite-force Commander Petersburg immediately took control of the situation...


    "Boys, in a while, they will all be flushed out ¡ª and we get them?" The now uncertain Sergeant Brown inquired Roberta''s earlier question...


    "Sir, how do we get them out? Shall we torch and start cutting down the bars?


    "No you fool, not yet ¡ª those bastards will then make a run, and escape to the riverfront," a blatant reply from Ester Petersburg as she lit up her stogie.


    Being raised in the bucolic community that depended on irrigation for farming in Wellsville, Utah ¡ª Roberta thought that it was a grave judgment error, made by the supercilious superior officer.


    *


    The water level had escalated up to their chest, and movement was getting even more difficult in their monk robes. Michael turned to Matthew after hearing something afar ...


    "What sound is that?"


    They all scrutinized to notice a strident sound, growing behind them. It became louder before the monk-boys spotted a large mass of gushing water rushing over towards them. Most of the Intersexuals started to remove their robes, in tumult. They began to swim away hastily.


    Some of the uniform personnel stood on top of the roof of the tunnel entrance roof mouth, while many of other cops and e-SWAT stood at the side of the river bank for a better view of the water rushing out. Beth and Diana of the CPD were there too, joining the spectacle, waiting to capture the moment on their phone cameras. They all heard Petersburg laughing, and others echoed in humour along after their commander ridiculed...


    "Those clever monk-keys think they can use the sewer to escape ¡ª this will be a total mind fucking surprise for those fucktards!"


    The tunnel was half-filled to its roof. The boys were swept away by the rushing current, screams of affright, while those clad in their heavy robes begin to drown...


    Roberta observed a big gush of water spewing out of the sewer mouth, while it amused those around who watched. But, the laughers stopped when the distend water-eroded, the side of the riverbank causing landslides ¡ª resulting the Elite-force radio-communication woman to be the first to slip ¡ª next, with another panicking e-SWAT soldier slipping into the muddy landslips. They were screaming in the divulging water ¡ª they both were swept into the nearby strong current river.


    The screaming Beth was slipping halfway into the running water, but Diana hauled her up, to join others into safety...


    Everyone gaped in horror, to witness more of the riverbanks were being washed away, by the robust water that flooded the main drain. All of the remaining e-SWAT and the reserve unit scuttled, to merge with the rest of the group, on the roof of the sewer tunnel.


    *


    The water level immersed and was now almost to the roof. The monk-boys tried to cling on to the ceiling cracks of the sewer roof ¡ª but, the resilient current tore them away ¡ª drowning them underwater...


    It was difficult to fight the undercurrent, especially for those in their heavy monk-robes.


    *


    Roberta Jensen discerned at the blenched Commander who was lost in panic at the moment, staring speechless at the strong running river, seeing two of her troopers drowning afar. The newly promoted Sergeant Jensen went to the end mouth of the sewer ¡ª and detected the hands of the about twenty boys reaching out of the prison-bars, crying from below, while they were drowning...


    "Help! Please help us!"


    Most of the other Intersexuals were struggling to breathe in the air pockets of the sewer ceiling. Michael swam underwater, he discovered Matthew struggling in his robe that was wrapped over his head...


    The monk-leader instantly removed his own cumbrous robe, underwater, and he set out in boxer-shorts, to rescue Matthew ¡ª who was dragged away, in backwards spins by the undercurrent.


    *


    Roberta stepped up to the Petersburg who looked astray, and she probed. "Commander, your only communication radio has been swept away ¡ª and with the jamming of the telco signal, there is no way that you can call the dam to shut the water down ¡ª what do we do, Sir?"


    The Commander turned her back to Roberta, as she stared below at the dozens of hands of the children reaching out from the top of the prison bars, pleading to be saved. Remaining speechless, Petersburg kept hearing the distressed voices of the juveniles...


    "Help please! Don''t let us die!"


    Roberta turned audacious to the crisis at hand when she found their debonair decorated e-SWAT leader was oblivious to take any form of action ¡ª the sergeant turned to one of the Elite-force corporal, who carried a bag of explosives...


    "Hey, you ¡ª are you the demolition-guy? Set up your C-4s on the sewer roof and blow a hole up!"


    Commander Ester Petersburg came to her senses instantaneously, and she intervened impudently ¡ª when she overheard the interloper ''celebrity'' reserve unit sergeant, being out of propriety in rank ¡ª and she was now giving out the orders to her ''boys''...


    "Jensen, you wait for a second, you moron ¡ª the blast will kill some of these kids!"


    Roberta retorted back...


    "It is either we violate to some collateral damage now ¡ª or, risk the result of all those freaks later dead, by drowning!


    "It is your call, Sir!"


    While the demolition-soldier and Roberta lingered for her decision ¡ª the Commander hesitated a second in thoughts...


    Her ass that would be on the grill, if Washington learned from Agent Wolfe that all the boys were reported drowned, due to her incompetence in the roundup mission ¡ª and also, of her bad strategy decision to drown the sewer, which would then be later investigated and reviewed...


    Commander Esther Petersburg glanced back, and she approved.


    "Okay, blow up the goddamn roof!"


    Immediately, the female Elite-cop rigged the C-4s, and Roberta stayed behind to assist her.


    The Commander then barked her orders to all the uniforms present...


    "Everyone get out of here!"


    Roberta Jensen reminded the demolition SWAT woman...


    "We only got one shot at this ¡ª use every-damn-thing you got!"


    *


    Michael swam in grit while underwater, nearing towards Matthew, and caught him from drifting further away. He removed the motionless Matthew''s robe, which was covering his head...


    Matthew was long dead, with his eyes and mouth wide-opened...


    *


    Roberta and the demolition corporal ran for safety before an explosion ripped the roof of the sewer entrance, with a torrential cascade. Roberta noticed the gushing water had then subsided.


    The reserve police unit and Elite-force rushed forward to the blast-hole and they extricated the surviving boys from a blood-red pool ¡ª from below, some monk-boys were screaming limbless, and a few others were either unconscious ¡ª or were already fatal of asphyxia.

 Chapter 18

    THE MUSCULAR FLAMETHROWER WOMAN paced around the Cathedral altar ¡ª and she detected the three dead, executed nuns ¡ª and, also an Elite-force SWAT member with an axe jutting out of in her helmet. She turned and burned a row of pews ahead ¡ª and she challenged the hiding boy with a mockery...


    "Every little boy loves to play with fire. So, where are you, you little punk-ass? Come out, come out now ¡ª and come play with me!"


    The female Elite-cop sauntered around, and her eyes ferreted for any movement. Doran proceeded by moving silently, following her from the back and hid behind a huge pillar. He peeked and spotted the big and tall woman walking towards the vacant confession box.


    "Are you saying your confession in there, you ugly shit? I forgive you, my son ¡ª with the Baptism of fire."


    She flared the confession box interior with a sprit line of flame. The monk-robed Doran now moved closer towards the altar, and he hid beside the corpses of the nuns. His tears were flowing, looking up-close at the sisters who had been brutally murdered. His hand-picked up the chained incense thurible and next, a burning oil lamp that was on top of the bloodstained altar. He discerned the psychotic woman soldier who was laughing to her own jokes while burning another confession box.


    Doran then plucked out the axe, from the dead soldier''s helmet with a tug ¡ª and he disappeared again...


    "Come on out, you son of a bitch!"


    The frustrated woman called out in expiration. The annoyed Elite member looked up at a statue of a male bearded saint, staring down with sad eyes. "What are you looking at?" She torched the face of the statue.


    Hidden behind an opposite pillar, Doran poured the oil from the lamp into the thurible. He peeked again and his eyes followed the woman, torching the pipe organ next ¡ª and she was screaming in chagrin, it now echoed in the empty cathedral...


    "Where are you, boy-bitch? You can''t fuckin'' hide forever!"


    Doran had the forbearance to gauge her movements and distance ¡ª he needed to be very cautious ¡ª or else, he would be killed by the fiery immolation if his attack was too soon.


    The woman finally heard his voice echoing somewhere near...


    "I am behind you!"


    She turned quickly and shot a jet of flame in haste, it burned more pews nearby ¡ª but the guile Doran was not there.


    The Elite-force cop turned her back again ¡ª she felt a hard push from behind her, with a clarion ''thonkk'' like-sound ¡ª it reechoed loudly again, in the quiet Cathedral...


    The flamethrower examined over her shoulder, she saw an axe lodged into her metal-tank backpack ¡ª causing fuel to seep out and trickle onto the floor where she stood...


    "You bastard! Where are you ¡ª you fucking ugly monk!!?"


    From behind the next pillar, Doran lit the thurible with a candlestick. He divulged his presence serenely out, to the open danger. He gaited towards the flamethrower holding the lit candle in one hand ¡ª and in the other was the thurible by its chain...


    It was burning like a ball of fire.


    "Here I am, woman..."


    The soldier made a loud ire cry, she pointed the nozzle of her weapon at Doran, who was advancing sedately towards her. She then triggered a three-foot weak flame that spurted out ¡ª it barely touched the approaching boy, with the blazing thurible.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Doran began to gyrate the flaming thurible above his head, like a fiery spiralling lasso ¡ª the ensued flamethrower realized what repercussion that was about to come...


    Her eyes widened in dread with the sound of the leaching combustible fuel, dripping out of her backpack tank ¡ª dribbling in between her legs to soak the floor ¡ª it made her appear like she was weeing while standing.


    She turned around in an instant, as she began to exhort for her safety by dashing towards the broken door entrance of the cathedral. The running woman was almost there when Doran hurled the whirling thurible towards her...


    She left a long trail of splattering fuel while she fled. The monk-boy ¡ª next ¡ª dropped down the candle...


    The thurible flung over, and the chain reeled, strapping around the running woman''s thighs ¡ª and the burning fuel ignited by Doran had reached in a straight-line towards the Elite-force member, who had dropped flat on the marbled floor...


    It engulfed her.


    The monk boy recognized her frantic, fraught movements jolting on the ground ¡ª petrified like the burning near-dead turkeys earlier in the yard...


    It was so similar to the horrified incident of his screaming mother, who tried to save herself from her burning nightdress and her long hair He had seen her death from the crack hole of his locked prison door ¡ª when her fiery nightgown engulfing her ¡ª she ablaze naked, in their house basement five years ago.


    The bleak voices of the dying were always akin ¡ª whether worshiper or nonreligious ¡ª they straightaway call out for their God...


    The woman with the leaky fuel-pack similarly, screamed for her God, rolling as she incinerated in her black uniform ¡ª before an explosion eviscerated her body into half...


    *


    Sargent Olivia Wilkins from Cincinnati PD was stationed outside the main gate of the Cathedral with her reserve-team. They heard and saw the explosion, with debris spitting out from the building of the worship.


    A three-edged, flaming boomerang far-flung into the air ¡ª and approached them, before it dropped and descended towards the main entrance gate of the Cathedral, where the reserve unit was stationed. The burning boomerang swung, as it hung high on the Cathedral main gate spiked bars, causing some of Wilkins'' team to scream ¡ª and step away in horror...


    One of the cops puked after learning, what was strapped and attached to the burning thurible ¡ª they were both of the flamethrower''s severed legs ¡ª one leg had a missing boot which exposed, the deceased''s charred foot with painted toes nails.


    The petrified Sargent Wilkins next witnessed, the whole cathedral roof afar in a burgeon conflagration.


    *


    Doran stood and was gazing at the bloodied sanguinary altar, while the rest of the Cathedral engulfing in rolling flames. Sweat ran furiously over his scared-face, and he stared at the huge crucifix with the bleeding Christ statue, burning above the altar.


    Behind him, ceramic saint statues burned, crackled and imploded in the fire from the burning pews.


    He turned his head and noticed that the statue of Madonna with a child was also in flames, before it broke in two, with her child dropping and shattering on the floor...


    "Say something, Mother!"


    He was waiting for the voices to speak to him ¡ª but, he heard none ¡ª if the voices wanted to remain silent ¡ª well, he had something bitter to proclaim. He turned back, looking at the burning cross, hung high at the altar. With his arms wide open, Doran said his confession aloud...


    "Forgive me, Father for I have sinned ¡ª I have sent three souls to Hell ¡ª and I pledge as your righteous soldier to take many more evil souls in Your Name ¡ª I will seek justice ¡ª for Your Holy Church ¡ª and I even will fight to my death, to achieve this in Your Righteous Name..."


    Doran ended his short prayers, and he made the sign of the Cross...


    "In the name of One God, My Father ¡ª and His fallen Son ¡ª and in the name of God''s risen Holy Soldier ¡ª Amen!"


    The virtuous Soldier of God climbed out of the burning building through the broken stained window after his declaration of his hatred and guilt ¡ª leaving behind the burning crucifix of Christ, which now fell on the altar floor on the corpses...


    The ceramic statue of Madonna shattered a crack in the face by the sweltering heat ¡ª and the ''voice'' finally called out to him...


    "Where are you going, you Demon-boy?"


    "To put a stop to your kind!"


    The monk-boy walked out of the burning Cathedral with one cudgel club in his hand. He bent over to pull the other stick that lodged out, from the dead SWAT policewoman''s mouth ¡ª he began running towards the Convent.


    He now needed to rescue Sister Lisa Marie.

 Chapter 19

    OUTSIDE THE CONVENT YARD, an elite-force member shot smoke-bomb that broke a window above. The vitriolic smoke fumed inside Sister Lisa Marie''s room, and the Black nun spotted it. Sister Anita covered it with a cloth before opening the window, and she threw it out hurriedly.


    The stroke suffering Sister Lisa Marie coughed violently. Sister Anita returned to hear her pleas for a drink ¡ª but, the water pitcher by the bedside was empty...


    "Wait, Sister Lisa, I will get you some water," she left the room fast.


    *


    The Elite-force was about to shoot another window with a smoke-bomb from below ¡ª and a fellow member intervened. "Anna! Enough! The Commander said to stop shooting any more smokes."


    Doran armed with his cudgels was hiding behind a hedge and watched them both leave. He sneaked away and started climbing up a vertical drain-pipe on the side of the building to get access to the top floors of the cloister.


    Agent Wolfe and an Elite-force cop were in gas-masks, searching the smoky second-tier floor of the Convent ¡ª the cop was using her hand-held heat sensor instrument, to scan the walls...


    "I don''t think any of them are on this floor, Sir."


    "Keep looking before we go to the next floor. None of those penguins should leave this place alive!" Wolfe reminded the Elite-soldier again.


    The body count was at nineteen nuns so far.


    *


    At the third floor, the Black nun covered her nose with a damp cloth from the acrid, smoky hallway, and she refilled the water pitcher from a faucet.


    She saw movement outside the window ¡ª baffled and she stepped back, seeing Doran hanging outside the ledge. Sister Anita inquired after opening the window...


    "Doran! Why are you not with the rest?"


    The scar-faced monk boy jumped in, without responding to an answer ¡ª but, he asked instead. "Sister Anita, where is Sister Lisa Marie? We have to get away from here fast ¡ª they are killing the nuns."


    "Over there ¡ª in the second last room..."


    She pointed, and Doran immediately left and proceeded to the nun''s room. Halfway over there, he was surprised by an ibidem encounter ¡ª with an Elite-force soldier ¡ª who was also equally in bewilderment, to discover the scar-faced monk-boy inside the Convent top floor.


    Doran bolted away when the soldier fired, with her silencer muffled rifle ¡ª it left many fist-sized bullet holes on the boarded walls. The monk-boy disappeared...


    The Elite-cop hunted for Doran while he hid nearby. He now followed her before he jumped, and surprised her with his two wooden cudgels ¡ª the fustigate of blow after blow fell on the woman''s face and helmet ¡ª before Doran finally stabbed her throat with the end of his cudgel club ¡ª a crunching sound was mildly audible ¡ª and the cop spat out blood, before dropping backwards with a thud...


    The boy picked up the dead woman''s service rifle ¡ª and he next looked up, to the direction of a strident yelp behind. He rushed back over to the corridor to see another Elite-force policewoman, bending to examine her kill on the floor...


    A pool of blood with the face-down corpse of Sister Anita...


    "No! No! No!"


    Rage filled his eyes. He pointed and shot the terrified soldier at point-blank. The woman tried to shield her face ¡ª and instead, the blast blew off two of her fingers. Doran pulled the trigger again, but it was out of ammo. The soldier wrenched in pain and sprung up ¡ª she gave a roundhouse-kick that floored Doran down...


    She then escaped ¡ª running scared and still holding on, to her bleeding maimed palm ¡ª leaving a blood trail along the floor. The enraged Doran still pursued the chase from behind. Dashing over, while holding the rifle like a bat...


    He swung the rifle butt ¡ª and it connected, with a smashing blow into her temple, She was thrown off the upper tier, and fell three stories down ¡ª smack landing on the ground-floor, to her slow demise ¡ª with prodding fractures of a broken bone, spiking out from her blood soaking uniform.


    *


    Agent Wolfe and an Elite-force cop glanced beforehand at that same cop falling to her death, with a thumping sound at the ground floor. The Elite-force cop exclaimed in surprise ...


    "How the hell did she fall?"


    "Unless there are some activities above ¡ª let''s go, and check it out!"


    Wolfe responded while she removed the safety off her pistol. They both hiked up the stairs, cautiously to the third floor ¡ª and at the same time, Doran opened a door, and entered a room...Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    *


    He checked the frail Sister Lisa Marie asleep on her bed. He knelt by her side and placed his hand compassionately on her cheek.


    Doran needed to bring the nun to safety...


    She meant the world to him ¡ª regarding her as the only affectionate person in his life, who really understood him ¡ª it was her love for him that had also kept him, in his right sane of mind for the past five years, since he was rescued from the dark coal cellar dungeon.


    Her eyelids opened, she looked astounded back at him ¡ª she spoke with a slight slur. "Doran, what you...


    "...you, should run away?"


    "I came back for you, Sister Lisa ¡ª I came to get you away from here."


    "No Doran ¡ª Jesus is calling me ¡ª to join him..."


    *


    On the top floor, Agent Wolfe and the e-SWAT soldier found another dead Elite cop with raptured tracheae, from an unarmed combat injury...


    "Someone was here," Wolfe reacted and she removed the gas-mask. The other cop examined the deceased ¡ª and glanced back at Wolfe with tear swelling eyes...


    "That is Jeannette ¡ª she was a close friend of mine..."


    In the room, the monk-boy was arguing with the nun, who was refusing to evacuate.


    "No, I will not let that happen ¡ª I will get you out of here ¡ª and I will take care of you, Sister Lisa Marie."


    The old nun coughed before discoursing out. "You, run away now, Doran, I am too old to follow."


    But, he was still adamant...


    "No, I need you to be with me, and let''s go before they come ¡ª they are killing all the sisters!"


    She touched the boy''s hot-tearing cheek ¡ª and she smiled at him, to cheer him up...


    "My special boy ¡ª you are going to be the Pope someday, Doran ¡ª you, a great leader for our church ¡ª and I will be with you there, in the spirit..."


    Doran choked, he was getting even more emotional in the confusion...


    "No, you can''t die, Sister Lisa ¡ª everybody I love dies ¡ª I don''t want you to leave me too..."


    "But Doran, you are going to be the Pope ¡ª and you have to be strong, my sweet-dear boy. Remember this ¡ª those of the living, are your flock to lead ¡ª and those who die belongs to God..."


    The boy sobbed uncontrollably...


    "No, I don''t want to be a Pope anymore ¡ª I am not good, nor am I smart as Michael ¡ª I just want to be always with you, Sister ¡ª please, if you are not with me, then I am all alone ¡ª I don''t want to be like I was once before ¡ª locked away behind the door in the dark ¡ª I am so afraid to go there again..."


    He placed his head on the old nun''s shoulder and sobbed aloud...


    "Don''t leave me alone please!"


    The door crashed open...


    Agent Wolfe and the Elite-cop stormed in, both were pointing their weapons at them. The anguished Elite-force cop grabbed Doran''s robe by the collar, she slammed him on the wall ¡ª she rammed her rifle butt into Doran''s stomach ¡ª and he fell on the ground in deep pain...


    She was about to strike the rifle to smash the monk-boy in the skull ¡ª but Agent Wolfe intervened, and pushed her away...


    "Enough!"


    "Sir! This fucker killed Jeannette! He is now dead!"


    The soldier obdurate for vengeance kept kicking and was imprecating the boy, with the verge of death threats. Wolfe shot a hole on the wall beside her head, to get her attention from her affray. The agent then derogated unwaveringly...


    "Hey, listen, bitch! If that military-trained friend of yours, can''t defend herself against a 12-year-old ¡ª then, she does not fucking deserve to live!"


    The SWAT cop was taken aback ¡ª and Wolfe added...


    "Now get the fuck out! Go wait outside the door!"


    The e-SWAT cop left the room tepidly and she stood outside by the open door. Wolfe pointed her pistol at the old nun, Doran gathered to gain his strength from the beating received from an adult ¡ª and he was kneeling, leaning against the wall, the abdominal pain was atrocious...


    He was in tears, poised with his palm out to Wolfe...


    "Why? Why persecute us? We are just simple servants of God ¡ª and, we have not harmed anyone, to deserve this..."


    Agent Wolfe responded in odious...


    "If only that fucking Mother Superior of yours, had handed you, boys, to us voluntarily ¡ª then, nobody would be hurt nor be dead today. No, but, that sanctimonious bitch, wanted to complicate the mission for us ¡ª and she even threatened to reveal this op to the media ¡ª that holy-cunt just wanted you, boys, all for herself ¡ª just like those perverted male priests in the past!"


    Agent Wolfe mockingly laughed, and she continued...


    "This is the situation here ¡ª you boys are coming with us ¡ª and all the nuns here will have to die!"


    Wolves removed the safety of her Magnum, while she heard the trembling aghast monk-boy, pleading in more sobs...


    "No, please! No! No!"


    "Sorry boy, this has to be done!"


    Wolfe fired twice mercilessly ¡ª killing Sister Lisa Marie instantly with her signature, facial-shots execution...


    The animal, raged boy pounced from the floor and blindsided Wolfe ¡ª as Doran grabbed a wooden crucifix on the side table. He swung it and clobbered Wolfe, disarming her firearm ¡ª and the next blow broke the cross...


    It tore the Secret Service''s left eyebrow.


    The Elite-force cop outside the door responded, by training her rifle at Doran when seeing the groggy, Wolfe with her bleeding face, and also, weaponless with her back onto the wall. Wolfe upbraided at the e-cop, who was ready to fire...


    She warned her...


    "Stay out of this, you cunt ¡ª the Scar-face is all mine!"


    Wolfe lunged in choler forward, at the equally emotionally raged Doran, who next drew out both his cudgels, from his belt to defend himself. Wolfe used her Muay-Thai martial art skills to parry off, his weakening club swings. She fought back unarmed, with kicks and punches ¡ª before her elbow finally connected his temple ¡ª it knocked the spent boy unconscious...


    Doran dropped beaten on the floor, at the foot of the bed of the dead Sister Lisa Marie.


    Wolfe looked down briefly at the kayoed boy, before picking up her pistol. Blood streamed on the side of the agent''s face. She never anticipated a fightback, from that gutsy scrawny kid...


    She had survived duties in the Middle East as a Marine soldier before ¡ª and never had sustained a bodily wound that needed stitches in all her battle engagements, but, until today. This would leave a physical bravery-scar along with her previous mental bravery-scar ¡ª of the looks on a grenade maimed Iraqi insurgent ¡ª who had a fearless devilish grin ¡ª before she shot him, in his face back then...


    Wolfe discovered that similar fearless-fire, in the pluck monk''s haunted eyes, with his expeditious reflexes in his attacks. The brave shemale-boy was a worthy opponent, who she might want to confront again someday ¡ª when he matured next and got stronger ¡ª and, she would then extirpate the dissenter''s existence, when that day came.

 Chapter 20

    ELITE SERGENT DESIREE BROWN held an electronic tablet and was doing a damage assessment of survivors, on their Washington''s mission detail. On the ground by her foot, was the seated wet group of waned monk-boys survivors, with their hands bound in zip-cuffs to their backs. Some boys were naked because their clothes were washed away while surviving the sewer flooding disaster escape earlier.


    Opposite to them, was a row of dead Intersexuals laid on the pavement, in their soaking robes...


    Michael was wearing only his boxers, looked up in tears at the drowned Matthew''s body, who died asphyxiated by the very robe that he wore.


    He debased his own leadership as a failure, by the bad call he made in regards to being church attired in their consecrated robe at all times ¡ª that had in return, caused the death of some of his dear brothers.


    In tears, Michael commiserated the rest of the survivors, joining with prayers softly, to those who had died tragically.


    Outside the Cathedral''s main gate, Elite Commander Petersburg nodded back at the saluting Roberta Jensen, before she climbed into the back of a military truck with her PD team. The reserve-backup units were leaving, after completing the special detail ¡ª and they have driven away from the St. Mary''s Cathedral in Cleveland and back to Columbus, Ohio.


    Petersburg progressed into getting rid of the personage, interloper ¡ª Sargent Jensen away ¡ª with the rest of the merry reserves units, as fast as possible, before Agent Wolfe returned from the Convent ¡ª so that, she could accommodate her own confabulated version of the events by the river. She needed to cover-up for her mistake plans, of extruding the Intersexual boys out of the sewer by flooding it ¡ª which then had left many dead.


    She too made a bad call like Michael today ¡ª but, had to cover-up her own mistake, for the sake of saving her career.


    Sergeant Brown advanced to her Commander...


    "Sir, 21 boys alive, and 15 dead from drowning and the explosion ¡ª and one, seems to be missing."


    The death numbers also derived from the commander''s kill-order at the wild riverfront, by smash-in the heads of four limbless boys with their rifle butts ¡ª as an act of coup de grace, to put the creatures out of their miseries.


    Commander Petersburg was distracted soon, by the sight of the mission''s superior Agent Agatha Wolfe walking impendent, passing the burning Cathedral ¡ª she was heading towards the main gate, where every one of the e-SWAT was now stationed.


    Wolfe shook her head in dissatisfaction while walking pass the odd dozen shemale corpses ¡ª and, she demanded to know...If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Petersburg ¡ª what the fuck happened here?"


    The Elite-force Commander took her aside, from her staring troopers ¡ª and she lied...


    "Some tried to escape, Agent Wolfe ¡ª and so, they perished ¡ª both from the cathedral fire, and the other escapees, were drowned in the river."


    They both looked up, to spot two female Elite force soldiers dragging the unconscious Doran ¡ª Michael looked relieved seeing him, to know the oddball had survived the dreadful ordeal.


    He overheard Petersburg saying next...


    "So you found him, Agent Wolfe! We were looking for that missing boy, in the headcount."


    Agent Wolfe glanced at the extant monk-boys detainees squatting, while she was applying pressure with a handkerchief, over her own split eyebrow...


    "Yeah, probably he is their ringleader ¡ª and, he was a good fighter too ¡ª even killed two of your e-SWAT twats with these..."


    Wolfe handed a pair of blood-stained, homemade, wooden cudgels to the staggered Commander Petersburg, looking dazed after hearing that there were two more of her soldiers dead, at the Convent. In hatred, Petersburg observed the unconscious Doran who was dropped among the other survivors. The cudgels fell on the pavement, while the Commander whipped her pistol out...


    It must have been the same stealth-like executor, who was responsible for killing the other three from her e-SWAT outfit ¡ª where two of the extracted bodies were exterminated beyond recognition, in the blazing Cathedral earlier.


    Now, e-SWAT Commander had to inculcate the detailed incident report on her five dead members in the mission ¡ª that excluded the two that had drowned while being swept away in the river...


    ''Seven fucking deaths, in the goddamned incursion!''


    She never had lost these many troopers during any of her watch before, when in their countless urban street drug-wars that she had helmed...


    This assault on the monastery was a huge curse...


    Petersburg pointed her gun, at the unconscious Doran ¡ª and cursed out...


    "This motherfucker does not deserve to live!"


    Agent Wolfe intervened and abased her in front of her troop...


    "Stand down, Commander!


    "That boy and the rest of the survivors are the property of the United States government! You pull that trigger, and I will personally find a way to strip you off from all of your fancy pins and stripes ¡ª and make you a foot-soldier, for the rest of your damn career ¡ª is that understood, Petersburg!!?"


    The threatened commander backed off and returned her firearm back into her holster.


    Wolfe looked at the burning Cathedral...


    "Burn the rest of the place down, with all the dead boys and the penguins in it!"


    She warned Petersburg again before leaving...


    "If anything happens to that kid over there ¡ª your flabby fat-ass is mine, remember that!"


    Wolfe glanced at the knocked out Doran for one last time ¡ª and walked away to her parked black Secret Service sedan.


    Commander Petersburg called out to her Sergeant in choler...


    "Sargent Brown, load all these Jesus cocksuckers into the cage!"


    A green, military pickup truck backed up with a metal-cage welded on the back ¡ª the caged door was opened. The commander was still affronted by Wolfe, she booted the nearest boy seated on the ground and barked...


    "Get in all of you, you girlie-dick scumbags!"


    She was pointing in rancour at unconscious Doran...


    "That bastard too ¡ª throw him with the rest!"


    The twenty-two monk-boys were cramped inside the crowded cage, while a few e-SWAT cops covered the cage with army chartreuse hued tarpaulin, to conceal their catch of the day for Washington ¡ª the mission of that day was accomplished, in slightly over an hour of execution.

 Chapter 21

    Roberta emerged out from the elevator, still wearing her soiled reserve riot police uniform, after the Cleveland''s Cathedral detail mission. She ran across to the coma ward, passing Nurse Eker at her desk. She entered Laura''s room and spotted her comatose sister on bed, with a bandage bound on her forehead...


    Her initial credence thought was that her sister was attacked ¡ª by the intruding albino stalker ...


    Dr Emma Rickman was there checking up Laura vitals with a stethoscope. Her aunt, Florence Jensen, was also present. She related the incident of Laura falling off her bed ¡ª she hugged her niece. That was assuring to Roberta''s foment at that moment that everything was now alright...


    Roberta now knew that Laura was gradually coming out of her coma, after being entrapped in her limbo state for twelve years. She finally saw some hope that her older sister was on the road to healing ¡ª after all those years of patiently watching her fingers, for some twitching signs of revival.


    *


    A road led to a huge concrete structure smacked in the middle of nowhere, in the Chihuahua Desert in Texas. Five prison-buses loaded with the half-sleeping she-boys drove on that road with three state trooper cars following from the rear.


    A few hours ago, the boys were spiked by the refreshments that were served, in the travelling police buses, once they had left the Wesleyan University in Delaware, Ohio. The unconscious orphans Intersexuals were then transported by air, in two army Chinook choppers to an airfield in the desert in Texas.


    A black, metal sliding gate opened, and the Texas State Prison buses drove into high pitched cheering Tombscradle Penitentiary''s yard ¡ª where Warden Graves and the female prison guards were waiting for their arrivals.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    The vehicles stopped, the doors of buses opened with hydraulically hissing ¡ª followed by the voice, of a huge prison guard on a bullhorn...


    "OKAY ALL OF YOU ''GAS UP''¡ª GET INTO YOUR GROUPS ¡ª GROUP ''A'' HERE, ''B'' HERE, GROUP ''C'' OVER HERE AND GROUP ''H'' OVER THERE!"


    The frightened Wesleyan boys in their half state of grogginess gathered into their respective groups, they noticed there were loud jeering greets from other prisoners ¡ª the Blacks and Hispanics ¡ª both the racial rival street crime gangs were separated from the White Wesleyans by tall fences on both left and right.


    Someone peered out from a dark cell window at the Wesleyan boys alighting off the buses below ¡ª his hands clenched on the prison bars, of the furthest edifice which was F-Block ¡ª where Marlin had been there for the past four days...


    He was still keeping a looking out for Dr Jane Morris to come, and take him away from the mess that he had made with the public brawl in a mall ¡ª but now, he was jailed here without a court trial.


    "Dude, where are the police academy and the damn carnival? This looks like a fucking prison, man ¡ª and why the fuck are we here?" said the fish-out-of-water Hank, who then looked above, at the watchtower armed guards.


    "Oh shit, this can''t be happening! I want to be a cop someday, but now I am at a fucking prison ¡ª why the fuck is this happening?" replied the equally scared Kiki-boy, as they squat in Croup C...


    Just like the other twelve-year-olds around him, Kiki-boy was trembling ¡ª and he started crying when he experienced the firsthand living nightmare of intimidation ¡ª by the bloodcurdling shemale gang-bangers like, he had seen arrested on the TV news ¡ª they were hollering out at them from behind, from over their side of the fences.


    *


    Further down the dusty road, the army green cage-pickup truck was also heading to the similar penitentiary with the monk-boys ¡ª captured half a day ago. Doran had regained his consciousness, and he was bereaving over his beloved Sister Lisa Marie''s death...


    He vowed bitterly to find the one called Wolfe once again, to get his ascribed retribution over the cold-blooded murders of his brothers and sisters ¡ª and he promised himself that day, that he would keep on fighting his self-bestowed pledge, as a Soldier of God ¡ª in wherever they put him next.

 Chapter 22

    The orange, brick wall stood with its broken barbwire for its many weather-beaten years ¡ª today, it had a small shredded strip of a student''s uniform-shirt caught on one of its spurring barbwire rusted hook ¡ª it fluttered in the breeze...


    When the wind stopped blowing, the hooked cloth bit revealed bloodstains on it...


    Tina Martin stood at the Wesleyan old parapet balcony of the Stuyvesant Hall facing the wall.


    It was once the secret place of two boys named Reeves and Joe ¡ª where the one named Reeves was a cunning one ¡ª but, neither was the most intelligent subject, to her judgement ¡ª as she caught him herself at cheating, in his test a week ago...


    Then, he made other bad choices too, based on her witnessing Reeve''s capture earlier...


    Martin pondered and was still baffled by comprehending the boy''s indecisions to escape when he had the good, open-chance to do so ¡ª but, it did not make sense to her ¡ª when the boy was caught because he remained behind to rescue someone ¡ª whom he claimed a day ago at her office, that he was not his best friend...Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    She gazed next at on the broken barbwire, with the boy''s blood on it ¡ª after his failed attempt to jump the wall. The lyrics of the children singing in the chorus of that Pink Floyd song kept on playing in her head all day, ever since witnessing of the boy''s capture...


    She was then slowly saddened too, that the research facility, which she ran for ten over years, was now closed down for Washington DC''s budget cuts ¡ª and now, her own overt future of the researches on the hybrid specie'' Intelligence progress and female evolution discoveries have halted, into a transcendent limbo...


    It would be a real loss to the world.


    END OF PART 4 of 7


    NEXT


    PART 5


    THE TOMBSCRADLE YEARS


    [2033]


    Dear Reader, your feedback is appreciated...


    ... Norm J. Arule

 THE TOMBSCRADLE YEARS [Part 5 Of 7]

    <><><>


    2033


    <><><>


    THE ROARING INFURIATION CRESCENDO came from the citadel ¡ª it was audible from almost a mile away in the desert, creating an ambience of emotional chaos. The penitentiary that aboded major Intersexual rival street gangs as its denizens. in later years ¡ª it also housed the White orphans from the Exodus Trail Evacuation of the Walter Rosewood administration ¡ª when the last male President of the United States'' alternative solution during the Medusa Virus attack on his country, was to get as many of the survivors away from the disaster zone, by migrating them to the east coast.


    Those orphans had today grownup as teenagers, incarcerated in Tombscradle in the state of Texas since 2027.


    A naked, young seventeen years old was in handcuffs, led onto the exercise yard. He was escorted by six female armed prison-guards. They approached the fence of jeering and outraged Latino inmates ¡ª he was led past a metal gate into the Hispanic yard. The bald youth''s face had both old and new scars and bruises ¡ª and his backbore with lots of scar-tissues...


    It was mostly inflicted during his childhood from another prison.


    Seeing out through the barred windows of the huge prison blocks that were surrounding the exercise yard were hundreds of distressing looking faces ¡ª peering out of the windows of their cells. The White and Black races of prisoners were witnessing the upsetting spectacle below of the captive known to everyone as the Preacher, who was led by the guards into the presence of a mob, waiting on the other side of the fence...


    One pair of the peering sad eyes from the locked-down cell ¡ª was the ones of a dark-haired Intersexual youth. He had a recollection of meeting Doran for the first time ¡ª five long years ago.


    *


    A dim, menthol light bulb above him gleamed dully when his eyes opened ¡ª and he gazed around groggily inside the prison infirmary. The shirtless twelve-year-old Intersexual boy turned to his left towards someone snoring ¡ª he saw his buddy Joe on a bunk bed beside his.


    Reeves was curious about the presence of the other person on the far end bed ¡ª whose face was turned away ¡ª Reeves saw the bare-bodied, bald boy with scads of scars-tissues concavity on his back. The sight of the scars gob-smacked the rebel from Wesleyan for a moment ¡ª with some initial questions in his mind as he panicked...


    ''What was he punished for? Do they fucking physically abuse anyone in here?


    ''Where the hell am I?''


    Reeves endeavoured to sit upright ¡ª and he became aware of his right wrist handcuffed to the bed-side. He started yanking hard ¡ª Doran turned his head to the sound of the scraping metal.


    "Stop that, you will hurt yourself more."


    Reeves noticed his scared face next ¡ª also bruised and swollen from beatings.


    "Who are you?"


    Reeves responded back to the lulling voice. Doran did not answer him, he wiped his tears with his un-handcuffed hand before turning and facing the dark-haired boy. He saw Reeves attempting to sit up, coughing, clutching in discomfort due to mild angina.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    "Mmpff, my chest..."


    "You are too young to get a heart attack," said the bald-headed boy.


    Reeves slowly remembered being abutted on the old, orange-bricked wall top, and he glared lurid above at the snipers on rooftops ¡ª who were shooting tranquillizer darts on the clinging Joe ¡ª and then onto his chest. He recalled falling backwards on the broken barb-wire, and next, the voices of the girls screaming behind him ¡ª one of them who a minute ago, had flashed her knickers at him.


    "The cops shot me with some kind of darts and I must have passed out after that."


    Reeves said, and at the same time recalling ¡ª more thoughts of his escape attempt with Joe.


    The monk-boy nodded, recalling too the same ordeal, a day ago ¡ª when uniformed women with weapons massacring everyone at sight in the Convent. He now spoke softly, still in his own reverie...


    "Yes, they shot Sister Lisa too..."


    "Who shot your sister?"


    Doran corrected what he had earlier said. "Sister Lisa Marie was a nun. I am from a monastery orphanage ¡ª and Sister Lisa took care of us all for many years."


    Reeves could not comprehend what were the meanings of the words ¡ª ''nun'' and ''monastery'' ¡ª- after being raised as a nescient to the outside world, being fostered in the Intersexual Intelligence Research Centre. It was an environment of scientific researches and species studies in the Wesleyan University ¡ª and he was a test subject in there...


    But, he knew what an ''orphanage'' was because he grew up thinking of himself as an orphan ¡ª until in the eleventh hour when he was told that the name of his mother was Laura Jensen.


    "Monastery, you said?" Reeves asked out of abstruse of the word...


    "Yes Brother, all the boys there at the abbey, and we were trained by the Sisters there to be Catholic priests someday. Then, yesterday they came ¡ª those soldiers ¡ª and they killed all the nuns, and now we are here." He then paused a second to think, and continued fretfully...


    "I must find Michael and others!"


    Reeves heard the desperation and anger in the new acquaintance''s basso voice. He must have gone through a lot during his escape attempt, based by his bandaged fresh wounds, cuts and scrapes all over his body.


    ''Was this guy a rebel like Morgan ¡ª the once Wesleyan''s exiled student?''


    The door then swung open ¡ª a hefty butch in prison officer uniform came striding into the infirmary with two other female guards. The butch was in her thirties whom the boys came to know the following day that she held the appellation of the Captain of the Guards.


    She shouted out to them...


    "Get up all of you ¡ª on your feet now!" She hit the metal bunk''s side with a baton.


    Another female guard then slapped and roughened Joe ¡ª but he was still dormant. Doran and Reeves stood with their wrists still cuffed to the bedsides. Reeves felt some stinging sensations behind, with some medical dressings on his back after he got up...


    ''It must have been the cause of the barb-wire fall.''


    The Wesleyan then overheard the guard saying to her superior while pointing at Joe...


    "This one is still out, Sir."


    "What are you waiting for ¡ª go get the stretcher, you moron!"


    *


    Reeves walked ahead holding the front of the stretcher with the weighty Joe on it ¡ª Doran lifted the rear end. They walked into the serpentine hallways before entering the interior lower ground floor of C-Block. Two of the guards followed behind them, the Captain of Guard pacing ahead.


    The corridor was dimly lit and Reeves peeked up at the triple-tiered prison block above ¡ª with voices chattering ¡ª and some whiny lamentation from their shadowy cells. It was getting louder when the inmates saw some activities below...


    "It is Doran, he is alive!" a voice cried out...


    "Peter, is that you? Where is Michael?"


    Doran called out to the dark cells above, before Capt. Olsen moved in ¡ª she smacked Doran''s head and berated...


    "Shut up, you dick-wart!"


    It was a hard hit but Doran did not drop the stretcher ends that he held.


    The butch prison officer then waved her baton up to the cells above and barked out...


    "Zip it up all you cock-suckers and sleep now! If I hear any of you maggots making a sound, I will come up there and ram this stick in deep ¡ª then you will be shitting from your toothless mouth and eating your chow through your butthole ¡ª is that clear, (you fucking children of the damned)!!?"


    The chattering and whining of the boys stopped instantly.


    Reeves begun to foresee the adversity life that will be like in restrained control as a prisoner here ¡ª this was worse than Wesleyan where he was just only their ''test monkey-boy'' over there. A sense of regret arose in him that he should have jumped the school wall alone ¡ª and escaped at night when he had the opportunities back then...


    He felt that he could not stay here for long ¡ª his mind was now accentuated for ways to escape from captivity.

 Chapter 2

    THE LOUD BUZZER RANG the next day, followed by master-locks thrown in C-Block, which made the cell doors auto-reeled aside ¡ª the White orphans in orange-suits began to step out after their first night in a prison cell. The Headbull who was the remedial officer yelled out on her loud-hailer.


    "WAKE UP YOU SONS OF BITCHES, I WANT YOU ALL TO STEP OUT OF YOUR CELL IN THE NEXT 10 SECONDS ¡ª NOW, MOVE IT!"


    Reeves stepped out of his cell in the third tier, looking at the loud woman below. He scanned down across at the second tier ¡ª and Joe stepped out with his ''where-the-fuck-am-I'' obtuse look ¡ª Joe must have slept for more than twenty hours since their arrival and would not have known that he was carried on a stretcher the night before. At a few cells away was Doran, wrapped his shirtless body with a blanket to hide his scars. He was peering around for his own interfaith companions from the monastery.


    "OKAY, YOU WILL NOW FORM A SINGLE-FILE AND WALK DOWN THE STAIRS, YARD OUT! COME ON, MOVE IT, YOU FAGS!"


    *


    About four hundred White Intersexuals stepped out into the azure sunlight from their dismal Blocks C of the prison. Reeves observed the yard was a trysting area for everyone.


    Hooting from the churlish, miscreant, ethnic gangs came from both sides. They were loud-voiced and intimidating. The gangs were fenced to separate the races.


    Doran finally met Peter and Michael along with many other bald-headed boys, who came forward in tears and hugged him. Reeves learned from his first impression that Doran seemed to be ubiquitously popular; but in days to come later, he ascertained the facts that the monk-boy was larger than life ¡ª after he had killed five adult policewomen to protect the nuns at the Convent ¡ª before he was taken down viciously.


    Joe limped with a twisted ankle and located all the newly arrived Wesleyan boys. They all then headed to gather in front of a higher platform ¡ª- where women in uniforms awaited them.


    The warden stared with bated breath, seeing the approaching convene of confused White boys gathering with asphyxiated anticipation on their first day of orientation. The woman in her forties looked burdened; she then spoke by introducing...


    "Okay, I am Warden Graves and this here is Capt. Olsen ¡ª the Head of the Guards. You all will be here..."


    Before the warden could continue further ¡ª her cell phone rang. The woman now looked more fretful...


    She whispered to Capt. Olsen. "It is Governor Harris, I got to take this." She turned to the bevvy and she truncated her speech...


    "Capt. Olsen will take over now."Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    She left the dais to attend her phone call. The Head of Guards Olsen then addressed the White inmates...


    "I will start with a brief history ¡ª this prison is a Level-5 maximum security facility for hardcore inmates ¡ª predominately the Blacks and Hispanics and other minor nationality gangs ¡ª- who are all here for street crimes in various cities from different states."


    Olsen observed her boss had left the yard in haste ¡ª and was out of sight. The captain now continued addressing the Intersexuals colloquially...


    "The blocks on the right corner consist of the Black motherfuckers and the left here, are the spic-Latino brown turds. Those fuckers total up to more than one thousand three hundred of the nastiest, hardcore, filthy scums of the planet earth ¡ª that only whores with pig size cunts can bear their childbirth!"


    The two gangs at their fences were cheering proudly like it was a compliment ¡ª while Peter and Michael from the consecrated abbey have their mouths gaped open to the profanities they just heard.


    "There used to be one fence on the centre of the ground where you faggots are now standing ¡ª- which separated and controlled those 2 breeds of fighting black and brown dogs! Yes, it was until yesterday, the Warden and we the guards were the only White folks back here ¡ª before the busloads of you faggots came in.


    "So for now, the 400 of you pink-anus-holes are nowhere to further burden us on our daily expenses ¡ª and now, we the guard have these new obligations of taking care of you bitch-boys with no pay raise or any extra overtime. The truth is that you fuckers are not welcome here! Nobody wants you here, not the warden nor the rest of the guards ¡ª not anybody in and out of this prison!


    "But, you have been put here, because the fucking bureaucrat Washington had a fucking light-bulb to send you all ¡ª the White-trash orphans ¡ª for a pilot project that will be conducted in this place soon..."


    Reeves sighed heavily. He had enough of research and studies ¡ª that had been burdensome for the most part of his mediocre tiring extant at Wesleyan University ¡ª and now, he was back again into a portend life in this prison''s pilot project routine here.


    The boorish Olsen heard murmurs from below, she protracted by observing them quivering, while she was tapping her baton gently on her own palm...


    "Knowing also for a fact that you will all be dead within in a week or so in here ¡ª because, a lot of nasty shit can happen in prison; so our kind and warm-hearted Warden Graves has simplified things here by removing the existing fence ¡ª and she had now divided this ground yard to 3 sections ¡ª one for the Niggers, one for Latino tortoise shit-heads and with you all, the pussy White-boys who are smacked right in the between ¡ª like a threesome ''joto'' partner."


    The prison guards gathered in the big-yard were laughing.


    "But remember this, those hardcore gangbanger bastards here are really pissed off with you all White bitch-boys presence here now ¡ª and just like dogs ¡ª they smell you bitches have now invaded into their piss-marked territory! So to stay alive ¡ª you just stay put here behind your own fence, and never ever cross into their turf because those animals will eat your lily-asses alive!


    "Always remember that you White-fairies are really outnumbered ¡ª and you are defenceless ¡ª we the guards, will not protect you in any situations, if you get beaten up or killed ¡ª is that clear, my pretty White dicks!!?"


    Murmurs of acknowledgement were heard in the assembly of the newly arrived timorous White boys.


    "For now, here are the rules for every one of you ¡ª you will ''Observe-Listen-and-Obey'' ¡ª because we will fucking say things here only once ¡ª and also, we don''t believe in giving anyone any second chances!


    "If you ever fucking disobey and break any of my rules in here, then you will bleed on your own expense ¡ª is that understood!!? (Great), with that understanding, I welcome you White mongrels to Tombscradle...


    "...and may you all rot in here until your ''Blickey'' dicks drop off!"

 Chapter 3

    IT WAS EARLY ON THE THIRD MORNING, where a group of twenty White boys in orange prison jumpsuits were gathering at the staging area. The Headbull was calling out their names from a clipboard ¡ª Reeves was among the ex-Wesleyan troublemaking class-clowns ¡ª Kiki-boy and Hank. He rarely spoke to them then, and even so now. Reeves later learned the calumny that those two morons had also spread rumours about his escape attempted with Joe ¡ª as the cause of the Wesleyan boys being condemned into Tombscradle.


    The Wesleyans seem to be ebullience about the mystifying prison-project that they were about to partake, in which, nobody had yet been briefed about its details His mind was also now too preoccupied with what Washington''s pilot project was about to happen once they reached the furthest medium-sized building, which the guards referred as the Auditorium. Reeves observed earlier, where a score of inmates that were leaving that building, and they were heading back to the staging area at the yard in a slow trot ¡ª accompanied by two armed guards, running along behind them.


    Headbull Anderson called the name of one of the monk-boy behind him. Everyone was baffled when Doran stepped in to join the rest while wearing his blanket on top of his orange ''peel.''


    Doran has altered the blanket from his cell to fit like a monk-robe ¡ª sacrificing the few of the rare amenities a prisoner could own ¡ª many other boys from the abbey would then follow his arcane action in later weeks, and they all stood out apart as monks in the big-yard ¡ª from the rest of the other inmates in Tombscradle.


    The effectuated first-time sight of seeing Doran wrapped in a blanket was erroneous to Anderson. She pulled out her baton and gibed out ...


    "What fucking fashion is this? Who do you think you fucking are, you man-bitch ¡ª are you now Paris-fucking-Hilton? What is this ¡ª explain to me now?"


    Reeves sensed the monk was dissident and had an aberrant ''man on a mission'' impression of a being since he met him ¡ª Reeves now anticipated trouble ¡ª but, hoped the bald-headed boy will not do anything foolish ¡ª like attack the senior guard as he did before in the Convent...


    The bald-pated monk boldly replied back to Anderson...


    "This is how my attire has been all my life at the monastery, Sir."


    "But damn it, you have damaged prison-issued property, you fucking idiot ¡ª remove it now!"


    But Doran beseeched further...


    "Please Sir, I am trained to be a Catholic priest ¡ª let me be dressed in this manner ¡ª- which is appropriate to the sanctity of my Faith."


    "Catholic priest, hah? (That is great), wear that shit then ¡ª for where you are going now, some Holy Water is needed there."


    The guards beside Doran guffawed to the iconoclast Anderson ¡ª while the rest of the gathered boys looked equally puzzled for not getting the punch-line of the laughing women guards. The admissible Headbull Anderson was practically wiping her tears from her laughing out aloud. She turned to face her two equally amused guards and said...


    "Go, take these fuckers to Auditorium and update me later on what went on there." She burst into snorting chortles again ¡ª foreboding the surprise that awaited the gullible monk.


    Reeves and Doran ran abreast slowly with the score of White boys ¡ª two armed guards trailing from behind until they reached the Auditorium...


    *


    The inside of the edifice was a dark room with a single beam of light in the centre where a stern, tall nurse stood alongside with a very short, butch guard ¡ª Corporal Vinnie ¡ª whom everyone nicknamed the ribald pint-sized guard later as the ''Evil Midget'' ¡ª because the nanus in the uniform was of the same height and built as most of the twelve-year-old boys in prison, but, she was vociferous ¡ª who walked around whipping a Calamus rotang cane in the air ¡ª it was tenable enough to scare the boys, and it also made up for the midget''s lack of stature.


    The White boys stood in a row with their backs on the wall in the darkened hall. Doran remained beside Reeves when the nurse introduced herself...


    "I am Nurse Heller. We will be here to administer the collection of your semen every day,"


    She held up a plastic vial for all the twelve-year-old to see...


    "So it is important that you fill up one of these vials every day without fail. So, it is also suggested on the night before that ¡ª you don''t masturbate or engage in any sexual activities amongst yourselves..."


    Guard Vinnie parroted her own version of the same instruction in a slight nasal bantam voice.


    "Yes, there are cameras everywhere from your cell to the showers ¡ª and those who are caught in any act of jerking off, giving head jobs and buggering asses ¡ª you will be severely punished! Is that clear?"


    The undetected Kiki-boy and Hank were controlling their silence from the outbreak of laughter, in the darkened Auditorium; the Wesleyans were amused to all three aspects ¡ª of the content spoken, and the way it was animatedly delivered and mostly to the diminutive midget voice that recapitulated the Head-nurse''s every verbal command.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Nurse Heller then further instructed. "Okay now, everyone remove your clothing." The Corporal aped louder again and cracked the cane in the air like a bull-whip...


    "Quick now, drop your pants!"


    Most of the boys look both confused and terrified, especially Doran. He whispered to Reeves...


    "What''s going on, Reeves?"


    "I don''t know ¡ª just follow what they say."


    Everyone removed their prison attire in the dark. Heller''s voice came in again next...


    "Turn on the lights!"


    The boys squinted at the brilliant stage lights, many covering their private parts with their palms ¡ª except for Kiki-Boy and Hank ¡ª who paraded their infinitesimal packages.


    There was a movie projection screen on the wall behind the nurse ¡ª and in front of her were twenty life-sized sex dolls arranged in a row on the carpeted floor. The boys looked dumbfounded at the lifelike synthetic naked mannequins with legs parted ¡ª each clearly demoing its vagina.


    Nurse Heller held up the vial again, pointed at a doll and spoke...


    "Each of these dolls has a vial like this fitted inside and all you have to do is deposit your semen in the opening of the doll." Vinnie quickly added back. "Once you are done, you remain as you are and raise your hand up, and we will come over and inspect."


    The reactions on the boys varied, where some were enthusiastic ¡ª and some loathed with uncertainty.


    "Okay now step up forward to a doll in front of you and lie on top of it and wait for instruction."


    Doran placed both hands on his forehead with his back plastered to the wall; he was about to cry when he looked at Reeves...


    "I can''t do it, I am a going to be a priest ¡ª I am not doing this!"


    Before Reeves could answer, the nanus corporal''s voice boomed...


    "Oii! No talking at the back there ¡ª all of you fuckers get down on your dolls now!"


    Out in the crowd, another voice protested ¡ª a gay Intersexual too got into a panic attack and cried out aloud ¡ª Reeves recognized the boy was also from Wesleyan ¡ª who moved in a different homophile crowd in school. Everyone''s attention was on the gay-boy named Mara.


    "I can''t ¡ª I cannot do it!"


    "What did you say!!?" Vinnie replied, pacing to the boy with the cane.


    "I am a girl ¡ª I am a girl, I will not do it!"


    The two armed female guards present there were laughing at the effeminate boy''s inane drivel. Guard Vinnie slapped the hysterical boy and she yelled to his face...


    "Stop ''illing'' you confused piece of ''joto'' shit! What do mean you are a girl? You got a dick like the shape of Florida, you freak-show ¡ª now get it hard!"


    The epicene tween Intersexual was still maladjusted...


    "I can''t ¡ª and I will not!"


    The midget kicked Mara down and clouted him several times with the cane ¡ª Doran was shaking all over from seeing the beatings ¡ª it reminded him of the coal cellar in the basement where his mentally ill mother flagellated him with a cane similarly until the skin of his back broke ¡ª while she bawled out during her yearly Good Friday exorcism routine. "You abomination, Jesus suffered and died for you, you demon from hell, leave this body now!"


    The corporal whipped and dragged Mara by the hair ¡ª and threw the gay-boy on top one of the dolls. The smiles on Kiki and Hank now vanished ¡ª and they made a point to submissively take their instructions seriously in the presence of the Evil Midget.


    They later learned in the big-yard that Corp. Vinnie was Capt. Olsen''s cousin ¡ª and was part of brutal, Aryan Nation rotang-guards, who walked around caning everyone in the yard. It was also just recently that Vinnie was discriminatingly promoted to the rank of corporal ¡ª and to be Nurse Heller''s assistant in the ''prison-milking'' division, which was initiated by Washington.


    Reeves clasped Doran''s trembling shoulder when the monk was about to break down next.


    "I am not doing it, I can''t ¡ª I must get out of here..." Reeves firmly sounded back...


    "Listen to me, Doran ¡ª they will whip you like that if you disobey."


    Guard Vinnie turned to the voices, looking at the rest of the boys in a missionary-position on the sex dolls ¡ª except for the naked Reeves and Doran ¡ª who were still were standing near the back wall, with indecisive looks. Corporal Vinnie whipped the cane to the floor and pointed...


    "Hey you two faggots, get down now ¡ª don''t let me come there, and use this on you both!"


    Reeves grabbed Doran and pushed him on the blond wigged doll ¡ª the monk-boy fell on and he unexpectedly kissed the synthetic face ¡ª Doran immediately palmed his mouth and exclaimed with a murmur...


    "O Jesus, please forgive me, My Lord," he then looked away from the doll''s sensual visage.


    The lights dimmed to total darkness again.


    Seconds later, the projection screen came thriving with a pornographic movie scene of a white couple copulating with pleasuring moans and cries. It was the first time most of the tween-boys saw a huge, adult-sized, male genial in a porn movie.


    Vinnie''s voice came on...


    "Okay now, watch the flick ¡ª and get your stupid cocks busy."


    Doran closed his eyes tight and started praying hard with Reeves beside him on the next doll. Reeves noticed that the monk was not following the given instructions ¡ª and he grabbed his shoulder again.


    "Doran, do what they say!" Doran peeped up at the screen, and the actors on the screen were in the state of orgasmic ecstasy.


    "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."


    Kiki-boy''s yelps were in-sync to the porn actors on screen in the room ¡ª he set the first record for the Wesleyans ¡ª to be the first to climax in less than thirty seconds in his maiden participation of the semen-milking project.


    *


    The twenty boys were back wearing their prison peel-garb after their first-ever insemination routine in the Tombscradle''s auditorium. Two female medical assistants were removing the vial and capping it ¡ª before handing it to the respective donor ¡ª the boys then walked to the auditorium main door where Nurse Heller sat at a small desk. She collected the vials and recorded in her logbook before she placed the vials in a portable cooler box.


    Doran in his blanket-robe collected his vial from the medical assistant, while the second assistant cleaned the synthetic doll by spraying a can of disinfectant and wiping its genitalia with a short-handled mop.


    The monk-boy in the blanket-robe walked up slowly behind the row with his head hung low ¡ª feeling terribly humiliated when his shaking hand passed the vial to Nurse Heller. It was filled almost to the brim.


    Corporal Vinnie who was there mocked out...


    "Good job Jesus-boy ¡ª your candlestick dick has ejaculated the most hot-wax in this group. Amen to that."


    Both the iniquitous nurse and corporal laughed aloud.

 Chapter 4

    THE ROWS OF EMPTY CELLS were on the third tier of F-Block ¡ª except for one ¡ª that was occupied by a blond Adonis, who had turned eighteen a week ago. He was shirtless and was into vigorous sit-ups regime on the floor.


    He was the only occupant on that highest floor with some other foreigner inmates on tiers below. He could only hear their spoken foreign language coming from the tier below, and they prayed out aloud too ¡ª he assumed they were Middle East Muslims.


    Marlin had been isolated from everyone in the prison''s gen-pop ¡ª he had not spoken to a living soul of his fellow Intersexual species for a long period of time, except for the guards ¡ª which was close to five deleterious years of being alone in his cell...


    He seemed to be the forgotten inmate of Tombscradle in Texas ¡ª detached from everyone ¡ª and he had even lost hope that his guardian, Dr Jane Morris would someday drive up through that prison main gate ¡ª and take him back home to Washington D.C.


    At times his thoughts wandered in apathy of Sonia Petrov ¡ª his maternal mother whom he last saw years ago in hiding with the status of a terrorist. He also sometimes remunerated debonair fantasies that he would be part of The Three Kings Project that Sonia was involved ¡ª that would someday find the cure vaccine to the deadly Medusa Virus.


    He had lost the count of days, months and even years ¡ª time was just a daily phase in the measurement of periods of sunlight and darkness that came and left his prison cell grilled window. He dwelled the timeless hours by speaking out his thoughts ¡ª and more frequently he was still quiet ¡ª lingering on pleasant amiable memories of his past life in the outside world to retain his sanity.


    The rest of the times, he spent hours observing the other inmates afar in the big-yard from his window ¡ª particularly at the bald-headed youths who self-accoutered in blanket-robes, and preaching their faith to the rest of the prisoners in the prison yard ¡ª he had identified them as monks, just like those in his own Buddhism faith.


    His instincts told there was tension mounting in the presences of many outside in the big-yard ¡ª fueled by one particular monk who was recently dragged naked and punished openly in the Hispanic compound yard.


    It seemed like a warning served to every denizen of Tombscradle.


    Marlin finished his exercise routine and he yanked himself up before collapsing on his bunk bed in exhaustion. He wiped his dripping sweat on his face with a small rag and then proceeded to wipe his neck and his arms. A pleasing memory then distracted him when seeing one of his three brandish tattoos he had ¡ª particularly, the Japanese character tattoo on his left arm...The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    He recalled Suki''s smiling face.


    *


    The twelve-year-old blond regained consciousness from the Taser shock ¡ª that the mall-guards shot him which voraciously knocked him out cold before he was arrested. His head was still spinning when he looked at the other lock-up, a partially concrete fenced cage ¡ª where Suki''s cousin Kenaki Kimura and three other Japanese boys were separated from him were in.


    Kenaki was there in pain from two broken fingers that Marlin ablated ¡ª during their brawl at the mannequin exhibition hall earlier. They were all speaking in Japanese, and the conversation was interjected by the short guy pointed towards Marlin...


    "He is awake now!"


    Kenaki stood up and approached the lock-up''s fence and scoffed in malediction...


    "You bastard! I warned you many times to stay away from Suki!"


    Everyone at once turned to the sound of the main door opening ¡ª a jailor, stepping into the lock-up area. Two other women stood outside the door and were conversing. Marlin peered up and caught a glimpse of a Japanese woman in her thirties attired in a black suit.


    He could not see the other woman ¡ª but she sounded Caucasian.


    "Isn''t there any other way to resolve this, Madam?" asked the Japanese woman.


    The Caucasian female voice answered her...


    "I am afraid not, all the four boys fought with dangerous weapons in a public area ¡ª and now the media have the footages playing in the 6 o''clock news. This will be a bad press for the Ambassador and the Japanese Embassy on the whole if the boys remained here any longer. It is best we proceed as planned, Ms Kobayashi."


    "You are right Madam ¡ª this incident is a real loss of face," the Asian woman echoed with regrets before she nodded to the jailor ¡ª who used a key to unlock the cage door to release the four Japanese Intersexuals.


    Marlin eavesdropped to the Japanese woman further saying...


    "So the four of them and the niece of the Ambassador ¡ª will proceed on the next flight back to Tokyo."


    ''Suki?'' The blonde androgynous thought of his lover being mentioned.


    Kenaki Kimura too overheard the Japanese woman ¡ª and he also spoke up in English...


    "What is the meaning of this ¡ª return us to Japan? What about our school here?"


    "You should have thought of that Ken before you landed everyone here into this mess," Kobayashi retorted ¡ª it embarrassed Kenaki ¡ª who arrogantly challenged her back, in a deep growling voice and replied her in Japanese...


    "Why am I talking to the family lawyer? Call my mother now! I demand to speak to her!"


    The woman also replied back in Japanese...


    "Returning you all back to Japan or be jailed here without bail ¡ª that was what your mother''s decision was when we spoke just now! It is finalized, Ken ¡ª so you better decide now!"


    The four Asian boys looked whitewash ¡ª and they stepped out of the lock-up in defeat.


    Kenaki turned and pointed at Marlin in the linked adjoin cell, he was asking back in English again...


    "What about him?"


    The Caucasian woman finally stepped insight ¡ª and Marlin saw her for the first time when she then replied...


    "Him? No worries, he has got much bigger problems of his own."


    Marlin later encountered her that day ¡ª and learned that she was from the White House ¡ª and went by the name of Lucinda Gates.

 Chapter 5

    MARLIN SAT ALONE WITH HIS WRIST cuffed to the side of the table in the police interrogation room. He spied at the security camera near the door but was unaware that on his rear ¡ª he was watched from a one-way mirror ¡ª by Lucinda Gates and a young female Detective Nelly Stone.


    The detective muttered to herself while reading out a printout. "No prior criminal records ¡ª an ace student in Masuda School of Technology. Why screw-up today, kid?"


    Gates gave a simplified and bias analogy...


    "He is an Intersexual, Det. Stone ¡ª violence is always part of their animalistic nature."


    The door opened and Agent Wolfe joined them, putting down both of Marlin''s cell phones and dropped a thin file.


    "It is confirmed, it is ours ¡ª serial code R6-500X, a highly classified auto-scramble and close-channel phone device used mainly by top FBI operatives and other covert agencies ¡ª it is the next best thing since the days of covert use of burner cellphones."


    Wolfe further added that the covert device could not be tracked by any satellite and was totally untraceable because it jammed the tapping signals. It was also intelligent voice-activated that could not be hacked ¡ª and with two people having the same devices ¡ª they could secretly communicate without being detected ¡ª and left no trace of any phone-record.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Detective Nelly Stone was impressed by the specifications and she joked. "I would like that for Christmas."


    Gates smiled and examined one of the phones closely...


    "Hmm, now how can a 12-year-old get such a classified Government-authorized property? Not one, but two."


    Agent Wolfe slid a file towards her...


    "Check the file, Ms Gates ¡ª it gets even better."


    Gates picked it up and glanced at its content. After a quick reading, she shook her head and laughed to herself...


    "Tsk-tsk-tsk ¡ª this is unbelievable!" Gates left the room with the file in her hand.


    Wolfe smiled slyly at the confused Detective Stone who looked through the one-way mirror, seeing the older woman now with the boy in the interrogation room.


    *


    Lucinda Gates stood across Marlin while she introduced herself. The inquest was canonic when she took out a photograph from the file and showed it close to Marlin''s face...


    It was a picture of Dr Jane Morris...


    "Is this your mother?"


    Marlin was in loss of words.


    He cannot reveal the true identity of his real mother ¡ª Sonia Petroff ¡ª- who was in the hiding for being wanted along with other renegades because she was working for the country''s public enemy ¡ª Professor Boris Yankoff ¡ª- whose scientific discoveries were misused by some miscreant third-party to create a weapon of mass destruction.


    Whether he was alive or dead today, Yankoff was still remained to be branded as the most wanted man on earth ¡ª whose research was blamed for the billions of death on earth in wiping out the existence of the entire male species.

 Chapter 6

    LUCINDA GATES AND AGENT WOLFE strode ahead toward the conference room in the Center for Disease Control and Prevention Headquarters in Druid Hill, Georgia ¡ª a young intern was tagging behind them ¡ª trying to slow them down in the corridor.


    The incommode arrival of both the demanding visitors from Washington was stressing out the intern.


    "...but, but you cannot interrupt Dr Morris now ¡ª she is in an important meeting with the Indian scientists from Delhi."


    Lucinda Gates stopped and sternly countered the young woman.


    "I don''t give a damn if she is having chicken tikka luncheon with them ¡ª you now go and get me Tina Martin ¡ª and I want to see her now!"


    "Who is that, Ma''am? Does she work here in CDC?" The puzzled young intern reacted...


    "Yes my dear, she works at The Behavioral and Intelligence Research Department."


    The young woman had heard of the newly set-up ancillary division that was added recently. She comprehended...


    "Oh, that unit..."


    "Yes girl, that nonsensical unit"


    Gates turned to Wolfe beside her. "Agent Wolfe, you go get me security now." The older woman instructed further and walked alone towards the conference room...


    The intern called out at her from behind to stall her again...


    "Wait, Ma''am! Where are you going?"


    Agent Wolfe grabbed the young woman''s arm hard.


    "Hey, Missy ¡ª focus! Do you know who she is?" The intern shook her head and Wolfe informed...


    "That is the Confidential Assistant of the President of the United States ¡ª and now she has just given you an order to find this Tina Martin ¡ª so, you get that little skirt of yours moving, pronto!"


    Wolfe then walked away towards the Security department while the young intern froze on the spot speechless.


    *


    Lucinda Gates opened the conference room door and saw six women at a meeting table in a dimly lighted room. Gates switched on the bright lights and called out to them...


    "All of you, out of here except for you, Dr Morris ¡ª this meeting is over ¡ª come on, move it, go now for your chai-break!"


    Dr Jane Morris removed her eyeglasses, seeing the confused Indian visitors exiting the door.


    "Ms Gates, what is going on?"


    Gates took a photo out of her file and slid it on the table towards Dr Morris ¡ª it was a mug shot of Marlin in a police precinct.


    What happened to him?" the anxious doctor inquired.


    "He claims to be your son."


    "Yes, the boy is my adopted son ¡ª this looks like a mug shot, is he in any trouble?" the puzzled doctor replied instantly.


    Her mind was now finding ways to protect the identity of the progeny on the photo. The boy was in propinquity to a member from the covert medical research team who had been secretly working in finding for the Medusa virus cure.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "Yes Dr Morris, it is a very severe one too. That shemale brat that you adopted has just attacked the son of the Japanese Ambassador with a samurai sword. Do you know what the consequences would have been if that Ambassador''s son had died?


    It is already all in the news now, and it is a media circus outside this building with this incident ¡ª and don''t tell me you don''t know about it?" The president''s Confidential Assistant incriminated her.


    "Honestly, I was not aware at all, Ms Gates ¡ª and I am also surprised, why his boarding school did not call to notify me about it?"


    Gates derided...


    "So, did he not call back to inform you ¡ª using one of this?"


    Gates now slid one of Marlin''s cell phone on the table towards Morris. The doctor saw that it was the cell phone she gave Marlin a week ago ¡ª this was not good...


    The doctor personally owned a few of those highly classified FBI issued phones when she was active as the epidemic advisor to the former Rosewood administration. She had still kept in secret contact using those phones with Sonia Petroff ¡ª who was with Yankoff''s Three Kings research team ¡ª the three last surviving male scientists were now self-funded underground ¡ª they were discretely continuing efforts since, in finding a way to end the active Medusa Virus in the atmosphere, ever since Madeline Cory succeeding the presidency.


    Instinctively, Morris used her palm to conceal her own similar phone which she had carelessly left out in the open on the meeting table ¡ª but, the watchful Gates detected her tarrying move.


    The older woman then grilled her aggressively...


    "Do you know that this phone is a highly classified property of the US Government ¡ª and now you tell me how did civilians like you, and that adopted she-boy of yours can have access to them?"


    Dr Morris was lost of words in the leery inquest. She needed to be careful in what she revealed because it could jeopardize many lives and hopes outside in finding for a global cure to the Medusa pandemic.


    Dr Jane Morris was sagacious ¡ª and she remained silent to the questioning woman from the White House.


    "Okay you don''t want to cooperate, that is fine ¡ª but I know you, and I have read your profile. Yeah, the big hotshot ex-head of W.H.O. ¡ª and also on how you and that old hagfish Rosewood had squandered trillions of dollars in all of your imaginary research for the Holy Grail of cures to the Medusa Virus.


    "Even our current Cory government has the decency to retain you, Morris¡ª and kept you as head to run the current CDC administration ¡ª but now, look what you have done?"


    Dr Morris listened to the oratory by the invective woman from the White House. The door opened and Agent Agatha Wolfe and two security guards stride in, the doctor anticipated the chain of dire events to follow ¡ª Morris implored...


    "Ms Gates, I need to see my son now."


    "No!"


    Somehow Gates felt it was best not to grant her the permission until further investigation.


    "Dr Morris, leave your own phone on the table," she turned to the security...


    "Escort her out and hold her ¡ª I will deal with her later."


    Wolfe followed them out while a confused Tina Martin stepped into the conference room, after seeing security escorting Dr Jane Morris away. The ex-IIRC director was perplexed of what was happening...


    "Why''s Dr Morris ¡ª what is going on, Ms Gates?"


    "Ms Martin, how are you? Now, come and take a seat. Dr Morris is no longer in capacity here ¡ª and you''re going be the temporary Head of CDC right this moment until a suitable replacement arrives.


    "If you are found capable ¡ª then, the job is yours for keeps."


    Gates instructed her while she slipped both the classified issued phones into her pockets.


    Martin explicated...


    "But, what do I know about Disease Control? I''m just a psychologist heading researcher in..."


    Lucinda Gates interrupted ¡ª her tone was still in agitation with Dr Morris whom she had just indicted minutes ago...


    "Come on here, Tina, management is not rocket science to you ¡ª- and you have done a great Pavlovian-control in that shemale school of yours in Ohio. Now, you manage this bunch of microscope-peeping nerds here in the CDC, and keep them on the ball ¡ª yes, who knows, the least we will find a cure to the common flu after all those billions of dollars that damned Rosewood woman had dissipated in the past."


    She noticed Tina Martin was still astounded by the offer, Gates re-assured. "I know it is such short notice ¡ª but I will get the entire CDC administration to back you and get you up to speed. I am confident you will run this place like a pro in no time. Congratulation, Ms Martin."


    Gates extended her hand ¡ª and the hesitant Martin stood up and shook it ¡ª but, still was looking overwhelmed and indeterminacy of the uphill task ahead, after only coming into CDC for two weeks ¡ª since the closing of her former IIRC unit at Wesleyan University in Ohio.


    Tina''s mind was working on the office politics that was about to come from this Washington''s sudden supplant of the high-profiled Dr Morris ¡ª while, Lucinda Gates was proud of her perfidious decision ¡ª that she had just made by replacing one of Rosewood''s somebodies with her very own hand-picked malleable candidate.

 Chapter 7

    A KEY RATTLED IN THE LOCK, the front door opened. Inside a dark house, a young woman stepped inside and hung her pink leather jacket. The dim lights came on next when she walked across the anteroom passage ¡ª but, she was unaware of someone who was present in the house, watching her every movement.


    The brunette was wearing leotards leggings ¡ª and from her right arm to her back was adorned as a canvas for a single spiral complex tattoo artwork of peacock plumes. She slipped off her top before she entered the bathroom. Her hand turned on the faucet of a bathtub, her leotard peeled off. The girl in her thong now, stood topless in front of the bathroom mirror. The nineteen-year-old albino skinned Lilya Devon wiped her make-up off.


    She was startled when a naked intruder came over from behind, grabbed and dragged her into the bedroom. The teenager screamed when she was next slammed vehemently on to the wall cabinet ¡ª Roberta started kissing her amorously ¡ª- before throwing her forcefully on to the bed. Pinning her down, the butch cop continued to kiss all over the girl''s torrid body. Lilya''s hand reached under a pillow, and now grasped a dildo which she wet it on her licentious tongue...


    "Rob, do me..."


    She lay nether and gazed at the full-length mirror above the bed that was fastened on the ceiling with her nude paramour on top ¡ª doing her.


    After the five years of them both living together, she has managed to tame the choleric cop with their liaison of shared abysmal, sexual fantasy games. Ever since then, the ex-hooker named Snow White had also been faithful to the cop who did not see her as a bawd anymore ¡ª but, as her lascivious, succubus-lover. Roberta even gave her an endearing bitch-name ¡ª Snowy.


    *


    It was about five sinuous years ago when Roberta was still sitting on the steps of her porch at her former house ¡ª assessing deeply of the ripping thoughts about this mysterious stalker break-ins into her own house ¡ª despite changing the locks of the doors. Roberta had kept it a secret too from everyone at the precinct or else she would be a ridiculed hero-cop who could not cover her back from a mere teenager ¡ª whose M.O. was very puzzling...


    But, Roberta realized that the intruder could be dangerous, after seeing her pull the trigger twice and executing the leader pimp ¡ª whom the wounded Roberta later got the sole credit as a hero ¡ª with a bravery medal plus a promotion.


    She feared that this inexplicable teen criminal, who despite saved her life that night by killing her pimp ¡ª- might want to harm Laura ¡ª because the imposter had been stalking into Laura''s wardroom on several occasions ¡ª leaving clues of newspaper cuttings by the bedside...


    The entire enigmatic episodes were still baffling ¡ª and now, Roberta wanted to get to the bottom of it ¡ª and find out the true identity of the albino street hooker named Snow White.


    Roberta waited and ditched her second cigarette butt away when the car headlights shone into her driveway. Roberta went forward to her friend from the CPD ¡ª Detective Sal handed her a file from outside the sedan''s window, with an extended invitation...


    "Sitting at home and fingering yourself on a Saturday night, Rob? Come on buddy, hop in and let''s go to Larrie''s for a couple of cold ones."


    "Nah, not tonight Sal ¡ª thanks anyway, dude."


    Roberta Jensen declined the invite, and the car backed off and left


    .


    Roberta went in and locked the front door. She dropped the file on the couch and went to the kitchen ¡ª- and returned with a half-bottle of bourbon and a plastic clear glass. She laid on the couch, drank her bourbon and flipped through the file with the mugs shots of Lilya Devon ¡ª the albino Lolita prostitute ¡ª known as Snow White in the Black neighbourhood streets.


    Roberta flipped through the records of the foster home ¡ª but, her vision began to blur ¡ª she looked at the glass in her hand that it dropped at once from her limp fingers, spilling the liquor on the floor. Roberta tried her best to stand up ¡ª but, she flopped down off the floor...


    The thirteen-year-old Snow White walked out of Roberta''s kitchen with a mop stick ¡ª she poked the tip at the unconscious cop. She dropped the mop stick down and dragged the unconscious adult policewoman by both her feet, heading towards the bedroom...


    *


    It was almost an hour later when her eyes opened consciously slowly to the sounds; her head was still spinning but Roberta identified someone was sitting at the foot of the bed ¡ª crying and ripping more pages from the file given earlier by Detective Sal.


    Roberta also realized that she was handcuffed to the post of her bed with her own police cuffs ¡ª Roberta looked across the room at the wooden chair where she hung her holster ¡ª and the pistol was missing. Her heart palpitated faster when Lilya looked up at her with tears, but Roberta spoke first...


    "You drugged me."


    The girl did not reply ¡ª despite she had spiked the bourbon earlier with date-rape roofie. The albino teenager started ranting back instead...


    "Why do you have to dig up into my past? It is all lies ¡ª the foster homes are not giving you the real story but you will believe this crap anyway ¡ª because you think like a stupid cop-pig...


    "Where was the part in this, which says that I was sexually abused by those who ran that fucking half-way homes? Even the fucking cooks stuck carrots inside me and threatened to brand me with a hot skewer if I tell on them."If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Roberta saw her crying bitterly ¡ª and the service pistol was on the girl''s lap ¡ª and this was not good either...


    The distressed girl concluded in tears. "That is the reason I rather stay in the streets because the people I trusted are the ones wanted to hurt me the most."


    "Why are you stalking me then? What do you want?"


    Roberta was curious after the couple months of baffling occurrences with the girl''s shadowy motives. Lilya wiped her tears and took out a photo from her sling bag and showed it to Roberta ¡ª it was an old photograph of a Hispanic male.


    "This man ¡ª do you recognize him?"


    "No."


    Roberta shook her head puzzled, and softly replied. Lilya dug up again from her bag and pulled out a plastic laminated photocopy of a newspaper cutting with headlines...


    ''9 YEAR OLD KILLS HOSPITAL SERIAL RAPIST.''


    "How about now?"


    After many years ¡ª Roberta could finally put a face to the forgotten man that as a child, she bludgeoned to his death after he had raped Laura that night in her wardroom. In the fit of her rage of that moment, her mind had blanked then ¡ª she could not recall the face of the demised janitor, until now...


    "He was my Mamma''s boyfriend," the teen appended...


    Roberta took a deep breath ¡ª and sighed deeply inwards.


    "I get it, now you want revenge ¡ª so you are here to kill me," she kept glancing at the gun on the young intruder''s lap.


    "Fuck no, I will never hurt you..."


    "...in fact, I am so glad this horrible motherfucker is dead ¡ª I personally didn''t know him because I was only just a baby back then ¡ª but that man had abused my Mamma badly in the past.


    "On the night before he died, he tied and locked my Mamma up at home ¡ª and he also left a suicide note behind saying that he would kill all of us after he got back from his work shift at the hospital. The spic-fucker was dying at that time with the virus and he wanted to take his life, Mamma''s life too ¡ª but ¡ª it was a miracle that you killed him at the hospital that very same night."


    She placed the gun on the bed and she continued narrating.


    "My Mamma told me those stories later when I was growing up ¡ª she told them to me like it was a fairytale during my bedtime at night ¡ª of how a brave 9-year-old girl killed the beast that had trapped us. If it was not for you, that animal would have killed her and probably killed me too, you know?


    "My Mamma always finished that story by telling me to grow up someday to be like that brave girl ¡ª just like you were, Robbie."


    She continued to pour more about her past...


    "But I was eight when Mamma died of cancer, and I had to go and live in foster homes. Everyone over there picked on me because I looked different from them ¡ª those kids called me awful names like ''ugly skinned freak'' and ''white devil'' ¡ª then the abuse got physical and worst ¡ª when the adults started touching me ¡ª and so one day, I just disappeared and lived in the streets...


    "It was tough in the beginning, yes, but I kept my hopes and strength up ¡ª because I wanted to be like that same brave girl Mamma had told me in that fairytale, the girl who killed the beast..."


    Lilya looked and she disclosed more as she wiped off her tears.


    "You have always been my hero ¡ª I will never harm nor hurt you in any way, Roberta Jensen."


    Roberta was astounded and did not know what to say at that moment ¡ª but most importantly, she felt assuage that the disheartened girl would not be pulling the trigger and executing her tonight like what she did to her pimp.


    She saw the girl wiping more of her tears away, and imparted more of her pensive thoughts...


    "Somehow fate and destiny were converging us again like twin-souls ¡ª when the Universe made you save me the second time that night again."


    She narrated details of the shoot-out between Roberta and the four, Black shemale gangbangers while she hid, peeking behind the dumpster. When Roberta found her there, and how Lilya then spotted the name-tag on the beat cop''s uniform ¡ª ''Roberta Jensen'' ¡ª the older selfsame hero from her Mamma''s fairytale ¡ª who came and saved her once again from other beasts...


    Roberta felt swelled by listening to her heroic part in that legendary moments, narrated by the teenager ¡ª in her reverie ¡ª the shoot-out was a turning point from her previous loser''s life as a beat-cop; and later became an overnight national hero, and was followed with a rank preferment as sergeant in her department.


    Now, based on what the girl had said and judged her body language, Roberta did not see any belie of a charlatan ¡ª but ¡ª what did she want now?


    "Something about the shooting that night told me to be with you ¡ª even though you will never accept me into your life ¡ª because I am an ugly freak to you too ¡ª so that is why, you wanted that beautiful, blond policewoman."


    Lilya then admitted that she stalked her ¡ª and, she was at Larrie''s Bar on the night Roberta kissed Wanda Callahan in the wash-room. Later, after being rejected by the blonde ¡ª she noticed Roberta had drunk the entire bottle of tequila and passed out on the table...


    "But, you still held a candle in the dark ¡ª hoping someday, that blond will come back to you ¡ª I know you will never accept me for who I am ¡ª I am just an ugly street whore to you..."


    Roberta at that moment was still stuck with the trenching thoughts of standing in front of the bathroom mirror the next morning, looking at love bites all over her neck and chest ¡ª the endowed gift of the shifty, perpetrating succubus that visited her that very night ¡ª Roberta snapped out from the reminiscence ¡ª when Lilya now raised her voice in anger and held up the gun towards her face...


    "Fuck you, Jensen! So you think you can know everything about me by digging into my past, you stupid pig?"


    She stood up from the bed, facing the cop ¡ª and rend-up the file into half by the covers ¡ª before she threw it on Roberta...


    "So you think this ugly freak is a threat to you ¡ª and is also a danger to your sister? You don''t know me, okay! So you listen to me, Rob ¡ª I will get out of your life now and you will never see me again!"


    Lilya started to walk across to the bedroom door while she spoke and placed the pistol on the bureau...


    "I will call 9-1-1 when I am at a safe distance ¡ª they will send help to get you off those cuffs."


    Lilya opened the bedroom door when Roberta finally arbitrated...


    "Lilya, please don''t go..."


    This made the girl halt on the spot with her hand still on the doorknob.


    She heard the cop at her rearward saying to her...


    "Where would you go?"


    The girl was now mordant, yet she refused to turn back her head to look...


    "Why you ask, do you wanna track me down and arrest me next?"


    "No, I want you to stay and be with me ¡ª I need someone, and so do you, Lilya ¡ª come, please stay here with me..."


    The albino skinned girl recalled a recent reverie she had of trying to assassinate the then-Senator Madeline Cory. In that new fairytale, Roberta the cop returned back heroic again ¡ª only to shoot her twice in the heart ¡ª and gallantly killed the ugly-homeless beast.


    Lilya finally turned back to stare hard at the cuffed Roberta ¡ª wondering if she could trust the ''pig''?

 Chapter 8

    FAUCET OF SLOW RUNNING water overflowed ¡ª seeped from the sides of the bathtub into the water-trap hole on the floor ¡ª the water flow was streamlined in pinkish crimson at the outer ceramic surface. The bathroom floor was flooding a few inches ¡ª and gulley trap was clogged with hair strains and bits of human flesh...


    "Sarge! Sarge, come over here ¡ª you got to see this!"


    A voice signified in terror was calling inside a project neighbourhood. Sargent Roberta Jensen who was in charge of the Police Strike-force unit stared at where the uniformed cop was pointing. In the bathtub there were more than twenty fetids, decapitated, carrion heads of Black shemales bopping on the water ¡ª some were staring back with their eyes open...


    Some were familiar faces too ¡ª whom Roberta knew in the streets who remunerated her good pay-offs to ''look the other side'' and for also the provision of other tipoffs information ¡ª it was a lucrative practice which she had run like clockwork with the street gangs, started ever since her days as a beat-cop for her constant pecuniary collections ¡ª but now, that defrayal fortune had been obviated by the rival ethnic gangbangers from an outside state.


    Roberta was quietly pissed when she led her Strike-force team away to the hallway of the Black gangbanger''s squalid housing. She spoke privately to two of her trusted partners-in-crime...


    "So the word I got is that, those outsiders, those motherfucking LA Chicanos have ripped off the Russian Oligarch''s coke that was muled by these Niggers ¡ª and they also left a machete handiwork behind as a thank-you card. If the word gets out to the other Blacks gangs ¡ª it will be WW3, with the whole of Ohio''s racial gang retaliation. That is before the word got out ¡ª but guys, with this intel ¡ª we can move in fast to counter it ¡ª and, we soon will know the location of the Oligarch''s blow ¡ª then we can even score it for ourselves, so how about it guys?"The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Roberta apprised, while she was still pissed by the loss of her begrime income ¡ª she was now thinking aloud and running her mouth for options for recovery of the revenue, until, Corporal Jamie, one of the Strike-force cop queried with doubt of that over-enthusiastic plot...


    "You mean we now strike the Latinos families ¡ª this is crazy Sarge ¡ª just the three of us versus them freakin'' Cartel reps in Ohio?"


    "No, you moron!"


    Roberta now whispered...


    "...my sources have pointed out, that this is the doings of the LA spic Chicano named Hernando, a legendary guns-for-hire, who is also at top on the DEA''s list of the most wanted. But, if we get Hernando first ¡ª we get the blow that he scored, from those bathtub Niggers over there."


    "What? Now, we gonna hit the DEA''s top of the watch-list suspect!!? Come on Sargent Jensen, this is the DEA here which you are talkin'' about, don''t you think that they will have eyes on him 24-7 ¡ª and also, how are we supposed to blind it? I reckon it will be full-blown Federal case in a matter of hours ¡ª with that Osborne''s DEA jurisdiction seal and stamped on it?"


    "Fuck that Osborne and her DEA twats!


    "We will take control of matters from now in Columbus ¡ª and we go out there, and comb the streets for this Hernando and his beaner-bangers hired-guns ¡ª and then, we hit those fucking shemales really hard ¡ª to let them spics know that we are the law over here in Ohio...


    "...if they wanna play hardball, then we have to hit them even harder, to make them obey our rules. If they wanna fucking conduct any business in our city ¡ª they will have to first pay us our cut upfront ¡ª or else, risk losing it all!


    "Yes in here, in our very own fucking city ¡ª our Law is King!"

 Chapter 9

    ANGRY HISPANICS JEERED AND HURLED insults in Spanish at the naked scar-faced youth ¡ª another prison guard was unlocking the second sally-port gate. They dragged him towards the fence of the Latino side of Tombscradle. When Doran was inside their compound, some of the Latinos came forward to physically abuse him ¡ª and the accompanying prison guards shielded him from the attacks. The female guard from the watchtower began to fire warning shots in the air to keep the obstreperous mob below at bay.


    The Preacher was yanked towards Warden Graves and Capt. Olsen, who waited at the soccer goalpost mouth. Behind them was a peevish glowering Corporal Vinnie the Evil Midget, with a plastered bandage on her face. Everyone present slowly settled down, when Warden Graves began addressing the gathered crowd of the Hispanic gangbangers...


    "This convict has attacked and very daringly injured one of my guards ¡ª and he has also been causing unrest amongst the prison staff and other prisoners alike, since the day he set foot into Tombscradle..."


    For the first time, the Warden had to impose public corporal punishment on Doran¡ª after he had head-butted the Evil Midget''s face and broke her nose during the semen-milking sessions at the auditorium that morning. It was not the first time he had festered trouble in his entire five years in Tombscradle ¡ª and as a result, Doran in the past spent many months in a year locked in the solitary holding as his punishment ¡ª but, he kept returning back from the abatement, with no sense of any remorse at all for his rebelliousness...


    The Warden wished she could ''green-light'' him ¡ª in an unseen ''10-10 Furlong'' incident in the penitentiary ¡ª but she could not ¡ª because all-knowing Washington held some special interest in him for his crimes for killing five e-SWAT personnel. Someone in the Whitehouse by the name of Agatha Wolfe even had in the past, contacted the Warden ¡ª to check if the ''scar-faced boy'' was still alive...


    "Now tell me ¡ª does the Preacher deserve to be punished?"


    The whole Hispanic denizens echoed of their consent in an uproar...


    "Then, let justice be served..."


    Warden Graves nodded to Headbull Anderson who then instructed her guards to fasten and suspend Doran by his wrists on the crossbar of the soccer goalpost.


    He peered dolorously out of the barred window of his cell in C-block. The seventeen-year-old Michael was wearing a monk-robe top, made out of his blanket ¡ª a practice that was first actuated by Doran himself, five years ago.


    His cell-block was a distant opposite across on the other side to the Latino compound, where no one could hear what Warden Graves had alleged ¡ª but everyone knew, about the injustice in Tombscradle, of how the warden favoured the Hispanics to get her dirty deeds done. In return, she granted them the endowment of privileges from the proviso of salubrious rations ¡ª and even the budget to grow grass for their soccer pitch in the desert prison yard. It was all done to keep the order among the Latinos inmates in her tight-ship prison administration.


    But the gap of unfair imbroglio among their rivals of gangs had caused more dilated detachment with the Blacks. Recently, the situation had rankled the warden, when allegations spread of Doran''s promising of starting his revolution to subvert Tombscradle. This currently had struck fear in the guards, and the Hispanic inmates ¡ª of a possible riot by their Black rivals.


    Now, Warden Emma Graves really needed to break him today ¡ª and deliver the message to abate his hopeful followers with a precedent ¡ª ''those Niggers who supported the Preacher and his malcontent ideas would be severely dealt later ¡ª by suffering like him tied to the goalpost!''


    *


    The twelve-year-old scar-faced boy sat alone on the bleacher with his trembling hands on his head, weeping softly in guilt-filled remorse of the sordid acts committed inside the Auditorium. Things were getting close to the worse every hour for him, since only days ago when the uniformed forces commandeered the monks by force after destroying the St. Mary''s orphanage ¡ª and sending the survived orphaned monks to Tombscradle.


    The rebel monk had not obtained the time nor had space for him to peacefully mourn and pray for Sister Lisa Marie''s departed soul, without the mass distraction and prison regulations that now enslaved him here. He wished hard that there would be a sanctum in this prison ¡ª where he could be isolated in stillness, to do his ritual of communicating privately with all the voices in his head...


    The voices have returned again last night to plague him when he was in his cell...


    The unrest souls were accusing him of the deaths in the Cathedral and Convent. They blamed him of being a failure as a Soldier of God. But, soon Sister Lisa Marie came in serenity and sang requiems as lullabies to him ¡ª and that was how he finally slept on the first night in his prison crib floor.


    Doran wiped his tears in a state of lassitude and looked in moral veracity at the crowd of new faces in the exercise yard ¡ª it was like a busy market-place ¡ª of disparate boys who were of his age, although many were not from the abbey. Watching them made him antithetic in disarray...


    ''They needed guidance, and finally, be liberated!''


    Some were even adjusting well ''inside'' into the peccadillo of prison-life ¡ª those like the braggart Kiki-boy who was ''head-running'' about his earlier sex-doll experience at the Auditorium to the other Wesleyan boys ¡ª displaying it with his pelvis-moves...


    ''They need to be saved!''


    At the far corner, the petulant Headbull Anderson was calling new names of the next scheduled batch to be ''milked'' at the Auditorium ¡ª flocking them over like a herd into the ''house of sin'' ¡ª where their seeds were collected to reproduce more evil into the world...


    ''The sordid house should be burnt to the ground!''


    He had grown up in the monastery where he was taught to refrain from his urges to masturbate ¡ª since his age of attaining maturity. But today, he had committed a great mortal sin. The vivid flash of thoughts of the porn movie and the face of the blond sex doll tormented him further ¡ª with the mocking laughter of Corporal Vinnie circling inside his head, haunting his Christian soul...


    ''Yes, burn the prison to the ground, with every one of the evil bitches in it!''


    He had a prodigious task to inculcate for his God ¡ª to save every one of the stained souls in Tombscradle. Doran begins to pray with contrition and self-confession, with his eyes shut tight...


    "Forgive me, Father, for I have deeply sinned..."


    A familiar voice interrupted with laughter.


    "Shut up Doran, you did enjoy putting your cock into that doll!"


    He glanced up at his dead mother sitting beside him on the bleacher. Her alto pitched laughter induced more mockery than of Corporal Vinnie''s...You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "What are you doing here, Mother?"


    "My little abomination is now a little man. Come now, tell your Mother about your first fuck."


    "Shut up, you are dead, you whore of Babylon! Begone now, I say! I will make sure your kind in this prison will burn in Hell forever!"


    Doran was cursing and he meandered away from the bleacher. Kiki and his group were amused to see the blanket-robed monk madly nattering to himself with neurotic cursing. The Wesleyans laughed and teased...


    "Get your ''bug-juice,'' you ding!"


    The voices were still tagging along with him.


    "You love getting your cock hard don''t you, my dirty demon? You even watched my clothes burning behind that door and you saw me naked ¡ª do you think of me naked during your nights alone, Doran? Do you, my lustful demonic son?"


    "No, I don''t! You are dead to me, Mother ¡ª now, leave me alone!"


    More hilarity laughter of the boys surrounded him ¡ª and it maddened him more seeing them ¡ª a hand grabbed him, and in reflex, he turned back and nearly attacked Peter who was one of his fellow monk-boy from the monastery. He almost punched him in the face because he could not recognize Peter ¡ª in his ''peel'' of the new given orange prison attire ¡ª that they were now forced to wear.


    "Doran, please come ¡ª it is Michael, please help him." Peter entreated.


    *


    The dehydrated Reeves was getting a quaff drink of water at the public tap ¡ª the desert heat was unbearable ¡ª after years of conducive living in the air-conditioned surroundings inside the classroom walls of Wesleyan facility...


    Joe approached him, limping over by the fall he had at the Wesleyan''s wall days ago. They both had not spoken much to each other for the past three days since their failed escape episode at the school''s wall. Reeves knew Joe had eschewed from talking about it nor did Reeves want to bring it up ¡ª but, it had already driven a wedge between them...


    "They will call my name up, and I am in the next batch, Reeves ¡ª what''s going on at the Auditorium?"


    At the same moment then ¡ª Reeves was distracted by Doran ¡ª the prominent, attired blanket robe-monk in the yard was rushing over somewhere. The curious Reeves stood up and paced to follow Doran and Peter...


    "It ain''t nothing, just follow their instructions and you will be good, Joe."


    Reeves felt Joe would be suited fine for the milking undertaking here ¡ª although the food served was substandard in both taste and quantity at the Tombscradle''s prison mess hall ¡ª but, Joe would love the sex-dolls in the Auditoriums as a trade-off.


    "Hey! Where are you going, man?" Reeves did not respond back to Joe ¡ª he followed behind the two shaven-headed boys...


    Doran reached to a group of boys from the monastery who tried calming down the abject Michael in the orange prison suit ¡ª seated on the sand ¡ª he was wailing uncontrollably at the antithetic life that he was forced into...


    "I can''t live here and do these depraved acts ¡ª I will end up as a dirty sinner, and I will go to hell if I keep living here ¡ª I want to die ¡ª Oh God, please let me die!"


    Peter prepared Doran upon reaching...


    "He has been like that since he got back from the Auditorium ¡ª Doran, what did happen over there?"


    Reeves reached the small crowd and stood behind, seeing him walking up to the abbey boys and they reverently stepped aside. He yanked Michael by the collar of his prison uniform and stood him on his feet ¡ª Doran stared into his vapid eyes...


    "Do you want to die, Michael!!? I can be your Angel of Death!"


    Doran punched Michael''s face ¡ª and he fell back on his back on the dirt ¡ª Doran continued to kick him several times ¡ª just as how the e-SWAT soldier kicked him for avenging her friend whom he killed at the Convent...


    "Doran! What are you doing? Stop!" Peter screamed out.


    The boys from the abbey saw the disoriented Michael now with a broken upper lip, looking up afraid ¡ª at all the peering eyes, seeing the angry Doran...


    Head-bull Anderson turned and noticed the commotion on the other end of the yard ¡ª and she shouted in her loud-hailer...


    "HEY YOU THERE, SKINHEAD FUCKERS ¡ª CUT IT OUT!"


    This quiddity grabbed the attention of the gang member heads ¡ª Hajja of the BGF Blacks ¡ª and Ramirez of the Texas Chicanos ¡ª both the racial leaders peered from behind at their respective partition fences, looking at the tumult in the White turf.


    The Hispanics gangbangers joked that the laggard monks have renounced their celibacy vows ¡ª and were now fighting over to ''jump the broom'' with the sex dolls.


    Doran stopped attacking ¡ª and the other boys aided Michael back on his feet. Doran approached and faced him again, gritting his teeth...


    "Hey you listen to me, you ungrateful coward ¡ª those nuns at the Convent gave up their lives so that we can live ¡ª and now, you wish to die!!?


    "They had high hopes for you, Michael ¡ª Mother Superior, Sister Margaret and all the other sisters who saw you as our leader ¡ª and they had great hopes, that you also make it as a Bishop of the Holy Church one day!"


    "But I have failed, Doran ¡ª I am weak and I am no longer fit to lead. My failure has led to our brothers to drown at the Convent ¡ª even Matthew is dead." Michael revealed the ruefulness stigma that had grown in him since...


    Reeves saw Doran slapping Michael again ¡ª and, he warned with his pointy finger and his stern eyes locked.


    "Listen here, we are all put here in this man-made hell for one good reason, which is to spread the Ministry of God ¡ª and you, Michael ¡ª you are going to lead these boys from the monastery to accomplish that, whether you want it or not ¡ª because it is the Will of God that decides ¡ª and that is not your choice ¡ª but, it is a command of God!"


    Reeves saw a mutable Doran now; in comparison with the frightened boy at the auditorium from that morning ¡ª and he heeded as Doran continued his tenet to the rest of the bald monk-boys in the prison uniforms...


    "Remember all of you, we are going to grow in numbers soon ¡ª and, we are going to grow strong by the Will of the Holy Spirit! Until the day will come, then, we are next going to break the Walls of this place down, and we will trample on its rubble ¡ª and then, we will all march out from here as an army of brothers with the burning spirit of the Sacred Heart of Our Lord Jesus Christ leading us all!"


    Reeves did not understand a word of what Doran was saying ¡ª but, he was sold by the terse message of ''walls'' that they were going to break down. He stood beside the rest of the timorous White boys ¡ª of both secular onlookers and the abbey monk-boys ¡ª as they all witnessed the charismatic Doran, who had enlightened everyone around him, at that moment in the prison yard...


    They were all mesmerized by his words of hope...


    "That glorious day will only come after when all of you here go out and spread the Word of the Gospel to every soul out here ¡ª and unite them with God. Once that unison is achieved, only then the righteous can seek justice.


    "Only then, we can all fight and defeat the wicked women who are in control of us in here ¡ª yes, I will then personally cut their hearts out wide open before you all, and I will deliver every single one of them back to hell!


    Everyone here, now listen ¡ª and you mark my words, that my will be done!"


    Michael nodded with tears in his eyes ¡ª he stood with the rest of the monks, along with the other White spectators who listened to the promises that Doran made that day. They knew that the formerly ostracized monk from the monastery was that special leader ¡ª who would give them hope and would keep them alive in the prison.


    On that third day in Tombscradle ¡ª Doran was already known to many as the Preacher ¡ª the cataclysm voice of the Soldier of God had spoken to prepare the people for that Redemption Day that was to come...


    *


    An older Michael, in a blanket-robe, looked out of his prison barred window, at the naked Doran with his wrists tied-up high at the goal post, in the Latino compound in the yard ¡ª punished for the promise he first made five years ago, to retaliate against the warden''s prison system.


    The crowd of Latinos cheered aloud to support when the bulky Captain of Guards Olsen, who approached the dangling scar-faced youth. Olsen removed her uniform shirt and she was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt inside ¡ª effrontery exposure of her corpulent biceps, with nefarious White Supremacy tattoos and other Nazi swastika manifesto ink ¡ª which even made some of the Latino onlookers peevish...


    Capt. Olsen stepped up, holding a four-foot-long rattan Singapore cane ¡ª she positioned herself before she unleashed the first whip on Doran''s back ¡ª he yelled out in agony, while the surrounding cheering of the Latinos drowned his tortured cry. Olsen wiped the blood that had splat at her own face by the backlash, before forwarding the second blow ¡ª it was also a message to all that no one would ever mess with her cousin ¡ª nor ¡ª with any member of the Aryan Nation guards against that day onwards...


    Michael cried tears after seeing more lashes were delivered. He prayed softly...


    "Doran, you are a true Soldier of Christ, stay strong my Brother ¡ª the Spirit of God is with you always. Amen."


    Doran''s back bled while tied high on to the Hispanic goalpost.


    Thousands of eyeballs witnessed the Preacher twitching in the bloodied anguish woes ¡ª many nearby hooted and jeered ¡ª while others afar, wept that day.

 Chapter 10

    THE LONG HAIRED TEENAGER had plugged on his electric guitar. He wore his head-phone when he was composing his tune at the edge of his bed. The abhorrence within his tolerance was at the breaking point, for he was not allowed to play his instrument as loud as he wanted nor permitted to leave the White House and jam with his fellow musician buddies whom he befriended online ¡ª but, his angst flowed well into his creative opus with his angry fast fingers playing the rifts...


    Gillian was not aware that his blithe ''mother'' ¡ª Samantha Cory ¡ª had entered the room, and was calling for him. She came from behind then and removed the seventeen-year-old Intersexual''s headphones.


    "Why are you not dressed up, dear? We are having dinner with your grandmother now."


    "You go ahead, Mother, I am not coming," he was steadfast and continued his creative oeuvre ¡ª Samantha was bothered...


    "What''s wrong Gillian?"


    The boy replied casually while still strumming notes on his Fender. "Nothing, I have just finished five hours of being tutored ¡ª and now, I want some alone time. I also hate it too when I am always being surrounded by people."


    She knew he was disquiet. "Is something bothering you, tell me."


    He sighed ¡ª he could trust her with lots of things because since the day he arrived here in Washington DC during Cory''s Inauguration ¡ª Samantha had always been supportive and caring of all the things that he did and said since...


    Gillian told his concern. "I hate staying in the White House, why can''t I leave this place and go to college on my own?" Samantha stroked his long hair and she replied. "Please dear, I have lived all my life by not knowing you who you are ¡ª I really missed raising you as a child ¡ª and that is why I want you to be with me always."


    Madeline had kept her promise and returned her ''son'' ¡ª and it was now her duty to keep the baby chic in the nest always.


    But he needed Samantha to see his reasoning...


    "Yes Mother, but I have lived here for 4 years ever since I got here ¡ª but now, I feel like a damn prisoner. I can''t move freely without those Secret Service bitches tailing me ¡ª especially that Agent Wolfe ¡ª she is really scaring the fuck outta me, Mother!"


    Samantha laughed and teased her son. "Language sweetie ¡ª you are beginning to sound just like your grandmother."


    This provoked him more...


    "Please don''t compare nor associate me with her ¡ª I really despise her ¡ª and I know she hates me too. She hates my kind, and she always badmouths about the Intersexuals openly, like I am not even present in the room!"


    "Honey, you are stressed, how about I arrange a holiday in Hawaii at our beach-house this weekend ¡ª and we both can leave this place for a few days ¡ª and that will make you feel better."


    He hated when she was into her mother-knows-best mode...


    Gillian was now more agitated and placed his guitar down. He was getting scornful...


    "You are not listening, I don''t want a fucking holiday, Mother ¡ª why can''t we both move out from the White House, and stay and live a normal life somewhere else?" Samantha sat beside him and she was slightly docile after he had raised his voice...


    "Gillian, it will be difficult. You know your grandmother will not let us leave this place."


    He had predicted her response too ¡ª each time, when it concerned any decision making, Madeline Cory will always be there in disapproving them. He blurted out...


    "Then, stop calling her my grandmother ¡ª when she is not even your real mother!"


    Samantha stood up, ignoring what he had just said. She started walking to the door, replied casually to the boy in the death-metal t-shirt...


    "I see you for dinner in 10 minutes, dear ¡ª and wear a nice shirt."


    *


    At a dinner table for eight ¡ª only four chairs were occupied. President Cory sat on one end with Lucinda Gates, actively into their conversation ¡ª and at the other extremity were Samantha and her son eating quietly. Female butlers were refilling their platters ¡ª while Agent Wolfe and another Secret Service member were watching over them dine by the closed door. Madeline was on her fourth gin and tonic and she was listening to Lucinda Gates speaking in discreet.


    "...that is the latest to my knowledge of the Mexi-gangs in Ohio. They have executed and beheaded 23 Blacks, and placed their severed heads in a bathtub...


    "Our Intel anticipates that the stolen drugs will be distributed among the local Hispanic drug warlords in Columbus. The local PD Strike-force and the DEA will be orchestrating an ambush soon ¡ª and hopefully, they will wipe out the Cartel funded local warlord families at their meeting point ¡ª before that coke hits the street. If things don''t screw up, this will be one of the biggest haul conducted by the DEA in recent years."


    Cory nodded while drinking more than her dining, and casually remarking.


    "Did you say earlier, that Officer Jensen is one of them leading this operation? If that is so, I know it will not bungle. I still remember her, she is really good in the streets ¡ª and I even used her in my ''hero-cop'' campaign years ago after I pinned that Combat medal on her."


    Cory laughed ¡ª recalling her earlier campaigning days while as a senator...


    "Well actually Lu, we need more cops like her right here in Washington ¡ª with our own street crime wars on the rise ¡ª it is really embarrassing to see more women cops dying in the daily bust and raids out there ¡ª and I don''t know what they teach them at the nondescript Police Academy these days ¡ª because all I just see, are statistics of some silly maladroit Keystone Cops cunts, all dying by the dozens every month in the streets."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Lucinda Gates glanced briefly towards Samantha and Gillian who were engaged in their own personal conversation ¡ª she propounded a request to Cory, in a discreet hush voice ...


    "We can always bring the Kraken members into the police force."


    The President declined her suggestion flatly...


    "No-no-no, for now, they should strictly remain as our military strategy option ¡ª I just want the propriety in the current police force in place ¡ª it is time to buckle up with that learning curve, and let the women be competitive and improve. When we can have good cops like Officer Jensen here, I know we can produce more fine ones like her."


    "But Maddie, the reason I am saying because, I want you to consider using the Kraken ¡ª after I have seen those shemale freaks, who are getting physically bigger and stronger ¡ª and these days, our uniformed women forces are less of a match to bring them down."


    Cory shook her head in malcontent...


    "But our imminent threat that I foresee in the future is not this street wars, but from emerging countries ¡ª who are fighting to be the next future superpowers like the Chinese and the Russians. That is why, I need to build the Krakens as a solid full-forced military before my coming reelection ¡ª only then, the Kraken will be operational to be fully deployed."


    The female butler placed the next glass of gin and the leader of the free nation, she continued speaking aloud after finishing it with a half gulp...


    "Let''s stop pretending, it is already happening at our borders ¡ª can you believe how fucked-up those dumbass Mexicans cunts are over there to have a 17-year-old fucking shemale-dick boy-genius that they picked from their half-baked local Mexican village University ¡ª and this, greenhorn teenager is now running as an electoral candidate for the next Mexican Presidential election ¡ª can you fucking believe that!!?"


    She was getting agitated, and she got even brasher...


    "Can you see the implication if that freak gets elected to be President? Soon, every other country will follow pursuit ¡ª and more, and more leaders, of other countries, will have dicks between their legs ¡ª and fucking history will repeat itself ¡ª the world will then return into turmoil and chaos, with wars all over again!" said the inebriated president in the conviction of her ossified dismissive view of the rise of the next virile new species into politics.


    "Why can''t those stupid women over those countries realize that they don''t need any male to run-the-shit in their lives? Those days were long over since the virus came ¡ª it was indeed, a fucking blessing that the Medusa Virus gave us a clean-slate by killing those male buffoons ¡ª and since then, we the women, have come in power...


    "That is why, it is now really repulsive that we are going to see in firsthand, of a species that is even less inferior than a man, that is about to now run a country ¡ª what a joke this world will be turning into ¡ª when it elects the first a spic shemale ¡ª as its next to the President of Taco-Bell Mexico."


    Samantha slammed her palm on the table before she spoke to stop the older noxious woman...


    "Madeline, that is enough, you are drunk ¡ª please be more cultured and sensitive of the things you speak at the dinner table ¡ª because your 17-year-old grandson is also present here. This kind of dinner conversation is not even an appropriate matter that you speak as a woman, a grandmother ¡ª or even the President of the United States!"


    President Cory listened tight-lipped for a second to the interference ¡ª before she guffawed out loudly. She finished her gin ¡ª and focused on to obfuscate the boy, at the other end of the table instead...


    "Are you provoked in any way, Gillian?


    "You should not be, because what is spoken here on this table are the plain reality ¡ª- and the utmost pragmatic truth of the outside world today ¡ª but, in which your simpleton mother always failed to realize that on her own.


    "Well, my rock and roll hippie-boy ¡ª did you know that during some years back, when your mother was around your age ¡ª she was in an unimaginable state of indulging in her own intoxication carefree culture of substance abuse and free sex¡ª it is a blessing too, that the right sperm donor had inserted the right seed into her twat and she now has a white son ¡ª instead of a mortifying spic or a picaninny ¡ª or even worst, a slant-eyed rice-eating gook!"


    Gillian dropped his napkin on his half-eaten meal, and he stood up infuriated...


    "Enough! Stop it, I don''t mind you insulting my kind ¡ª but leave my mother out of this!"


    He stormed out passing the watchful stares of Agent Wolfe ¡ª Samantha called out for him while she paced after her son ¡ª Cory laughed out at the family-drama in front of her.


    *


    The troubled Gillian stepped out into the White House''s East-wing balcony and he lit a cigarette. He noticed his mother had followed him. "Darling, are you okay?" She was both sympathetic and compassionate to him ¡ª but, the androgynous boy shouted back...


    "This is the very reason I did not want to come for dinner, I knew that fucking old hag will deliberately provoke me!"


    He blew out a lungful of hatred smoke before he appended...


    "We both should leave this place, Mother..."


    Samantha took Gillian''s cigarette from his fingers, and she smoked.


    "I know dear ¡ª but even legally, I don''t know how ¡ª yes, I would like to leave this place too ¡ª but Madeline is the damn president of the country ¡ª and there is no way to defy her decisions ¡ª face it, we are both prisoners here, and let''s accept it."


    He was still annoyed by the earlier acrimonious encounter, but, the boy did not want to exasperate further with this benevolent gentlewoman ¡ª someone, who had been made malleable continuously of the years in therapy and anti-depressant medications till this very day.


    Gillian felt her hugging his back for comfort, it silenced his anger.


    "Don''t think too hard, sweetie ¡ª coming earlier from living in a nut-house, (what I am saying), it is not so bad staying here for now ¡ª now go to bed dear, you got another big day tomorrow."


    She kissed Gillian and left him to retire for the night.


    Gillian lighted another cigarette ¡ª finally, some alone time for him ¡ª gazed at the skylines far away from the White House ¡ª somewhere he would rather be right now.


    Someone approached Gillian from the back ¡ª but he sensed it late ¡ª before he could react, a strong hand garroted his throat. The choking Intersexual was dragged, and his back was trusted on the balcony bannister railing ¡ª it was a quivering fifty-foot drop down...


    Agent Wolfe sneered with her intense look ¡ª it got closer to the boy''s pulsating face...


    "You faggot! What did I say about being disrespecting the last time? You keep forgetting your place in this House!


    "Can''t you remember, asshole ¡ª you are just a fucking paid-actor, whose sole purpose is to keep Ms Samantha company!!? But now look at you, you are getting ahead of yourself, and you think that you are part of the family, hah!


    "Remember this, you were a nobody when we found you ¡ª so, stop thinking that you are one of the Corys ¡ª can you understand me, you hippie-freak ¡ª or do you want me to snap, and use your pencil dick to write that on your forehead!!?"


    Wolfe rocked the boy''s life on the metal railing like a see-saw.


    "The next time you get out of hand, and if you ever disrespect the President ¡ª I will throw you down, and it will be the end of your pathetic she-fucking life ¡ª is that clear, you piece of gender-less shit?"


    Agent Wolfe yanked Gillian off from the horizontal railing ¡ª and the Intersexual was dropped to the ground. He was grasping hard to breathe...


    The trepidation of knowing that he could be targeted to be killed any time if he still remained living in the White House, made him even sicker ¡ª he vomited his eaten dinner ¡ª while still in vertigo, staring at the Secret Service Head who gracefully slipped away into the dark after her death threat.

 Chapter 11

    THE STRIKE FORCE MEMBERS were all seated ¡ª and Lieutenant Defoe briefed them with an electronic-board filled with photos of the Hispanic family heads and their top generals working for the Cartel in Ohio. Sargent Roberta Jensen who was now serving in the plain-clothe Strike-force team was also at the briefing-room ¡ª with 4 other sergeants of this same unit. The Lieutenant spoke up...


    "Our proposal of nabbing Hernando together with the Hispanic family at the meet-up point for the delivery ¡ª was rejected by the DEA."


    The senior Sargent Marion who was seated beside Roberta spoke in agitation...


    "What shit is this? I thought that we are the one who will make the strike on the Mexi-gang warlords at their rendezvous! Why the fuck has DEA gotta screw us over at own home-turf in Columbus? That Renee Osborn cunt has gone too far!"


    The situation had been life-threatening at the CPD ¡ª where the death toll of dead police officers in Ohio killed by gangbangers was the third-highest amongst the cities in America. The Cartel trained Hispanic''s shemales were the cunning jackals ¡ª inflicting their kills with minimal casualties on their side.


    This current drug exchange by L.A. Chicanos'' Hernando was the golden opportunity for the local Columbus police to avenge the death of the fallen uniforms by purging the Hispanic family heads ¡ª especially for Sargent Marion, whom recently lost her niece ¡ª who graduated three months ago from the police academy ¡ª but was gunned down in a highway drug-bust...


    But, Roberta Jensen, was not interested in the department''s Mexican standoff. Since everyone was going for the blood ¡ª and not the money ¡ª her hands itched on scoring the Oligarch''s coke that was worth substantially at the black-market.


    The superior officer responded to the gripes...


    "Sorry Marion, this is the way it goes ¡ª the DEA has made it a federal investigation and have stepped into the op because it involves the high-level Oligarch connections ¡ª who are moving in to be the next Cartels ¡ª so it is no longer in our jurisdiction to nail the Ohio warlords at our receiving-end..."


    Roberta heard more dissatisfied grumbles of the cops ¡ª denied of their wanting to play ''Cowboys and Indians.''If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    She had expected an outcome of the Mexican standoff where the coalition of ¡ª- CPD Strike Force, the DEA and the e-SWAT joint-forces to ambush and avenge on the Hispanics family heads for blood ¡ª while she would slip off to follow the lead of her trusted source ¡ª and then, ambuscade a hit on Hernando in the streets ¡ª to score their stolen drugs ¡ª without any suspicious DEA radar probing on her and her other partners-in-crime.


    "...but the good news is that ¡ª our Strike Force has been called in for, as the DEA''s back up to tail Hernando when he drives over to the meeting point, to deliver the coke to the family''s heads. There are four possible routes that he might take ¡ª and even if things were to go south ¡ª we will intercept him in every possible exit where he takes off from..."


    Defoe pointed back at the map on the board, of the exit points, and she added...


    "Be vigilant and follow the lead set by the DEA ¡ª because Hernando should not get suspicious that he is been tailed on his way over for the drop. Our top priority is neither the drugs should fall in the hands of any of ¡ª the warlords, nor should Hernando escape with it, before sealing the delivery, is that all clear, guys?"


    Roberta''s heart sank when she heard the Lieutenant''s latter comments in the briefing ¡ª the odds were now stacked up against her ¡ª where every member in the CPD was on the streets, combing the possibility of the 4 exits, to dragnet Hernando until to his final drop...


    The DEA''s leads too would not be reliable ¡ª as their intel would be on a need-to-know basis as they were reluctant to share their resources with CPD in the past, with their previous narcotic investigations ¡ª but, Roberta was a progressive black-hat in relying on her street-smart experiences to strategies ¡ª knowing that, based on a score of this magnitude, the deceitfully LA Chicanos would have to use 3 other separate, dummy identical cars of similar colour, make and license plates to divert the attention of the heat, into the false exit choices ¡ª while the equally sneakily DEA too, would make the CPD as their fools on the day of the op ¡ª through their erratic intel ¡ª to make the Strike-force chase the false leads, while the DEA team tailed Hernando solo on their own mark.


    Defoe concluded...


    "That is an awful lot of coke that Hernando will be transporting later ¡ª it is probably worth the value of 80 to 100 million big ones when it hits the street ¡ª let''s not fuck it up, guys!"


    Roberta was discontented but she had to comply with the direct orders given when the investigation became a federal''s operation. It was a pity that it was happening in her own home-turf in Columbus ¡ª gone wasted too was the enormous high-level information, which she got 2 days ago from her reliable source prior of the actual happened LA Chicano''s strike on the Oligarch cocaine ¡ª but now, the red-tape circumstances would also deny her in profiting from it.

 Chapter 12

    A DARK GREEN CAMARO DROVE FAST in the street with four shemales L.A. Chicano''s gangbangers inside it. Hernando was seated at the backseat with his henchman Tito ¡ª with two large duffel bags of stolen coke from the Russian gangland, The Oligarch Daughters of America.


    His gun-for-hire gang had ambushed and killed two dozen, Blacks gang members yesterday, who had mulled the drugs from New York City that was supposed to be distributed in the west coast market.


    The edgy driver was Perez, and with him was Santos in the front passenger seat with a laptop ¡ª Hispanic gangster-rap music played out, Perez turned down the volume ¡ª looking back into the rear-view mirror...


    "That black Dodge Nitro ¡ª two cars behind ¡ª it has been on our tail for the past 10 minutes ¡ª check it out, Ese!"


    Santos utilized his laptop and clicked the keyboards ¡ª a micro spy-camera on the back windshield of Camaro was activated, with its prodding zoom lens snapped a photo. Santos got a fuzzy image on his computer screen, and the blurry image rendered the three passengers in the Dodge ¡ª Santos recognized one of them...


    "Hernando, that is Agent Renee Osborne ¡ª the DEA is tailing us!"


    Hernando punched the backseat before he peered at the rear wind-shield, cursing in Spanish, "Motherfuckers! Santos quick, shoot a ''kite'' to alert our people to get the families out now ¡ª they are all sitting ducks out there in that warehouse!"


    *


    Somewhere outside the city, Roberta conducted a stakeout in a stalled Ford on the shoulder of the road with two other Strike-force female cops ¡ª Corporal Jamie was at the driver''s seat and rookie Billie was on surveillance in the back seat ¡ª keeping a lookout in a field-glass at the freeway''s flowing traffic for Hernando''s LA Chicanos'' entry.


    Roberta was still pissed that some of her best paymasters were dead with their black decomposed heads found floating in the bathtub yesterday morning. She now had to find another pecuniary source to get back for the loss.


    There were lots of ways to make money in the streets ¡ª the safest way, Roberta had lucre well was by ''looking away from the other side'' since her days as a beat-cop ¡ª in return, the Blacks in Ohio had remunerated her handsomely over the years ¡ª but it all ended yesterday when the Latinos killed her golden goose...


    She scoffed and vented aloud of her random thoughts to her partners-in-crime...


    "Fuck us all, we have to now play second fiddle to Osborne and her DEA cunts on our own turf ¡ª Hernando was clearly the spic-fuck Chicano who came into our backyard and sliced up those Niggers Oxen and B.B. He should not get away this easily, certainly not in my city!"


    "Hey Sarge, mind if I ask ¡ª who is this C.I. you are speaking of?" asked Jamie.


    Roberta was tightlipped...


    It was best not to speak of her name in front of her ''guy''¡ª of the shadow known in her circle as Mister Clarkey ¡ª a Mulatto who hated the Blacks...


    Roberta first heard of her, was when her beat partner ¡ª the late Manny Thompson ¡ª mentioned that she graduated with Clarkey at the police academy ¡ª and now Clarkey had become a small-time drug-dealer ever since she retired.


    Mister Clarkey was a CPD''s ex-Strike force team member during the pre-Medusa times, wherein her last working-case, some male Black gangbangers planting an IED on a car, with a tied-up hostage inside. During the daring rescue, an explosion resulted ¡ª where Mister Clarkey''s right-hand fingers were blown off ¡ª along blinding her right eye too.


    Once Clarkey left the forces on medical retirement; as pain management and treatment, she used street drugs before becoming a junkie cum dealer. Cops like Roberta was her loyal customers ¡ª who smoked-up occasionally with her ¡ª while on consecutive visits, Roberta was put on the waiting list for three weeks since the pre-booking date for their personal one-on-one ''insider'' meeting ¡ª it was when Clarkey shared intel to her inner-circle customers with natters that she picked up from the various high profiled street gangbangers and also of addict cops alike.


    Mister Clarkey was hailed as the infopreneur prophet of strategy to her circle of her police customers ¡ª by foreshadowing possibilities to the many actual happenings in Ohio. Cops bore her gifts of cash and drugs stolen from the evidence-room in exchange for her time and her Intel. Just like the two days ago info that Roberta had obtained ¡ª where the LA Chicano hired-guns would be coming to town to put up a Wild-West show ¡ª before scoring the Oligarch cocaine.


    Mister Clarkey''s street intel was often regarded as top-notch accurate and was added assets to the plotting of the thinking-cops in the circle, who wished to make their fast, tainted money on the side by ripping off the Black gang''s criminal operations ¡ª as the Blacks, were still the Mulatto Clarkey''s sworn enemies.


    Any ''dirty cops'' who ratted on Mister Clarkey''s intel to wrong parties had ended up dead in their own mysterious accord ¡ª offed by other dirtier cops. Even the devious Roberta had occasionally sold Clarkey''s leads outside the informer''s knowledge to protect her Black paymasters from possible police and other Federal busts for her payout ¡ª if she was found out, she would be inexplicably dead too.


    This was why Roberta was taciturn ¡ª Jamie noticed the reticent ¡ª and she asked an altered question out of her curiosity...


    "Sarge, why is the Euro-blow in the market, when the Cartels were the ones monopolizing all these while?"


    This was not life-threatening information that would endanger Roberta if revealed ¡ª and in fact, she heard it from Mister Clarkey too ¡ª which was rampantly happening in major cities, where ''The Oligarch Daughters of America'' were behind the Russian mob that launched gun battles with local Cartels families to gain their territories. This first-hand Clarkey''s foreshadow that Roberta was about to disclose was thought of like a conspiracy theory months ago in many circles ¡ª but now, the pragmatics would soon be unveiled...


    "Off the record, it is the top one per cent of our Captains of Industry bitches who actually want to dominate the billion-dollar drug industry from those Cartel wetbacks. They want it to be a White Caucasian dominant business, not the spics, as it is now...


    "Those Russians mobs have allied with the Black gangs in the East coast to create the street wars in cities there ¡ª too bad the shit followed back here to Ohio, that is where the Niggers like Oxen and B.B. of the Vice-Lord Nation who did not see that shit coming ¡ª and their melon heads ended up bopping in that bathtub yesterday. Fuck that, it is not even in our pay-grade to see how the drug business would end up someday, when those White Oligarch bitches and the one-percenters run their drug-deals next, in fuckin'' US of A..."


    Jamie lighted a smoke and offered Roberta the pack.


    "Damn Sarge, it sucks big time!"


    Roberta subdued and lighted up her cigarette and heard Jamie ranting updates, by changing the topic...


    "You heard about the latest ¡ª that fucking DEA is the first agency that is recruiting free-male freaks as their agents?"


    Billie the new guy in the strike-team at the backseat mocked and chuckled...


    "What will those she-dicks do ¡ª act as K9 sniff dogs?"


    Roberta was even more agitated by it...


    "That is the shitty future, fellers ¡ª and soon these shemale-bastards will be in the PD forces too ¡ª and getting the top posts and all of our promotions. It has been close to six fucking years, and I am still stuck here as a Sargent."


    For the past six years, Rob''s dejected team of 3 had been doing leftover tasks such as the backup for the main Dafoe and Marion''s Strike-force teams...


    Senior Sargent Marion was now the current Strike-force''s top dog investigator on Columbus; Marion worked the ranks with the current Lt. Dafoe, and they both were once uniformed patrol buddies during the days. Whereas, Roberta was the infamous beat cop who had got her partner Manny Thompson killed ¡ª and yet, the mass media advertised her as a national hero-cop with a double-promotion to the rank of Sargent...


    When Roberta asked for her transfer to the Strike-Force team in the CPD, Lt. Dafoe did not particularly like her and her lack of team player efforts; so, she made Roberta a leader in a separate, newly formed team of 4 other misfits ¡ª Jamie and Billie ¡ª while the other two were the yet to be replaced members, who were deceased for drunk driving.


    The APB radio alerted came on ¡ª and Jamie started the ignition ¡ª and the Ford sped off...


    "ALL UNITS PLEASE RESPOND ¡ª SHOOTOUT BY 4 ESCAPING HISPANICS IN A DARK GREEN CAMERO ¡ª SUSPECTS ARE HEAVILY ARMED AND THEY ARE SHOOTING AT THE SQUAD CARS..."


    The bewailed Billie spoke out.


    "Hernando was supposed to take this route here ¡ª who could have distracted him?"


    "It must be those gung-ho smartass DEA bitches!"This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Roberta loaded a new magazine into her Magnum...


    "Okay guys, this is it ¡ª just follow my instructions and stay sharp, you all ¡ª and we will be early-birds to nail those tacos spics-asses for lunch ¡ª yes, it is our payback time!"


    *


    Six cars with different warlords Hispanic families from various Ohio cities waited for Hernando''s arrival inside a run-down warehouse. The six leaders were either both Intersexuals and some were older, greying women who were wives of pre-Medusa deceased crime bosses.


    They were chatting and yet were impatient ¡ª lots of restless scowls were heard in the enclosed depot. One restive woman voiced out with distrust to the outsider from LA...


    "Is he coming or what ¡ª that fucking Hernando?"


    "Patience, my dear ex-sister-in-law ¡ª Hernando is trustworthy, he will be here ¡ª by the way, how are my nieces? It''s a long time since I came to town, so how is my little angel of a god-daughter ¡ª Nina?"


    "Angel my ass ¡ª Nina is the most rebellious of my four ¡ª imagine this, she got her nipple pierced when she was 10, long even before she even grew her own titties! So, what is your son doing now, Sofina?"


    "That stupid bum ¡ª in fact, he is a gay stupid bum! He is not at all into the family business, but he is out in Australia right now on my expense ¡ª I am paying his bills while he is blowing dicks down-under, instead of giving me more granddaughters."


    An Intersexual on the phone came running over, alerting all the warlords...


    "Hey everyone, Hernando is being tailed by DEA! Let''s get out of here!"


    Seconds later, the main doors and back exits were caved by small explosive charges ¡ª members of the DEA and e-SWAT strike-team stormed in the ambush. A voice on a loud-hailer came on distinctively...


    "YOU ARE ALL SURROUNDED ¡ª NOW, LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS!"


    "No way, Jose!"


    Sofina cried out, refusing to yield. The Latina warlord pulled out her machine gun and initiated the strike-back. All the cornered gang members followed pursuit, by shooting their way out at the surrounding enforcers.


    Both sides took hits, before a section of the glass roof ceiling above smashed in ¡ª and it rained glass shards on the gang members below ¡ª live grenades next fell, and bounced on the hard floor ¡ª the explosions ripped human limbs and agglutinated the flesh bits on the ball-bearing dented metal hood of the parked warlords'' vehicles.


    More e-SWAT team members descended down in cable-ropes from the roof, shooting at the surviving fallen gang-bangers below...


    In those three minutes blitz ¡ª all the six top-warlord family heads of Ohio appointed by the Cartel and their gangs of foot-soldier members were purged.


    *


    The green Camaro had its three gang members firing at the DEA''s Dodge ¡ª and the Strike-force team led by Sargent Marion was rushing along with a local Columbus PD cruiser in front, to join in the hot pursuit. Perez was driving like a madman in the streets, knocking over pedestrians and cyclists like bowling pins.


    Tito fired his machine gun through the shattered back wind-shield and the patrol cruiser was hit and it rolled sideways. The car that Marion was in, crashed into the wreckage ¡ª and it exploded in the crowded intersection of screaming pedestrians.


    The DEA''s Dodge Nitro was the only pursuer left in the inter-city chase ¡ª the enforcers head, Renee Osborne fired with her pistol outside her window. In the back-seat of the DEA''s car ¡ª was a White Intersexual rookie ¡ª Agent Nicholas ¡ª who was also discharging his weapon at the escaping Camaro...


    A few streets away, Roberta''s Strike-force Ford sped in the opposite direction of the road, Corporal Jamie exclaimed seeing the fast approaching Camaro ahead...


    "That''s them! Holy dick of Jesus! They got automatics!"


    Inside the Hispanic''s Camaro, Hernando picked up an RPG and positioned himself out of the window ¡ª the jumpy image of the Dodge was on the weapon''s scope ¡ª Hernando then framed Agent Renee Osborne ¡ª into the cross-hair...


    He pulled the trigger and a shell rocketed and shattered the DEA''s vehicle front. The speeding Dodge turned turtle into the side-walk by the explosion. Hernando and the Latinos were celebrating...


    "Osborne, die you fucking DEA twat!"


    *


    Roberta was aware, that her two buddies in the car were panicking at Hernando''s firepower against their department standard issued pistols and shotguns ¡ª but, she had to keep her crew tight with a plan. Billie cried out after seeing the upside down DEA''s Dodges skidding in flames on the tarmac ahead...


    "Holy shit, Sarge! Was that a missile they shot? Oh fuck, we are dead!"


    Roberta ignored her ¡ª and turned to Jamie on the wheels...


    "Jamie, keep driving ¡ª we are gonna surprise them!"


    Jamie was driving the Ford straight into the fast-approaching Camaro ¡ª Jamie hated herself to be the one driving into their possible death like her late drunken team members ¡ª but, it was best to die instantly rather than ending up crippled for life, and blame it on Robert ¡ª whether the super-cop survived or not in that suicide-run.


    The sole survivor, Agent Nicholas suffering from burns, crawled out of the blazing Dodge in the street. The Intersexual was bleeding all over his clothes and body-amour. The dazed and injured DEA rookie was then helped out by passing pedestrians off the burning car.


    The Ford was only twenty yards coming from the opposite direction ¡ª the LA Chicanos were still celebrating ¡ª until Perez the driver was hit by Roberta''s bullet in his face that shattered through the wind-shield. The Camaro skidded and slammed a lamppost ¡ª Santos who was without his seat-belt secured, crashed out of the wind-shield like a human cannonball...


    The back-door opened and Hernando stepped out ¡ª dazed with minor injuries. He detected the approaching Ford. The bleeding Hernando picked up both the bulky duffel bags of his drugs and his faithful old TAS-9 ¡ª running into the backstreet...


    "He is getting away!"


    Roberta cried before she hopped out when the Ford pulled over. Roberta pursued the Hispanic shemale on foot...


    Tito stepped out of the wrecked Camaro with a twisted broken wrist ¡ª but his good arm pointed the RPG-launcher at the two remaining Strike-force cops ¡ª Jamie and Billie nosedived away for cover ¡ª while their Ford was thumped, and it blew up high.


    The two tumbling undercover cops then retaliated ¡ª and they gunned Tito down.


    *


    Roberta chased Hernando who ran ahead, clinging on with the heavy bags with kilos of cocaine. The injured DEA Agent Nicholas grimaced ¡ª and he saw them both entering an alley ¡ª he had just request for DEA backup from his cell phone. The injured Narc agent then joined the chase from behind...


    The sole surviving L.A. Chicano gang-leader darted into a broken down abandoned shop lot at the alley. Hernando then hid behind wooden crates, and he pulled out his TAS-9 sub-machine gun ¡ª he panted, blood and sweat bled from his face ¡ª the Intersexual waited...


    Roberta now entered in the rundown building ¡ª and she swept the area. The Chicano recognized her ¡ª after having heard of the dirty cop''s street domination from the Ohio families.


    Hernando opened fire and Roberta dived allegro for safety.


    She spotted the goon was on the move again, attempting an escape towards another exit ¡ª she raised her Magnum and shot twice. Hernando slumped and slid on the floor. The shemale squealed in pain holding his bleeding shin. Roberta walked over mockingly and kicked his weapon away...


    "Hernando, where do you think you are going, you punk?"


    "Jensen, you cockless fucker ¡ª you fucking shot me, you cunt-hole! I thought you are on our side with the families ¡ª haven''t they paid you enough in their deals?"


    Roberta picked up his sub-machine gun and harangued...


    "Oh yeah, you killed two dozen Niggers in my own streets and dump their heads in a bathtub of watermelon punch before you ripped away the Oligarch''s coke ¡ª so why was I not paid my cut in that fucking ''five-finger discount'' deal?"


    She pointed the weapon at the wounded Intersexual and resumed her berating...


    "You got greedy ¡ª right, you fucking spic? You and the families ignored us the middlemen ¡ª and you all acted alone by stealing coke belonging to the Russian mob ¡ª but too bad, that this job was out of your league for you and your lowlife tortilla-boys to pull ¡ª so the word had got out to the DEA about the score ¡ª and they called in for this fucking strike today ¡ª hey you bitch, I could have been your eyes and ears in this op ¡ª but too bad, you cut me off, you freak!"


    Hernando had enough of her ranting ¡ª and just wanted to flee away to safety. The shemale implored while holding his bleeding foot...


    "Now help me get away from here, Jensen ¡ª you take one of the bags as a bargaining chip ¡ª and I will buy the shit off your hand, once we are out of here."


    Before she could take the lucrative deal, Roberta heard footsteps behind. She pointed the gun out at the arriving contused androgynous DEA agent ¡ª who was soon followed by her own team of Jamie and Billie from behind him.


    Agent Nicholas held up his badge, to identify himself, to the armed Roberta...


    "Whoa chill, Detective ¡ª I am Agent Nicholas, DEA. ¡ª Hernando is now under my custody. I have called in earlier ¡ª and my backups are on the way here soon."


    Nicholas holstered his gun and took out his handcuffs. Hernando entreated Roberta...


    "My offer still stands, Jensen ¡ª come on, take the bag and feed those mouths here ¡ª but help me get away before I fucking bleed to death."


    The DEA agent looked over suspiciously. "What is he talking about? You both know each other, Jensen?" Roberta reciprocated by covering up...


    "I have been a street cop for 9 years before (and of course) ¡ª lots of these trash-bags know me."


    Hernando sarcastically riposted...


    "Yeah, and she even gives me blow-jobs during her off-duty for handouts. Fuck you, Jensen ¡ª the DEA is coming any time now, and you are making coffee and doughnut small-talks here? Hey, you get me out of here now, you fucking cunt!"


    Roberta pointed her Magnum at Hernando''s head ¡ª Nicholas''s eyes widened and he yelled out in aghast...


    "Jensen, what are you doing? Hernando is mine!"


    "Not anymore!"


    Roberta shot Hernando in the crown of his head ¡ª and the appalled Agent Nicholas cried out ¡ª after seeing Hernando''s head splat...


    "Oh my god, what have you done? You are now under arrest, Jensen ¡ª for executing a DEA''s material suspect!" Nicholas looked at the equally shocked as Jamie and Billie who stood across him ¡ª the agent now glanced obliquely again at the two cops across him...


    "I have 2 eyewitnesses here, Jensen!"


    Roberta chuckled.


    "Me! Being under arrest? You fucking shemales don''t get it, do you ¡ª that the streets and corners over here play by my rules."


    The hapless rookie regretted securing his gun earlier onto his holster ¡ª and he now went for it ¡ª Roberta fired the TAS-9, killing the rookie DEA agent instantly...


    "Oh-fuck! What have you done, Rob ¡ª you killed a DEA agent!"


    Jamie exclaimed out.


    Roberta wiped her prints off ¡ª and planted the weapon on the dead Hispanic.


    "No, I did not ¡ª Hernando here, he did it."


    Roberta grinned nefariously ¡ª at the fresh corpse of the federal agent sprawling motionless.


    Jamie and Billie came forward when Roberta next opened one of the duffel bags ¡ª and it was packed by kilos of pure cocaine ¡ª Billie spoke up in haste...


    "What do we do Sarge, take one bag and leave the other with the bodies? I feel that ¡ª it is too much dope for us to handle."


    Roberta was impressed that the newcomer Billie was learning fast...


    "You are right Billie, let''s not get greedy ¡ª because we will have to work low-key as always ¡ª to avoid any fed''s investigation on the missing Oligarch shit."


    Roberta thought up an instant ruse...


    "Jamie, now take out 5 packs from each bag ¡ª and Billie ¡ª you, take these and go wait for us in Chinatown...


    "In the meantime, Jamie and I will get these two dead clowns'' story straighten out once DEA gets here. We will then come later ¡ª and, we strike a deal with those Chink-Chongs Chinamen ¡ª and they will gladly get it off our hands."


    It was an ameliorating opportunity of a big drug score, and they were back on their road to opulence ¡ª Roberta''s high maintenance girlfriend''s artist atelier bills will be paid and also her own sister''s escalating medical bills problems will be solved ¡ª after the circumspect cocaine was been black-marketed.

 Chapter 13

    CAPT. OLSEN WHIPPED HER ROTANG on the flaccid hanging body of Doran. He was pallid in sweat and was still salivating from his futile pleas to stop this maltreatment before he finally capitulated. His limp body was covered with more than twenty bleeding welt marks before Warden Emma Graves halted her Captain of Guards ¡ª and she ordered that the strung Preacher be cut down, and sent to the Infirmary.


    Everyone at the opposite edifice cell-blocks of the White and Negro inmates was relieved that the tribulation ordeal had finally ended.


    Two guards loaded Doran face down on a stretcher, exposing the broken ectoderms on his back. He was taken away, passing the hissing Latinos ¡ª and some spat on his open wounds. Doran''s eyes were half opened and he grimaced in silent while he was transported out through the Hispanic metal sally-gate.


    Soft incantation of Doran''s name was repeated above from the locked-down prison blocks when the stretcher was approaching towards their cell-blocks, on its way to the sickbay ¡ª and it was building up to get louder and louder with the White, Black and Asian prisoners who started chanting out...


    "Doran! Doran! Doran!Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    "Preacher! Preacher! Preacher!"


    The injured monk smiled weakly to himself to hear the rhapsody of celebrating voices that seemed momentous ¡ª the will of the voices inside of his head was done ¡ª to preamble the work of the Soldier of God again.


    Warden Graves, Capt. Olsen and the remaining guards looked speechless as the loudest roars of the chanting which were coming distinctively from blocks occupied by the Blacks ¡ª who made up almost half of the general population of Tombscradle.


    The leader of the Mexican prisoners, Ramirez was very worried, and one of his top lieutenants approached him and uttered in Spanish, looking up to the snarling and phrenic chants...


    "Ese, do you hear them?"


    The leader''s dreaded voice choked to portend...


    "That ugly monk has now got the Niggers on their side ¡ª we are totally outnumbered if they were riot someday!"


    The prolong racket vociferously grew into deafening jangles, and the Preacher''s prophesy of creating an uprising was unfolding clearly in the eyes of the adversaries...


    It would be in a matter of time for the full-blown magnanimity of the advent mayhem to ignite.


    <><><>


    END OF PART 5 Of 7


    NEXT:


    PART 6


    THE AWAKENING


    <><><>

 THE AWAKENING [Part 6 Of 7]

    <><><>oOo<><><>


    2033


    <><><>oOo<><><>


    THE EMACIATED REEVES was both sweating and shivering on a bunk of the prison infirmary. He had red spots all over his face and body. Both of his hands were bound in leather straps to the side of the bed, while he grimaced uncomfortably from the itches and aches. A handwritten marker-pen sign hung outside the bed screens curtain...


    ''Quarantine ¡ª Chickenpox.''


    Nearby, was a nurses'' station with two nurses on the night shift in the infirmary ¡ª and their only stay-in patient for that night was the seventeen-year-old Reeves Jensen. A Black nurse, Giselle in her late twenties was entering data into a computer while an older White nurse Cindy was knitting...


    "This is interesting that the death rate in Tombscradle dropped significantly for the first time last month because none of these freaks had either died in fights or suicides."


    The older nurse retorted. "Hey, what are you doing? You are supposed to be entering data ¡ª not snoop on the Warden''s C-files record and inmate''s database." Giselle laughed at her own gaffe.


    The records entry were part of the updates which Dr Sharmini Bose had to submit to Warden Graves ¡ª who reviewed and forwarded it to the Governor of Texas, Gertrude Harris, who would then have a concluding look and say ¡ª before submitting the final report to Washington, on the semen collection in Tombscradle...


    The Governor had won awards for three consequent years for the project in Tombscradle ¡ª and she had high expectations to maintain its efficiency ¡ª and in return, she had put a lot of pressure on the warden with her never-ending demands.


    "I find this more interesting than reading a mystery novel on our night shift. You see, all these inmates to me are really like some interesting storybook characters ¡ª well, some of them have real, shitty, dark pasts."


    "Don''t let Bose catch you doing that."


    The wily Black nurse laughed again. "It ain''t nothing, Dr Bose will not know," she went back snooping into other restricted information...


    "Hey Cindy, that Preacher-guy, I was checking his background the other day..."


    Cindy interposed straight off by saying without taking her eyes off her knit-work...


    "Oh! He is one big ''hog'' ¡ª he even broke the midget''s nose. Is he still in solitary, after the whipping he got?"


    "Yeah he is there, but listen here ¡ª did you know that the Preacher was 7 years old when the cops found him being locked for several days, starving in a basement of a coal cellar in his house? They broke into his house after neighbours complained about a foul stench ¡ª and they found that his mother had committed suicide by burning herself alive. They then rescued the malnutrition kid, from that basement and they put him in a Convent-orphanage," said Giselle, enlightening the older nurse with Tombscradle''s internal hearsay.


    Nurse Cindy was the judgmental apathy sort...


    "Hmm, he is one creepy psychotic looking feller ¡ª with all those scars on his face ¡ª I think it is self-inflicted."


    Nurse Giselle nodded and was prying into other data record updates ¡ª and one caught her eye, and she called out...


    "Oh, my dear Jesus! The poor thing ¡ª this kid''s mother just died yesterday..."


    Nurse Cindy was stumped in bewilderment ¡ª but, she humoured at the same time...


    "What, you just said his mother died when he was 7? Did the Preacher''s mom resurrect after 3 days and died again? Which is which?"


    The Black nurse responded in with a burst of fake humourless laughter ¡ª before she disclosed...


    "No, I''m sorry ¡ª I was referring to that chickenpox kid in quarantine over there ¡ª Eve...


    "His mother, Laura Jensen died last night."


    *


    Reeves overheard the conversation from behind the bed screen; even though he was gaunt in a delirious fevered state of mind ¡ª he forced his eyes to open ¡ª stared indistinct at the ceiling above for a while. The news of Laura''s death was an overwhelming emotion to process at that bleary moment; instead, memories of the Wesleyan University in Delaware ¡ª seeped into his mind ¡ª where he remembered requesting the director of IIRC in her office about the information on his family history ¡ª and, he recalled Tina Martin''s initial response...


    "I am afraid that is so, Reeves ¡ª I am sorry that there is no one out there for you."


    Another distinct voice came in ¡ª it was Joe''s divergent argument that he once had with him at their ''secret place'' of their school...


    "You are one of us ¡ª just an orphan boy ¡ª our parents are dead and gone, and you too ¡ª you will die alone once you decide to jump over that fucking wall, you moron!"


    Tina Martin''s voice returned again ¡ª but differing...


    "Life is actually over that wall ¡ª if you don''t scale it now, you never will. Go find for Laura Jensen ¡ª she is your mother."


    Now, after five years in prison ¡ª it was too late ¡ª Laura Jensen was now dead...


    Tears finally flowed from the corner of his eyes ¡ª and his heart was burdened heavily with the sense of guilt from his inaction and cowardice to leave Wesleyan alone ¡ª when the opportunities were there for him then...


    Reeves felt like a conditioned acrophobic monkey that had climbed to the highest branch of the tree but once reaching there ¡ª was afraid of heights ¡ª he could have left ¡ª and he could have searched ¡ª and would have found this woman in the outside world before she had passed away on her deathbed ¡ª instead of rotting here in prison, he could have known his mother ¡ª for that same five years...Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Now, Laura Jensen will remain as a faceless name in his memory.


    Too weak to cry out aloud, Reeves continued to shiver more in his feverish state.


    *


    After a long tacit pause, the Black nurse''s voice was distinct again after her fingers clacked the keyboard, she exclaimed again...


    "This is really odd ¡ª oh-my-sweet-Lord ¡ª this is getting more weirder, Cindy listen to this ¡ª it says here that coma patient Laura Jensen died on April on the 16th in Riverside Methodist Hospital, Columbus, Ohio at 2.13 pm ¡ª but, at 3.47 pm on that same day ¡ª there was a request from that same hospital to transport another coma patient to St. Elizabeth Hospital in Washington D.C.


    "...and guess what, Cindy ¡ª the patient''s name is Mimi Jensen."


    The knitting older nurse looked up and shrugged ¡ª and Giselle defied to her colleague''s anticipated dispute...


    "Don''t say this is a coincidence, Cindy, both patients share the same last name ¡ª Laura Jensen and Mimi Jensen t¡ª both are White females in a coma, and the biggest shit to swallow is that they are both are of the same age of 29 years old. Looks like a conspiracy as far as mystery novels go..."


    "Come on you silly, Jensen is a common last name. My guess is that during the last days of the Medusa, some White trash redneck male would have bashed his own kissing cousins on their heads to get them into a coma ¡ª before he committed incest and got busy impregnating them ¡ª now, how is that for my male-pig conspiracy happened back then?" Cindy guffawed hard to her own imaginative theory.


    Behind the see-through hanging screen in the quarantine area, Reeves eavesdropped to Nurse Giselle''s last bit of information. He was deliriously ¡ª but was chanting softly to himself with his eyes shut ¡ª inculcating it to memory...


    "Mi-mi-Jen-sen-Liz-Beth-hosp-tell, Wash-in-ton."


    "Mi-mi-Jen-sen-Liz-Beth-hosp-tell, Wash-in-ton..."


    A ray of hope aspired from within him ¡ª before he reeled into the deep helix web of unconscious kip...


    "I ¡ª will find you ¡ª Laura..."


    *


    A yellow light blinked over the Infirmary entrance door with warning beeps that startled both the nurses inside. "What the fuck...?" was the response of Nurse Cindy while Giselle scrambled upright ¡ª she switched the PC to the monitor-mode with the CCTV video-feed outside the Infirmary. It showed the image of a doctor and a few prison guards pushing a gurney in a hurry.


    "What is Dr Bose doing here? She went home hours ago, right?"


    The older nurse kept away her knitting kit. "This must be some real emergency ¡ª come on Giselle, let''s go."


    The two nurses opened the door just in time for the arrival of the gurney with an East Indian doctor in her thirties entering the infirmary ¡ª her doctor''s white-coat was drenched with blood...


    "Dr Bose, what happened?"


    Dr Sharmini Bose did not elucidate...


    "Prepare the operation-theatre, Cindy!"


    On the gurney was an unconscious Doran in a straitjacket ¡ª he was bleeding from his waist below...


    *


    Capt. Olsen ran towards the Infirmary and was intercepted by one of her junior guards at the hallway...


    "Captain Olsen, it is the Preacher..."


    "He was in the hole ¡ª what the hell happened?"


    The perplexed female guard expounded...


    "He castrated himself, Sir!"


    *


    On the operation table, Dr Bose checked the unconscious Doran''s vitals. "He has lost lots of blood ¡ª he will go into hypothermia if he does not get an immediate transfusion ¡ª what the hell is his blood type?"


    Nurse Giselle reacted with a fast response. "It is B positive, doctor." The stymie doctor looked up...


    "How do you know that?"


    "I saw it in his chart records the last time..."


    Nurse Giselle snooping around looking for gossips paid off.


    "Double confirm the exact match ¡ª he has lost a lot of blood in solitary, and our Infirmary''s blood bank won''t be enough ¡ª Giselle, look into the records for inmates for similar his blood type ¡ª and the guards will round them up ¡ª hey, be fast!"


    Giselle rushed to the PC upon receiving the instructions ¡ª while Dr Bose attempted to stop the bleeding with Nurse Cindy.


    .


    *


    Warden Graves drove furiously on a dark desert road. She peeped at the floodlights of Tombscradle Penitentiary a mile ahead, while still speaking on her hands-free device...


    "Where the hell did that son of a bitch get a piece of glass from? Did you all search him before he was thrown into solitary?"


    She accused the headless Captain of Guards who was stupefied and panicky without a clue at that moment. It was always some gossamer excuses she heard from the obsequious head-guard ¡ª whom she felt she had promoted to the ranks too soon ¡ª but, Olsen''s despot nature was very much needed in the line of duty in this Level-5 maximum security facility, to impose the fear in the inmates ¡ª but, certainly not for her thinking aptitude nor decision making skills.


    "Damn it, Olsen, what''s his condition now?"


    The conjecturing Capt. Olsen made an assumption. "Dr Bose is stopping the bleeding ¡ª but he looks very weak, and I don''t think he will make it."


    "That bastard will have to make it ¡ª or else, all hell will break loose tonight."


    The Warden''s car arrived fast at the prison ¡ª and the metal main-doors unlocked and the car soared in after hitting the hump. A strident sound was coming from above ¡ª a chopper descending and landed in the prison exercise yard, blowing up sand and dust.


    The Governor has sent backup...


    Erica Graves informed Olsen on the phone. "Notify Dr Bose that the medical team from Huston is here."


    *


    Warden Gates paced impending ahead with some prison guards ¡ª and the Huston''s medical personnel wheeled carts of medical surgery equipment, following them on the corridor. Capt. Olsen intercepted her employer while the rest proceeded into the Infirmary.


    Before the Warden started to badger, Olsen spoke out first...


    "I am very sorry Warden ¡ª nobody anticipated him to go to that extreme."


    "Use your head, Olsen! He wants a fucking Christ-like complex with this self-righteous suicide attempt of his. He wants to herald his martyrdom death as a proclamation to his blind-bat followers ¡ª so that, they will fucking go on and ignite an uprising in Tombscradle!"


    Graves impugned, envisaged her reply based on Doran''s growing esteem and his reputation of delivering aspiration of hope to the segregated forlorn prisoners who were in despair...


    She had thrown Doran into solitary regularly in the past ¡ª after his numerous anti-establishment sermons that he had given in the yard to the inmates ¡ª those sermons about uniting them and standing against the prison system. The last time, it was Corporal punishment when the rebel-monk had vehemently head-butted Corporal Vinnie''s nose at the Projector room ¡ª punishing him by public flogging for all to witness and fear...


    No matter what punishment she imposed ¡ª the Washington''s pet-prisoner was always a constant threat to her prison instrumentation.


    "Warden, you think the rest of the prisoners will cause a riot?"


    "Yes you fool, they would! If the Preacher dies tonight that will spur rumours and erupt anger that we killed him when he was in solitary!


    "That son of a bitch has already got more than half of the gen-pop on his side ¡ª with the promise that he will crush our prison system ¡ª and lead them out of these walls to freedom...


    "Yes Olsen, they have got something brewing right below our noses now ¡ª and we have to be on top of the game to counter it!"


    "What do we do Warden? I can increase security and..."


    Erica Graves interjected Olsen instantly ¡ª and negated by delegating her own commands...


    "Wait, for now, you go and conduct an immediate shakedown on all the White-inmate cells ¡ª starting with those fucking monks ¡ª check for any sharp and dangerous objects because those Jesus-freaks will next follow pursuit, by slicing their nuts off to sabotage our semen collection operation!"


    The warden needed to protect Governor Gertrude Harris'' top priority and it was her only interest ¡ª and, a possible riot ¡ª would imperil the semen collection project and everything more in Tombscradle.


    Olsen nodded and paced away while Warden Graves headed to the Infirmary to have a grip of control of the situation over there.

 Chapter 2

    SEATED AT HER DESK WHILE THE OTHERS were standing in the top floor modish office ¡ª on the Warden''s left was Ramirez, the leader of the Hispanic ¡ª and on the right side was Hajja the leader of the BGF...


    Both the Intersexuals were cuffed behind their back. Capt. Olsen and three other guards stood behind them.


    The two gangbanger leaders ¡ª who in their past, had their fair share of notorious street drug war rampages, stretching to various cities in the West Coast before as children-soldiers ¡ª but, were brought to their knees by the DEA and were sent to Tombscradle some years ago.


    "Look here both of you, I am not running a goddamn religious camp here, and the reason I had allowed the monks to homily preach was that the crime rate has significantly dropped among you Blacks ¡ª but lately, all this talk of mutiny and treachery, is what I am hearing now at the prison yard!


    "Hey, I will not tolerate that anymore ¡ª and none of that shit that the fucking Preacher has promised is going to happen here in my prison ¡ª is that totally clear, (especially you) Hajja?


    Ramirez the adversary to the Blacks, interpolated on the warden''s behalf...


    "That is what that Preacher is doing, he is planting poisonous seeds into these slow thinking Niggers ¡ª so, it will grow soon into false hopes of freedom within them ¡ª and creating their riot soon to take over Tombscradle!"


    "You got me ''down bad'' you lying, spic! We the Blacks, do not wish to cause any trouble here," Hajja retorted...


    Ramirez was not convinced ¡ª he had seen the imperil Blacks were now more organized and disciplined with more of Doran''s sermons and influences every year.


    "Warden, my Latinos brothers here are also Christians but we don''t acknowledge those filthy monks ¡ª nor follow, their extreme radical Abrahamic teachings."


    The Hispanic detractor appended more blames...


    "The biggest mistake here in Tombscradle was to bring in the Whites orphans in here ¡ª and build a fence for them in the yard ¡ª and now years later, the White monks have influenced these jungle-mookies to liberate themselves over here ¡ª and soon, there will be riots because that is what these Niggers are good for ¡ª taking cheap shots and backstabbing ¡ª because they cannot fight face to face like a real-man!


    "That ding-headed Preacher should have been left to bleed to death in the solitary when he had cut off his damn nuts!"


    Hajja turned to the warden...


    "This ain''t right! These are all just ''crossed out'' accusations, Warden ¡ª it is his ''dirty dog'' people who are ''hemming-up'' to provoke us always ¡ª and that is why there are fights going on here!"


    Hajja knew that Warden Graves always favoured the Latinos, and she gave them better trial decisions and privileges than the rest in the gen-pop. It was useless to make her see the truth ¡ª when her interest was just to find a scapegoat ¡ª she had already predetermined whom to blame with her questioning...


    "Then, why the hell (as the leader of the Blacks) ¡ª do you allow your people to attend the Preacher''s sermons?"


    Warden Erica Gates sternly made her gainsay. Ramirez repugnant heedlessly...


    "It is because he thinks..."


    "Shut up, Ramirez! I want to hear him speak for once!"


    Graves hollered back after seeing the Latino who was emotionally incensed ¡ª and he was making her look like a fool ¡ª for not being in control to deem the cross-examination.


    Hajja warily answered her...


    "I may be the leader of my race, of the Black BGF ¡ª but I don''t control their rights of their religious belief. I am a practising Muslim myself ¡ª but 2/3 of my people are not of my faith ¡ª and that is why I allow them to practice their respective Christianity belief if they wish to."


    Ramirez made an awry omniscient comeback...Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "You liar, you''re just wanting to rule by the numbers ¡ª now, after you have the Asians-Chinos in your back pocket, and next you wanna get these Whites on your side too ¡ª I know you too well, you cunning monkey ¡ª once you have the majority, then you and that hideous-faced Preacher ¡ª both you, fanatic Abrahamic conspirators will soon create the revolution ¡ª and you both will take over this prison ¡ª killing all the Warden''s guards ¡ª and next, my Latino people too!"


    The guards restrained both the leaders, who were at each other''s throat, despite in handcuffs. Hajja was enraged too ¡ª and retorted back at him...


    "Yes Ramirez, when that day comes, I will be happy to hang your head on your soccer goalpost ¡ª and play the pi?ata till your brains spill out ¡ª for all your spics to see it!"


    "Enough! Both of you!"


    Warden Erica Graves snapped, to see them both bickering aloud; and she did not get to the bottom of her investigation on the possible uprising ¡ª that might occur after the stealthy exploits that Doran the Preacher had endeavoured among his followers...


    "Now, I have arrived at a mandatory decision that the Preacher will never be with either the monks nor will he be allowed to preach to any of the groups. He will be forever isolated!


    "I want to make a lesson out of him ¡ª that nobody is above my given set of rules when they are in my damn prison! To both of you ¡ª is that clear?"


    The Warden concluded loudly...


    "Now Capt. Olsen, take Hajja back ¡ª and you, Ramirez, stay put ¡ª I want a word in private with you."


    Graves looked at her wristwatch ...


    "Hey Olsen, come back in an hour to escort Ramirez to the yard."


    The three female guards escorted Hajja out, while Olsen was the last to leave ¡ª and, she gave a suspicious look at Ramirez ¡ª before she closed the office door ¡ª but, left it slightly ajar...


    The Warden fished a key from her pocket and un-cuffed Ramirez ¡ª who tossed the manacle on the desk. He sauntered over to the mini-refrigerator and grabbed two cold cans of Corona beers. He sat on the chair in front of the Warden''s desk and he started knocking back the brew.


    Erica Graves spoke. "Listen, I want you to keep your ears on the ground for me ¡ª send out your spies to find me the ''grapes'' of the Preacher''s possible uprising that will take place ¡ª and I want to be kept informed all the time."


    She noticed that the Hispanic was more focused in imbibing the beers ¡ª it troubled her and she reminded him again, speaking in Spanish...


    "Are you listening, you fool? My head will be on the cutting board if there are to be any riots, and Governor Harris might terminate my contract ¡ª and if I am gone, the new warden will not be tenderhearted to your people as I have been now! So do your part ¡ª and I will continue approving your privileges?"


    Ramirez burped loudly instead ¡ª vexing the warden even more...


    "Hey you Mexi-fuck, are you listening here?" she hollered at him.


    "Yea-yeah, I will send the boys out."


    The Intersexual youth finally responded unenthusiastically ¡ª and he was still pissed off with Hajja.


    "Another thing I want to address is that Governor Harris wants more Latino and Black semen ¡ª as it now has a miscegenation demand; so your guys will be going into the auditorium three times a week from tomorrow onwards."


    This finally got his full attention ¡ª Ramirez riposted...


    "What is this bullshit? We volunteered for once a week then, we obliged for twice ¡ª and now it is three fucking times?"


    Graves grit her teeth and replied to the Latino...


    "Yes, it is the allotted which is set now for three times, and furthermore ¡ª you did not volunteer ¡ª we tell you to shoot your load ¡ª and you do as you are instructed!"


    Ramirez then wisecracked in cynicism...


    "By fucking some Fifi-dolls?


    "Why don''t you line real ''gashley'' bitches up for conjugal visits in the ''boneyard'' ¡ª and we fuck, and directly knock them up instead. That will surely hit your Governor''s target even faster ¡ª what say you, Warden?"


    Warden Graves repartee instantly...


    "Am I running a whore house here, you asshole ¡ª and what, do I look like some fucking pimp to you? Since when do you make any demands in here?"


    Ramirez grabbed her arms and pulled the older woman closer to him.


    "Since I became your model-pet prisoner, and yes ¡ª you are always my puta-bitch."


    The furious Warden slapped him twice before he seized her tight. Ramirez started kissing her fervently ¡ª he then turned her over and threw her upper body on the desk tabletop, and soared up her skirt...


    He dropped his pants and doggie her from the rear.


    The Warden moaned softly ¡ª while she glanced at her family photo on the table, taken back before the coming of the Medusa. It was a vacation picture of her with her Hispanic husband and their six-year-old daughter. She turned the picture frame down from her guilt of shame for her affinity to the amoral Ramirez ¡ª who reminded her of her dead amorous husband.


    Ramirez continued to pound her...


    Outside the gap of the unclosed door ¡ª Capt. Olsen peeped inside, looking totally shocked.


    The White Supremacy captain glowered to what she spied on before leaving. She finally understood why Ramirez was frequently summoned to her office alone by her boss.


    It also jaundiced the head-guard that the warden had been frugal with the prison''s budget ¡ª and had denied her overworked staff of any overtime ¡ª but yet, she allocated the expenses to grow grass on the desert ground for the Hispanic''s soccer recreation. Graves had frittered the budget funds with the excuse that diminution of disorder at the Latino side of the fence would be achieved by showering them with privileges.


    Olsen was now acrimonious to finally learn that her hypocrite dowager boss just wanted to get laid ¡ª with that lowlife spic ¡ª by having his brown turd-sized dick nested in-between her legs.

 Chapter 3

    HAJJA REACHED THE EXERCISE YARD, and Li Chi the head of the Asian triad, approached him from his back.


    "Hajja, what happened? Did the Warden take his side again?"


    Hajja nodded as they both ambled side by side; sighing and speaking in the same tune of alliteration of the prison justice ¡ª that always favoured Ramirez and the Hispanics.


    "Its ''down-bad,'' that bitch is never fair in all her trials ¡ª but this time, Graves seems more interested in the Preacher and his promise to free us all out of Tombscradle."


    Li Chi chuckled when he heard of the impervious sour promises of freedom...


    "What, the same empty promise he kept telling every one of us here for many years? You know that will not happen ¡ª and that ''hit in the neck'' Preacher is simply disillusioned, and his motive is so clearly to deceive anyone as recruitment into his religious blanket-cult...


    "Someday all his lies of freedom will finally blow up on his face, and then, the blind followers of his will see that he is just a damn imposter with no honour!


    "This is a prison, Hajja ¡ª someone will kill him sooner or later. It is best he takes the solitude life ¡ª and remains in hiding in the hole that he is now in ¡ª we don''t need to have anything to do with that White-bastard!"


    "But Li Chi, I have also witnessed that each time he comes out of solitary and back into GP ¡ª he seems to be stronger mentally and even more fearlessly driven ¡ª ( keep it real, you have seen it too). Hell yeah, today I crystal-saw it too!


    "Yes, I saw the same fear of the Preacher in the Warden''s eyes ¡ª when I was in her office."


    Li Chi interrupted mockingly at the spiritual Muslim leader...


    "After that ''flat-weed'' whipping in public lately, I don''t think the fool is going to be egocentric ¡ª and preach about any of his angels and heaven ¡ª or about any fucking freedom for a long-long time."


    Hajja smiled when he heard that ¡ª it was what the warden also had said earlier in her own efficacious way ¡ª to isolate him from the rest of the gen-pop.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Hah! What whipping are you talking about, Li Chi ¡ª you mean that ''attitude adjustment'' that he got in spic-yard the last couple of weeks? Hey, the Preacher had gone to the extent of castrating himself to prove his point yesterday ¡ª and that action alone stands even stronger against those women, in their pretentious mask worn over here. It was indeed a stern message to them bitches ¡ª by denying them of his semen!


    "Oh yes, I can see through her arbitrary looks of the warden just now ¡ª that the bitch is now really afraid of him!"


    Li Chi differed with more emblazon of resentful sarcasm...


    "That dirty White-dog should have bled to his damn ''dirt nap'' in the hole instead."


    The Chinese scorned out because he mistrusted all of the Caucasians existence since coming to prison that was run by the White authority.


    Hajja kept advocating with laughter...


    "Downright ''scandalous!


    "Then, what about the Preacher''s achievements so far? I see clear of the persistence and perseverance in him ¡ª and all his followers are noticing it too ¡ª I foresee too that when the time comes ¡ª the Preacher will just say the word, and everyone will be going ''no-smoke'' to lay their lives for their freedom. Only those who survive will walk out alive from that gate over there, as a free man."


    Hajja told with eyes of an axiom while pointing to the main entrance metal main gate. The Chinese goaded him to his path of view...


    "Come on Hajja, don''t buy into this illing monk''s promises and be fooled by it. Ramirez will see this as a sign of weakness in your BGF leadership ¡ª and he can even falsely influence the Warden to send you into the hole if you vocally did support it ¡ª that spic dog will do whatever it takes, just to protect his ''juice-card,'' am I right here?"


    Hajja now laughed aloud, recalling the gauche circumstances that surround the enigmatic Doran. The truth remains that the multi-racial inmates would still remain separated from the unity that was expounded by the Preacher himself...


    In numbers, they were all still divided ¡ª and controlled by the warden ¡ª who had built the fences to separate the flocks by its racial breed.


    The Black leader chuckled and he further admonished...


    "I see a sign of ''Tom and George'' here ¡ª and by the looks just now, even Ramirez also fears the Preacher''s would-be holy jihad like Warden Graves...


    "So Li Chi, it is time for you to stop sitting on the fence like a spineless ''wolf ticketing cell-warrior''...


    "You have to soon make a stand for your own Asian brothers ¡ª so that, you too will be fighting along with the Preacher when the time comes ¡ª so, will you be there by our side ¡ª when my people and I band together with the Preacher to fight them to the death?


    "Yes, we gonna hit this old lady called Tombscradle ''in the neck'', and soon bring her down to her knees ¡ª and there will never be a ''hoe-checking'' when that day comes ¡ª cos the bitch will be dead by then?"

 Chapter 4

    TWO GLABROUS BLANKET-MONKS ambled on Tombscradle prison yard. Michael and Peter were gregariously distributing eleemosynary, handmade Rosary to the White inmates ¡ª made of stringing-up, polished pebbles.


    It was assiduous practice by the blanket-monks to cumulative handpick pebbles on the yard, to make the prayer-beads as an ecclesiastical service ¡ª to the growing hortatory congregation, with the inclusion of the Black prisoners.


    A Latino youth followed them along the fence that separated the Hispanic''s yard from the White''s. The stranger chatted...


    "Psst! Padre Michael, give me one ¡ª give me a Rosary please."


    The watchful Michael peeked and queried him...


    "Will you not get in trouble if your leader Ramirez catches you with it, ''Brother''?"


    "I will hide the rosary Padre."


    Then, the Latino then searched into his pocket and took out and showed them an old scrunch up photo of a man ¡ª and he whispered with earnestness...


    "Today is the death anniversary of my Papa, who died 18 years ago after the Medusa attack. Please say a prayer for his departed soul, Padre."


    It was an amenable and a simple humane gesture for the idyllic Michael to do ¡ª even though the Hispanics were the sworn adversaries to Hajja''s current supportive Black gang ¡ª who were congregating their Christian ministry in Tombscradle during Sunday Mass in the big-yard compound.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "Yes, my son."


    Michael recited a short prayer in Latin to the photo held by the Hispanic. Michael then gestured the sign of the cross, from his side of the fence.


    The gullible monk was unacquainted that it was an old photo postcard of the actor Antonio Banderas, the popular Hollywood film star before the Medusa days. The youth was one of Ramirez''s spies ¡ª he had set out to get access on the ''grapes'' about the impending uprising ¡ª that was spoken about openly among inmates since the Preacher''s public flogging.


    Michael looked around in angst, before giving him a Rosary through the fence hole. He and Peter then walked away but the Latino kept following them along the fence ¡ª and kept hassling...


    "Psst! Hey Padre, I would like to say my confessions."


    Michael suffered from more nervousness...


    "Please Brother, you will get into deep trouble ¡ª and Ramirez will kill you. Just say you confession directly to God and recite your Rosary ¡ª and God will forgive and forgo your sins."


    The heartrending youth poignantly responded...


    "I wish the situations on my side of the camp were different ¡ª and I can join together with many others of my ''eses'' ¡ª and we join by listening to your Sunday sermons ¡ª and of the great Preacher''s sermons too.


    "Many of us Latinos here too believe ¡ª the Preacher is down-right innocent ¡ª and it is the ''Bolillos'' warden and her crows who are just ''bum-beefing'' against him. We too support the Preacher''s promise ¡ª to start the revolution that will liberate us all from this damned place soon...


    "So Padre Michael, stop the front-act ¡ª and let us know, when our Preacher will ''pop off'' this promised revolution ¡ª so that, we too can fight along with him against those female bitches?"


    Michael and Peter did not reply; with disinclination from his harassment, they paced away in a hurry, hearing his voice calling out a little louder...


    "When do we fight, Padre ¡ª when?"


    The frustrated Latino then lighted his frajo. The spy then turned to Ramirez who was watching discreetly from nearby. Shaking his head ¡ª indicating an ''N.G.'' to his leader ¡ª the Latino operative snapped the Rosary beads and dropped the rounded pebbles on the ground. The bobos that he wore trampled it to the dirt before walking away.

 Chapter 5

    DORAN LAID FLAT in a dark padded reclusive room after his recent surgery ¡ª he was restrained in a straitjacket and was in adult diapers. Tears flowed as the scar-faced youth remembered his dark childhood past in the house basement...


    His mother was caning him when he was little. She had tied the boy''s hands behind his back, stepping on his scrawny chest with a foot and hollering...This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Now speak in tongues, you unclean spirit. Speak in the language of the true Angels of God!"


    "I cannot, Mother, I don''t know how!"


    "Speak!"


    She caned the boy''s face until he bled ¡ª the scrawny Intersexual offspring wailed out in agony as his religious mother disfigured him further.

 Chapter 6

    REEVES SAT ON THE BLEACHERS in the yard. He was spotted with lots of peeling scars on his face, after his week-long recovery from his chickenpox at the Infirmary. He was chatting with his newfound ''cellie'' friends outside Wesleyan, whom he has grown closer over the years...


    Behind him was the weekly Sunday mass conducted by the monk-priest Michael, on a makeshift altar at the far corner of the prison yard in the Whites'' fenced area.


    Reeves has remained as a doubter since his Wesleyan days ¡ª he did not jump with the rest into the frenzy religious bandwagon that had caught up pro-active with most of the Black and White races of the inmates in Tombscradle, who flocked themselves to attend the Sunday mass.


    Troy Norton and Truman Robert were the ones present with him in the big-yard that morning at their corner. They were his new circle of free-male friends since he was brought into the penitentiary five years ago.


    He was under isolation when he first arrived ¡ª he stayed in the ''heatwave'' row for a month before he was released into the gen-pop ¡ª after they cleared him off as a ''G.N.C.'' Since then, Reeves'' cell was next to theirs on the third tier of White inmates'' C Block. The two ''ace deuces'' became close to him since they heard of the bravado escape attempt that Reeves had pulled in Wesleyan before he was captured with Joe...


    Despite Reeves trying to be there for him, but Joe was no longer close to him. Since their arrival in Tombscradle, Joe had kept to himself for a few months and he soon suffered from depression while adjusting from his school environment to prison. Reeves was glad to see him later in the prison''s med-line getting his treatment ¡ª as there were many cases of illing White-lop orphans who were driven to suicide in their failure of adapting to the prison life.


    Finally, like birds of a feather, Joe regrouped with the Wesleyan coterie. Joe had then adjusted well with the rest of the obstinate troublemakers'' circle of Kiki and Hank ¡ª into their attempt, to make the Wesleyans be known as one of the majority among the rest of the other White gangbangers'' minor groups, which formed their own strong-corners in Tombscradle in the years later.


    The clique that Reeves was in was seen by those new White gangs as the weak-corner ¡ª that got nothing coming in their presence in prison. But, Reeves was not bothered ¡ª he would rather ''eight-ball'' with these two new friends instead, whose lives brought more perspective sense to him ¡ª and he needed them too...


    Troy Norton was an ardour highbrow computer hacker back then in his school ¡ª he defaced some government websites, and that landed him here in Tombscradle ¡ª were at a present environment, none of the inmates was given any parchment book to read in their prison stay, and let alone access to a computer.


    Reeves'' other prison-buddy was Truman Robert who was also known inside the walls as True Bob ¡ª a half-White and half-Cherokee Native ¡ª a wanderer since the age of ten, ever since he ran away from the Indian reservations. He was an Argonaut ardent traveller at heart ¡ª the vagrant, crossroader had visited most of the states and cities in the West Coast. It was until the rounder was caught for shoplifting at a mart ¡ª and he was then sent over to Tombscradle, to be part of the helots of orphans in the government''s semen milking program.


    For the last five years in Tombscradle, Reeves the former Wesleyan had theoretically learned how to operate and survive ¡ª by listening and getting into discussions to view the perspective of both of his friends'' life stories and experiences.


    He also needed to in-cooperate that isosceles knowledge of survival out in the ''other place'' once he hailed his strength from his chicken-pox recovery ¡ª and decided that it was the precise time to jump the prison wall alone by himself ¡ª and to begin his own hegira quest to find Laura Jensen...


    At the yard, Reeves began articulating his bottled-up frustration since his failure to escape from Wesleyan, happened some years ago. He was loud with harrowing thoughts ¡ª and. both of his friends hated it when he ranted sometimes...


    He was ballistic just like in the past with Joe, in their secret-place in Wesleyan...


    "Damn! Dig this out, I just found out that Riverside Methodist Hospital was just 50 fucking miles away from the university where I fucking grew up in. If I had known it back then, I would have jumped off the school fucking wall sooner ¡ª and I would have found my mother out there."


    Troy replied in allay to his troubled friend...


    "She is in a coma, did you say? Then means, somebody had put her in there and is still paying the hospital bill ¡ª that shows you got other Jensen-kin out there, right Reeves?"


    "Guess it looks like it. That''s was all the bits of details that I ''ear-hustled'' from both the nurses jabbering at the Infirmary that night."


    Reeves remembered what was spoken vaguely that night ¡ª the lacuna of information he memorized about his mother who was now transferred even further away to the East in Washington DC with the new name of Mimi Jensen.


    He even pondered in anger about the cover-ups that happened ¡ª of why and who this so-called Jensen-kin was trying so hard to conceal Laura''s identity.


    The other friend, True Bob was seated among them, he was quiet in most of the conversation ¡ª finally, he too even spoke in appease favour to calm Reeves down of his former setbacks...


    "It is a good sign, bro ¡ª and the dots of the Universe are connecting now for you to go to Washington even sooner to find your mother. It ain''t nothing, once the Preacher gets us all out ¡ª we then stand a better chance to pursue things like these."


    Hearing this, made Reeves to instantly scoff, and he stood up...


    "What the fuck is wrong with you guys? That Preacher has been selling us ''wolf-tickets'' since day one about his reckoning breakout ¡ª but, where is he now? We have not heard anything about him for almost a month, ain''t that right Bob? Oh yeah, the last I heard this leader of yours is jailing in the Hotel De-Sag ¡ª and yet ¡ª you both are confidently waiting around for him to spring you out from here...


    "What'' up now? Is the Preacher digging an underground tunnel in the slammer for you guys from over there? Then, you both finally walk out the prison main-gate to the road to the free-world paradise out there, that he so often spoke about ¡ª so, ''it ain''t nothing,'' right guys?"


    "Just shut up, Reeves!"


    True Bob snapped at him. "Hey asshole, I find that this holy-man got lotta heart by all the right things he has fueled around here. Soon someday, the Preacher''s actions will be rewarded in multiple-fold by the Universe."


    Reeves laughed...


    "Hey Universal Studios ¡ª your Preacher has been spending more time in the hole than anyone of us out there in the yard ¡ª yea, all the three of us, included ¡ª we even have not fuckin'' seen him for a month, and nobody knows if he is dead or alive now in the hole.


    "The warden would have that covered up if he died, and you will never know, right? So carry on you both, you are still bought into his ''wolf talk,'' ¡ª but me ¡ª I simply just lost my faith in him."


    Troy then pointed at the large crowd at the other end of the yard who were listening to Michael''s sermon...


    "But look over there at them, man, his followers have really multiplied in numbers. Even if the Preacher is dead, there are many other qualified leaders over there to lead the strike when that day comes."Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Oh yeah, the second banana monk will jump in and redeem our ''juice-cards'' for real. That is a good ploy for years with all their distractions and confusions at our yard ¡ª with all their sales-pitch sermons by the Preacher himself, and his monkhood Amen-cult buddies ¡ª but the truth is, I have wizen up and ain''t buying that revolution jack-shit anymore...


    You hear me, I am tired of waiting, I am sick to the bones of hearing those promises that the Preacher-fucker made us believe for years!"


    True Bob replied...


    "These things don''t happen overnight, you dumbass, it has been in the process since we got here. We all have been seeing the signs ¡ª and we are waiting for the right timing before we go ''no-smoke'' fighting ¡ª to bring down the system here someday."


    Reeves laughed out again...


    "Well, stop acting ''in-the-car'' you two ¡ª cos and I can ''ass-bet'' that shit ain''t happening, and you two can go ahead and believe whatever you want. Really, I have heard this same old song when I spent more than a ''dime'' of my time, institutionalized in Wesleyan...


    "...over there, what was said was that there will be freedom once we graduate from school¡ª but instead, the school sold us out, to be here in prison ¡ª now, I''m fucking plastics cunts every morning for some government-owned, public-breeders scheme...


    "No way, I''m saying to myself ¡ª that I do not believe in any more bullshit that these 4 walls had preached to me all these years ¡ª I will be out there, taking my own chances from now on...


    "Nice kicking, ''but I am ''catchin'' out'' ¡ª ''holler at ya both later,'' you lame-lops..."


    Reeves walked away ¡ª he needed to be alone ¡ª to process his clean game plan to get his freedom by jumping over the prison wall.


    Even his two buddies felt that Reeves was ''burnt-up'' to do something foolish soon. They were worried that his ''hemming-up'' scheme may get him killed ¡ª or even tortured and thrown into solitary together with the Preacher ¡ª someone...


    ... whom he had lost his faith and hope in.


    *


    A sermon for the weekly Sunday Mass in the yard, of discourse on redemption, was given by the Preacher''s emissary, Michael ¡ª who stood in front of a few hundred Caucasian followers seated on the hard ground facing of him...


    The Black-Christians have tripled the numbers, and they too were garnered on their side of the fence ¡ª even Hajja, Li Chi and the rest of the other non-Christians stood behind and observed the Mass conducted.


    Another peering pair of worried eyes that morning was of Warden Graves ¡ª looking below at the congregation from outside her IMU office window. There was no sign of attrition of the googol of the growing number of Negro attendees in the yard, despite the absence of the Preacher. She heard Michael, as he threw out his voice so that every Intersexual that gathered could heed...


    "But last of all he sent unto them his Son, saying to Himself ¡ª ''They will reverence my son''. But when the husbandmen in the vineyard saw the son ¡ª they said among themselves, ''This is the heir ¡ª come, let us kill him, and let us seize on his inheritance.'' So they caught him, and cast him out of the vineyard ¡ª and they slew him.


    "When the Lord of the vineyard comes, what will he do unto those husbandmen? They say unto Him ¡ª ''He will miserably destroy those wicked men, and will let out his vineyard unto other husbandmen, which shall render him the fruits in their seasons."


    Someone threw an apple core that fell in front of Michael. Many of the Latinos laughed from their side of the fence. A laughing guard cautioned the ''joker'' to stop. Michael realized it was the same culprit to whom he had given the handmade rosary to ¡ª he was one of Ramirez spies whose airs fooled him yesterday...


    Michael resumed his sermon again ¡ª while the clamouring Blacks seemed provoked by their rival''s disrespect...


    "Jesus said unto them ¡ª Did ye never read in the scriptures, The stone which the builders rejected, the same has become the head of the corner ¡ª this is the Lord''s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes? Therefore say I unto you ¡ª the kingdom of God shall be taken from you, and given to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof ¡ª and whosoever, shall fall on this stone, shall be broken ¡ª but on whomsoever, it shall fall, it will grind him to dust.


    "Do you all understand the message of this sermon?"


    A White convict seated in the front row voiced...


    "We have heard this story before, Father Mike ¡ª the Preacher too has told it many times ¡ª now, tell us a different one."


    Most of the inmates had taken for granted that the weekly sermons as a mere allegory ¡ª it was like stories told around at a campfire for the purpose of escapism from their routine life in prison.


    Most importantly, they were all gathered here for the curiosity of wanting to know if the Preacher was still alive¡ª because nobody saw nor heard of him for over a month since the public flogging and his attempt to castrate himself.


    Michael sighed inwards and looked at the clueless people gathered around...


    "Yes, the Preacher has told this same parable many times and you even know the meaning behind it ¡ª in which, God sent his only Son to the world to live with his people and to lead them to God''s Kingdom ¡ª but yet instead ¡ª he was tortured and killed by the very same people like you all here in this Tombscradle!"


    The same Chicano joker heckled back...


    "Hey Padre, don''t judge and condemn others ¡ª everyone is innocent in Tombscradle, except those, whose ass got whipped at the post like it happened the last time!"


    The Hispanic inmates gibed and laughed, but Michael ignored their pillory ¡ª and he picked up again...


    "History is just repeating in every generation of man, where many good leaders will come to lead the flock to the righteous path ¡ª and, these leaders were soon scorned, persecuted and killed instead. Why is that so?


    "It is because men like you never learnt from the mistakes of your wicked past ¡ª and that, you never learnt your lessons from all these parables...


    "The Preacher had told you many stories of salvation but yet, you don''t listen ¡ª the Preacher told you of many messages in Tombscradle but yet, you all don''t follow. He told you to share your skills amongst yourself to teach another man to fish but yet, you all remain selfish with your knowledge...


    "The Preacher told you to protect your weak brothers ¡ª but you went ahead, and bullied and injured them instead. You then even broke their spirits, both mentally and physically!


    "Yet ¡ª you then keep asking the same dumb questions every time and every day, to which you already know the answers ¡ª like you ask ¡ª when will salvation come, but you have forgotten that the Preacher had already answered that before...


    "For anyone of you to see that day, you all have to first change yourself ¡ª but yet, you all refuse to change!"


    Michael glared at the mocking Latinos behind the fence, particularly at the deceiving joker. The priest-monk next spoke out at the troublemaking Chicanos with his sermon...


    "You keep asking yourselves of when are you going to leave these four external walls, and the Preacher had said to you many times ¡ª that these two internal fences that separate the races should fall first ¡ª and, the people should then unite as one ¡ª but, you all refuse to do that ¡ª and yet, instead of seeking for your salvation ¡ª you fools ¡ª still fight and kill each other instead!"


    The monk-priest carried on saying deposition, in the manner of the same emblazon that had landed Doran in solitary in the past for his discord disruption with the adherent to mutiny. A guard radioed and alerted Capt. Olsen that the sermon was getting askew ¡ª while the bewildered congregation paid attention to Michael''s angry words...


    "So there is no salvation for you all because of your sinful ego, pride and attitude that are miscreant and corrupted ¡ª and it has weakened you from being God-fearing decent men into men without an ounce of hope for salvation!


    "There is nothing more to say, so now accept this, you all ¡ª that Tombscradle is your eternal Hell on earth and you are all fated to be doomed in here till the day you die within these four walls ¡ª all because, you cannot change and redeem yourself ¡ª all because, you sinners cannot unite as one, and most of all ¡ª you all sinners cannot accept a good leader who had now come to Tombscradle to redeem you all..."


    The largish Capt. Olsen came up, charging fast ¡ª and she choked Michael by his throat before she threw him aside. The monk-priest fell on his back ¡ª the fuming Captain of Guards howled out in her guttural alto...


    "You damn bible thumper son of a bitch, what you are trying to pop-off here? You wanna end up in ''D-town'' with that ball-less Preacher girlfriend of yours?"


    Olsen turned to the adherent crowd gathered...


    "Oii! The freak show is over ¡ª everybody, come on, beat your feet now!"


    The pint-sized Peter stepped up ¡ª approached Olsen from behind with a futile petitioning...


    "Boss, please can we serve them the Holy Communion before they go?"


    Peter the avail altar-boy monk next fell down flat on his face, after a slug connected his cheekbone.


    "It is against prison hygiene guideline, you blanket-goof! No shit is to be fed outside the mess-hall ¡ª is that clear?"


    Olsen then saw a makeshift wooden stool with a container filled with broken bits of bread. The brutish captain lashed out her boot, the broken-bread at the makeshift altar spewed on the dirt ground.


    The disrupted Sunday Mass had ended for the congregation, everyone present booed at the Mighty-Whites, armed with rotangs that arrived Some inmates went away with no appease at heart but they were filled with more hatred from the ill-treatment that was rampant in the warden''s prison system.


    It even saddened them that the forsaken Preacher was nowhere at sight ¡ª to ignite the run-riot that should justly be happening now, in these times of injustice.

 Chapter 7

    REEVES WAS ALONE by the Hispanic fence ¡ª he saw the Sunday Mass commotion between the monks and the rotang-armed guards. He realized with all the focus of the guards over there ¡ª it would give him the fortuitous opportunity to explore his bugging curiosity of what was beyond the gangling prison high walls...


    The outer walls were ten feet higher than their staying cell-blocks'' window view ¡ª and Reeves wanted a glimpse at the outside purlieus ¡ª so that he would gambit his plan of escape someday soon. He had to do it now ¡ª because similar windows of opportunity were rare.


    He watched the rotang-guards mobilizing to stop the disorder caused by the ''troublemaking'' monks earlier, with the rest of the protesters of shouting White and Negro inmates in the yard...


    There was no point for Reeves to stay apprehensive any longer ¡ª the five years of causeless stalling and the Preacher''s empty promises had to stop now. It was also mainly that his self-doubts of his dreading of the arduous life that maybe waiting outside those walls as a lone hunted fugitive...


    But now, like the rebel that he once was in Wesleyan, he was willing to take some calculated risk to do whatever to explore into the out of bounds areas. He needed this gen before actually jumping over that high prison wall to escape and search for Laura Jensen ¡ª who was still alive out there; in a place, he had never set his foot before ¡ª called Washington D.C.


    Reeves removed his T-shirt and tied it on his head like a bandanna, similarly as to most Hispanic he saw over the fence. The opportunity of the distraction caused by the monks ¡ª left the unnoticed deft Intersexual to quarry the opportunity. He chose a blind-spot and climbed the fence ¡ª and jumped inside the compound of the rival Hispanics.


    He observed that Ramirez had gathered his small group of Lieutenants at their ''grandma''s'' ¡ª he was discussing with them about the commotion at the White turf. Most of the other Hispanics resumed back playing soccer.


    The thought of the Hispanics killing him if he was found out came bugging to Reeves the moment he had jumped the fence ¡ª clearly remembering, Capt. Olsen''s'' first day''s ''dirt-nap'' warning during the orientation of not jumping over any fences to stay alive from the rival gangbangers. His fear of facing his death before accomplishing his desperate dreams was also pricked him harder.


    But today Reeves was defying his death-wish ¡ª the rebel had dared himself to ploy a ''hemming up'' action since he left the Infirmary ¡ª having abscessed by chicken-pox did not mean he was chickenhearted...


    He blended in quickly, running loose in anonymity among the fast-paced shirtless players in the soccer pitch, he was now lax while moving undetected so deep in the ball pitch; given the fact that he was half-Mexican in his complexion...


    Reeves joined in as he played soccer for the first time in his life. He kicked an oncoming ball and passed it away ¡ª until he ran along, and reached the other end of the grass. He quickly drew nearer to F-Block that was the closest to the high prison walls.


    A guard who was seated perch on the nearby watchtower top had been enjoying the ball game a moment ago ¡ª but now, she was keeping an eye with her binoculars'' gamut ¡ª looking on at the dispersing defenceless crowd in the Whites'' turf ¡ª retreating from the incoming rotang goon-squad.


    Reeves went closer to the side of F-Block parameter where there was another blind spot from the tower guard''s peripherals. He started to scale the gradient side of F-Block building. Reeves cranked his neck towards every passim corner in full alert...


    He gauged that the high-powered facility''s outer wall was fifty-five feet high with the live electric fencing above it. He kept climbing the F-Block wall ¡ª and he spotted the Potter''s Field graveyard, with the horizon of the Chihuahuan Desert beyond. He kept scaling higher on the inner wall of the prison ¡ª with the watchtower at his rear...


    The unwary watchtower guard then stood up, to stretch her back, holding her rifle. Reeves was now alarmed in the quagmire situation. He slipped, and almost dropped down.


    He was now dangling on a window ledge and his slipping fingers were edging the surface to an over forty feet fall below. A ductile hand came out through the iron-barred window ¡ª and grabbed his wrist ¡ª Reeves saw a blond androgynous hauling him up...


    Marlin mumbled up-close...


    "Quick and be fast, the crow is gonna turn!"


    Reeves squeezed his pint-sized physique ¡ª between the iron bars window and he got inside ¡ª the unwary guard glanced behind her back to see nothing suspicious before she sat back again, continuing to watch the ball game.


    Inside Marlin''s cell, he glanced around to see, the cell was in a very minimal state than of his...


    "Phew! That was crazy-close, thanks man,"


    Reeves said to him, walking towards the crib. Marlin started rattling in his introduction before he held out his hand first to the chicken-pox scar-faced, dark-haired youth...


    "Are you ''live or are you Memorex''? What was the noise all about at the yard? Are you one of them Hispanics, funny, that''s coz you look more kinda White? By the way, I am Marlin Petroff."


    "That is just those crazy attention-seeking monks out there, just waiting to get their ass ''duffed-out,'' I just ignore them, if I were you ¡ª I am Reeves, (half Hispanic though) but I am with the Whites back in C-Block ¡ª it seems like those Texas Chicano-spics below, ostracize mixed blood in here in T.C. ¡ª but today..."


    Reeves stopped to laugh...


    "...but, just now, today ¡ª I got in here by running around the blind, and I passed through the traffic of those ball-playing Chuntaros ¡ª without them fucking beaners jumpin'' and ''walk the dog'' on me. That was really scandalous, yeah?"


    Reeves chuckled out ¡ª he was then curious, in seeing the pure blond Caucasian in isolation ¡ª segregated from his White-kind, in the different prison blocks.


    "How come you are out here ¡ª and not with us, Merlin?"


    Marlin kicked off his bobos, sat on the floor and Reeves did the same with his back on the opposite wall. He heard his response of demurral as the blond youth was seen shrugging his shoulders at first...


    "I don''t know, I suppose to be checked in as a P.C. case, I guess as a Protected Custody ¡ª and that is why I am separated from the rest of you all. I don''t get any privileges like you guys to gate-out in the yard. The guards only take me out from this cell every afternoon for a four-minute job ¡ª some days, those lazy bitches don''t even do that, and I hate left being funky, in this weather." Marlin smelt into his own armpit as a tongue-in-cheek gesture. Reeves asked again...


    "Who are the others in this block?"


    "Middle Easterners I think, they are on the tiers below. Never seen them, face-to yet ¡ª but I can only hear them below, speaking Arabic."


    Reeves was still astounded...


    "So you are the only guy on the top floor?"


    The blond Adonis nodded to him. Reeves was stupefied ¡ª because no one in the yard had ever mentioned before ¡ª that there were Arabs too in Tombscradle ¡ª and also a blond inmate on Protected Custody in F-block...


    ''What was his crime?''


    "I feel a great blessing today in my isolation years ¡ª that you Reeves ¡ª you are the first of my fellow-Intersexual breed ¡ª whom I have spoken to in 5 years since I am jailed here."


    Speechless, Reeves was even more astonished to hear that despondent fact ¡ª and also felt sorry for him.


    "That is a bummer, sorry about that, bro. But, you have a ''last'' name ¡ª Pe? Peck...?"


    "Petroff ¡ª it is actually Russian," the blond clarified his last name ¡ª and the eager Reeves further inquired...


    "So you were actually a free-male once upon a time ago, out there in the free world?"


    "Yes, sort of back then ¡ª were you also?"


    Marlin chuckled. Reeves shook his head slowly...


    "No man, I was raised all my life in an orphanage which was an Intersexual research centre in Delaware, Ohio ¡ª but now, I know my mother''s last name too ¡ª and she has been moved to somewhere in Washington DC. One day, when I get out of this shithole ¡ª and I am going over there to find her."


    Marlin''s eyes lighted up...


    "Hey wow, what a coincidental blessing again, cos I am from D.C. too ¡ª so Reeves, were you scaling the wall just now, to rabbit out from here?" Reeves laughed out...


    "No dude, no fence-parole yet, not today. I just check running the wall''s heat. Furthermore, I am not strong yet, I am still recovering from my chicken-pox. But someday soon, I gonna jump over that fucking wall ¡ª and be a free-male out there." Reeves was bonding well ¡ª and Marlin in return was laughing nervously back.


    "This is not my first rodeo, ya know, I had that one-time opportunity once back in Ohio to escape, but I blew it and missed the boat ¡ª and I am here now, in our Calaboose big-house in the middle of nowhere desert, in fucking Texas ''on vacation'' ¡ª for now, the story of my life is that it looks and feels like yours now, Merlin ¡ª locked up here alone ¡ª and so, I have been a prisoner all my life for the last 17 years of my fucking existence ¡ªbut, I never yet saw my own freedom since the day I was born..."


    Marlin sympathetically replied softly, "yeah, that sucks too."


    "I still regret the day I got caught." Reeves sighed out...


    "Yeah, me too."


    They both paused talking, recalling their own encounter and arrest by the authorities ¡ª before being thrown in Tombscradle.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Marlin''s bittersweet memories of growing up and spending most of his schooling years in D.C. under his guardian returned to him ¡ª but why was he forgotten since the day he was arrested? Had Dr Morris forsaken him for his disobedience ¡ª since the day she caught him with Suki?


    Marlin kept looking at the Oriental-motif tattoo on his left arm. He spoke again, after the pause...


    "Reeves, can you now tell me about that guy ¡ª that Preacher monk who was whipped in the yard recently, is he with you all?"


    Marlin had heard the chanting of inmates ¡ª calling out his name ¡ª on the day when he was stretchered out to the Infirmary after the flagellation on the soccer goal post.


    Reeves was not contented to answer Marlin ¡ª after the argument, he had with Troy and True Bob earlier because of his letdown with Doran ¡ª but yet, he filled in some need-to-know background to his newfound acquaintance ¡ª who was in isolation from the local information.


    "Yeah, that is Doran, and we are in the same block. He goes around preaching his cause about redemption for all ¡ª with a possible prison breakout. His so-called Jesus-followers have been told to stand up against the women here ¡ª and fight the prison system. No matter how hard they try to break him, he retaliates back ¡ª to cause more chaos for Warden Graves and Captain Olsen. That son of a bitch is one nuthouse hog, I guess a little bit of the extremist kind who is a masochist to physical pain ¡ª imagine that night, a week ago that I was admitted for the pox, it was the same night he castrated his balls.


    "But he sure as hell has built his own fan-club out there with those Tombcradle''s sheeple. You saw the chaos sermon a moment ago ¡ª that was by his second banana monk at the pop-yard? Spreading the Preacher''s firebrand teaching ¡ª while that dickhead is jailin'' redlock but those monks brothers of his are still going on preaching on his behalf."


    "So Reeves, do you believe that it may happen ¡ª this prison breakout?"


    "Hell no, it''s not happening ¡ª it is all just idle wolf talk that entertains those silly hopes out at the yard, but I am not going to wait for his empty promise of freedom to be served to me on some golden platter ¡ª if I get my own fucking chance, I will jump these fucking walls and go solo over to Washington."


    Reeves disappointed Marlin by speaking his mind ¡ª after his many long years of listening to the implausible promises made outside at the yard by Doran. But Marlin was pragmatic, he understood that this was the situation in prison ¡ª and like Reeves ¡ª every Intersexual was for himself alone. Marlin had to devise his own mastermind plan of escape ¡ª if he too wanted badly to jump over the wall himself.


    Marlin stood up, thwarted, blanked in dashed hopes ¡ª he looked outside of the barred window of the secluded F-block.


    The five years of isolation had lots of effects on him ¡ª especially, the burden of the hidden secret which he would have to take along to his own grave ¡ª if he failed in his own escape plan...


    But, it was no harm to share it with his visitor. But he didn''t know where to begin ¡ª Marlin''s speech rambled...


    "So your mother is there in D.C. Reeves, and similarly I am longing for my freedom too. I need to go to Washington to find someone ¡ª because she knows, where my own mother is hiding."


    "Hiding? What, is she in trouble?"


    "Yes, her problems are far grievous than mine ¡ª and I need to find her."


    Reeves noticed that Marlin was getting upset, as he spoke with a defeated tone of voice. ..


    "Truly, I am thrown here for the wrong damn reason ¡ª which is just my dumb ass luck ¡ª because I made some wrong fucking choices!"


    The maddening problem was that he did not listen to either of his ''mothers''¡ª he refused earlier to heed Sonia Petroff''s suggestion of fleeing the country when Cory became president; and also, if only he had taken Dr Morris'' advice and had obediently stayed away from trouble ¡ª which was all over a girl ¡ª that mall-fight would not have happened. He would not be in prison and would have had graduated from school by now ¡ª and his destiny in life would have had a different outcome...


    Marlin then spoke loudly and tears fell, his tortured body rocked in the grip of varied emotions...


    "I am afraid that I don''t think anyone out there knows that I am here ¡ª if someone did, they would surely come for me ¡ª damn, I was so stupid over that girl!"


    He recalled the fight in the mall before his arrest ¡ª a showdown with his lover''s cousin who got into his way; but, with its consequences ¡ª thrown into prison. He was also not sure if he was abandoned here as a punishment by Dr Morris because of it. At the same time too, he was also tired of blaming himself for his own past mistakes in those last five years. Many times he concluded that it was just fucking karma of his Buddhist faith that had destined him inside, in the isolated cell ¡ª but, the other down-beating thoughts and emotions always seeped in ¡ª and clouded his reconciliation thoughts sometimes, when he was alone.


    Reeves then placated him. "It is okay Merlin, whatever is bothering you, take a notchback and be easy on yourself, man. But its fine by me too ¡ª you don''t have to talk if you don''t feel like it..."


    "I have to, Reeves! It has been 5 fucking long years in this cell. I have to fight hard every single day to stay strong, and sometimes I am so afraid that I cannot trust myself anymore ¡ª and now, with you appearing in my cell out of nowhere, it is some sort of a blessed sign to meet my-kind ¡ª I feel that I need to share this something with my fellow species ¡ª about this dark secret, which I had kept hidden for so long...


    "But remember, Reeves ¡ª if what I say leaks out of this cell room, and if the women out there knew this ¡ª they would come in here and they will kill me ¡ª and lots of other people in Washington are going to die too...


    Marlin rambled back in effusiveness and was now totally disorientated. It confused Reeves even more as he felt the blond youth was suffering a mental breakdown like Joe once did. He had seen many other inmates in the past who had taken their lives in that similar situation...


    "But, I don''t know, Reeves, I might be just assuming the worst ¡ª I don''t know anything at all these days ¡ª all of these thoughts, after being caged in here for 5 years ¡ª that is a long fucking time being alone..."


    Marlin now took a deep breath of fresh air near the window, he felt released. He had calmed down and he wiped his tears ¡ª still looking away and at the same time, he felt embarrassed for his sudden cathartic outburst. But he compensated by saying...


    "Reeves, since I am also intending to head for Washington and we are now both on the same reason to go there ¡ª that is to find our mothers ¡ª I will use all my resources, to help you locate your mother once over there."


    Reeves did not know what to respond ¡ª other than to show his appreciation...


    "Thanks Merlin."


    The blond Intersexual now laughed...


    "It is Marlin ¡ª and Merlin is that magician guy." He then continued...


    "But I first have to find this person who can do us the same magic out there in Washington. Her name is Dr Jane Morris. If I can get to her ¡ª she will know what to do for both of us."


    "Jane Morris? Why is that name so familiar? Hey man, she was that scientist from Pan American Health, right?"


    The response stumped Marlin, and he then laughed out loud...


    "Yeah, you seem to know a bit!" Marlin sat fast on his bunk while Reeves chuckled back.


    Reeves was remembering the Marie Curie assignment that he refused to submit back at Wesleyan because he thought that it was senseless ¡ª after he deduced that all the great minds in the world were dead in finding any sort of cure for the ailing and dying world ¡ª where his own single-specie generation survived among the doomed.


    "Not exactly ''in-the-car,'' but thanks bro ¡ª I did pay little attention back then in school in my Science class with any slideshows and videos ¡ª even though the Science teacher was a real annoying ding-case who thought that some female scientist is gonna come up with a cure to the Medusa someday ¡ª can you believe how vain some of those women are out there, with their feminist superior bullshit?"


    Marlin was baffled for a moment, but he really wanted to know more of Reeves'' opinion ¡ª maybe there was someone who ''shot the breeze'' in the big-yard of any attainments by The 3 Kings during his isolation years in F-Block.


    "So Reeves, you think there is no cure at all for fighting the virus?"


    "Come on, man, it has been fucking 18 years ¡ª which is almost close to 2 dimes. I don''t know what the current shitty developments in the free-world by those hot-babe scientists cookin'' out a vaccine cure there ¡ª but, if there was any progress ¡ª some little bird would told have us, inside of these walls about it by now ¡ª that, there is such a Marie Curie-like vaccine that was made out there, right Marlin?


    "What a life we are led ourselves into, that we just dream on about thing like those here in this big-house of ours for all these years ¡ª for those, feel-good lies they preach, which give hope ¡ª cos right now, from what I see, this fucking world is just full of empty promises, and shit and all."


    Reeves was still pissed deep at the Preacher ¡ª and also with both of his buddies in C-Block, for being his positive-believers.


    Marlin too was stumped again with his visitor''s stance. But, he felt he should stay astute without being judgmental, even-though his mind was ''copping deuces'' ¡ª by turning into a pessimist like Reeves. Maybe all hopes for a cure were lost since the day he had been locked up alone. It was either Professor Boris Yankoff failed in creating it or was probably dead along with the rest of the male species on earth.


    Their Fucking-Karma...


    Two decades was a long time to count on any hope for a cure ¡ª just as long as the five lonely miserable years in his jail cell, hoping for Dr Morris to come over and take him away.


    "Anyway, how are you connected to this Dr Morris?"


    Reeves asked candidly. Marlin snapped out from his bearish thoughts, to speak out again...


    "She was in the President''s Board of Medical advisors during Rosewood''s days in office."


    Reeves was impressed that Marlin was politically connected before coming to Tombscradle. Marlin then corrected Reeves that Dr Morris was the one connected ¡ª and not him.


    Marlin thought briefly of Suki ¡ª the only politically connected person whom he knew ¡ª she was the niece to the Ambassador of Japan back then...


    The second episode after his own life story which was that he was just the son of an accused fugitive terrorist who was left hidden off the grid in the free-world by his guardian Dr Jane Morris who boarded him in a Japanese private school since; it was until he messed up with the wrong authoritative class ¡ª by falling in love with a girl with political connections...


    But, that was another story that he wished to disclose to Reeves on a different day.


    He could not resist the secretive life story that he himself was leading all his life ¡ª and had to reveal it. because Marlin also knew, that once Reeves left to return for his head-count in C-Block later ¡ª he was not sure when it would be the next time that he would get to speak to another Intersexual again...


    ''Another five years in the cage?''


    He looked sternly at the dark-haired proponent whom he had just met fifteen minutes ago. Marlin moved up and sat in front of Reeves on the floor ¡ª and he then revealed the skeleton in his closet.


    "Reeves, now I am going to let out the secret which I want you to guard it with your life ¡ª just in case if I die here tomorrow ¡ª I want you to still go there, and find Dr Morris in Washington."


    It confused Reeves a bit when he heard him, yet he played along...


    "Yeah sure, man ¡ª but can you be more specific?"


    Marlin did not know where to begin...


    "Since you seem to know a bit ¡ª does the name Prof Dr Boris Yankoff rings any bell?"


    "Yeah, he is that traitor terrorist who created the Medusa Virus that wiped out the male mankind ¡ª Okay I learned about him while in school ¡ª now, what about him?"


    Reeves replied bluntly, based on his post-Medusa textbook understanding, of his education at Wesleyan. He saw Marlin''s face lighted up in elation ¡ª and he started to ramble again...


    "My mother, Sonia Petrof works for him. Yes, Reeves, I said works ¡ª because the 3 Kings are still alive out there! Yes, believe me ¡ª when I said that Boris Yankoff with two other male scientists were still alive in New York ¡ª and the last time I saw him secretly, was five years ago in the summer of 2026 ¡ª that was 12 years after the Medusa outbreak!"


    Reeves was lost of words at first, he presumed that Marlin too had lost his mind too after many years in isolation ¡ª harbouring such a far-fetched fantasy ¡ª but, he sat passively again, and listened without demurring any objections nor arguing ¡ª it was like he once did, as a back-bencher student from Wesleyan, watching the video slides of the C.D.C. in his Science class on that subject.


    Reeves heard Marlin giving more details about the works done in clandestine of the efforts in finding the cure to battle the Medusa Virus by the three surviving scientists.


    That was maybe the reason why this blond youth was spending time in isolation in F-bock ¡ª segregated from the rest of the gen-pop as a witness protection case. But, Reeves now needed the resourceful Marlin as his newfound ''ace-deuce'' along on his side ¡ª once he set off to Washington D.C.


    If what this non-textbook information that he heard was true ¡ª then, Reeves too now believed there was hope in the world for the single-generation Intersexual specie like him out there in the free-world ¡ª rather than being a captive Research-Monkey-boy subject that he once was ¡ª and today, as a prisoner-semen-donor...

 Chapter 8

    A GROUP OF TWENTY, NEGRO Intersexual semen-donors walked out from the Auditorium in two single files. Two prison guards were to accompany them back to the staging area. Another group of Hispanic was also escorted over as the next batch of donors.


    The Chicanos saw the Blacks exiting the building and they started bad-mouthing and grudging amongst themselves in Spanish. Morales the Mexican joker, who was one of Ramirez''s spies ¡ª was among the Latinos, and he spat...


    "It is disgusting that we have to use the same fucking Fifi after those Sambos unload their filthy Nigger shit into it."


    Another Latino replied to him.


    "It ain''t right, vato! Ramirez should ask the Warden for different dolls ¡ª not the ones that have those fucking black apes sticking their filthy dicks in!"


    Both the Black inmates and the grossed out Hispanic now crossed path ¡ª they started hurling insults at each other ¡ª with the Joker initiating slurs at them...


    "Hey Blackies, why the fucks do they need jisms from you Jigaboos to produce niglets? They can always use road-tar mixed with some fucking monkey''s DNA, right!!?"If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "Shut up, Morales!"


    The female guard yelled from behind to end the buildup of the shouting contest of the rival gangs. One of the Blacks retorted with a comeback in support of his BGF frat...


    "Yeah ese Morales, I remember fucking your Mama so hard during my last visit to your barrio. She later served me some of your favourite home-cooked hot and spicy chilli concarne that flamed up my butthole like an RPG ¡ª and then I shat a dump inside your Mama''s big-fat-hairy-cunt ¡ª and that''s how you Mexican turds were born brown!"


    The joker riposted loudly...


    "Screw you all groids ¡ª your mothers were a bunch of un-evolved African monkey-kin when they first brought them to America ¡ª to fuck and populate the pigs and dogs here!"


    The four female hacks were losing control of the gangbangers'' flout behaviours ¡ª one of them threatened by pulling out her baton...


    "Stop! Now ''dip the spot'' back in line, before I crack all of your ugly mugs!"


    The shemale jockers ignored her intimidation ¡ª while another Black inmate countered the Joker...


    "Oh yeah, but why then, your sisters love our black long dicks poking deep into their juicy tacos? We Niggers fucked them really hard in your own house too ¡ª while your dickless ''Chuntaro'' dyke Pappy was too busy mowing the fucking lawn outside."


    The ''call-out'' led to the forty bigger sized Intersexuals rushing in at each other into a fistfight brawl. The four helpless women guards could not stop the ''throw-down'' fracas ¡ª despite a few warning shots they fired in the air, to request for the riot-squad backup.

 Chapter 9

    CAPT OLSEN WAS ABOUT TO ASCERTAINED some latest orders from Warden Graves, who was still on the phone in her office...


    The Warden''s job, these days, was reduced to keep an outstanding record ¡ª the governor had forced her and her staff backs to the wall into, with her unrealistic demands ¡ª so that Gertrude Harris could look exceptional as the model husbandry governor from Texas who succeeded in the Intersexual semen extraction schema ¡ª and also for the governor''s patriotic duty, to her country and what her Christian faith enunciated of her strong role in the New World Order ¡ª where to multiply the future generations of the female specie, was the top agenda and priority.


    "Yes, Governor Harris, (yes), I will get back to you in an hour, bye.''


    The Warden slammed the phone receiver down ¡ª she cried out in seethe and vented...


    "That meddling harridan bitch! Why can''t she leave me in peace to do my job in running this fucking prison ¡ª that cunt can only suffocate me with her never-ending instructions after instructions every fucking day on the damn phone, despite my pile of paperwork, that I have to submit on top of her damn erratic demands ¡ª and it is always I ¡ª who have to take every other shit that goes around here, in this fucking Tombscradle prison of hers!!?"


    "What did she say this time?" Olsen asked in an over-serious tone.


    In the past years, Warden Erica Graves'' hegemonic job was manageable when she was only looking after the Blacks and the Hispanic children-soldiers that were separated by a single fence ¡ª but, then five years ago...


    ...  the White orphans came when Governor Gertrude Harris included Tombscradle of Texas ¡ª that should be the ''model'' semen-collection prison of the country, in the program initiated by Washington.


    "The bitch keeps deterring with accusations that we are screwing things up over here, ever since that stunt pulled by that Preacher, by cutting his balls up ¡ª and now ¡ª fuck! We now got 6 convicts dead after that Niggers and Hispanic ''throw-down'' yesterday ¡ª and now, Harris keeps threatening me that Washington wants to monitoring everything that is going down in here, in Tombscradle!"


    Capt. Olsen shook her head...


    "It is just a bluff, Warden, why should Washington care of how we do things here in our Texas backyard? Furthermore, we are on schedule in the milking and we have met their deadlines every time."


    Graves sat down at her desk. "I don''t know what they are hustling back there, Olsen but that governor bitch has now mentioned that Washington dissuades prisoners to be confined in solitary ¡ª and they want the Preacher let out now."The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "What!!?"


    It shocked Olsen. The weary overworked captain dissected the current prison circumstances...


    "What do they know what we face here? That dog-monk is a living menace, creating unrest every time he is out ¡ª and that hole is the only way where he can be put in his place for my guards to check into his ''attitude adjustment'' level ¡ª or else ¡ª with his hog behaviour of his, he will be stirring up more shit around for the gen-pop, to get more illing among the races in the yard ¡ª and even my deuces are finding the fuckers hard to control these days, like with that throw-down yesterday with 6 dead..."


    The miserable warden remonstrated with her stress too...


    "That''s what I keep telling that bitch in my reports about him ¡ª but, she keeps turning things around, and she''s blaming us instead ¡ª it seems, Washington has given a mandatory instruction for her to get the bastard Preacher out of the hole soon!.


    "But why did she agreed to it!!? I don''t see any goddamn logic in that!"


    Olsen too was puzzled.


    "What is Washington''s interest with a fucking orphan monk from a shitty monastery out of nowhere? Why treat him as a VIP, for all he does here is juice up more trouble for everyone ¡ª that Governor Harris does not know for shit what she is doing in Huston!"


    Erica Graves pulled out a paper from a file and placed it in front of Olsen to peruse.


    "See, this is the fax I got from her today. Look, she is now creating her own systems on how I should run things here. She even wants me to mix the racial batches that go to the Auditorium ¡ª but, with these Hispanics and Niggers killing themselves openly ¡ª now, how the fuck do I mix them!!? If I put them with the Asians and White, the minorities will soon be ''hoe-checked'' ¡ª and soon be buried dead too, in the Potter''s Field.


    "The bitch''s decision is a discernible disaster!"


    "Damn, this is getting tough in here, Warden. I am understaffed and my guards are overworked," the hampered Olsen replied, and placing the faxback on the desk.


    Graves ignored the captain''s exempts ¡ª and she pointed back at the paper...


    "But look here at this bullshit here ¡ª the smart-cunt even wrote that Washington will be sending their people now over to regularly check on us here. So now Olsen, it leaves me no choice but to put the damn Preacher back with the GP in the yard."


    "What fucking choice do we have, Warden ¡ª when it is now in black and white..."


    The heeding Captain of the Guards passively groaned...


    "Okay Olsen ¡ª listen, this is what is going to happen now ¡ª I want to build a cage and you to put that bastard in that cage ¡ª he will have no contact with any other fucking shemales in the yard, okay?


    "Let all of his followers see him in that damn cage, and the humiliation of his failed divest leadership ¡ª and that will surely deter them from rebelling any further...


    "Remember Olsen, nobody gets near to him ¡ª nobody ¡ª not any of those blanket-freaks or any of the racial group! If you have to, you cap-peel their skulls or you cut off their tongues if they go over and speak to him ¡ª Olsen, I am dead serious!


    "The Preacher will not give a detrimental sermon for the rest of his ''bow,'' when he is still breathing in my prison ¡ª is that understood?"


    The Captain of Guard nodded to immediately implement her superior''s acumen measures, in avoiding any more future blood-spills among the Governor Harris'' semen donor inmates, in the prison.

 Chapter 10

    DORAN LIMPED, HOLDING HIS GROINS ¡ª he was led into the big-yard after more than a month''s absence, after his recent surgery and recuperation period. He was accompanied by the baton armed Capt. Olsen, and her dozen rotang guards, who were teemed down by the gusto crowd of rushing well-wishers.


    The majority of the amiable denizens were cheering while the Preacher waved back ¡ª it was the same aesthetic hero''s welcome that he felt within him after the flogging he received at the goalpost in the month before.


    Michael the priest-monk approached ¡ª and he was slapped by Capt. Olsen when he came nearer ¡ª it was the warden''s stern order that the blanket-monks should be kept clear away from their direct contact to their leader.


    From outside their fence in Block D, the disturbed Hispanics with Ramirez and his Lieutenants witnessed the occurrence ¡ª hearing everyone in the yard chanting out his name. Reeves was with True Bob and Troy at their corner, and they too gazed at the distend White crowd, now being diverted by swinging rotangs.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The guards had diverged the man of the cloth to a discreet location in the yard...


    At the far corner of the yard, beside the public urinal area was a three-foot by the three-foot metal cage with iron bars and a tin roof. It was specially prefabricated a day earlier for Doran ¡ª it was the warden''s de rigueur punishment to shame the rebel leader in front of the gen-pop public''s eye who used the urinal.


    Olsen affronted by waving her baton sternly at her own guard''s face and she barked...


    "Gina, you take the first 4-hour watch in the gashouse ¡ª and followed by Krista ¡ª Remember ¡ª nobody comes near the Preacher''s cage! If any freak turns up, you use your stick and knock their teeth off, is that clear?"

 Chapter 11

    THE HOT SUMMER SUN BLAZED infernally in its second week. He was perspiring all over while he was deep in his mental prayers, rolling the rosary beads. Warden Graves was alone, glancing out of the window across the prison yard from Dr Bose''s air-conditioned office...


    It gave her the satisfaction to see her effete annoyance in the robe, sitting alone ¡ª under the hot tin roof cage ¡ª that she had built to disgrace him and his followers. She clearly remembered giving her final mocking instruction to Capt. Olsen, yesterday afternoon at her office in the top-level IMU...


    "Go and spring him out of the hole ¡ª he must be thirsting for the sunlight."


    The genteel East Indian doctor stepped into her office and she caught the warden grinning out at the window.


    "Warden Graves, the medical-report fax from the Governor''s medical team in Huston just came in with positive approbation ¡ª and it says that the Preacher''s impaired castration ploy, did not severe any arteries, which means ¡ª once he heals ¡ª he can function as of normal in the future semen extraction."Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Erica Graves was speechless and was abstruse for a dismal moment ¡ª before she started to think out loud...


    "That is not good news at all ¡ª it will create opportunities for him to try to cut off his balls again, and start messing with the order around here once again."


    Dr Sharmini Bose answered back...


    "That is up for your guards to monitor ¡ª but I am instructed to run further medical checkups, and, I will let you know when he is ready for milking."


    The disgruntled Graves countered back like a tantrum child...


    "I don''t want that motherfucker near the Auditorium ¡ª I want him taken out from the milking list!"


    The doctor reacted with impelling...


    "Should I put that in my shot to the Governor?"


    "No goddammit! I just don''t know what to do with that freak. He is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode ¡ª and he is a living threat to us all."


    The fuming Erica Graves heaved an animus sigh, leaving the doctor''s office...


    Now with Governor Harris had created her own procedures for efficiency ¡ª the warden would have a bout of migraine in finding a way to fit the impediment Preacher into a milking batch, where the monk had the least influence on ¡ª most importantly ¡ª was to foil from resulting of him getting killed like the recent ''throw-down'' brawl...


    It might in return impetus a major riot in Tombscradle.

 Chapter 12

    HE WAS DEHYDRATED FROM DEPRIVATION of drinking water by the guards. Doran sat on the sand and used the wooden crate as a backrest, and he dozed off in the tormenting heatwave. His eyes were shut, his hand trembled ¡ª and the homemade, pebbled-strung rosary fell to his side on the sand...


    His fevered mind travelled back to the dark side of the sun ¡ª back into his solace, darken comfort zone of the menthol bulb lighted, padded cell-room in the solitary. He lay there wrapped in his straitjacket, just as before two voices ¡ª one younger and the other older ¡ª echoed out his name...


    Doran compelled his eyes to open slowly...


    He saw two blurry images presences in the cell room. He saw himself epitomized in the two splitting figures ¡ª on his left, was himself as the twelve-year-old bald monk in a blood-spattered robe, holding a smoking thurible ¡ª and on his right, was the seven-year-old child in torn clothes, covered with coal soot from his mother''s basement.


    The twelve-year-old boy spoke out...


    "Wake up Doran ¡ª it is time to complete God''s mission! You have to lead the people out of this cast-off dungeon ¡ª and crush the oppressors in God''s name if they try to stop you!"


    "Please don''t ¡ª if you do it, you will get everyone killed!"


    The smaller boy voiced out to him. The older monk-boy was chafed at the youngster...


    "Shut up you weakling! Our Lord and God is with you, Doran ¡ª in spirit, body and mind! Trust the Lord and stand up for Him ¡ª for the time is now!"


    The child pleaded again...


    "No please, no ¡ª Doran, don''t believe that ¡ª that is the Devil''s will to lust for blood spill ¡ª God brings love and not war, Doran!"


    "Shut up! Don''t interfere in God''s plan, you miserable wuss!"


    The monk swung the chained flaming thurible and the undersized boy backed away...


    Doran then witnessed the presence of a third spectre ¡ª pulling the tiny boy to the ground and pulverizing the scrawny figure with foot stomps ¡ª Doran makes out the image of his gorgon burnt mother ¡ª beating the seven-year-old with a cane until the skin of the boy''s back tore ¡ª the mother screeched...


    "You cursed abomination! Spawn of Satan! How dare you defy the Will of God ¡ª leave this body, you unclean spirit!"


    The twelve-year-old faced back to the older Doran who was wavering in dreaded trembles, with his eyes shut in tears ¡ª trying to reel back into the reality of a cage with a tin roof in the scorching desert heat. The monk-boy''s loud voice then halted his fleeting mind that was about to double-back...


    "Wake up Doran ¡ª don''t sleep with the dead ¡ª the time is now to be the leader because you are an indestructible eternal weapon of God!


    "Did you not make a promise to Sister Lisa Marie that you will lead millions to God?"


    The mention of the nun''s name made the older Doran cry even harder. He opened his eyes to see her beside him ¡ª the apoplexy woman was now whole ¡ª not as the gunshot defaced appearance, that he used to dread to recall.


    The innocent old nun touched his cheek with rolling tears...


    "Doran, my special boy ¡ª you will be the Pope someday."


    "Sister Lisa, you are alive! Did you come to take me to God? Please take me with you ¡ª I only want to be with you!"


    He whispered ¡ª while he then felt something cling to his left ankle ¡ª he peered below to see the bleeding seven-year-old of himself who had grovelled over ¡ª and the child was pleading in hurt...


    "Wake up Doran! Sister Lisa is dead ¡ª and she does not want you to kill anyone either. She wants you to spread the love of God ¡ª not spill the blood of the lamb for more human sufferings."


    "Shut up, don''t let me come there and kill you!"


    The exasperating blood-thirsting twelve-year-old monk hollered back ¡ª but the persuading small boy kept defying...


    "If it is truly the Work of God, then you must speak in tongues ¡ª it is God''s voice ¡ª you can do it, Doran!"


    The older Intersexual youth shook his head...


    "I can''t ¡ª I can''t!"


    Even the monk-boy from the monastery heartened the encouragement...


    "You must Doran ¡ª proof yourself ¡ª you must speak it!"


    The oldest of the Doran in the straitjacket began to pound his head on the padded wall ¡ª screaming in tears...


    "Arrrrr!!! Get out of my head ¡ª all of you!"


    "Speak in tongues Doran ¡ª speak in God''s language!" the youngest called out ¡ª while his mother too appended...


    "Speak, you abomination ¡ª speak it!"


    "Speak now, Doran, and proof to the unbelievers that you truly are the chosen Preacher!" disclosed the twelve-year-old monk-boy again.


    "Do it for The Church of God, Doran," the old nun of the Convent implied.


    Doran yelled back in total abnegation...


    "I can''t, please go away you all ¡ª Arrrr!!!"


    The four apparitions stood in a row...


    The twelve-year-old monk-boy, the seven-year-old child, his disfigured mother, and the Convent nun ¡ª they initiated to speak and sing in-tongues together...


    Their singing heads detached from their bodies ¡ª and drifted around the screaming Doran ¡ª while they praised in the language of angels ¡ª before the floating heads burst into balls of anointed flames ¡ª and zipped into his bellowing mouth...


    Doran now began to utter the heavenly glossolalia language by himself ¡ª until his own face soon ruptured ¡ª into an ¨¦clat flaring blaze of enlightenment fire like the sun.


    **


    The ball of blazing hot summer sun above Tombscradle was penetrating humid heat onto the metal roof of Doran''s cage. The guards were instructed by Capt. Olsen to feed him less water as a punishment ¡ª but the guards have gone drastic, to the extreme in their ''dry-cell'' maltreatment ¡ª by denying him a drink for the past six hours in the scorching weather condition...


    He was hyperventilating, snapping in and out from his paranoid delusions ¡ª almost suffered from a heat stroke. Doran looked at his hands which were still trembling ¡ª he picked up the Rosary from the sand to kiss it with his chapped lips.


    The open-aired urinal shed nearby was twenty feet away from Doran''s cage ¡ª it also had a tin roof ¡ª Guard Gina was on duty in the shade, assigned to prevent any Intersexuals from approaching the Preacher.


    The bored gazer was checking on a White Intersexual boy beside her, who was peeing in the urinal. Gina then grumbled to another guard in the watchtower ¡ª bitching about her boredom through her walkie-talkie radio...The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "It is freakin'' bitch-hot and it is killing me in here ¡ª and what am I doing here in the gashouse all day? Fuck! Am getting paid here for just watching some ugly uncircumcised dicks peeing?"


    The parched prison guard glanced into her hand, holding up an empty water bottle ¡ª she continued to radio...


    "Damn it Preslie, I am so wanting an ice-cold lemonade Monster soda ¡ª yes fuck, it may taste like some fizzy she-boys'' pee, but with this shitty heatwave ¡ª that what I fucking want...


    "Hey champ, keep an eye on the base for me ¡ª will ya? Be right back."


    Guard Gina missed her once habituate duty inside the building ¡ª it had gone well until things went afoul when the martinet Capt. Olsen caught her recently shirking on her duties ¡ª in siesta, during a surprise inspection ¡ª Olsen next threw the fain¨¦ant guard to perform outdoor duties in the blazing summer sun...


    She waved to the guard in the watchtower ¡ª who Okayed-back. Gina walked away passing the cage ¡ª ignoring Doran''s similar need for a drink of water.


    The White Guard in the watchtower was Preslie Baker, in her mid-forties ¡ª she was sitting and peering through a binocular at the yard ¡ª she eagle-eyed Gina walking away from her gashouse post, making her way towards a side entrance of C-block ¡ª Preslie went on back reading an eighteen-year-old tattered sports magazine...


    ''London Olympics in 2012.''


    It had Preslie Baker''s younger face on one of the pages of the magazine ¡ª when she was an Olympian champion before the Medusa Virus outbreak. Her iPod was hooked to the small speakers ¡ª where the archaic recording of a male commentator hyperbole of her achievements during the past pre-Medusa world''s sporting event ¡ª with the crowd cheering in the Royal Artillery Barracks, back in 2012.


    On the wall of the watchtower was her personal shrine with some photos of her on the podium receiving the gold medal ¡ª for the Olympic women trap shooting competition in London, which happened eighteen years ago.


    The well-polished shining champion gold medal hung nearby her photos ¡ª and her winner double-barrel Beretta DT10 shotgun...


    It was packed on the rifle rack, of the Tombcradle''s best sharpshooting sniper.


    *


    Reeves observed Guard Gina walking away, entering a side door of the prison block building. He walked away from Troy and True Bob at the bleacher and headed towards the urinal...


    He unzipped and was peeing ¡ª while he peered at Doran nearby, who was lying still on the sand in the small cage, in the arid heat. Reeves knew the dehydration was killing him ¡ª he then approached the Preacher''s confine with his small plastic drink bottle...


    "Come, Doran ¡ª drink this."


    Doran finished the entire content ¡ª he painfully adjusted himself to sit up straight, with his hand holding on his loin ¡ª listening to the dark-haired youth ¡ª the first intersexual who got this close to him, since he was caged...


    "Are you alright, dude? How are you healing?"


    The Preacher nodded with a weak smile, the concerned Reeves added ¡ª while recalling his first-hand incident that night, in the Infirmary during his pox quarantine ¡ª when Doran attempted his castration...


    "Why in the world did you do it, man? Why do you keep hurting yourself? Have you given up your hope to live?"


    "No brother, my will to live is stronger each day ¡ª and now, I have the utmost inner peace and clarity ¡ª the voices have spoken to me."


    Now, this was the neurotic part that led Reeves to disbelieve Doran in the past ¡ª when Doran spoke of being in touch with heavenly voices that were invisible to him ¡ª it got Reeves cynical since...


    "Now did that God of yours tell you to cut yourself up, Doran? Hey dumb-ass, stop acting-up this illing shit to yourself ¡ª your abandoned monk-brothers are depending on you in here, with Olsen roughening them up ¡ª the very fucking least, stay alive for their sake, dammit ¡ª you are all they got."


    Doran closed his eyes and chuckled softly...


    "Yes, I am alive for them, Brother ¡ª and also to fulfil God''s mission ¡ª as my body is His vessel. Each moment, my mind and thoughts are consistently walking with Him in His garden ¡ª and we even dine together at His table. It is such breathtaking enlightenment, Brother Reeves ¡ª the rewards of being in His presences for His supper."


    Reeves was getting more annoyed with the illusory talks of his death...


    "Wake the fuck-up ¡ª you always have given hope to many inmates in here with your sermons ¡ª and the next thing you do is self-sabotage yourself by ending up in the hole again. Listen to me good, Doran, they may cheer out for you today in the yard ¡ª but sooner or later, your followers will scorn you for desolating them with empty promises of freedom, which you have given them since we got here in T.C."


    Doran responded with more emblematic words...


    "True freedom has no bounds in the free mind ¡ª and everyone should go there to make peace with himself first."


    Instead of being riled and walking away from his ambiguous preaching ¡ª Reeves stood and queried him more...


    "Now get your head outta your ass, the kind of freedom your followers want here is to walk out from these prison walls ¡ª and not them having chow with Jesus once they are fucking dead ¡ª so, are you still keeping that promise that are you gonna lead them out here ¡ª or ¡ª are you going to ding-out like you are doing now in your Warden''s cage ¡ª and put an end to everyone''s hope in you here?"


    Ever since Reeves ''ear-hustled'' the nurses'' conversation that his mother was in Washington, his aspiration to escape had swelled ¡ª and he was more motivated. He was having much more self-belief than he once did while he was at Wesleyan University...


    He was more determined to escape this time.


    His eyes were still closed by the sun''s glare and the Preacher just smiled ¡ª he gesticulated to the mentioned gravity by Reeves, as he replied with a composed exemplary...


    "The ending is just the beginning, and once you know the outcome ¡ª the rest will follow. Yes my Brother Reeves, we will then walk out of these walls here with God."


    Reeves glanced at him like he was a deluded fool ¡ª voicing out heatedly at him...


    "Walk where to ¡ª to our graves, is it? (Hah, yeah, to the Potter''s Field over the wall), So it is status quo then for everyone for now as we go ''Code 21'' in here in the hot desert ¡ª and hope someday, we dry out of semen to populate any more bitches during our ''old head'' golden-age ¡ª before those women then deem us useless, and they put us out of our miseries like broken animals, and bury us there in those unmarked graves ¡ª ain''t that right, Preacher-Man?"


    Finally, Doran opened his eyes and sensed Reeves in signified hostility...


    "Do you still wish to walk out of here, Reeves?"


    "Hah, of course! That''s what every inmate in here wants, (you ass-hole)."


    "We shall walk out of here then."


    "When? That is what everyone is talking about here now, Doran ¡ª when?"


    "Soon Brother, just be patient."


    He closed his eyes again ¡ª Reeves kicked the iron bar cage...


    "Hah! There you go again with your bullshit promises ¡ª and the next thing you do, is disappearing again on everyone into that isolation hole of yours for another month or so ¡ª it seems to be a repeated routine of your life ¡ª you seem to like being there, don''t you Doran?"


    Reeves was still chafed ¡ª and he continued to rant his hubris somaesthesia...


    "But I have got my own means to follow ¡ª and I am getting out of here soon, Doran ¡ª I am gonna rabbit that fucking wall, and soon I will be long gone from here ¡ª while you sit alone in that hole and grow a new pair of balls!"


    Doran grinned back at him...


    "I bless and will pray earnestly for your wishes to come true, my Brother Reeves ¡ª but I have to warn you that, you should not die in your attempt out there in the open desert ¡ª and then, you will surely end up in limbo, because your mind right now is not in peace with your body.


    "So if you ever were to die today in the wilderness ¡ª remember, your soul will still be roaming in these entrapped four walls of Tombscradle for the rest of eternity."


    Now Reeves sunk into the Preacher''s gravamen, despite his speaking in some-heavenly riddles ¡ª but he was making sense to Reeves own self-denials ¡ª the wilderness and limbo from the Preacher''s reference was the pragmatic situation that the penitentiary was smacked in a desert in Texas ¡ª and the many consequences Reeves would face once he jumped the wall...


    Other than following the tarmac desert road and getting caught before dawn, it would be next to impossible to find a safe direction to civilization by foot ¡ª and let alone that it was either surviving the baking heat of the desert crossing or get shot in a chopper manhunt when ambushed.


    Other than being encumbered of the various outcomes, Reeves'' own tracking and survival life-skills were nugatory ¡ª he too was a product of a lifetime of being institutionalized as a protected orphan living in sheltered abode all his life in the herd ¡ª living by following a set of rules as his mere existence as a research subject in Wesleyan.


    Escaping from Tombscradle was no longer an option for him at the moment ¡ª having those freedom desires alone was simply useless now with the stacked-up odds...


    He would never be alive to see Laura Jensen once he was out there.


    Reeves now felt very angry with himself ¡ª but, he took it out on the impassive Doran ¡ª by getting hostile by the monk''s homily wisdom...


    "You ''lop'' loser, an eternity in limbo, my ass! Did the fucking ''5150'' voices in your bug-mind tell you that shit too?"


    "Yes, Brother Reeves, and many other things too. The heavenly voices even taught me how to sing praises."


    The scar-faced Doran sang in-tongues ¡ª the heavenly gift that he recently acquired, while he was healing in solitary. Reeves looked baffled, at the inscrutable gibberish which the Preacher was uttering in a melodic tune. He backed away slowly at the same time, from the peculiarity that he was witnessing...


    Guard Gina came over with a bottle of soda, seeing Reeves near the cage ¡ª she yelled out...


    "Hey you, dog-fucker ¡ª you get away from him, you bitch!"


    Every Intersexual who was nearby heard her screeched out ¡ª they stared over at the dilapidated looking Doran who was now speaking aloud in tongues ¡ª and seeing the guard slammed her baton at the iron bar cage to shut him up.


    Reeves paced away towards Troy and True Bob who were taking shelter from the sweltering temperature. Troy spoke up...


    "What is he saying? What is wrong with the Preacher?"


    The frustrated Reeves responded with chafe...


    "Fuck him ¡ª he is not making any sense any more. He has lost both his nuts and his marbles."


    True Bob looked up at the baking sun...


    "It is probably the heat."

 Chapter 13

    AT A GUN RANGE GALLERY, Agent Wolfe was shooting targets, and most of the shots were hitting around the bull''s-eye. Her memories fleeted to the time when she was nineteen as a Marine ¡ª fighting insurgent in Afghanistan during the pre-Medusa days...


    The similar memories of the past resurfaced again later when she was alone in her hotel room ¡ª Agatha Wolfe bore the suffering of her arcane despondent ¡ª she drowned herself in more alcohol and snorted blows of cocaine.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Her pistol was on the table.


    The Afghan war amplified inside her head of the cries of the dying which grew louder ¡ª they were pleading for their lives ¡ª before she fired bullets at point-blank into their faces...


    She picked up her gun and removed the safety ¡ª before putting the pistol barrel under her chin, and took one last breath.


    A loud clap of thunder in the firmament outside her window erupted.

 Chapter 14

    HEAVY THUNDERSTORM TEEMED in the big-yard that afternoon, which had darkened the hour as nighttime. Most Intersexuals took shelter anywhere with a roof to stay dry. But, Joe was with the incorrigible Kiki-boy and Hank, who were all getting wet ¡ª joking with puerile pranks, among the gang of the frivolity White Wesleyan boys, after the weeks of a heatwave.


    Across the fence, the Hispanics were having a good time too, playing soccer in the muddy pitch, while their supporters cheered from the scarcely covered haven in the rain.


    The tower-guard Preslie Baker stood up from her chair and dropped down her book on ornithology studies. She festooned her gold medal ribbon onto her neck ¡ª she picked up her personal Olympic rifle at the watchtower ¡ª aiming the double-barreled Beretta DT10 over...


    Starlings and pigeons were sitting on power-lines that ran along the yard, she aimed the rifle at the perched sodden bird, and waited the seconds ¡ª and each time there was a clap of deafening thunder, she shot as many birds on the go ¡ª cleverly fooling the birds ¡ª which couldn''t distinguish the sound of a gunshot from the thunder...


    Dead feathered marred carcasses fell on the muddy yard below ¡ª Marlin observed the tower-guard from his cell window in F-Block. The blond boy sensed accuracy in her targets ¡ª but yet the Buddhist found her stupid-human-trick to be grisly.


    Alone in the flooding cage, the desert rain was beating hard on the tin roof, Doran was shivering wet in the drenched blanket-robe, sitting on a crate. His eyes were closed while he rolled his holy-beads in supplication with his trembling hand ¡ª the strong, wet, sopping arid region wind was hitting inside through the metal bars.


    Marlin then saw two female guards wearing ponchos coming to the cage ¡ª Doran was released, and his hands were gaffled behind his back. Reeves who kept himself dry under a makeshift shed, too spotted the manacled Doran being escorted in the rain, into the main building.


    *


    Wet footprints stamped along the corridor floor. The dank hermit was led to the Visitation Room ¡ª it was his first time there ¡ª he was dumped on a chair facing see-through plexiglass with holes. On the other end was a haggard-looking Agent Wolfe sitting imperious...


    She was nodding slowly at him, with a thin smile ¡ª as a sign of homage...


    "Hi there Fighter ¡ª long times, no see ¡ª do you remember me?"


    She asked while signalling the two guards there, to leave the antechamber.


    Of course, the monk did evoke the malefactor who was present ¡ª dredging up his unforgotten vista when he was only twelve of age, of Wolfe''s shooting Sister Lisa Marie''s face at point-blank in front of his eyes. The two shots hollowed the nun''s face...


    To this very day, he cannot comprehend why Wolfe had mutilated her in the execution ¡ª defacing her as his own mother had disfigured him.


    The antipathy and the desire in seeking revenge against the Secret Service agent were still there hidden in him, because he still daily prayed earnestly for avenging the departed souls of every nun who died to protect the monks in the Convent attack five years ago in Cleveland, Ohio.


    The two rivals were now there, face to face alone in the visitor''s room ¡ª but, Doran remained centred and calm, and he showed no sign of retaliation. He then scrutinized Agatha Wolfe putting a cigarette to her lips ¡ª bitching out internal monologues like he was not there...


    Maybe it was that she wanted the monk to listen to what she was saying ¡ª which all started with a note of profanation...


    "So, it has been 5 years since my last fucking confession, padre."


    The Secret Service agent laughed...


    "I was a fucking Catholic once before, you know ¡ª before and I quit it because the Middle East desert fairytales became insignificant in my real world, happened when I was still in the Marines ¡ª so I had no choice but in needed a substitute, and I picked up smoking instead ¡ª it is way much healthier option," the iconoclast lit up her smoke and blew at him.


    "So then, it has been 5 long years since I last put you in here, kid ¡ª and now, look at you, all grown up ¡ª and I even heard you have got an illustrious status over here, am I right Son?


    "Read the paperwork that they all call you the Desert Preacher now, isn''t that so? I should confess that I will always remember you, for icing those elite soldiers that day at your Convent ¡ª Kung Pow! What an incredible feat for a 12-year-old scrawny Bruce Lee kid with no military training doin'' it. In fact, I was the one who wrote the fucking report for those 5 dead stupid-cunts you killed back there, to be precise...Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "Yes Fighter, it is true when they say that, if you push the right button ¡ª some people could do great and incredible things...


    "...and indeed, you are one of those special ones..."


    Doran envisioned Sister Lisa Marie presence standing behind him ¡ª she placed a hand on his shoulder saying...


    "Doran, you are a special boy."


    The wet and dripping Doran shut his eyes with regrets, still thinking of her pestilent death ¡ª and at the same moment, he kept listening to Wolfe continuous monologue ¡ª while still figuring out the puzzling question of the whys...


    ''Why shoot an innocent old nun in the face to disfigure her?''


    Her face was purely horrid after the shooting, just like his immolated mother''s ¡ª burnt to her death in the basement many years ago, whom he too saw through the crack of the door when he was seven ¡ª he was with her rotting corpse for three days, where her ghost spoke to him for the first time ¡ª before, he was rescued from the locked cellar...


    Doran''s cuffed fists behind were clenched tight with hatred tugs ¡ª but, he still refrained from retaliating back ¡ª instead, he paid attention to the Washington woman''s intention ¡ª breathing shallow to calm himself...


    ''But why did she return back many years later ¡ª to brag and torment him ¡ª ever since, their last bloody encounter?''


    "Yes, Preacher-boy ¡ª truly, I am actually here to say my confession, that ¡ª I really had the best fucking adrenaline rush 5 years ago, when we both had that ''connecting'' moment at the Convent. See here kid, you even gave me a ''little'' battle scar to commemorate that day."


    Wolfe was caressing her scarred eyebrow that Doran hollowed by a blow with a wooden crucifix from the nun''s deathbed. The Head of the Secret Service then further prattled her mind out...


    "Yeah, I had been enlisted in the Marines back in my Afghan tour days and I was at the top of my game until that fucking Medusa Virus came and wiped off all the excitement in my life. Since then, there have been no major wars anywhere in the damn world for two damn decades ¡ª no more kicks and thrills any more here ¡ª and boy, what an unfortunate fucking waste of joy!


    "Shit! I am really at the lowest nadir of my life right now, my dear boy ¡ª coz I will be turning 38 soon! I always believed that 38 is something special ¡ª but my life isn''t special anymore ¡ª and the other day, I fucking came close to the point of putting a gun to myself ¡ª and I almost pulled the fucking trigger. (I am feeling so damn empty) ¡ª getting old and empty is not fun, boy ¡ª no, it is not..."


    Wolfe smiled sheepishly at her past in sadness and ended profession...


    "You will know that too someday when you are 38 yourself, Son ¡ª this is just a thought of the day for you, here ¡ª but, neither am I gonna let you live that long..."


    Wolfe now chuckled, while she next snorted coke on a needle-like spoon from a tiny vial ¡ª the blow made her grunt. Her bright heliocentric eyes now shone...


    "Hey, kid, I hear you got a mutiny going down here in Tombscradle ¡ª and you got the Warden and the Governor pissing in their skirts, with all of your great prison breakout threats...


    "So, Fighter, when that shit is happening coz every one of us in Washington is also anticipating it? We want the best front seats to that extravaganza event that is about to happen soon!"


    The banshee-like laughter by the mocking woman then followed...


    "The moment you do that, I will be waiting for you out there, Fighter ¡ª so that I can have another showdown with you, just like our good ol'' times ¡ª that will be my well-deserving 38th birthday gift, when I will happily put away your miserable shemale existence out for good ¡ª now, give me that pleasure, Jesus-boy...


    "Come, make me ¡ª high and mighty special ¡ª just like you..."


    Agent Wolfe took out her .38 Magnum...


    "Yes Fighter, I know how to push your buttons ¡ª since I wasted that fucking nun whom you loved before, with this very same pistol ¡ª and I can do it again because..."


    She pointed the gun at Doran seated behind the glass...


    "...I am the Head of Secret Service ¡ª and I am given the power of authority to decide on matters of national security threat ¡ª against the President, to her people and to her country.


    "To put it short, Preacher-boy ¡ª think of me as the same level of that God, that you pray and mumble to ¡ª coz I too can decide who lives, and who dies!"


    Wolfe pulled the trigger, and the .38 Special clicked ¡ª it was not loaded.


    Wolfe snickered aloud...


    "Nah, that will be too easy ¡ª you and I ¡ª we should have that show-down-do again ¡ª so Son, it is high time now for you to preach less ¡ª and to be more like the fighter whom I once knew...


    "Now listen to me very carefully, Doran ¡ª you have exactly 3 days ¡ª to start this Herculean revolution that you have been promising to all your girlie-dick followers for those many years ¡ª so, if I don''t hear or see any shit-progress, I will pay you a return visit again...


    "... and boy, I will really push your buttons even harder the next time ¡ª by lining up all those Jesus-monks brothers of yours in the yard ¡ª and I make you see them, all down on their knees ¡ª and in front of your eyes, I will execute them one-by-one ¡ª with this very same fucking gun, that I had killed your old-bitch nun with before!"


    The handcuffed Doran growled like a raged animal ¡ª he then lunged forward and was continuously ramming his forehead hard at the plexiglass in front ¡ª while Agent Wolfe hooted in amusement at the other end...


    The two female guards then rushed into the Visitation Room and dragged the screaming Doran away, with Wolfe, who was laughing hysterically at him...


    "We will meet again soon, Fighter ¡ª pray hard to your Invisible-man, for your quick death, when we fucking meet again!"

 Chapter 15

    KIKI-BOY AND HANK AMBLED in the crowded prison yard, they were looking around at the hundreds of White Intersexuals everywhere, Kiki-boy then spoke...


    "Where the heck is that fat J-Cat? I wanna get wasted on his ''KOP'' when I drink my hooch later. Hey, there is Troy over there, let''s ask him."


    They both walk up to the bleacher where Troy Norton and True Bob were arm-wrestling.


    Reeves watched the meddlesome duo coming over to his corner.


    "Hey, guys, sorry to bother the ''party-line,'' ¡ª has anyone of you here seen Big Joe anywhere?"


    Reeves knew where Joe took his habitu¨¦ naps after his ''short-line'' at the cafeteria ¡ª but he kept quiet and ignored their presence.


    "No," was Troy''s gritting response before True Bob overwhelmed him by finally slamming his wrist down hard. The debacle Troy yelped out in pain. "You fucking Indian ¡ª you nearly took my arm apart!" The half Cherokee laughed in victory...


    "That is 5 bucks you now owe me."


    He then made a mental calculation and added...


    "...hmm, 130 bucks, Troy ¡ª you fuckin'' owe me that in total!"


    "How is he gonna pay you back, Chief?"


    Kiki debunked and the half-Cherokee riposted in high spirits...


    "He owes me alright and someday, when we get outta here ¡ª Troy here is gonna pay me every dime."


    True Bob looked at the bigger Hank and then challenged him...


    "Hey, you wanna arm-wrestle? Come on, Big Guy, take me on!"


    "No thanks yo, I don''t do ass-betting," Hank declined, but Kiki-boy had a better idea...


    "Let''s play for real bets ¡ª what have you got, Chief?"


    Hank ''jammed up'' and appended back with his needs eagerly...


    "Hey True Bob, I see you are good ink-slinger and you have inked some guys here, and I''m a big fan of your artwork. So if I beat you now, you give me a full-sleeved tattoo on both my arms ¡ª buzz me tats with the word ''Wesleyan'' there and the other, with ''Tombscradle'' over here," pointing at both of his clean arms.


    "Why ya want a shitty prison word like that, inked on you for the rest of your life ¡ª isn''t that like a shitty curse, man?" Troy expressed.


    Hank did not believe in the perception of curses, he beleaguered back at True Bob.


    "Fuck that, I really want it ¡ª so how about it Bobby Two Balls, do we get a deal here?"


    True Bob thought a while before he implied back. "That''s a lot of work ¡ª but anyway, what if I beat you, bitch? What have you got to offer me back?"


    Kiki looked over his shoulder and placed his hand inside his orange jacket ¡ª and pulled out a newspaper...


    "A rare item like this." He divulged it, laughing...


    "A newspaper? Where did you get that?" Troy probed ¡ª and Kiki responded back...


    "We found it. One of the hacks might have dropped it, check the date, man ¡ª it is today''s!"


    True Bob acknowledged sternly...


    "You fools! It is against prison regulation that we possess any writing or reading materials in here. If Capt. Olsen finds out, you will end up in the hole! I don''t want that shit...


    "The deal is off!"


    Kiki-boy ridiculed him...


    "Come on, cut the chicken shit ¡ª it is a good trade, Chiefo, I will sweeten it further ¡ª we will also throw in some daily supply of freshly brewed ''Raisin'' Jack'' until you fully-sleeved Hankster here, so how about it?"


    Troy was coaxed by the dearth find. "Hey Kiki-boy, let me have a quick read."


    "Sorry, no free reading, yo ¡ª trade me something for it ¡ªwhat you got Troy?"


    Kiki cajoled him until Reeves the silent listener, who was not big in small talks, stepped in...


    "No Troy, it is not worth the trouble you will be next getting into." Reeves turned at Hank and Kiki-boy sternly told them off...


    "Take that shit away and beat it, you two!"


    Reeves was protective of his circle ¡ª he knew the guile characters of Kiki and Hank who were not the best of people he had connected with back during their Wesleyan days ¡ª they were a ''greasy'' duo then and even now. They may ''cop-out'' names to the guards about the newspapers if they were caught ¡ª and for the worst, they might rat Troy and True Bob in the third-degree interrogation, as their insidious source of who found the newspaper.


    He had known the duo''s cunning deceits for years in Wesleyan and they usually got away with it by framing others ¡ª now, he was angry with Joe ¡ª who used to despise them before while in school, but was now moving in their group, playing White gangsters in the big-yard.


    The overweening Hank who badly wanted the tattoos disregarded Reeves, and he kept eyeballing True Bob...


    "Come on Bob, why are you acting so scared?"


    The half-Cherokee stood up and sounded back...


    "Hey look, I am not fucking scared ¡ª but Reeves here is right, it is not worth it ¡ª the bottom-line is that since Day 1, the Warden made her rules clear in here that, the more we know of what shit is happening outside these prison walls, there is a chance we will be more rebellious in here. That was the reason why we are kept all in line and in the dark ¡ª when we have not been given things like the newspapers to read nor allowed to watch the news on TV for the last 5 fucking years!"


    Kiki-boy laughed and showed him the finger...


    "It is your loss, Chief Loser Bob ¡ª but I am taking the risk, and I will hang on to it coz I can still trade it elsewhere ¡ª if you guys don''t want it, it is fine ¡ª shit like this could ''hit a lick'' across the fences."


    The fulsome Kiki turned acrimoniously towards the rebel Reeves ¡ª who was considered as in the weak-corner, with a zero gang affiliation within the walls ¡ª Kiki chided at him in derision for spoiling their deal...


    "Hey, guess what yo? It has got a story about your butch ''uncle'' in the headlines, man!"


    Reeves intent to stare locked on his. "What crap are you talking about?"A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Kiki spreading the newspaper in affectation on the bleacher surface-top pointed the front page and he aggrandized...


    "Remember your butch uncle ¡ª Roberta Jensen! The super pit-bull cop who is now back making headlines again ¡ª in our good ol'' state of Ohio ¡ª by busting the street gangs over there ¡ª so, don''t you wanna read about her, Eve?"


    "Wow Reeves, are you related to this Jensen hero-cop?" Troy found it enthralling to know more of the debunked Kiki''s comment.


    "No, who the fuck said so I am related!!?"


    Reeves was agape a beat by his own friend''s inquiry. The chuckling Kiki-boy told them straight up...


    "It is no secret any more yo ¡ª Joe told me and Hankster here, that you found that ''grape'' out from Tina Martin in the Wesleyan. Damn, you are lucky, man! Most of us don''t get know our records, or even our last names when living in that fucking university for years...


    "... and, here you are, with your proud sweet moniker ¡ª Mr Reeves Jensen!"


    Kiki-boy said out, with a hint of jealousy.


    "That is not my name. you fuckin''fool! Stop spreading your fucking rumours about me, you morons!" Reeves shouted and shoved Kiki aside.


    He was getting even angrier now ¡ª how could that adipose-headed Joe get this stupid and tell on him, to his gang of moron buddies behind his back? This betrayal ''crossed out'' the trust, which they both once shared before...


    Reeves paced away from the bleachers with inquisitive eyeballs behind his back that tied him to the name Roberta Jensen ¡ª bewildered ¡ª what if that butch cop was actually related to his mother, he thought about that at the moment too.


    "What the fuck is he so pissed off about it?" Kiki said, looking at Reeves ''catch out'' from the area. True Bob next raised his voice mockingly, he pointed at the newspaper...


    "Hey Monkey-boy, take that toilet-paper of yours and hit it ¡ª and don''t forget to update your Facebook status if this newspaper lands you up in the hole ¡ª with you comment updates with your own shit on the wall, you asshole! Well, I will be the first one, to poke you too!"


    The Wesleyan youth chuckled with discomfiture...


    "Fuck you Cochise, and also my name is no longer Kiki ¡ª I am known as Kirk among the Wesleyans inside the Tombscradle walls! Hey, you stop acting like a ''hard-rock'' too, Chiefo ¡ª because Hankster over here, can ''flat-weed'' you anytime-anywhere!"


    "Really Hank? You better ''catch a square'' when I get over there" Two Bob made a ''call-out'' and challenged him now...


    Hank may be bigger inbuilt but the lanky half-Cherokee was ''yolked'' and looked like the average ''jockers'' in prison ¡ª Hank was hesitant, seeing there was also a guard nearby at the ''catwalk'' watching over the sally-port; he did not want to receive a written ticket.


    "Come on now, Hankie-Pankie ¡ª show me your ''Kamikaze-moves..."


    "Fuck you!" replied the also humiliated Hank; who was had the joint-leadership in the Wesleyans White-gang that they had formed a few years ago.


    "Then, stop with the ''cell-gangster wolf-talks,'' you bitch ¡ª now ''dip the spot'' ¡ª and, take your ''monkey-mouth'' gashley with you too!"


    Kiki-boy was pissed as he folded the newspaper, and he hid it back in his orange peel ¡ª both the Wesleyans left the bleacher area ¡ª Kiki continued his pan conversation with Hank, while they walked on the yard ground, filled with puddles of muddy rainwater...


    "That Reeves is a total ''dirty-dog'' with a motherfucking ''attitude.'' I never really liked him even back during school days! Damn, there are lots of stuff that cunt Tina Martin had held back on us which we don''t know of because she had control of our C-files back then ¡ª I would be fucking proud if that bitch told me my last name for real, instead of to that ''lame'' Reeves ¡ª why him of all the Wesleyans? What ''dagging'' did he give that bitch Martin, was it a good head just to know his fucking name?"


    These were the kind of second-rated gossips that the Wesleyans spent ''capping'' about all day ¡ª they are not ''bought'' in the major rumours that were going around of the Preacher would start an uprising in Tombscradle ¡ª but they were deeply sure that, the loner Reeves would someday jump the prison wall like he had done once before in school. All of his ex-schoolmates had even placed their bets and were waiting for that day to happen ¡ª when Reeves, would either be recaptured or took a ''dirt-nap'' in that attempt in the desert.


    The apathetic Hank laughed out, recalling his last days in Wesleyan...


    "What''s the use of having a last name in here, Boy ¡ª this is fucking prison ¡ª it is not the job market that we were led to believe before ¡ª just like how we used to idolize that super-cop Jensen when we were in school, until that Tina Martin cunt fooled us with the police academy field trip that we last took ¡ª and we then sold-out and fucking ended up here in the big-house."


    They droll passed A-Block ¡ª where there were about a dozen Chinese Intersexuals gathered, behind their side of the fence...


    "Damn well, I always wanted to be a cop like that Jensen too ¡ª busting'' the badass street-gang members The fact remains is that, I would be proud if I were in Reeves'' shoes ¡ª who knows in a long shot, Reeves may be actually related to that super-cop Roberta Jensen, am I right Hankster?


    "And so what we have here now, is a case of a fucker like Reeves, who does not appreciate that honour of knowing the truth about himself!"


    They both laughed out. "It ain''t right yo ¡ª what a goof-shit, he is!"


    One of the Chinese triad members, Wu Leong eavesdropped Kiki''s hearsay ¡ª and he went over to the Asian gang leader Li Chi nearby and alluded whispers into his ears. The leader immediately cursed out in Cantonese...


    "Roberta Jensen?"


    The corrupted double-dealing Strike-force Sergeant Jensen had made a career by putting away many Asian gang-bangers ¡ª either in the coroner''s body-bags or ''rolled-up'' in prisons cells ¡ª the surviving triad in captivity at Tombscradle was part of a gang-bust arrest in Chinatown for arms-dealing in Columbus, Ohio five years ago.


    *


    The siren echoed ¡ª it was ''yard-in'' time for the headcount ¡ª before the White inmates were returned to their respective cells. Hank, Kiki and their gang were joking loudly as they gathered.


    "Hey man, I got to take a piss," Big Joe told the guys ¡ª and Hank cautioned him...


    "Make it back fast or else Bull-Anderson will tear your blubber-ass up, along with your Little Joey-dick, if you are not back here when she calls your-count."


    The rest of the Wesleyan boys laughed, seeing the maladroit Joe scuttled urgently on the muddy ground towards the public urinal shed. From afar, Bullhead Sergeant Anderson came out from the IMU building to the yard with an armed guard.


    Joe arrived at the gashouse and glanced at Doran''s empty cage ¡ª he had earlier heard from the boys saying that the Preacher was thrown for a day in the hole ¡ª for ''catching a beef'' and behaving in a violent manner in front of a visitor from Washington.


    Joe started to relief himself alone at the public urinal while the herd bull''s voice on the loud-haler was heard behind his back. Joe zipped up his fly and turned around ¡ª to feel a punch landing hard on his face. He fell on his back, sloshed in the muddy ground...


    Out of sight from the assembly of the White inmates ¡ª Reeves stepped up ¡ª and kicked him repeatedly on his face ¡ª while he grunted to lower his angry voice, hissing out at Joe...


    "You lame, fat-fuck! You simply can''t keep your mouth shut, you fool!


    "You''ve been fucking ''head-running'' with that asshole Kiki by saying that I am a Jensen ¡ª and he is gonna blabber his monkey-mouth around. How stupid are you, Joe? This is a damn prison, and I can get fucking killed if they think I am associated with that Jensen cop!"


    Joe half-yelled for help ¡ª Reeves placed a foot on Joe''s throat ¡ª to silence his ''bitching-up.'' The dark-haired rebel continued saying...


    "Have you thought in your fathead, that your stupidity is gonna get me shanked within these walls by some lowlife gangbanger, who wants revenge on that cop?"


    Guard Preslie Baker was looking at the beating incident with her binoculars from the opposite watchtower ¡ª the ex-Olympian sniper smiled wide to herself ¡ª spotting a pint-sized guy ''hoe-checking'' the hell out of Big Joe.


    Reeves seethed while thinking of what Doran in the cage, made him realize lately ¡ª it was a ''hit in the neck'' with no chances of survival in his lone escape attempt into the open desert...


    Now, with the current rumour exacerbated by the Wesleyans, it would get himself dead even sooner than expected inside the prison walls. Maybe this left him with no other choices, but to jump the wall more readily ¡ª and die in peace out there while on the run in the desert.


    "You don''t simply seem to know ¡ª what to say and what not to ¡ª these days, hah, Joe? So what are you now to them Wesleyans here? Are you some ''Big-bitch'' here who is ''up in the mix? So being in prison right now is your new ''luv-luv'' life, hah Joe? ''Kicking-it'' all day with your Wesleyan homies ¡ª pretending to be a ''gang-jacket'' and playing ''G.I. Approved'' Bilillos-gangster, hah!!?


    "So are you think that you are a tough guy, yeah right Joe? Fuck that you bitch, coz you are just a fat incompetent fucking joke to those Wesleyan rumkins back there ¡ª and damn, you even fucking never lost weight, since you got here ¡ª you''re just the same like how you were, back in that fucking University as an institutionalized cow!"


    Reeves rambled on, and kept on kicking his ribs and upbraided, during his first heart-to-heart communication with Joe after five years ¡ª since their fall-out in Tombscradle...


    "I think you are enjoying your routine here too, Joe ¡ª you fucking your ''Fifi'' every morning ¡ª and the ''doo-wop'' that you do in the chow-hall when they serve shitty deep-fried ''erasers...''


    "Yeah, I still do remember it back then in school, you fat fuck ¡ª tartar sauce for your fish! Ketchup for your fries, ain''t that now right, ''crimey''?"


    Reeves then turned away ¡ª and left Joe sprawling in debacle on the sloppy muddy ground ¡ª pawing his bloodied face in pain. The rebel then blended back, into the unsuspecting assembled White crowd like a shadow, for the evening headcount.

 Chapter 16

    CORPORAL VINNIE AND A JUNIOR GUARD conducted the visitation decorum the next day ¡ª they approached the Black nurse who was on duty in the prison''s infirmary.


    Vinnie''s broken nose was still bandaged in Band-Aid after the Preacher''s head-butted her in the auditorium a month ago. She too had a weekend appointment for her plastic surgery soon.


    Vinnie looked into the file that she carried with authority...


    "How is the patient C-05-233, Nurse ¡ª that fat gal-boy found ''flat-weeded'' at the yard''s gashouse yesterday?"


    Nurse Giselle responded by looking at her own records on the computer...


    "He is recovering from the bruises on both face and ribs."


    "No broken ribs ¡ª or any injuries to his private part?" The nanus inquired while looking up at the taller nurse.


    "No, nothing of such ¡ª ''over'' there."


    Corporal Vinnie glanced and closed her file and looked up again at the nurse. "Well he should be up on his feet after a day in bed here, coz he is in Head Nurse Heller''s schedule list for the day after. Load him with all your pain killers, Nurse ¡ª and you get him up and running ASAP...The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Now where is he, I need to tag my ''shot'' report?"


    Giselle pointed at a bunk at the far end where Joe was on analgesic ¡ª he was blemished with black eyes and broken lips, quiescence asleep with his wrist fastened onto the bedside ¡ª among a row of other sick prisoners.


    Vinnie stepped up, and used her rotang cane and bastinadoed the bare soles of Joe''s feet, with a single whip...


    The cuffed red-haired boy sat up with a loud yelp ¡ª the Evil-midget yelled out even louder ¡ª she mauled him in front of the other petrified patients...


    "Hey, you. fat-shit, what happened out there? Who the fuck did you ''fop-fops'' with?"


    She needed an answer to fill the blank-lines on her report-work.


    "I-I fell from the stairs, Boss!" Joe prevaricated immediately ¡ª Nurse Gisele came running to his side when she heard the shouting Vinnie.


    "You lying faggot! What fucking stairs? They found you messed up, near the urinal in the yard. Tell me now, who ''cut that knot'' on you?"


    "I fell and hurt myself, Sir."


    Joe ''held his mud'' with contusions ¡ª without the imperil thought of ratting out his attacker who happened to be his closest friend ¡ª at least one time ago, when they were of best-friends while growing up in the same IIRC institution in Ohio.


    It was also not the first time he got a black-eye ¡ª for interfering into Reeves'' personal life.


    "If you fucking ''Peckerwood herbs'' wanna form your own Aryan gangs, that is fine by me ¡ª but no fucking ''blood-in-blood-out, throw-downs'' on my watch ¡ª and then, messing up my milking-schedule!


    "Hey you fat-fairy, I will personally see you again at the auditorium soon ¡ª you better ''drop the dime'' and ''blow up the spot'' on who trashed your flabby ass ¡ª do you understand!!?"


    The enraged nanus then stormed out of the door fast with her tall "New Jack'' guard tagging behind, keeping up to the pace.

 Chapter 17

    MICHAEL CONDUCTED THE FOLLOWING Sunday Mass, in the prison yard to a grandiose record of over seven hundred Intersexuals followers of both Whites and the Blacks, who were behind their respective fences. The Christians inmates were kneeling on the sand and bowing ¡ª while Michael blessed the Holy Communion Eucharist bread by raising it up...


    Doran with a bandaged head was also kneeling inside his cage ¡ª he followed the mass service ¡ª that was across the other end of the yard. He was in ambivalence as he prayed in dolorous, of the imminent deaths that were coming tomorrow...


    His mind kept foreseeing his sixteen surviving sanctified monk-brothers genuflected on the sand ¡ª while Agent Wolfe pulled the trigger at the back of their heads ¡ª one-by-one ¡ª Doran saw them giving up the ghost until the last one ¡ª Michael ¡ª falling quietus, motionless on the sand with his eyes open, thick blood was worming from his head to his face...


    "This is the cup of my blood."


    Michael raised a wooden cup and recited the Holy Communion libretto...


    "... the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It was shed for you and for all men so that your sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me."


    Doran bowed his head while he wiped his hot tears...


    Michael was serving the Holy Communion to the Whites ¡ª while Peter fed the bit of bread into the mouths of the Blacks Christians through the holes of the fence, uttering...


    "The body of Jesus Christ."


    "Amen," responded the Black believer, after receiving the consecrated sacrament.


    Doran spotted Guard Gina standing nearby and reading a home-improvement magazine under the urinal shed ¡ª he called out to her...


    "Guard, please, I need to receive my Holy Communion. Call one of the monks to give it to me."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "No Preacher, sorry ¡ª nobody comes near your cage, that''s the warden''s order."


    He responded back in importunity. "Please, it has been some time since I receive the Sacrament, I beg of you please, I need it today!" he pleaded...


    "No can do, Preacher ¡ª orders are fucking orders!"


    "I need it, please! Get the Warden. I need to speak to the Warden now!"


    His demands provoked the hack ¡ª she approached the barred cage. "Will you shut up or I will put you in the dark hole again!" The disarray guard stipulated him like a child with a boogie-man-was-there scare.


    Doran''s voice grew up persistently...


    "No! You cannot do this to me ¡ª I need to see the Warden right now!"


    Guard Gina screeched back in panic. "Shut up, Preacher!"


    Hitting her baton on the cage''s iron bar like she usually did to overawe him ¡ª but, he ignored her intimidation ¡ª and he hollered out to the other end of the yard ¡ª he called out Michael''s name loudly, while Guard Gina started jabbing him with the baton through the bars.


    Michael and the monks left the liturgy aside when they heard him, and ran over towards Doran''s cage ¡ª they were followed by the hundreds of White adherents trailing behind towards the gashouse. The panicking guards started firing warning shots in the air ¡ª and then, the towers sounded the siren...


    Warden Graves glanced at the disturbance from out of the office window ¡ª and was shocked on seeing the water-cannon fired at the oncoming White Intersexuals. The vigour water jet thudded the inmates down into the muddy yard, with chaotic screams everywhere.


    Hajja was behind his fence, he saw the multitude of Whites prisoners falling on the ground, thumped by the discharge jet force. The spectacle also caused the rival Latinos to cheer wildly from their side of the fence...


    Doran was crying in his cage ¡ª while at the BGF fence, the laughing Li Chi approached to the Black leader, who looked implausibly at the heartless sight.


    The Chinese carped out...


    "Look at him, Hajja ¡ª is this ''The Man'' whom you think who will spearhead your people to an uprising? Just admit it that, he is no more the Preacher who we all once knew ¡ª now look there, he is just a broken animal in the warden''s cage."


    They both looked at the hapless Doran weeping uncontrollably on his knees while watching the brutality outside his barred enclosure ¡ª that followed with, the driving havoc of dozens of angry prison guards fustigating the White followers with their rotang canes ¡ª to distance the supporters away from the Preacher''s cage.


    Doran cried out to the Aryan guards. "Please don''t hurt them ¡ª no, please, don''t!"

 Chapter 18

    CAPT. OLSEN PACED AHEAD in the IMU building hallway. Doran was in the ''4-piece'' restrains, the chained ankle-cuffs made his stepping difficult. He was lugged by the two prison guards into the office. Graves was standing, she slammed her reports that she held on her desk.


    "What now, Preacher? Still wanna ''catch a beef'' like the other day, after that stunt you pulled with that Washington woman? Why are you starting your nonsense all over again ¡ª do you wanna go back into the hole, you dumb she-freak?"


    Erica Graves was trying to fit Doran back into the milking schedule for the coming weeks based on Dr Bose''s medical evaluation ¡ª it was until when this water-cannon incident occurred this Sunday morning. She knew it was not the uprising that they had feared ¡ª because it happened in the White-turf where the Blacks and the Asians did not partake.


    The majority of the whites were not life-threatening as they were just mere orphans ¡ª brought in for the semen collection program ¡ª while comparing them to the other racial groups, who were captured street criminal gangbangers.


    If the Blacks had joined forces, then the real rioting might have begun. So, to play it safe, the warden had called for an immediate lock-down ¡ª even the Hispanics were forced into their cells without prison yard privileges that Sunday morning. It pissed her secret ally Ramirez a lot.


    Doran beseeched out, with angst in his eyes...


    "Please Warden, I beg of you please ¡ª I need to be among with my monk-brothers ¡ª I will do anything you say so that I can be with them!"


    This was the only way Doran could fight and protect some of his brothers ¡ª and not all of them, if Wolfe slaughtered the helpless monastery lambs, with the three days of the grace given to him ¡ª and, the promise of her return to Tombscradle was tomorrow...


    Warden Graves laughed haughtily at his insurmountable request...


    "No way, fuckin'' Padre! Coz the next thing you will do is, to once again sow out your seeds of rebelliousness among those stupid monks! You will then corrupt the minds of your other toothless redneck followers who are flocked in the G.P. ¡ª and to make them do more dumb things around here like the talks spreading of prison-breaks!"


    She stood dominion in akimbo in her dark suit, looking omnipotent into Doran...


    "Right now my isolation brainchild with you being away from them seems to be working well ¡ª and you will remain in your tiny little cage because I am going to keep it that way forever!"


    Doran entreated and he ranted out...


    "No, please Warden, you should not ¡ª now, I realized I was wrong all these while ¡ª I must be spreading God''s love not hatred among the people...


    "I have also realized my place is with God ¡ª and also, my place nowhere in prison..."


    Graves interrupted him...


    "What do you mean by that ¡ª ''your'' place, nowhere in prison''?"


    Doran placed his palms together and pleaded to the authoritative goddess-like figure that stood in his path ¡ª from saving the lives of the monks...


    "My place is to fulfil my duty by contributing my semen here, so that I will bring more lives to the world out there ¡ª with more generations of females to come ¡ª who will someday grow up, and they all spreading God''s love and His message."


    "You and your damn Male-God syndrome. Hah! Thanks to the Medusa ¡ª now that philosophy is long dead in this current world!"This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The iconoclast mockingly provoked with distrust of his beliefs ¡ª and of the Preacher himself.


    "That is a total ''N.G.'' because I have known your true-you for five years now, Preacher ¡ª and I will not be fooled again, because you never keep your fucking word. No way, that I will allow you to be united with those blanket-freaks, or with anyone for the matter in my prison!"


    Doran dropped low on his knees and sobbed out aloud lugubriously ¡ª for the first time the women present, especially Erica Graves were taken aback by the maudlin behaviour ¡ª of the once ossified anarchist, who now seemed vulnerable and broken in his pleading...


    "No, you cannot do this to me, you cannot! I beg of you please ¡ª let me prove my worth so that you can trust me again ¡ª and you will know that I have now repented ¡ª I truly have repented, Warden!"


    Warden Graves glowered a beat, staring at the weeping shemale foist begging ¡ª she then overruled...


    "Take him away!"


    Capt. Olsen pointed at the prostrating Doran, and the two guards tried their best to stand the struggling chained Intersexual youth up ¡ª who grovelled and wanted to remain on his knees, wailing and protesting even more...


    "No, Warden put me in Nurse Heller''s list tomorrow! I will prove to you that you can trust me ¡ª I will obey ¡ª whatever they order me, I will do it!"


    Warden Graves hollered back in pique, at the scar-faced monk...


    "No, you don''t get second chances in Tombscradle! You head-butted one of my guards there and you broke her nose the last time, you fucking ugly, hog-bastard!"


    "But, you have flogged me for that, and I have learned my lesson since, Warden ¡ª I will apologize to Guard Vinnie when I see her next ¡ª just please, put me in the list tomorrow!" His posture was bowing even lower.


    "What are you talking silly about, you stupid-moron! You just had your surgery weeks ago ¡ª and it will take you more time to heal before you can function again!"


    "It is functioning, Warden, it is functioning ¡ª I can get it up!" the monk retorted back without thinking...


    All of the women guards present were tickled and they laughed by the malapropism. The grinning Warden now stood, at the front of the table, facing the kneeling Doran...


    Warden Erica Graves finally felt in real control of the cockroach that was kneeling to her dignified presence. The hopeless pest was crawling for mercy at her feet.


    She then sat at the edge of the table and staring down at the genuflecting Preacher...


    "So what do you think, Capt. Olsen?" The Captain of Guard shook her head, sensing the adjudicating, was testing to degrade her judgment.


    Olsen refuted softly...


    "Bad idea, but ¡ª it is your call, Warden."


    Graves placed the tip of her shoe on the kneeling Doran''s docile chest ¡ª and every guard, and even Capt. Olsen was surprised to witness her action ¡ª with her foot rocked the stooping monk back and forth ¡ª as the Warden spoke in acerbic repugnance...


    "Okay Preacher, I am going to make you eat your own words by giving you one last chance tomorrow ¡ª if you Judas-screw that up again, I will personally take you to the Infirmary, and use Dr Bose''s scalpel to slice your fucking dick off ¡ª and then, I will make you eat it, as your Last Supper!"


    Nobody had ever expected this level of abhorrence in their prison superior until now ¡ª she howled aloud in detestation...


    "Don''t you ever, fuck around with my authority and my patience any more ¡ª you heard me, you Jesus-fucker!!?"


    "Thank you, Warden, thank you ¡ª you will know that you can trust me because I will keep my word this time."


    "Make sure you fucking do that, you freak ¡ª because I will be eyeballing your every move from now on like a desert vulture!" the woman acceded and turning to Olsen.


    "Hey, take this pile of holy-shit outta my office now!"


    The overjoyed Doran was accompanied to the door by the laughing guards ¡ª he gimped as he walked away in chains, singing praises while led out of the office...


    "Thank you, Warden ¡ª God bless you, Warden ¡ª God loves you too!"


    Warden Graves felt in control of the annoying pest ¡ª and with now, the Preacher had volunteered on his own without persuasion ¡ª to be placed into her quotidian milking-schedule for the Governor''s ordinance and demands.


    The way she saw it now ¡ª the uprising was just a hoax by the other monk culprits ¡ª rumoured to jolt anxiety and alarming fears among the guards and the Hispanics.


    Now with their beloved Preacher''s leadership dispirited ¡ª and his insubordination will soon be seen, as just a ruse of deception ¡ª where everyone in the big-yard would start to balk away from him soon, and even someday, physically hurt him...


    She hoped that the incantation Blacks who chanted out his name in the recent month would soon feel cheated by his empty promises...


    The Preacher would soon be ''in the hat...''


    Maybe, the Blacks would finally do her that honour ¡ª by killing him for her.

 Chapter 19

    THE SCORE OF THE FIRST SCHEDULED batch gathering at the staging area on that azure morning. They were ready to head towards the Auditorium.


    They were a disparity mixed group of Blacks, Whites and an Asian ¡ª many were astounded to see the idyllic blanket-robed Preacher accompanied by a guard from solitary, amid in their midst. The holy man''s personification presence enthralled many, after the two weeks of seeing him cooped in a metal barred cage.


    The Warden had ordered Capt. Olsen the evening before ¡ª to place the Preacher in the protected custody of Hajja''s Black BGF ¡ª when he was scheduled for the auditorium. In any endangering situation out there, whereby, even if the Preacher was killed ¡ª the blame would be with the Black gangbangers, and not on the authorities.


    It was gusto for Hajja, to finally get to stand beside Doran without any fence separation ¡ª and also to safeguard him from any harm, with the help of his Jamaican henchmen ¡ª but, except for Li Chi ¡ª who was in the background and was not interested in the empty promises made by that cynosure Preacher.


    The Chinese youth was instead observing every move made by ''Reeves Jensen,'' who was also in their presences, that early morning with True Bob.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Headbull Anderson performed her usual duty ¡ª she called out their names from her diurnal list in her loud-hailer. She turned to decree the two accompanying rifled guards...


    "OKAY, ''GAS-UP''¡ª OPEN THE GATE!"


    A fence boom unbolted and two single-file lines of prisoners started jogging ahead on the concrete "bowling alley'' ¡ª towards the Auditorium. Reeves ran alongside with True Bob, while Doran paced slower than the rest of the pack, due to his groin surgery ¡ª a female guard tagged behind him.


    Among the prisoners running ahead, whom Doran knew ¡ª were Reeves, Hajja with four Black Jamaicans bodyguards, Li Chi ¡ª and the rest were all non-monastic Whites.


    Warden Graves peered out of her window at the moving prisoners on that Monday morning ¡ª the submissive safe mixed-group that was scheduled to keep the Preacher from getting killed for now ¡ª in contrast, to throwing him to the lions among the vicious Hispanics donors ¡ª who were also scheduled later, to go to the same semen-collection auditorium.


    She saw Doran running funny and she was amused. Something sharp glittered in her hand from the sunlight coming through her window ¡ª she used the obelisk letter-opener to rip an envelope open...


    She thought of the final warning that she gave him yesterday evening ¡ª it would be the Preacher''s testicles that she would slash off next if he ever screwed up again later at the auditorium.

 Chapter 20

    DORAN WAS PANTING WHILE the guard brought him inside with the rest of the Intersexuals into the Auditorium. Everyone got into their routine and was stripping off their prisoner garbs ¡ª and the naked youths stood in line, facing their au naturel sex-dolls in front.


    There was a total of four armed guards and a couple of medical assistants in the auditorium. Nurse Heller and her assistant Corporal Vinnie then walked inside the Projector Room ¡ª and they saw Doran, still standing with his clothes still on.


    The stubby nanus corporal shouted out...


    "What ya waiting for, Preacher? Easter fuckin'' Sunday? Quick, move it, bitch!"


    Corporal Vinnie was back to work after two days of unpaid furlough from her plastic surgery on her broken nose. It was now in a thick bandaged wrap.


    Reeves and Hajja sensed that the Preacher was deliberately delaying them...


    Reeves was cursing silently inwards at his inaction...


    ''Did his voices tell him to be here, to resume contravenes to the law as always ¡ª and later be tortured by the guards before throwing him in the hole?''


    Reeves always labelled Doran as a masochist who got-it-coming for an opportunity to be beaten up and then thrown into his solace solitary for long periods of time for his choice of being a ''bugging-out'' rebel.


    They all then heard Hajja cautioning him next...


    "Preacher, please do as you are told."


    "Shut up Nigger, he answers only to me!"


    Vinnie voiced out, overruling the Warden''s higher orders that Doran was under the BGF''s protection.


    "Please, Corporal Vinnie, Sir ¡ª I need to go and piss badly," responded the desist, Doran, holding his crotch, looking histrionic to everyone present.


    "You can piss and take a big-shit later ¡ª it is Holy-water time now ¡ª so quick, pants down, Preacher! I have got a busy fuckin'' schedule ahead today!" The gnome in uniform replied...


    Vinnie was waiting for the Preacher to muster a screw-up or even cause a disruption again ¡ª so that, she can use her rotang cane, on him as payback that she was longing ¡ª for the head-butting she got...


    She was still dissatisfied with the twenty lashes that her Cousin Olsen had given him in the big-yard ¡ª which in return ¡ª was followed with the victorious cheering by prisoners, hailing the monk-priest as their hero. Vinnie wanted to instil more pain by her own hands, into that insufferable shemale, with her very own blend of corporal punishment.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The Intersexuals who were present there were anticipating trouble ¡ª the naked Li Chi grinned while he augured that the crazy Preacher would get a trashing for his stubbornness ¡ª while, Hajja in return felt wretched...


    As a leader of the Blacks, he could not get involved or else he could end up in solitary, as to how the warden wanted for his own omission. He just hankered that the multifarious Doran would not aggravate the present situation nor would he receive any punishment today while in his watch.


    All eyeballs were locked on the stooping scar-faced monk as he implored more...


    "Please Sir, it is the medication they gave me ¡ª it is making me piss a lot ¡ª just give me a minute ¡ª and I will be back fast, Boss..."


    "No bitch! Pants down, and you get in line with the rest now!" barked Corporal Vinnie.


    Doran then took some fulminate steps forward ¡ª and he unzipped his pants in front of everyone. He then began urinating on the sex-doll on the floor ¡ª the golden shower splattered to desecrate the artefact''s face with its amorous fellatio-pouty mouth.


    Everyone in the shadowy hall looked appalled, at his ad nauseam behaviour at that moment.


    The raged Vinnie dropped her rotang, accosted forward with her baton ¡ª with that outlandish defile conduct, Doran was now a goner to the rest of the nineteen, witnessing shemale prisoners who were present there that morning...


    "You ugly motherfucker ¡ª ''handle up your business'' ¡ª you are gonna fucking pay for this!"


    The yelling nanus corporal was approaching fast, swinging her baton, but Doran was swift to occlude a head blow. He swiftly clipped Vinnie''s baton-wielding arm with a grappling lock ¡ª before giving an open-palm blow ¡ª to break the corporal''s healing nose once again...


    The rest of the other armed guards were dumbstruck for a second, desist to behold their superior officer dropping on her knee while witnessing the blanket-robed tormentor who next, cracked her elbow-joint bone with another invigorating blow...


    The once ostentatious and temperamental Corporal Vinnie was now bellowing, with an extended vocalized pain-driven howl ¡ª it filled in the whole projector room ¡ª and that finally jolted the two bewildered guards nearby to move into action...


    The rifled duo came charging in to rescue Corporal Vinnie ¡ª but Hajja lunged at them from the back ¡ª and the galvanized Li Chi also reacted soon by joining him in the initiated ruse...


    The rest of the naked youths too instantly came rushing towards the other two-armed guards, stationed at the rear ¡ª subduing the hacks before any warning shots were fired by them.


    "Sound the alarm!"


    Nurse Heller screamed out at the gist of the bedlam moment of disarray ¡ª but, Reeves'' clawing fingers garroted into clutch her throat to silence her panicking outcry...


    Doran was now on his knee as he bludgeoned the despot Evil-midget who was faced down, with her own prison-issued baton ¡ª delivering multiple lethal blows to smash up Vinnie''s skull ¡ª killing her horrifically with each strike...


    This was his sixth nihilistic obliteration since self-anointing himself to relive the vengeance filled Soldier of God persona ¡ª that the body-count was once before, some years ago at the monastery...


    Thus, the uprising in Tombscradle has begun.


    <><><>oOo<><><>


    THE END OF PART 6 of 7


    NEXT...


    THE FINALE OF BOOK 1...


    THE FALLING WALL


    <><><>oOo<><><>

 THE FALLING WALL [Part 7 Of 7]

    REEVES WAS FINALLY AWARE of what he was doing ¡ª both of his wrists were stiff, choking old nurse''s throat ¡ª she was suffocating ¡ª her pupils rolled backwards...


    He had got into fights at Wesleyan in the past but never, to the extent of asphyxiating anyone to death. It was sheer panic at the moment that caught hold of him ¡ª the pitch of the woman''s scream from the Auditorium may alert the guards far out in the big-yard...


    Coming to his good senses, with his heart still palpating hard ¡ª Reeves released Nurse Heller. The woman fell on the floor, coughing and gasping for her breath. He noticed the rest of the naked Intersexuals have overthrown and killed the five female guards who were on duty in the Auditorium that morning ¡ª with the midget corporal, being the first to be ''off-ed'' by Doran''s vengeful hands.


    An Intersexual stepped up and began to kick Nurse Heller in the belly. The twink started pulling her hair and was screeching out. "You bitch, you suffer now! You made a good girl like me do horrible things ¡ª now you pay for it!"


    Reeves recognized the naked gay Intersexual as Mara from Wesleyan ¡ª who on the first day at the auditorium had rebuffed to cooperate, and Corporal Vinnie caned him. Ever since that day, Mara was known by eponymous Florida ¡ª sensing from the elliptic shape of his penis.


    Reeves shoved Mara away from severely beating up the subjugated woman.


    Doran was assessing the five dead prison guards, all beaten to death by the brutal hands of the BGF Jamaicans bodyguards, while the other White Intersexuals along with True Bob was holding down the other two surviving female medical assistants, threatening them to stay silent.


    Everyone soon hurried to dress back into their peels.


    Reeves finally realized after being disarrayed by the swift attack ¡ª that the long-awaited and promised insurgency had already begun to infuse ¡ª without any forewarning, to any of the perplex Intersexuals who were present in the closed Auditorium.


    Just like the rest, Reeves too wondered if the mutiny would be short-lived when the riot goon-squad come storming in the projection room ¡ª heavily armed ¡ª to take them all out, in retaliation for killing their female guards.


    ''What was the uncanny Preacher''s next plan now?''


    It played lucidly on everyone''s mind at that moment...


    Doran retrieved a small bow-knife attached on the dead Vinnie''s left boot. It was a seven inch serried smelt-metal blade. Everyone then stopped to look at the direction of a crackling voice ¡ª coming from one of the dead guard''s walkie-talkie radio...


    It was Head-bull Andersen''s calling in...


    "GEORGIA, DO YOU COPY, OVER? WHY IS IT TAKING SO LONG? YOUR BATCH SHOULD BE DONE BY NOW? I AM SENDING THE NEXT BATCH, OVER!"


    Doran picked up the radio-device ¡ª he passed it to Mara and nodded ¡ª having seen over the outset years on how the guards operated it ¡ª the ''joto'' then responded in a terse low whisper...


    "Copy that Sir, out!"


    *


    Anderson at the staging area was falling back on her schedule ¡ª she called out from the roster with her loudhailer...


    "START RUNNING DAMMIT ¡ª WE DON''T HAVE ALL DAY, YOU SHE-FUCKS ¡ªCHOP-CHOP, MOVE IT NOW!"


    The boom-gate near lifted up and the next twenty Intersexuals ran in two-line formation, accompanied by a couple of armed female guards in the rear. They were a dozen Whites ¡ª mostly monk in blanket-robes led by Michael ¡ª and the rest in the group were eight rapscallion Hispanics.


    *


    At the auditorium, the insurgents have possession of four rifles and a pistol ¡ª the weapons distributed among Doran, Li Chi, Hajja, Zinga the hit-man leader of the small cluster of allegiant Jamaican among the BGF Blacks ¡ª they checked their limited amount of ammunition, before setting to manumit the rest of the inmates in their cells.


    Doran looked up to them all...


    "Listen, everyone, here is what we do ¡ª Hajja and his people ¡ª you will head next to free the Blacks in cell block A and B." He then pointed at Reeves...


    "Reeves, you go gather some help here ¡ª and you will go free the Whites in C-Block."


    Reeves was speechless, now uncertain on how was that possible, when he was not given a weapon like the rest ¡ª but, he did not want to dither because these guys were natural-born street-fighters ¡ª maybe Doran would have a change of mind later, when seeing him coming from the ''protected Wesleyan'' background, with his inexperience in handling armed weapons.


    Doran saw two White boys keeping a lookout at the main door and he voiced out to all of them. "The next batch will reach the Auditorium soon, and we have to overthrow those guards too without any gunshots ¡ª and we will get their guns too."


    Zinga the Jamaican, who was Hajja''s right-hand man questioned him...


    "What if di batch has Mexicans in it? We shoot them too, Mon?"


    Hajja became cognizant...


    "Oh fuck! Yes, they have mixed the batches now ¡ª there are bound to be some dirty-brown spics in them."


    Doran made it clear to all gathered. "Listen here, we cannot fire any shots ¡ª or else, they will sound the siren ¡ª and then, we will all be trapped here in this Auditorium. We need to get out fast to the cell blocks now, and free the rest!"


    Zinga contested him again...


    "How is dis possible Preacher Mon, those brown-turd Chuntaros will squeal like pigs, when they see a Black-man with a gun?"


    Doran responded firmly...


    "We just have to find a way, Brother ¡ª but no shooting for now!"


    An eagle-eyed White, who kept ''jigger'' outside, called out to them...


    "Preacher, they are halfway here!"


    Doran turned to Reeves and he was about to hand over Vinnie''s pistol to him after checking the bullets in it.


    "Reeves, you will need this to release those in C-Block."


    Li Chi held Doran''s wrist ¡ª to stop him from handing the gun over...


    He voiced out. "Can he be trusted with a gun, Preacher?"


    "What do you mean?"


    Doran responded, with everyone staring in confusion at the Chinese ¡ª who the retorted instantly in accusation while staring down at the shorter Reeves...


    "I know who you are, Reeves! You are related to that killer-cop ¡ª Roberta Jensen ¡ª she had put many of us in here!"You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Reeves was baffled with this Chinese ¡ª who had been a stranger to him in all his years in Tombscradle ¡ª but now, he stood up with accusations. Reeves clarified about the bruits spread by some certain Wesleyan ruck of troublemakers...


    Reeves was looking straight at Doran as he spoke...


    "Well, I happen to find out that my last-name is Jensen some years ago ¡ª but, recently a rumour has been going around ¡ª that I am related to that cop. If that is true ¡ª then why the fuck am I jailed here in prison for the past 5 years like the rest of you?"


    Both Reeves and True Bob realized that the hearsay nature of Kiki, Hank and even Joe have led to this accusation ¡ª where groundless rumours travelled fast among the idle minds inside the prison walls ¡ª sometimes beyond the racial fences built by the warden.


    The White Intersexual named Russell Collins called out desperately again for attention...


    "Yo Preacher ¡ª they are all here. Looks like your blanket-boys are among with eight beaners."


    Everyone''s focus was away from Reeves ¡ª and was back to the main door of the Auditorium...


    Doran was now getting antsy thinking of the monks would now be caught in the crossfire ¡ª and he could not have it in his conscious to bear witness to any of their death. Mentally, he interceded a short prayer to the souls of the dead nuns, who had once sacrificed their lives before to save his brothers'' impunity from death at the abbey...


    He then heard Hajja cursing from behind him...


    "Fucking warden''s ''luv-luv'' spics ¡ª I''m gonna ''cap-peel'' them motherfuckers!"


    Doran now feared that there would be pandering temptations by the Blacks to open fire at their adversaries ¡ª who were now outside ¡ª at the doorstep of the auditorium.


    *


    The batch of twenty Intersexuals arrived outside, escorted by the two armed female guards; they realized the earlier batch had not exited the Auditorium. It was the protocol that the next batch could only enter the screening room after the prior group had exited.


    One of the guards spoke to the other...


    "Where the hell is Georgia? Radio her."


    "It ain''t nothing, you wait here ¡ª I will go inside and check to find what is holding them up ¡ª anyways, I need to take a leak too," Guard Shelley told her partner...


    The Morales the Mexican joker ¡ª the imposter who purported that he was the son of Antonio Banderas ¡ª started to wisecrack...


    "Take a leak for me too then, Kitty-kitty." His Hispanic mates laughed.


    He was on the roll, and he sarcastically instigated his pillory on Michael who was standing separate among the group of monks...


    "Hey Padre Mike, what seems to be the delay inside? All I know, the Preacher has cut off his fucking balls ¡ª so are they using a straw to suck out his milkshake from his butt hole?"


    The Latinos group guffawed again.


    *


    Guard Shelley walked away from the group of the gathered Intersexuals in the front yard towards the building; she called out loudly when she got there. "Hey Georgia, will you step on it, Anderson is really pissed that you are behind schedule!"


    There was no response and she opened the Projection room door, stepping inside to discover dead guards, lying prone on top of the sex dolls in 69-position...


    "What the fuck?"


    Before Shelley could react ¡ª Hajja came from behind her ¡ª and he powerfully grabbed her head and snapped her neck like a twig. Hajja tossed the dead guard''s rifle towards Busta ¡ª who was another one of his Jamaican henchmen.


    Doran handed the pistol to Reeves who then glanced at it for a second ¡ª Li Chi''s snake eyes were still staring at him ¡ª Reeves passed the gun to True Bob, declaring at earshot to everyone present in the auditorium...


    "Here True Bob, you hold it."


    "... err... I never handled a gun before."


    Everyone heard True Bob''s reply next ¡ª it even surprised Reeves.


    "What kinda John Wayne Native are you, Mon? Hey yo, don''t shoot your foot off!"


    Zinga the ex-street gangbanger joked and the other Jamaicans nearby chuckled ¡ª seeing the ''greenhorn'' True Bob taking the pistol from Reeves, with umbrage to his injured Cherokee pride.


    Some of the White Peckerwood gangbangers in the room realized that the Preacher was handing a mammoth responsibility ¡ª by choosing inmates who were from a ''weak corner'' ¡ª to rescue the Whites later in the C-Block.


    The White Intersexual ¡ª Russell Collins peeked out again and whispered to them all...


    "The other guard is still waiting with your boys out there, Preacher ¡ª how do we lure her in?"


    *


    The edgy, female guard outside the auditorium was dealing the stress of the out of control ¡ª with the unruly Hispanic Intersexuals here, and also there with her hot-tempered supervisor at the prison yard ¡ª who was behind schedule and was radioing to hurry up.


    The Hispanic brats were getting rowdy ¡ª the boisterous Latinos had no fear for the rest of the guards in Tombscradle ¡ª except for those with Capt. Olsen''s Aryan Nation guard-faction. This now bugged the guard to the point of niggle, with her working-partner who had gone into the Auditorium for a whole five minutes without responding to her 2-way radio...


    "Shelley! Hey Shelley, what is taking so long?" the woman hollered out at the device.


    "Yeah Shelley, I am losing my boner here," the Joker echoed in regale.


    "Shut your spic hole-up, Morales ¡ª or you will lose all of your teeth," the ire screw cried out, aiming her rifle butt at the loud-mouthed comedian...


    "You mean this, Chika?"


    The Mexican Joker removed his dentures from his mouth and held it up ¡ª the rest of his friends bursting into more laughter, seeing his toothless grinning pink gums.


    *


    Doran, Hajja and Li Chi crawled out and hid behind colonnades outside the auditorium door. Doran nodded to signal Mara the gay Intersexual hiding behind the main door...


    The Preacher had seen the talented homosexual songster Mara mimicked female vocals well in the yard ¡ª it was time to use his talent for deceiving again...


    "Okay, bring them in!"


    Mara mimicked a convincing female voice tone as he called out...


    "Where is the other batch ¡ª why are they not out yet?"


    The misgiving guard cried back from outside ¡ª she also knew well that it was not Shelley''s voice that spoke out ¡ª the weary guard then presumed that it was one of the other guards inside ¡ª but she still hesitated, observing her duty''s protocol.


    "It is okay, Corporal Vinnie said to bring the freaks in!"


    Mara''s voice responded again.


    The gulled guard turned to the pall Intersexuals who were perspiring under the morning desert sun.


    "Okay walk in you all. You, the bead-mumblers ¡ª you go in first!"


    Michael and the monks went ahead in the batch ¡ª leaving behind the blustery Hispanics.


    *


    The blanket monks moved at the forefront into the main door, the hidden Doran who was crouching low, gestured to the surprised Michael to remain silent. The Latinos who followed from behind were soon jumped by the hidden Blacks once they entered the Auditorium door. They bludgeoned their nemesis gang rivals to death with any weapons in hand ¡ª without discharging a single shot ¡ª Morales the Joker cried out in fear panic...


    "It''s a trap ¡ª Sambos!"


    The lone female guard outside flustered to that distressed cry from inside ¡ª she turned around, and ran towards the direction of the prison yard ¡ª Doran stepped out from where he was crouching, he bolted after to follow her...


    The guard was sprinting ahead, Doran was in the juncture of her pace before he flung Vinnie''s bow knife ¡ª it lodged into the back of her neck ¡ª and the speared guard slumped down dead...


    He had not lost the self-taught accuracy skill that he learned at the monastery when he used to chop firewood with an axe ¡ª he used to practice it mentally in those long lonely days in the seclusion solitary; that along with his prayers, fasting and meditation which had given him verve of a warrior so that he could stay in the very spirit of the twelve-year-old Soldier of God whom he had once emerged, during the e-SWAT troopers'' intrusion of the Convent years ago.


    Russell Collins and another White-boy of his Peckerwood gang-clique ¡ª they both were dressed in the other dead guards'' uniforms ¡ª they moved out and they dragged the knifed corpse into the Auditorium building.


    They tossed her body inside, among the rest of the lifeless Hispanics and prison hacks.


    *


    Doran ruminated for a few seconds, seeing the twenty-seven Intersexuals who drew closer around him. Most of the gangbangers were feeling revivified after taking control of the first phase of his mutiny design in Tombscradle ¡ª they looked up at their redeemer ¡ª who tandem the next plan of action...


    "Brothers, we are all going to march back to the exercise yard now and take down the guards around the staging area. Anyone without any weapon ¡ª you get one from any hacks dead out there ¡ª we then will set free all prisoners in the prison blocks...


    "Hajja and Reeves ¡ª you know what to do. The rest of the monks will then follow me and Li Chi ¡ª and we will go, and we raid the prison-armoury to get more weapons."


    The Preacher would have to separate the Chinese by bringing him along with him because Li Chi was the grudging kind who might do something inexpedient ¡ª like killing ''Reeves Jensen'' ¡ª during the hail of friendly fire.


    Doran glanced at the disquiet Michael and most of the unsullied monks who seemed to be in the state of fearfulness and fret ¡ª of the life-threatening happenings that were to come...


    "Just stay courageous all of you, because God is on our side today ¡ª and keep this strong faith in your heart, and I assure that every one of you will all walk out of this place alive and safe ¡ª can you do that, my Brothers?"


    Most of them nodded to their trusted leader but, deep inside they knew that it was ¡ª a limpid suicide do-or-die mission that the monks would experience the second time ¡ª since the siege of the monastery years before...


    The Peckerwood boys informed that the coast was clear to move out...


    The rifled Zinga turned back, noticed Michael and the piety monks who were in a small sacerdotal circle ¡ª they were praying over the dead guards and Mexicans.


    He voiced out to the monks with laughter...


    "We gotta bounce now, make dis a quick Amen, Mon ¡ª I will promise, I give you more souls to pray for later!"

 Chapter 2

    NOBODY SUSPECTED THAT TODAY''S matutinal hour, was when the Great Prison Breakout was about to happen ¡ª neither did Warden Graves nor her guards or Ramirez suspected it ¡ª nor did others like Joe or Marlin who were all still locked up in their individual cells, with the hundreds of others.


    No one had the slightest inkling of the unfathomable insurrection events that awaited out there next ¡ª it was the inception moment of the Preacher''s imminent legacy in the Medusa era ¡ª it was when an uncouth monk in a blanket robe had led the handful of street convicts, ready to spark a privy riot in Tombscradle ¡ª wherein months later...


    ... it was written on worldwide online chronicles that the Soldier of God had gone on further ¡ª and shook the entire nation into mayhem.


    *


    The insurgents trot over the concrete ''bowling alley,'' and were closing to the big-yard fencing; running in their regular two-line formation ¡ª with two White Intersexuals posing as armed guards at their rear...


    They were nearing the prison cell-blocks...


    In their respective A, B and C-Blocks ¡ª the Black and the White inmates were still undergoing punishment in the prison lock-down. The Whites were reprimanded for the second day after the disturbance in the yard, where the water cannons were forced to disperse them during yesterday''s Sunday Mass. The Blacks were chastised for almost a week with a lesser hour in the yard ¡ª it alluded among them that the warden''s coerce punishment was on Hajja''s BGF violence ¡ª after some of Ramirez''s men died in a brawl outside the Auditorium over the sex-doll sanitation dispute...


    Just only the Latinos community were let out after a day in lock-down today ¡ª they were promised longer privilege hours in the outdoor clement sun, inside the confide space of their side of the fence. Their Tombscradle''s soccer league had started for the summer, with cheering Latino inmates betting on the prison teams, which were named after glorious sides from pre-Medusa''s Spanish La Liga squads of Europe.


    Ramirez was at that moment with his Lieutenants, nonchalantly playing poker ¡ª smoking cheap stogies and were drinking Corona ¡ª a compliment from the Warden ¡ª who was secretly celebrating a private occasion alone, in her office that morning.


    The next batch was now gathering at the staging area ¡ª it was frustrating for Head-bull Anderson in her new repertoire of the mixed-batching Intersexual semen donors schedule ¡ª it had screwed up her daily crews'' work-flow timing ¡ª Anderson peeked over to glance at the late arrival of the earlier batch from the Auditorium ¡ª and that made her curse sacrileges.


    At the top floor office of the admin edifice, Warden Erica Graves was now a proud grandmother at the age of forty-two ¡ª she had just printed some photos sent by her daughter via email, after delivering a female infant ¡ª the warden was awed with pride at the family snapshots of her own grown female offspring now cradling a beautiful baby girl, with her uxorious lawyer lesbian-husband beside her...


    Her daughter had paid a premium price for the genuine, highest quality, freehand semen of the last of the now-extinct male species ¡ª purchased from the Pre-Medusa Eon Auction at The National Cryobank. The servitude semen collection of the orphans and gangbangers at Tombscradle administrated by the warden herself was perceived to be substandard by the affluent strata ¡ª because...


    ... it was secreted from the inferior, hybrid specie of Intersexuals ¡ª which was more suitable as a free donation ¡ª to the general public ¡ª for the purpose of mass female propagation.


    On the ground floor of the IMU, admin building was Capt. Olsen''s office. She was having her second coffee of the morning, reading a newspaper at her desk with the headline that promulgated ¡ª


    ''Cory Boosts Economy.''


    Across her office was the armoury ¡ª where the munitions storage arsenal was located ¡ª two junior guards were on their shift, they had taken apart some of the rifles for cleaning and inspection.


    The Preacher''s masterplan was to raid and loot this prodigious depot ¡ª and then arm his rebels ¡ª against the Tombscradle guards.


    *


    It was a clockwork routine with Headbull Anderson, calling more names of Whites and some Blacks for the next mixed batch. She peeked up far at the group of returning Intersexuals, reaching towards the fenced gate of the prison yard ¡ª Anderson amplified voiced called out on the bullhorn...


    "OPEN UP!"


    Two single files of Intersexuals headed by Doran, with two Intersexuals disguising in guard uniforms in the rear, they were closing in the staging area ¡ª the Preacher whispered instructions to those closest to him, who were armed...


    "Listen Brothers ¡ª wait for the fenced gate to open, before we attack."


    Li Chi cautioned them further...Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Remember, save your ammo too ¡ª One-bullet for One-bitch!"


    Reeves glanced at True Bob running abreast with him. The half-Cherokee looked tensed, and he susurrated a chant softly to himself. Reeves intend to stick closely to Bob, once they get inside the big-yard because he was unarmed.


    Reeves saw the unsuspecting guard ahead at the sentry who was perfunctory at that moment¡ª she was engrossed by playing a videogame on her cellphone ¡ª while she released the boom-pole up, when the Intersexuals approached closer.


    *


    A guard standing beside Anderson looked up incredulous at the approaching group ¡ª she exclaimed after seeing the many blanket-monks in it...


    "Sir, why are the Jesus-freaks back with this batch?"


    Anderson too looked up confused, and was then startled ¡ª by the beholding sight beyond them ¡ª when a sudden explosion afar rocked the Auditorium roof, followed with the smoke and flames billowing from the incendiary...


    Doran immediately shot the remiss sentinel guard with the video-cellphone, at point-blank. Many guards at the staging area kept falling dead, sallied by the surprise ambush attack by the rebels...


    Ramirez stood up to the sound of the blast which followed by the gunshots ¡ª the soccer match halted ¡ª and the many Latinos ran to their side of the fence, after a voice hollered out in Spanish...


    "The spooks ¡ª they got guns!"


    The Hispanics were agitated and vehemently protested with tumultuous anger ¡ª and they shook the link-fence hard...


    Ramirez dropped his winning-hand cards ¡ª and turned in disbelieve to a lieutenant standing beside, who said to him with a shaky whispering voice...


    "The Preacher''s prophecy is happening, Ese ¡ª they are breaking out today..."


    Ramirez''s spies whom he set out from Warden Graves instructions had failed to extract any information in the past weeks from the White inmates on their side of the fence ¡ª on the Doran''s alleged insurgency...


    But, it was now in motion...


    *


    Marlin looked out from his cell window to the gunshots fired ¡ª and seeing the guard on the watchtower sounding the prison siren. Below on the yard, Headbull Anderson dropped the loud-haler and she fired her gun twice ¡ª she receded and ran for her life from the retaliating Blacks shooting back...


    She ran, headed towards the nearest cell block...


    "I got this one!"


    True Bob cried out. He pursued after Anderson from behind, with Reeves and six other weaponless White Intersexuals, joining in the chase in the wide space...


    True Bob darted forward with his pistol arm pointing out, while aiming for the running Anderson''s head. He yelled out what he was chanting silently earlier...


    "One bullet..."


    He fired ahead, and his tyro shot splattered Anderson''s head ¡ª she slumped insensate forward and skidded face-down on the sand ¡ª when Bob reached the dead Headbull sergeant''s corpse ¡ª panting, and he uttered again...


    "...for one bitch!"


    Reeves picked up Sargent Anderson pistol for himself ¡ª he looked up at the watchtowers where machine guns were fired at the negligent rebels below in the open. A few White Intersexuals dropped dead...


    Hajja was heard yelling for everyone to fall back ¡ª and take cover ¡ª because the two towers have the better vantage to strike them down below. Some of the riotous unarmed, Hispanics were trying to scale to cross over the link-fence, to surprise the charging Blacks, with the intent to forcefully overpower and seizing their weapons.


    *


    Warden Graves froze in shock, observing the shootings outside her window at the top floor ¡ª witnessing incredulously at the chaotic bloodbath riot building up below...


    It was ensured by a zealot monk, who was now executing his deceit...


    Doran the Preacher had promised to her an evening ago, that he would be God-binding obedient in both attitude and behaviour if given a second chance ¡ª it was a deceitful lie that he had told her ¡ª so that he could un-suspiciously be included in the milking list. But now, fooling her big time ¡ª just like the many times in the past, where he had continued preaching his non-compliant sermons, days after coming out from his dark-holed solitary.


    The woman then regained back her sentient with roaring cheers coming from the Blacks in their cell blocks, when the rebels entered the big-yard ¡ª she turned on the P.A. system ¡ª her choler voice was now echoed in the midst of the shooting, amplifying edict of warnings to the rioters below...


    "DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER, YOU FREAKS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS NOW AND GIVE UP ¡ª THERE IS NO HOPE IN ESCAPING ¡ª YOU WILL DIE IN OUR HANDS IF YOU DON''T SURRENDER!"


    The Jamaicans on the ground shot up and damaged the speakers that were attached on top of high poles...


    The cheering Blacks in their prison cells were risible even louder ¡ª at the victory of silencing the magnified warden''s lurid voice. It was joined by the host of approvals ¡ª from the lock-down, noisy White inmates in Block-C...


    The denizens of Tombscradle finally knew the emancipated day of their liberation had finally arrived.


    *


    Twenty Riot-control guards wore their Kevlar vests at the armoury room and were picking up rifles from gun racks ¡ª with Capt. Olsen was barking at them to hurry up before deploying them ¡ª they had to put the situation out before it scaled up to a full prison-riot...


    There were still many outmoded rifles left on the gun rack ¡ª that were kept as a backup.


    *


    Doran was in hiding nearby, when he studied the shooting guards perched at both the watchtowers ¡ª the Preacher then shook Hajja''s arm and stipulated his sequacious demand...


    "Hajja, every second here counts ¡ª you must now take the men, and you go free the Blacks in A-Block ¡ª I am relying on them Brother, because of their street warfare experiences. They''re our only chance today to walk out of here alive!"


    Hajja nodded and gave out orders. "Okay Zinga, get ready ¡ª we are moving out." He clasped the Preacher forearm, in profound appreciation...


    "Preacher, thanks for everything ¡ª I thank you that, you have given my people hope!"


    "May Allah protects you too, my Brother of the faith," The blanket-monk rejoinder ¡ª and Hajja, in return spoke again...


    "...and The Holy Spirit will be with you always too, Brother Doran."


    The two leaders simper, and concluded by saying...


    "Amen."


    The swarthy Hajja''s sapid eyes then peeked at the tower, before making a unfurl dash forward, the fellow Jamaican following him in the rear ¡ª Doran and the rest of the armed White Peckerwood gang fired at the nearest watchtower to cover them.

 Chapter 3

    MORE WARNING SHOTS WERE fired from one of the watchtowers at the tumultuous unarmed Hispanics who climbed the fences ¡ª they retreated away, running back into their respective cells in Block-D and E, where some gathered hardline guards in the blocks, aggressively enjoined...


    "Move in, you brown shits! Get in fast now!"


    The inimical Latinos faced the besieging by more prison guards inside with the pointing rifles ¡ª others forcefully leading them into their cells with rotang whippings. The electronic locks clanked when the barred doors closed ¡ª cooping them all up like village chickens once again, like yesterday''s lockdown...


    Ramirez was hemmed in rage inside his dwelling oubliette, by the indignant talion made by the Captain of Guards Olsen, who disliked him and his countrymen. He then spotted the distressed Capt. Olsen coming on the floor ¡ª communicating back-forth, both on her radio and cell phone.


    Olsen was seen by Ramirez as a coward in this times of danger ¡ª peered out of the window, giving orders at the blitz attack by the Blacks outside and dispatched guards through the radio ¡ª while at the same time ¡ª reporting the oppugn ground situation to Warden Graves of the riot, happening below her top floored office...


    The warden scarify back in return, with vehement castigation...


    "That fucking Judas Priest had got me fucking fooled ¡ª and, you Olsen, you idiot ¡ª how can this insurgence happen ¡ª were you fucking sleeping on the job!!? This is entirely your fault!


    "Dammit, what is the fucking casualty rate out there, you fool ¡ª spit out the numbers?" the maladjusted warden cried out again in the phone-speaker.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Capt. Olsen answered over in discomfit...


    "I am afraid more of ours than them ¡ª I estimated there are about thirty of the rebels on the loose out there in the yard ¡ª but, I am locking all the spics up here ¡ª so that, we can only deal with the Black rebels out there."


    "You dumbass, with that dirty-dog, the fucking monk is on the loose! You should have deployed all your guards securing the Blacks fucking cell-blocks ¡ª the Niggers are the ones attacking us now out there, not the spics Olsen, you fucktard!"


    The livid warden then sneered more insults by humiliating Olsen''s prison security failure ¡ª and now, she had to call Governor Harris to notify the incident of the riot ¡ª and next, draw the culmination for control measures fast...


    ... before the handful of the mutineers escalate the breakout situation, into a full-scale takeover of Tombscradle...


    She opined both instructions and career-threats, to her Captain of Guards...


    "Keep those insurgents at bay from the IMU and also, don''t let them go near to any of the Blacks cell-blocks ¡ª and also, that fucking Preacher ¡ª Olsen, you better fucking deal with him now ¡ª and if my butt is on the line, then your fat ass is on the chopping board too!"


    The angry warden was in a snit at her office when she back-palmed in flail, knocking down the pile of official prison report files from her desk ¡ª it clouted even the family photo frames to the floor...


    She grabbed the office telephone receiver with her eyes still outside the window ¡ª scrutinizing at the feral Negros who had now penetrated and reached A-Block ¡ª after intense combat with her prison guards on the ground...


    She needed the external help to contain this messy pandemonium which was led by the anarchist Preacher ¡ª who had cozened her ¡ª and launched his machination of insurgency, that was happening in the flesh outside her office window...


    This situation had never transpired in her career before ¡ª and now she anticipated the officious Governor Harris would definitely blame her for the farce ¡ª and, her inability to control the servitude rioters will be in the report later to Washington.


    This may then terminate her working-contract soon ¡ª and it would definitely end her career in disgrace in Texas''s award-winning penitentiary; after all those hard drudging years, she contributed to making it possible.

 Chapter 4

    REEVES MANAGED TO APPROACH C-BLOCK ¡ª avoiding shots fired rapidly from the vantage point of the watchtower. He was with True Bob and three other surviving Whites ¡ª they entered the cell block before they encountered some guards ¡ª and a shoot-out ensued inside the building''s ground-floor of the block...


    Three female hacks retreated from the shooting and circumvented ¡ª they entered the glassed enclosed guard-room cubicle stationed on the lower floor. Both the armed Intersexuals, repeated fire as they followed from the rear...


    True Bob notified Reeves by shouting aloud to him...


    "Stop shooting ¡ª the glass is a bullet-proofed!"


    One of the White youth yelled at the women who were in-refuge inside the room, hitting the plexiglass outside with a metal chair...


    "Bitches! They lock themselves inside ¡ª and that is where the control panels are to open all of the fucking cell doors!"


    The guards inside were now communicating for outside backup help...


    Outside, Reeves was now quietly walking to the clear bullet-proofed glass with singe mark stains of gun powder spots. He looked inside at the frightened women in the locked booth-room ¡ª and then his sapid eyes peered above at the ceiling on top of them.


    Reeves grinned at True Bob and turned to all behind him...


    "Hold it, I know an old trick."


    He had done this before in Wesleyan.


    *


    Hajja and his gang had killed all the escaping female guards in the barren yard to gather weapons ¡ª they now secured A-Block. He instructed his Jamaican hitman next...


    "Okay Zinga, you go free the people in B-Block ¡ª and meet us back here."


    Zinga and five Blacks ran out, while evading bullets from the watchtower ¡ª and also from the new arrival of more pugnacious armed ''deuces,'' on the ground ahead, deployed by Capt. Olsen.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    *


    Reeves and Two Bob silently crawled above through a dark spindle passage above the ceiling ¡ª while the three women guards inside the bulletproof glass guard-station were looking at the stares of the other three White Intersexuals stalking outside...


    One of the nervous White-boy named Oliver blurted to his friend...


    "How long will this take? If we stay here too long, some backup ''screws'' will come through that door ¡ª and we will be sitting ducks here, without any fucking weapons to defend ourselves."


    The Intersexual was jittery because he felt that the Preacher had selected a weak leader for the Whites in the insurgency ¡ª someone as the inexperience Reeves, who had never handled a firearm before, and the same goes to that big John Wayne Indian. Oliver had seen the small group with Reeves in the past before, where they were always hobnobbing at the bleachers in the yard ¡ª they were perceived as arrogated, for not hanging out nor did join any of the newly formed White gang outfits.


    The White youth had always regarded Russell Collins of the Peckerwood as a better and capable leader. Oliver was still having sceptic misgivings that Reeves'' incompetent leadership, which might get many Whites killed later if the insurgency escalated...


    "Trust them, Oli ¡ª they know what they are doing."


    His proponent fellow-Caucasian friend assured ¡ª who had his tantamount faith in the Preacher''s sound judgment. The youth was part of the born-again Christian who espoused fully to the monk''s liberation cause of forcefully taking over Tombscradle ¡ª just as the monk-priest had promised before in all of his sermons in the yard for years.


    *


    Li Chi led Doran, Russel Collins and eleven other Intersexuals ¡ª who were mostly monks. They reached the out-of-bound industrial area. The Chinese spoke out, leading the way...


    "Come on, the armoury is that way."


    They all moved along the corridor until the group was ambushed by the surprise attack by a couple of orison guards ¡ª killing three unarmed followers in the group.


    Doran and Li Chi then cut the hacks down in the counter rapid-fire and killing them.


    Michael rushed over to discover that one of the monks was among the three ineluctable dead, while a couple of the survivors were down wounded ¡ª Peter aided him ¡ª Doran tapped him on the back when he saw Michael in tears...


    "Come, Michael, we have to move ¡ª it is not safe to stay in the open here."


    He then handed a pistol to Michael...


    "Here take this."


    "No Doran, I will not kill." Michael refused it...


    The sanctified monk-priest wished to remain a passivist, as the servant of God, in the current upraise in Tombscradle.

 Chapter 5

    THE BLACKS IN THE CELLS of B-block were released by the Jamaicans ¡ª feeling liberated and the hundreds manumit Negros were crying out in celebration stepping out of their cells ¡ª but for Zinga, it was far from attaining freedom...


    He now hurried to lead them all back to the others, who were holed in A-block.


    "Come, everyone, let''s go to Hajja!"


    Ramirez looked out of his barred window ¡ª and he witnessed hundreds of Blacks freed from B-block ¡ª he was furious and wrecked his belongings inside his cell. After the flail rage, he turned to look out annoyed at his barred cell door ¡ª and found Capt. Olsen shoring her subordinates on the melee with her walkie-talkie, while peering out of the window with a pair of binoculars.


    The Hispanic leader called out to the brass repeatedly...


    "Capt. Olsen, come here! Capt. Olsen!"


    The annoyed Captain of Guards yelled back...


    "What is it, you fucking shit-bag of Pinto beans?"


    She marched with her baton towards his cell to accost ¡ª but Ramirez appealed instead...


    "Sir put me through the Warden ¡ª I got a proposition for her."


    The derisive captain mocked...


    "Fuck you, Ramirez! We are in the middle of a major crisis here, and the Warden has got a thousand things going on right now ¡ª giving you, a blow-job isn''t one of them!"


    The disgruntled Aryan captain knew recently about the surreptitious appointments the warden made with the leader of the Hispanics so that they fornicate in her swanky office.


    Warden Emma Graves had disreputed herself by her weakness, of stooping low for her personal carnal pleasures with an inferior Intersexual-being. It was a besmirching behaviour that was ignominious for the supposed warden ¡ª who was a White ¡ª and, the alleged leader of the dominant females in the penitentiary.


    Olsen hated them both, her superior and Ramirez in her heart...


    "Look here Capt. Olsen, those spear-chuckers are now freely roaming from their barracoons ¡ª there is no way your Kitty-kitty guards can stop those hundreds of them out there. Those Niggers there are stone-cold, hardcore killers from the streets ¡ª and soon, your guards will be taking ''dirt nap by the dozens.


    "Now, go and tell Warden Graves ¡ª that I am willing to fight them on your side!"


    "It ain''t nothing, asshole ¡ª the Warden has already requested for help ¡ª and the Governor will be sending us back up in the hour," laughed the captain in rancour while she walked away swaggering. Ramirez from behind warned the prideful woman...


    "What happens if that help comes late? Those Niggers are not gonna be moon-cricketing rap music in the yard ¡ª they are gonna fucking come inside in here, and they will kill us all ¡ª including yours, and my own people too...A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "Release us now Captain ¡ª and, let us have a fighting chance to defend Tombscradle like the once Alamo!"


    Olsen kept walking and spurn in more prideful flagrant ¡ª as she overruling his opine...


    "Your fuck-say is not happening ese ¡ª we will have got it all under control. You ''Chunti'' fucks can stay put there in your ''canton,'' and continue your regular siestas ¡ª meanwhile, if you are really-really bored ¡ª just crap a pile of brown chipotle in the can, and play patty-cake with it on your crib wall."


    "Don''t be a fool, Capt. Olsen! Think hard ¡ª those coons together with the Whites ¡ª it will be more than 1000 of them motherfuckers running out wild out there soon ¡ª do you think you can you hold the fort till that Governor''s backup cavalry arrives?


    "Then that Preacher, he would then come over here soon ¡ª and first, he will find you!"


    Ramirez now laughed in incendiary at the imprudent captain...


    "Yeah, go ahead walk away, Olsen ¡ª have you forgotten that you did a cracker on the Preacher''s back by whipping him raw, and you left him bleeding in the yard. Yeah, he will come here alright, and he gonna love slicing your big butt up slowly with a blunt butter knife for that," the Hispanic leader reminded.


    The scare-mongering roused Olsen''s fear spot ¡ª but at the same time ¡ª she stopped to think of disaster from the throng of 500 blood thirsting Hispanic inmates running on a killing spree, shooting down everything at sight.


    "Fuck that! It will be a total fiesta of chaos if your screwing ''ganga'' too were all out now!"


    The captain thought her logic out aloud ¡ª Ramirez countered her...


    "Okay, then let me hand-pick 50 of my finest Chicanos soldiers ¡ª and, you then arm us ¡ª I will lead the attack myself, and I will get the job done...


    "Come on Boss, I can do this because I have been fighting those Niggers in the streets since I was a kid...


    "Now trust me Capt. Olsen ¡ª I can get the job done for you!"


    *


    The three female guards who locked themselves in the bulletproof guard station in C-block kept peering at the staring Caucasian Intersexuals rebels outside ¡ª then, one of them uttered...


    "Oh fuck me! Now, who are the prisoners here?"


    "Sarge, why has backup not arrived?" asked the other edgy woman ¡ª and before the superior officer could answer her, the soft boarded ceiling collapsed by the ruse surprise attack...


    Reeves and True Bob plunged over them, knocking down the two guards inside the enclosed booth. The sergeant whipped out her pistol and shot back ¡ª hitting True Bob in the arm...


    Reeves was lying on the fallen ceiling fragments ¡ª he instantly perforce with his unerring shot, hitting the woman''s shoulder, disarming the sergeant. The two other fallen guards instantly dropped their guns and capitulated themselves in defeat...


    "Please don''t kill us, we surrender!"


    Reeves pointed the pistol to their faces...


    "You! Open that door."


    The rest of the White Intersexuals stepped into the guard room, picking up the guns of the surrendered women.


    Reeves warned the White Intersexuals...


    "These are my prisoners ¡ª do not kill them!"


    Reeves made clear of his justified inviolate prude action ¡ª that the unarmed female guards'' lives were to be spared ¡ª because just minutes ago, he recalled witnessing the captured medical women at the auditorium who were left behind, bleeding to their death ¡ª the Jamaican assassin named Busta smiled nefariously at the appalled Reeves, while he carved Nurse Heller and her two medical assistants'' throats with Corporal Vinnie''s bow knife ¡ª secretly away from Doran''s knowledge ¡ª before the other Jamaicans set the place on fire with a few vats of medical alcohol.


    "Bob, are you alright?"


    Reeves went over and sat him on the stool. The half-Cherokee grinned at his flesh wound...


    "It is not so bad ¡ª looks like I will live."


    Reeves used the butt of his pistol, to break a locked glass panel on the wall ¡ª and he then tossed a medical first-aid kit pack to Oliver who was nearby...


    "Please tend to Bob."


    He next pointed his gun audaciously at the wounded sergeant who was the nearest to the control panel table...


    "Hey you, release all the prisoners in C-Block now!"

 Chapter 6

    THE UNRULY RELEASED BLACK prisoners from B-Block ran out in the open yard ¡ª with the consternating Zinga screaming back at them...


    "No, please! Don''t go out, stay in here!"


    But they were all conspicuous and wanting their instant liberation, by taking over Tombscradle by storm ¡ª and with the mentality of vanquishing anyone along their way, with their gung-ho brute mob way ¡ª by storming out unarmed and killing any prison guards with their bare-hands; thinking by going out in obstreperous large numbers with their virile presence that they could overcome the females...


    More Blacks raced out into the open yard with that herd mentality ¡ª screaming in the jaunty repetition of the word ''freedom.'' The guards on the watchtowers noticed the throng of inmates dispersing inside the open concourse yard ¡ª they opened fire below at them ¡ª the machine guns cut the Blacks in the overt ¡ª their body danced as they were riddled by a fusillade of lead ¡ª with many rolled dead on the sand...


    The retreating panic-stricken ones scattered, and they ran ahead towards A-Block, but were caught with shots in their chests from the other opposite watchtower. Zinga scarified at their exacerbated action for contravening his direct orders ¡ª which now had resulted in their bloody demises...


    "Fools!"


    *


    Marlin viewed the mayhem from his cell''s window and he also observed the higher point advantage of the tower guards ¡ª he also spotted from his iron-barred window in F-Block ¡ª it was the same guard who perched at the opposite tower ¡ª who had been shooting sodden birds on those recent rainy days...The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Marlin acknowledged that the sniper had a forte for her precise trigger finger, seeing now, of her delivery of fatal damages ¡ª in nailing the unarmed black prisoners in the big-yard...


    He wished at that moment that he could somehow stop her.


    *


    The warden was in a frantic and incredulous state, while she spoke with Governor Gertrude Harris on the phone ¡ª she peeked out of the office window to see the escalating shootings in the yard, as she spoke out...


    "Governor, the riot-police is still not here yet ¡ª and I got a Level-Red critical insurrection situation at hand ¡ª with more than a thousand prisoners in their verge of escaping!"


    The meddling Governor of Texas had already vindicated earlier, after contravening to the warden that steering her mixed batch proposition, was not the probable cause of the unrest ¡ª Gertrude Harris has already made the warden as the scapegoat ¡ª for the uprising that was happening now.


    "Just, hang on Erica, my backup request has been earlier denied by Washington ¡ª because, they have a better alternative now ¡ª the Elite SWAT team is coming instead ¡ª and they will bring order for your damn mistakes in no time!"


    *


    Twenty-five miles away from Tombscradle, a Hummer raced ahead and three long black buses following behind it. On the back seat of the armoured vehicle were Elite Commander Esther Petersburg and Sergeant Desiree Brown, heading to the scene to defuse the uprising.


    It had been five years since their last visit to that same penitentiary ¡ª when they had transported a cage load of monk-boys...


    Petersburg heard from an earlier briefing that the same scar-faced monk that killed some of her team members before ¡ª was leading the prison mutiny ¡ª it would be payback time for Petersburg, after her career stagnation since that failure in that monastery incident years ago.

 Chapter 7

    REEVES RAN UP THE STAIRS, he was walking among the just released White Intersexuals from their cells ¡ª they were in jubilation on the ''driveway'' area of every tier of C-Block.


    He found Joe standing alone with two black eyes. The Wesleyan reeled back, when Reeves approached him holding a pistol...


    Joe had not seen Reeves since he was admitted in the infirmary after he was beaten-up ¡ª for gossip-mongering among the Wesleyans. For a split moment, Joe thought he had come to whack him ¡ª he froze and was staring at his gun coming closer, by his approaching looming steps...


    Reeves spoke up to him...


    "Hey Joe, have you seen Troy?"


    "No..."


    The red headed boy responded gingerly, his eyes were still locked on the pistol that Reeves held. They both then saw Kiki-boy and Hank appear running towards them. Kiki spoke first in allure of the armed Reeves...


    "Hey Reeves, dude ¡ª you got a gun! Have you shot any of those bitches out there?"


    "No," Reeves replied flatly.


    Even though he had just shot to wound a female sergeant in the control room earlier in self-defence to disarm her ¡ª but, he lied to not to be swank about it ¡ª as to how these rumour-mongers would love to hear some inflated stories.


    "Where are our guns, we wanna fight too?"


    Hank tittup and Reeves nodded back with some tolerance ¡ª even-though their presence nettled him...


    "The Preacher is getting them for you all ¡ª I got to go find Troy."


    "Whoo-hoo! Can you believe that I am finally gonna get a gun, man," Kiki bragged aloud. Joe just ignored him, and he turned to Reeves...


    "Reeves, what are the Preacher''s plans ¡ª what do we do now?"


    "I really don''t know. The guards in the watchtower are shooting to kill. Just stay put in here ¡ª and don''t leave the block."


    Reeves could not locate Troy on that tier so he started running down the stairs ¡ª and Joe followed him ¡ª calling out his name...


    Reeves realized that Joe had trailed after him. The portly Intersexual walked along his side, he then mettled with his guilt before he spoke haphazardly...


    "Sorry man, it''s my fault and I know I said those stupid things without thinking to those guys ¡ª I really screwed that up, Reeves ¡ª and even back at the wall in the University, I screwed that one too...


    "You don''t deserve to be here in prison with the rest of us Wesleyans, because you could have done it all alone out there, in finding your mother ¡ª you didn''t need me that day at that wall too ¡ª and you could have left all alone because you had a good plan, man ¡ª but I slowed you down, and I screwed that one up too..."


    Reeves was attentive to his spate of random slapdash sentences before he went to tap him to stop...


    "Come, Joe, you did not screw up anything, okay?"


    But Joe intervened back again...


    "You never say it ¡ª but deep inside, you know it that I fucked it all up ¡ª I felt so real shitty ¡ª and that is why I stayed away from you all these while here in Tombscradle."


    The mentally distraught Joe was almost in lachrymose tears when he said that...


    Their friendship had strained since they became inmates inside the prison walls ¡ª even though they still bumped together occasionally in the big-yard ¡ª but it was hardly on a one-on-one just like the Wesleyan days.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Reeves did not know that Joe carried the guilt of their capture at the Wesleyan wall badly ¡ª and had dwelt deeply in it, remorsefully taking their arrest very personally.


    Since then, Joe had sessile in the sodality of his Wesleyan fatuous schoolmates for that same five years ¡ª while, the antithetic thinking Reeves was buoyant instead ¡ª because he was the schemer by nature ¡ª who had been plotting consistently on how to jump the electric fenced prison wall ¡ª and escape to be a free-male since the day of his arrival...


    But today was Liberation Day by the Preacher for the denizen ¡ª today was neither the time nor place for past self-reproach and self-pity ¡ª Reeves horseplay to distract Joe from his sadness ¡ª he was head-locking Joe like he used to do at Wesleyan and rapped the butt of the gun on his head and laughed out...


    "Not now fat-fuck, we talk about this over a beer once we get out of here ¡ª heck, I don''t know what the fuck I just said, because I have no idea how the fuck a beer would taste like ¡ª but listen, Joe...


    "We are really going to get out of here today, buddy ¡ª so all I want you to do is to stay alive, until all of this shit out there is over, okay?"


    Reeves wanted to keep as many of them alive until they step out of the prison walls ¡ª the Preacher may have masterminded a device ¡ª but he has not shared it with anyone yet...


    Reeves too remembered that he had questioned many of the enigmatic Doran''s plans in the past and he never got a straight forward answer either ¡ª but today ¡ª after witnessing the feat that Doran had pulled for the past hour since their first assault in the Auditorium ¡ª to follow through with the Preacher''s plan was now the only leverage for him ¡ª and it seemed like the only option of opportunity for anyone else in there to get out of the prison life.


    They both heard laughter from behind...


    "You need a shot-gun to put a boar-like Big Joe down."


    It was True Bob with his arm swathed in bandages, ridiculing Reeves'' horseplay rapprochement with Joe.


    Reeves fist-bumped with Troy, who had come along with Bob...


    "I need a favour from you, Troy. I''m gonna rescue someone in F-Block ¡ª and I want some backup, are you in?"


    Reeves needed Marlin Petroff with him too ¡ª if he was to head later to the unfamiliar Washington D.C. to find for Laura Jensen.


    *


    The fenced sally-gate to the Negro''s yard was unlocked and that unleashing the fifty unbridled overzealous armed Latino ''ganga'' led by the fervent Ramirez ¡ª they scuttled out with war cries inside the Blacks'' turf to psyche them of their arrival...


    Capt. Olsen was with Warden Graves ¡ª both were looking out of the window of her top IMU floor office...


    Guard Preslie Baker in the watchtower ¡ª she heeded to the instructions by Capt. Olsen on the walkie-talkie radio...


    "BIRD''S EYE OVER ¡ª DON''T SHOOT THE BEANERS ¡ª I REPEAT, DON''T SHOOT THOSE BEANERS ¡ª THEY ARE ON OUR SIDE!"


    Warden Graves had ratified her captain''s plan to enforce Ramirez''s fighting Latinos to hold off the insurgents until the Governor''s backup arrived ¡ª now, Olsen was requited back into the warden''s good-books for the workable strategy.


    The last of the Hispanic ran pass through fenced gates before it was latched and secured in bolt and chains. Another guard tossed a satchel of rifle ammunition clips ¡ª and Ramirez and his lieutenants distributed the ammo among the Chicano ''clica.'' The Latinos then intersected into the Blacks'' Blocks A and B, where the Negros took cover from the advancing enemy.


    Marlin looked out of his window at the dispersing Blacks who ran away to safety from a possible massacre by the shooting Hispanics. He also spotted from afar of two figures running towards the Latino fenced grounds.


    He was very sure that one of them was Reeves Jensen.


    ''Was he rabbiting out?''


    Hajja and his men positioned themselves in breach, looked out of the ground floor of the Block A''s barred windows ¡ª the Blacks spotted the advancing Hispanics nearing.


    The Black leader cussed...


    "The bitches have sent the wetbacks to slaughter us!"


    The sinistral Zinga then reminded him, showing the rifle that he held...


    "Hajja, we are low on ammunition, Mon."


    The freed Blacks had amounted to a total of six hundred but they were armed with a mere two dozen AK-47 rifles that they obtained from winning the gun-battle with the ''ninja-turtle'' riot squad in the big-yard...


    The Negros now faced fifty bloodthirsty ''Cholas'' storming over ¡ª the hired guns of the warden.


    "Then, it is One-bullet, for One-Bean-head!"


    Hajja responded while spotting the trigger-happy Chicanos who were firing away at A-Block...


    "Steady ¡ª aim those brown turds ¡ª hold..."


    The invaders were at close range ¡ª and Hajja hollered out ...


    "Fire!"


    Volleys of shots rang out in a unison barrage ¡ª and more than a score of Latinos either dropped dead or were wounded in the hail of bullets. Ramirez discerned that his men were reduced by a quarter ¡ª he yelled out orders to the survivors, who sidled in retreat...


    "Take cover! Take cover, fast!"


    Behind the gun smoke, the Blacks cried out victorious ¡ª after seeing the rest of the Latinos fleeing into the empty B-Block, which was evacuated by the Blacks, for strategic purpose.


    Ramirez barked in rage to his lieutenants...


    "Fuck those Jigaboos niggers! Those cowards are not coming out to fight us like real men ¡ª I want that cunt-ass Hajja and every one of his Sambo dead by today!"


    The remaining holed-up Mexicans were equally raged ¡ª they continued to fire back at the Negros in A-Block.

 Chapter 8

    FROM A BARRED WINDOW in C-Block, Joe and the injured True Bob spotted Reeves and Troy ¡ª running along the blind spots to avoid detection of the watchtower guards ¡ª who from above, were busy backing the advancing Latinos up by shooting at the Blacks in A-Block. The White duo then started scaling the interior wall of the Hispanic''s D-block, to reach the outer wall of F-Block ¡ª where Marlin was imprisoned.


    Above the ledge, where they both ascended were the hundreds of locked-up incognizant Hispanics inmates ¡ª who were in the heat of cheering from their cell block windows, witnessing Ramirez and their fellow ''vatos'' of the Texas Chicanos in gun-battle with their BGF arch-rivals...


    ... it was indeed a reminiscence reenactment, of the heydays of their street drug wars against the Blacks.


    *


    Hajja and Zinga turned to the sound of their people clamouring in the building ¡ª the rifled Blacks had stopped shooting, and all of them witnessed the cheering of stalwart Negros chanting the Preacher''s name...


    Doran appeared with Li Chi, Peter the monk and two others ¡ª and they were surrounded by the euphoric merriment of the hundreds. "How did you get here, Mon?" Zinga asked Li Chi who then enlightened that they had used the back access to avoid being spotted by any tower snipers.


    The Black BGF leader saw delighted the Preacher and the others with him ¡ª they dropped their heavy haversacks in front of everyone''s curious ubiquitous presence...


    "Hajja, we brought you a lot of ammo."


    The Black leader unfastened a bag and was holding up a handful of bullets ¡ª laughter followed by all the Blacks cheering with their rifles held over their heads, to the vicissitude situation of being massacred earlier.


    Now, they had a better fighting chance to seize Tombscradle when they would parlay more weapons after massacring Ramirez and his armed ''pandilleros.''


    Li Chi was reunited with his second-in-command, Wu Leong ¡ª and the scores of Chinese triad Intersexuals inmates. They spoke in Chinese and were with high spirits...


    "Captain, it is good that you have made it back alive." Li Chi''s ''rep'' proclaimed.


    "Wu Leong, victory favours us today ¡ª the Preacher will lead us now, and we will forever leave this hell-hole prison today."


    *


    The guard in the near watchtower was offhand, looking ahead at the Black''s yard into her rifle scope, at the rival gangs in the shootout ¡ª while the spry Reeves and Troy were behind her, climbing the outer wall to get to F-Block. The duo landed inside the narrow compound and entered the block...


    The guard-station was empty below but the two Intersexuals heard cries of clamouring frightened voices begging in Arabic on the top tier...


    Then, a gunshot echo rang inside.


    "Wait here Troy ¡ª I am going up to the ''Broadway'' to jig..."


    Reeves whispered in an undertone with his searching eyes gazing at the unknown occurrence on the first tier level. He crept nimbly and he pattered the stairs ¡ª leaving the unarmed Troy behind...


    "Die you camel-cocksucker! Go straight to hell ¡ª and go fuck your 72 virgin goats!"Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The female Guard Gina was slurring racial profanities while using her rifle ¡ª she was executing the locked up Middle Eastern inmates through the barred cell door. The other on-looking prisoners who were next to die were pleading for mercy from the invidious guard.


    She was caught by surprise to cognize Reeves'' furtive presence behind her ¡ª Gina howled in anger and turned the rifle at him ¡ª Reeves killed her with two thudding shots hitting her breasts.


    He stood staring with his trembling hands that held the rifle, he felt slightly giddy and sick after his first-ever killing. The voices in alien tongues then distracted him back to his sense...


    Reeves picked the guard''s rifle and 2-way radio and ascended up the stairs to the third tier ¡ª leaving the lower tier, occupied by Middle Eastern Intersexuals ¡ª pleading out and bawling in Arabic to him, to be released from their cells.


    Reeves reached Marlin''s cell on the third floor ¡ª which was the only one occupied on that entire top tier...


    Years ago, Warden Graves had received instructions that Marlin was under investigation by the FBI for the possession of stolen classified government cellphones ¡ª and so he was ''checked'' from the rest of the gen pop as a protected custody prisoner.


    But months later, with still no updates on his C-file status, neither from the Governor of Texas nor from Washington ¡ª had led Marlin to be the forgotten White inmate in Tombscradle ¡ª seceded alone for the past five years in his cell on F-block...


    The sallow looking Marlin gazed in astonishment at his returning visitor, who stood outside his prison barred door...


    "Reeves, you really came back!"


    *


    The lagniappe ammunitions were distributed among the Black riflemen, and their guns chambers were loaded up. Hajja addressed Doran who was beside him...


    "Thank you once again, Preacher ¡ª we have a score to settle with those filthy beaners."


    Doran replied back...


    "Let me come, and I will fight along with you, Hajja."


    "No Preacher, this is personal. Please, you must remain here at all cost ¡ª because your people will need you now even more..."


    Hajja felt that he could not sacrifice the Preacher in his street grudge feud. He too believed that the providence of the heavenly angels had indeed spoken to the monk-priest in the isolation hole, to initiate this revolution that was happening now ¡ª so, Doran had a greater calling for the leadership once the denizens leave the god-forsaken prison ¡ª and destined enter the promised land that he had often preached ¡ª where the domain was inhibited by malevolence female of prerogative ¡ª who was in full control of the adhocracy in America, since the extinction of man.


    So the current inmates would need the Preacher even more, in the front-line battles of tomorrow ¡ª to lead his aggroup of freedom fighters ¡ª to oppose that power-crazed dominatrix.


    Hajja then edified and honoured Doran instead, in front of his Negro followers...


    "The Preacher has delivered us this day of retribution, and we are going out now to crush those Latino spics ¡ª we will show them that we rule both in the streets and also here in prison!"


    This brought the Blacks to roar in proud triumph. The Black BGF leader then added...


    "Today is that day of recognition ¡ª and we will all come back victorious!"


    More strident braying cheers came on ¡ª and the Blacks with the recouped ammunition were now prepared to counterstrike. They rushed out in multitude with battle cries ¡ª Hajja and Zinga led a pole position of hundreds of Blacks into the open yard. They charged the breakout towards B-Block, where the remaining Mexicans took refuge.


    Both the Hispanics and the tower-guards opened fire ¡ª for every Intersexual who fell dead in the column of the battlefront ¡ª another fellow Black picked up his weapon ¡ª and kept charging forward and shooting.


    *


    Troy suppressed the release button on the control panel ¡ª and all the cell doors in F-Block reeled opened ¡ª the Arab Intersexuals come out celebrating their freedom from their cells. Reeves and Marlin were still in the top tier, looking out at the massacre of the Blacks in the yard while they advanced towards B-Block to fight Ramirez''s men...


    Troy ran upstairs and joined them. The three of them noticed the guards on the high vantage watchtower perch were cutting off their ground targets with ease in the big-yard. He passed Guard Gina''s rifle to Troy...


    Reeves insinuated...


    "We have to knock off the guard from both the towers ¡ª Troy come, let''s get to the roof."


    "I am coming too," Marlin voiced weakly.


    Reeves looked at the indisposed youth ¡ª and advised against it...


    "No Marlin. You really look like shit here ¡ª you better stay with the rest below."


    Reeves replied back ¡ª but, the peaked blonde boy postured with his chest out...


    "I can be of some use, Reeves ¡ª let me come with you."

 Chapter 9

    DORAN, LI CHI AND THE ASIANS who remained back in A-Block witnessed more than forty dead massacred Blacks biting the dust in the open yard ¡ª it was a field day for the laughing Ramirez and his Hispanics while they fired in automatic...


    "Keep coming you Niggers ¡ª eat my bullets you pieces of black motherfucking shit ¡ª Hajja you bitch, you are dead today!"


    Li Chi soon glanced across the Hispanic compound and saw three figures climbing the wall of F-Block ¡ª he recognized the shrewd culprit...


    "That looks like Jensen over there ¡ª the coward is trying to desert fighting by jumping over the wall."


    Doran observed the trio who were traversing on the roof of F-Block ¡ª running towards the nearby watchtower...


    "Maybe not ¡ª Reeves is trying to hit and take out the tower."


    Li Chi then turned to Wu Leong ¡ª and he gave a similar command in Chinese. "Get a few of the boys and go up the roof of this block ¡ª and go take out the other tower guard."


    The coup de main Blacks finally penetrated B-Block ¡ª where Ramirez and his surviving gang were holed. A fierce gun battle salvo was extended with heavy casualties on both sides inside the building.


    "Ramirez, we are out of bullets!" cried his lieutenant and Ramirez too was on empty ¡ª the Hispanic leader shrieked to his men after seeing the nearing Blacks'' decisive victory...


    "Let''s run!"


    Capt. Olsen who sanctioned the weapons for them had allotted the Latinos with limited bullets supplies so that they would fight the Blacks to their death ¡ª she wanted to get even at the warden ¡ª by having her spic lover-boy dead in prison yard battlefield...


    The handful of Hispanic survivors ascended up to the higher tier using the stairs ¡ª the Blacks now occupying the entire ground floor of B-Block. The Jamaicans were laughing while they fired at the remaining handful of their foes ascending...


    "See dat, Mon, Ramirez is running away ¡ª like a headless-chicken hoe!"


    Hajja stepped up, and he ordered Zinga...


    "Get the men and go after them ¡ª but, bring me back Ramirez alive!"


    Zinga the Black loyalist assembled his Jamaican posse ¡ª they pursued after the fleeing Latinos.


    *


    Reeves reached the edge of the roof, but the watchtower was twenty-foot higher ¡ª it was also forty feet away from where he stood ¡ª they could not get a clear shot at the tower-guard above.


    After seeing the situation, Marlin walked away, leaving the other two androgynous behind, who were now arguing whether to go down to the yard ground and then scale up the wall of the tower ¡ª it was the only rational option even though it would be time-consuming.


    "Where is Marlin?" Reeves looked behind at the slanting roof.


    "Oh fuck, did he fall off the roof?" Troy was worried...


    Then, they found Marlin''s bobos and they both looked around ¡ª and he was not in sight. They searched on the other side of the roof and spotted Marlin had deviated ¡ª and was now balancing himself on the taut power-cable line that ran across the yard...


    He was half the way walking on the cable like an acrobat on a tightrope...


    "Marlin! What, is he crazy?"


    "Shh, don''t break his concentration..."


    Reeves said calmly, as he held onto Troy''s arm to silence him ¡ª they both noticed the imperturbable blond youth was in the deep zone of focused concentration ¡ª laying each careful foot down and advanced in lithe...


    The doughty blond truncated closer, and the next plumbed forward about ten feet towards the tower wall ¡ª he gripped firmly onto the watchtower''s wall. The hanging Marlin then started to scale up, with sturdy grips on to the vertical surface...


    "Holy mother of the Monkey God!" exclaimed Troy in disbelief, seeing the blond now halfway up with simian-like legerity.


    They both watched in the fascination of Marlin''s agility, and the inner-strength that he possessed ¡ª unknowing to both of them were those years in isolation in the cell, where Marlin had daily perfected his enlightenment in the Eastern disciplines and exercises of mentally, physically and spiritually.


    *You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    In a similar situation, Wu Leong and six Chinese triad members were on the rooftop of C-Block ¡ª and they too could not get a clean shot at Guard Preslie Baker who was perched on the nearest watchtower.


    One of them cursed aloud ¡ª and Preslie turned back, looked down at the seven Asian shemales on the roof of the block below her...


    "Hello there Chinos, come grab some tofu..."


    Her machine gun opened fire and killed the loud-mouth Chinese ¡ª while the rest took cover and returned fire.


    At the other watchtower, Marlin clambered in a hurry to the top before he jumped inside ¡ª he sneaked, wrested the surprised guard from behind, with a choke-hold. He snapped her neck with a vigorous twist.


    Marlin picked up a high calibre rifle and looked into the scope...


    He saw Guard Preslie Baker''s back turned while shooting at the Asians on C Block''s roof. Marlin had to kill the experience trained sniper when she was in laxity ¡ª and not cognizant that she was his target...


    Marlin pulled the trigger ¡ª his neophyte''s shot missed ¡ª and so did the consequent firings...


    Guard Preslie Baker realized the cross-section shots were coming from the other adjacent tower ¡ª and she placed the machine gun down on the rack ¡ª and picked up one of her two sniper-rifles.


    She positioned herself, peering through her scope...


    She spied the blond-haired Marlin on the tower instead of a female tower-guard. Preslie grinned before she pulled the trigger. Her shot too missed but it was close ¡ª Marlin took cover ¡ª more near-hitting relinquish blasts were wrecking the towering pillar, and ricocheting around with zings.


    The tower guard was grunting in her own frustration when her weapon chambers emptied ¡ª she tossed the prison-issued rifle down and...


    ... picked up her old faithful Beretta rifle ¡ª that she once employed in winning her gold medal ¡ª in the 2012 London Olympics Games...


    ''So the shemale wants to play.''


    She loaded a fresh clip and talked into her walkie-talkie...


    "Hey you, golden-boy, you sure got balls!" She was amused by her game-hunting thoughts...


    Guard Presley switched on her iPod to the Olympics'' medal giving ceremony event ¡ª and places it to the 2-way radio...


    Marlin heard the recorded cheering from his end...


    The sniper next slipped on the gold medal ribbon on her neck proudly; she was determined to give her prey a bang for the buck as the nation''s once Olympic champion shooter, that she once was ¡ª with her intention of planting a bullet between the convict''s eyes...


    The Intersexual hunter who a moment ago who wanted to snipe her down ¡ª was now the hunted...


    Marlin heard the Olympic announcement crackling further from his side via the dead guard''s radio device ¡ª he knew the sniper was trying to psyche him when he then next heard her...


    "Are you a good shooter, Blondie? Come, try me..."


    The only shooting experience he had was when he was twelve ¡ª at the amusement arcade, where he used to take Suki, his once girlfriend back then in Washington D.C. ¡ª hoping to win her a stuffed animal toy ¡ª to impress her and to get laid.


    But, this was the moment of truth for him ¡ª where he was on a watchtower now and was not in a games arcade ¡ª the prize was to kill the enemy ¡ª and not to score blowjobs...


    The opponent he now mettle to face was a proven expert sniper ¡ª with his past discernment that she was a precision sharp-shooter, who accurately target practised with birds on the wire in the squall season. He was at the disadvantage now ¡ª so, he would have to need a different mindset to kill an expert...


    ''How?''


    Some random thoughts came into his head, during their desperate game of wits and quickness...


    ''Can she nail a fish called Marlin?''


    It was his piscine nickname, his guardian Dr Jane Morris had given him because when he was growing up ¡ª he was as slippery as a fish in getting out of badly behaved situations back then ¡ª and also, it was in memory of the doctor''s late husband ¡ª who was an avid deep-sea angler; whom Marlin had only known him through the photographs...


    Jane Morris had sometimes quoted her husband''s words to him many times ¡ª about the virtue of patience in fishing ¡ª to counter his instant gratification demands in the past. Subsequently, the Buddhist faith that he converted into later in life and, had also had taken him a phase further, even deeper with the practice of that similar virtue of patience...


    He reloaded a new clip that he found near the dead guard''s stool. Every inmate below in the prison blocks watched the two of them trying to outdo each other. Marlin stood up behind the bulwark ¡ª he positioned the rifle-butt onto his shoulder, stared into the magnifying scope and he spotted Preslie Baker equally in the similar ready position and was peering back on her own scope.


    They both fired in successions...


    Marlin had the advantage of the east tower, where the morning sun was in position behind him ¡ª but, it was glaring for the champion who was in the adjacent, looking into the rifle scope...


    The sun also caught the Olympic gold medal that she wore ¡ª a gilded glint ¡ª was spotted on Marlin''s scope...


    He focused on the glittering flash ¡ª and pulled the trigger...


    His shot fell flat, and Marlin then took a half-step to his left for cover before Preslie Baker shot back at him. She also missed and cursed to herself, which he heard on the two-way radio...


    Marlin lingered in patience just like Jane Morris had imparted ¡ª lagged in the perseverance of patience ¡ª he focused for the next glint of the gold medal, reflected from the sun ¡ª and he then took a rigour chanced shot...


    Guard Preslie Baker was thrown back to the back wall ¡ª she fell over, knocking down the hanging photos of herself. She laid on the floor of the watchtower in a semi-seated position ¡ª gasping deep for breath, and peering numb at her own blood-splats on the Olympic medal ceremony photos-frames, scattered down beside her...


    There was a hole in her gold medal that hung over her diaphragm ¡ª Marlin''s shot had hollowed her prized medal into a smoulder ring...


    She heard the Star Spangled Banner anthem on the iPod with the sound of the crowd cheering both at the medal receiving ceremony at the stadium in 2012 ¡ª and also, from the rebel prisoners below the watchtower...


    The voices from the Tombscradle blocks were all celebrating Marlin''s efficacious marksman hit.


    The recumbent former Olympian was dying slowly, by the borrowed seconds on the floor ¡ª gasping hard with a large messy exit-hole on her back.

 Chapter 10

    THE SHOOTING IN THE YARD PROVISIONALLY ceased with prison ground-guards and the fifty Hispanic hired guns, who were all massacred in the insurgency. But there were a handful of paltry White-Aryan guards hiding inside the administration building ¡ª peeking out cowardly at the throng of Negro inmates who were stepping out in numbers to rally in the yard...


    The Jamaicans punted and jerked around their spindly prisoner into the compound in front of A-Block ¡ª he was led to the centre of a large circle of an angry Black mob ¡ª Hajja''s boot scourged Ramirez''s ankle...


    He fell on his face near towards Doran''s feet...


    Hundreds of Black Intersexuals were cheering in the outer circle, they surrounded closer to the snivelling Ramirez who was on his knees, peeking at them like a terrified convict who was told to pick up a bar of soap in a common shower area ¡ª what was worst, when he heard their loud terrifying mobocratic chants...


    "Kill him! Kill him!"


    Hajja and Zinga who were exerting a machete stepped into the inner circle...


    Vanquished Latinos'' eyes from across the lockdown Block D & E were peering out ¡ª the five hundreds of Hispanics inmates who were locked up in their ''cantons'' were looking saturnine in silent defeat, witnessing their failed leader Ramirez brought to trial in the compound yard of the enemy...


    They also foresaw his death sentence carried by the leader of the BGF Hajja who would behead him soon with the machete that his henchman Zinga was brandishing.


    Hajja looked up in adherence at Doran ¡ª he appealed for a perspicacious decision...


    "Preacher, please decide what we do with the leader of our sworn enemy."


    Doran felt like he was in the centre of a biblical trial setting, where the Hispanic leader''s life was dictated by the angry mob...


    "He is your prisoner, Hajja. He has done a lot of inhumane deeds to many in here while in his lust for control ¡ª and for many years, he had also acted unjustly by doing many unspeakable crimes in Tombscradle."


    Doran decreed his judgment ¡ª and the Black crowd again went into wild objurgated echoes to his approval...


    "Kill him! Kill him!"


    The apotheosis monk-priest was solicitous about the sentencing...


    A wrong passing of judgment would affect his reputed leadership among the Black gangdom who abided by street justice ¡ª and not by the chaste spiritual path of forgiveness that he was taught at the abbey...This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Zinga offered the machete to Hajja ¡ª who then stepped forward, wielding the blade to deliver the ineluctable death sentence of decapitating him ¡ª the terrified Ramirez crawled apace on his fours towards Doran''s feet, pleading out aloud...


    "Preacher! Preacher, please spare my life. Don''t let them kill me!


    "I have more than 500 good men in their cells ¡ª and we will be your allies ¡ª and we will loyally serve under you ¡ª I will join your revolution against those oppressing women that you have always preached against about. We all will serve you well, Sir ¡ª please, my-Master-my Preacher, please spare my miserable life ¡ª please..."


    Hajja scorned aloud from behind, and all the Negros laughed...


    "You brown, dog-shit ¡ª the only master you will serve is that bitch warden of yours ¡ª let''s kill him now and get over with it!"


    Everyone roared in agreement...


    "Kill him! Kill him!"


    Reeves and Troy watched the angry mob while still standing at the lofty rooftop of Block F. Marlin too witnessed the kangaroo-trial from the captured watchtower ¡ª hearing the Black crowd below demanding for blood while the penitent Ramirez supplicated in tears...


    "No please, I beg you, Preacher ¡ª spare my life! I will be your faithful servant!"


    "A servant can only have one Master."


    Doran said, leaving him back on the dirt, and he walked towards Hajja. The Preacher obtained the machete from the Black leader''s hand and tossed the blade near genuflected Ramirez...


    The sharp-edge blade lodged vertically on the sand...


    Hajja barked at him next...


    "Pick it up and prove yourself to us ¡ª like the Preacher said, ''Every dog can only have one Master'' ¡ª let us see whose cooch will you be smooching to now?"


    Ramirez looked mislaid at the blade before he stood up, and plucked the upright positioned machete ¡ª in an instant, score of rifles from the outer circle clicked off the safety ¡ª every rifle barrel was aimed at him...


    Ramirez trembled ¡ª he was both petrified and was in the state of dire...


    "Go and bring us the head of that bitch Warden Graves!"


    The Black Intersexual leader''s voice boomed ¡ª Hajja then vindicated by pointing at Block D & E...


    "If you try betraying us, we will slaughter all your brown-dogs in those cells over there, and next, we will hunt you down Ramirez ¡ª to give you a really slow fucking and painful death ¡ª go now, you filthy spic and return fast!"


    "Thank you, yes, I will not disappoint you all ¡ª I promise you a head for a head ¡ª I will prove to you all that Julio Ramirez will keep his solemn word by bringing down the warden!"


    Everyone witnessed Ramirez running towards the administration IMU building with a machete in hand ¡ª even the distressed Latinos in Block D & E salvo their approval, seeing him pacing below from their windows ¡ª because their fate to live or die ¡ª was now at the mercy of their leader''s second-chance attainment.


    Hajja still distrusted the unscrupulous Hispanic rogue who was heading alone to his designated undertaking ¡ª turned to his Semper Fidelis, Zinga ¡ª and he instructed him...


    "Take your Jamaicans and you follow him. Make sure the fucking beaner comes back here alive. If he comes back empty-handed ¡ª the first thing you will do is, chop both of his hands off!"


    The venal Jamaicans have a history of carrying out sadistic killing for Hajja in the past ¡ª both inside the prison, and back outside in the streets many years ago.


    Reeves and Troy noticed Ramirez approaching the admin building with four Jamaicans trailing from behind.


    Marlin at the higher watchtower turned his back...


    He caught the sight of the dust trail of vehicles coming from the horizon of the desert.

 Chapter 11

    THE SUN WAS SWELTERING ABOVE at high noon when the over-wrought Marlin yelled out from the tower to Reeves ¡ª pointed over the prison wall, from the watchtower vista ¡ª Reeves then ran up over to the other peak of the isogonic roof of F-Block ¡ª and he discerned a Hummer and three black e-SWAT buses that were fast approaching from the desert horizon...


    Reeves called in ¡ª and warned Doran below on the radio...


    "Doran, you hear me? There are vehicles approaching. The Warden had called for backup!"


    Doran had beforehand anticipated the temporal moment of their arrival after he overheard Capt. Olsen mentioning it at the armoury room of the arriving of the Governor''s backup influx to contain the situation. The Preacher''s rebels now had a sizable amount of weapons and ammunition ¡ª but, he thought again if it could hold up against the advanced fire-play of the military trained enforcers.


    Warden Graves and Capt. Olsen from the top floor window detected the opportune incoming of the super-cavalry that was caped with the flowing desert dust cloud. Graves superciliously sneered looking down at the disarray Negro inmates in the yard below, in their midst of partaking in the Preacher''s unbecoming insurgency...


    "Hah! They are finally here! Olsen, go coordinate with those soldiers ¡ª and open both the main gates wide...


    "It is time we finally show those freaks what we are made up of!"


    *


    Li Chi and the Black lieutenants had coordinated the ruffled inmates who positioned themselves to anticipate the coming on-slaughter. Doran faced a crowd of mostly unarmed prisoners and he called out...


    "I need 50 volunteers to defend the second entrance ¡ª step up now, Brothers!"


    Many came forward including the Wesleyan''s braggarts Kiki-boy and Hank, forming the forlorn-hope group. Even the undemonstrative and reticent Joe too felt the need to do something at the moment of crisis ¡ª and he joined them...


    Doran had dispatched the group with eight rifled Blacks to back-up the unarmed group to the second entrance, situated behind the admin building ¡ª where his blanket-monk brothers were hiding...


    It was the best and the only assistance that the Preacher could provide for his monks brothers ¡ª because strategically ¡ª the firsthand of attack would be at the main yard where they stood. This was the main battlefield ground where the majority of the poorly armed White and Negro rebels were positioned for their defence against the Governor of Texas'' commissioned assault team.


    In between the commotion of disorientation, everyone saw thirty-odd Middle Eastern Intersexuals from F-Block assembling by the fence, while the antipathic Hispanics in Block D & E cell windows were verbally abusing, and doused urine on them from above. A Black Intersexual ran in the compound and picked up the deceased Headbull Anderson''s loud-hailer and spoke in Arabic...


    "You cannot be there, there is going to be more fighting here. There are more of our people at the other entrance ¡ª go now there, and be with them."If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The Arabs could not cross over to the other side of the yard because the fence-gates were secured and locked ¡ª the only alternative was to move to the end of the yard, to reach the second entrance of the penitentiary where the monks were.


    Hajja had also instructed some Blacks to get on the roof of block A & B to get a high ground advantage. A zephyr of the hot desert breeze blew at the dehydrated Reeves and Marlin, standing pertinaciously on their own vantage tops. They loaded magazine clip into their respective rifles ¡ª while they looked over the prison wall at the oncoming vehicles...


    Marlin spotted a sole black bus driving away from the convoy into the dirt-road. It was heading towards to mobilize the attack at the second prison entrance.


    *


    Over a hundred Elite Forces women-soldiers were preparing their weapons for the upcoming battle in their moving buses ¡ª a voice was heard commanding in the audio-speakers of the buses ¡ª Elite Commander Petersburg was speaking to them in mockery from her moving Hummer...


    "ONCE WE ARE INSIDE TOMBSCRADLE ¡ª EXPECT A LOT OF GUERRILLA WARFARE FROM THESE FREAKS COZ WE ARE DEALING WITH LOWLIFE STREET-FIGHTERS ¡ª EVERYONE STAY VIGILANT AND SHOOT TO KILL EVERYTHING AT SIGHT THAT MOVES!


    "I WANT THE FUCKING SAND BELOW MY BOOTS TODAY TO BE RED ¡ª WITH ALL THOSE BLEEDING SHE-FUCKS DEAD INSIDE THERE. I AM ORDERING EACH ONE OF YOU, TO DELIVER ME A PILE OF CARNAGE ¡ª BECAUSE TODAY, WILL BE OUR KILLING-FIELD DAY!"


    *


    The Preacher noticed the agonized expression on many of the Intersexuals who now would face a well-trained, artillery battery-force that was about to launch a lethal strike at any moment. He knew of the consequences and the sacrifices that were about to follow...


    Doran picked up the loud-haler and with impetus and palpable hope ¡ª he spoke into it to his newly formed army...


    "LISTEN, MY BROTHERS ¡ª I AM PRIVILEGED TO BE HERE WITH EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU WHO ARE STANDING HERE NOW ALIVE ¡ª AND MY PRAYERS ALSO GOES TO THOSE WHO HAVE FALLEN DOWN FIGHTING TODAY FOR OUR FREEDOM. I AM HONORED AND I AM PROUD OF YOU ALL ¡ª AND I ALSO PROMISE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU, THAT GOD WILL LEAD US TO VICTORY TODAY!"


    "YOU THE PEOPLE OF MANY RACES, MANY RELIGIONS, BELIEVES AND CREEDS. YOU ALL HAVE FINALLY UNITED AS ONE ¡ª AND I BAPTIZE EACH OF YOU AS WARRIORS OF THE ONE GOD''S ARMY!"


    Salvos of cheers from the over than of a thousand inmates nearby B-Block roared ¡ª Doran then continued...


    "MY BROTHERS, WE WILL HAVE A FINAL BATTLE NOW ¡ª WHERE WE FACE THE ''GATEKEEPERS'' OF HELL ¡ª BUT, THEY TOO WILL FALL SOON, AS WE WILL TRAMPLE OVER THEM LIKE TERMITES UNDER THE SOLE OF OUR SHOES ¡ª BECAUSE GOD HIMSELF ¡ª HAVE SAID TO US THAT WE HAD SUFFERED ENOUGH HERE IN THIS DUNGEON, AND GOD TOO WANTS TO GRANT US THE DESERVED ABUNDANCE ¡ª OUTSIDE, BEYOND THIS PRISON WALLS!


    "TODAY, OUR GOD HAS GRANTED US ALL THE GIFT OF FREEDOM TO LIVE AS HUMANS ¡ª AND NOT AS SLAVES TO THESE BITCHES ¡ª AND, WE WILL ALL FIGHT TO OUR LAST BREATH FOR IT!"


    Doran paused as he glanced at the top floor of the IMU admin building ¡ª he knew the warden was watching his oration with the loud-haler be-low...


    "TODAY, WE CAN FINALLY STEP OUT AND LEAVING BEHIND THIS HELL ¡ª WE WILL SOON LEAVE TOMBSCRADLE AS AN OPEN GRAVE FOR FOOLS LIKE ¡ª THE WARDEN, HER GUARDS AND NOW, THIS HORDE OF UNIFORMED MURDERERS, WAITING OUTSIDE THAT PRISON GATE ¡ª THOSE WHO THINK, THAT THEY CAN DEFEAT THE CHOSEN SOLDIERS OF GOD THAT EASILY!!?


    "NO, THEY WON''T!


    "INSTEAD, THEY WILL FALL AND DIE TODAY ¡ª BECAUSE, TODAY IS OURS TO REAP, OF THAT PROMISED GLORY OF OUR REDEMPTION DAY!"


    "Redemption! Redemption! Redemption!" The prisoners chanted.


    "BUT TO GAIN THAT HOLY VICTORY ¡ª I WANT EVERY ONE OF YOU NOW, TO FIGHT LIKE RAGING ANGELS OF DEATH ¡ª AND ONLY THEN WE WILL PREVAIL, AND BY THE END OF THIS DAY, TO BE FREE-MALES OUT THERE IN THE PROMISED LAND ¡ª THAT WE WILL NEXT BUILD FOR OURSELVES ON EARTH ¡ª AND, THAT WILL ALSO BE A VICTORY FOR OUR GOD...


    "SO MY BROTHERS, CAN WE ALL DO THAT ¡ª FOR OUR-SELVES AND FOR OUR GOD!!?"


    The irked Warden Graves observed the gathered interracial inmates hailing his name in repetitive espoused chants below from her window...


    "Preacher! Preacher! Preacher!"


    Warden Erica Graves really hated him to death.

 Chapter 12

    THE RESPITE ENDED WHEN the automatic main entrance doors were finally opening wide ¡ª Doran spotted the salient battalion stepping out of the buses ¡ª and they were all armed to their teeth for a frontal assault...


    He recognized the anathematized Elite Commander Petersburg moving among the troop...


    That loathed woman was one of those responsible for the killing of the nuns and the monk-boys at the Convent five years ago. Doran''s eyes flared with erstwhile rage ¡ª recalling the faces of the deceased nuns whom he witnessed being executed at the Cathedral altar ¡ª and particularly, the killing of Sister Lisa Marie by the other abhorrent one amongst them called Wolfe ¡ª the catalyst figure who had then 3 days ago, caused Doran to spur this insurgency, after her further threats to kill his monk-brothers if Doran refused to abide in her...


    Wolfe too will die soon, when he faced her next.


    Peter stood pell-mell beside the Preacher ¡ª both of them were attired with tattered blanket robes over their prison uniform ¡ª Doran handed Peter a pistol ¡ª and the monk accepted it...


    Since his imprisonment, Peter was one of the Preacher''s believers who veritably had faith in voices that spoke to Doran when he was in isolation...


    Today, he deemed that he should defend the weak ¡ª and he too was willing to kill in God''s name like how Doran proclaimed. If that was what the heavenly voices had commanded them to follow, he would definitely submit to it.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    *


    Some of the Intersexuals were hot-wiring the prison personnel''s cars ¡ª nearby them, were the corpses of the four women guards who had earlier secured the sentry of the second entrance. Most of the Whites were caught by surprise with the presence of the group of Arabs running towards them ¡ª one of the rifled rednecks pointed his gun at the foreigners...


    "Where did these sand-muzzies come from? Do we take them as prisoners ¡ª or shoot them fuckers?"


    "Hey, don''t shoot, they are prisoners like us too!"


    The leader of the Peckerwood, Russell Collins cried out after noticing at their orange uniform peel. Before they could find a moment to sort out the confusion, the electronic entrance doors began to reel open up ¡ª Russell Collins next cried out again to all...


    "Incoming! Take cover!"


    Most of the unarmed Whites and the Arabs scampered into the adjourn building where Michael and the surviving monks were tending to gunshot wounded Intersexuals. The monk-priest glimpsed out at the opening gate with a black bus parked outside ¡ª and Michael recognized the dark raiment uniform descending from the vehicle...


    He recalled the horrific thoughts of the merciless e-SWAT cohorts from five years ago ¡ª it was that morning when they breached into the Convent and burned the holy Cathedral down after causing the death of many of his maternal-guardian nuns and his childhood brothers from the orphanage ¡ª that also included his dear friend, Matthew...


    He whispered softly in revulsion, and mostly of fear...


    "Oh Lord, not them again..."

 Chapter 13

    THE STRATAGEM ASSAULT BEGAN when the nonpareil Hummer infiltrated from the main entrance gate. It swerved into the yard, knocking down the Mexican linked fence. Reeves and all the Blacks and Asians on rooftops opened fire at the armoured vehicle ¡ª but their bullets could not penetrate it ¡ª Reeves cried to Troy...


    "Fuck! It is also bullet-proofed!"


    The armoured vehicle then halted in the middle of the yard ¡ª it was continually barraged with the hailing bullets of the rifled inmates ¡ª that deflected off, scratching its hood...


    The high calibrated machine gun on the roof of the Hummer was activated ¡ª from inside the vehicle, an Elite soldier spotted hundreds of red dots on a heat-sensor tablet screen device ¡ª detecting the file of reckless Intersexuals outside in the open yard...


    The gun soon triangulated at them...


    "Bailout! Take cover all!"


    Hajja shouted while the assailable Hummer''s heavy artillery gun swept on pounding rounds of slugs at the Intersexuals in the open yard ¡ª tearing their limbs off ¡ª everyone rushed for cover, into both Block A & B to avoid the annihilation...


    The slow revolving turret on the vehicle''s roof countered the next focused target ¡ª the gun barrel blasted A-Block with more thumping rounds ¡ª it took down chunks of the concrete off the block''s wall ¡ª killing those hiding behind it...


    "Die you bastards!"


    Warden Erica Graves ire out loudly from her top-floor office window, witnessing the superiority of their attack on the fleeing pf the truculent Black mandrill-like rebels, whom she despised very much during her calling in Tombscradle...


    Their death gave her a temporary alleviation and a certain satisfaction of vengeance ¡ª and also from her grave mistake in trusting the scar-faced monk ¡ª who had currently caused her career to down-slide with the uprising he created in her prison.


    *


    From the watchtower, Marlin gazed below at the rest of the Elite Force foot-soldiers moving into the compound from the main gate. Marlin took them out and Reeves followed pursuit with Troy from the rooftop. A soldier fired an RPG-launcher onto F-Block''s rooftop ¡ª it caught the duo off-guard when the explosion ripped off the roof tiles ¡ª Reeves and Troy tumbled and rolled...


    Troy descended down further and hung for his life on the ledge of the roof. Reeves moved forward and heaved Troy up towards safety ¡ª while Marlin covered them, by killing the female soldier with the RPG below, who was about to take another shot.


    *


    The assaulting Hummer continued to hammer bullets until a large section of Block A''s wall collapsed ¡ª exposing many of those unarmed hiding inside ¡ª the gun pointed at them and the inmates were now sitting ducks...


    Doran knew many more prisoners would perish if this beset prolonged ¡ª he needed to move in fast and find an occlusion.


    *


    The fifty weaponless forlorn-hope Intersexual group with a few armed Black riflemen ran towards the exterior of the IMU admin building. The slower Joe lagged behind with the equally physically unfit Kiki-boy and Hank ¡ª the Wesleyans were also unarmed like most.


    The Intersexuals ahead of them were then ambushed by Capt. Olsen and her guards. A machine gun shootout between the guards and the rebels followed ¡ª the unarmed Joe and his friends took cover by entering a side door of the IMU admin building.


    "Damn, that was close!"


    Kiki-boy was relieved to duck the hail of bullets that the guards blasted outside. Hank peeked out of the window and he spied that the rest of the shooting Intersexuals were now dispersing. He anxiously responded to the impede situation...


    "Fuck that! We are separated from the rest."


    Kiki answered back in fright. "But, we can''t go out now into the open unarmed."


    Joe looked at a staircase nearby and pointed...


    "Let''s go up, who knows we can find some weapons."


    They agreed and started ascending up the stairs...


    Capt. Olsen checked the six carnage kills of the Black rifle-men ¡ª and then, at the dispersing Intersexuals survivors fleeing ahead ¡ª her guards were still shooting at them...


    "Oii! Forget them!"


    She knew the fleeing group was headed to the second entrance where another incoming Elite SWAT team would deal with them upon arrival. Olsen''s priority, for now, was the warden''s safety ¡ª after she had earlier seen a few shemales accessing into the IMU admin building.


    Earlier at her top-floor office, Warden Graves had cut a deal with Olsen that if she protected the warden, they both would escape from Tombscradle through a secret exit if the e-SWAT''s assaults went south ¡ª then outside in the free-world, Graves would then use all her influence to threaten Governor Gertrude Harris so to reinstate both their careers as warden and Head of Guards ¡ª or else ¡ª Graves would expose to the press of the clandestine orphans'' milking scheme that was happening illicitly in Texas prisons.


    Three prison guards headed by Olsen stormed back into the IMU admin building ¡ª and they went up the stairs. Joe and his friends skulked around on the second floor before they were cornered by the four Rastafarian Jamaicans who pointed their weapons to daunt the Wesleyan boys ¡ª Zinga then questioned them...


    "What are you all doing here? You should be fighting out there!"


    "Yo, look here, Mon ¡ª we got no weapons, and we were ambushed back there, yo!" responded Kiki who tried a bad impersonation in speaking in their Jamaican lingo...


    "... We are looking for weapons, Mon ¡ª so we can fight dis revolution like you all, yo!"


    Zinga was about to break Kiki''s face with his rifle-butt, but, he refrained himself from doing so. He felt that he was wasting time talking to some dumb White asinine wiggers with no warfare experiences in hand ¡ª where else, their Boss Hajja had assigned the task to the Rastafarians to oversee if Ramirez had done his number on Warden Graves...


    So he chased the annoying Wesleyans away...


    "Hah, get lost you mothafakas! Go and die elsewhere!"


    Zinga then heard one of his boys ululate out a warning ¡ª pointing below at the stairs ¡ª where Capt. Olsen and her guards were coming up...


    "It is Olsen!"


    "They followed dis 3 idiots up here."


    Busta cried out vexing ¡ª before both sides started to discharge their weapons ¡ª the heedless Joe, Kiki and Hank screamed and scrambled away fast to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.


    *


    Some of the unarmed, restive Whites and Arabs hid behind pillars and they saw the ruthless uniformed slayers'' arrival outside at the prison''s rear entrance ¡ª more than thirty menacing homogenous elite troops, marched like battlefield Roman soldiers in stratified formation ¡ª their see-through bulletproof Plexi-shield were held upfront for protection...


    The shield they held ¡ª had a monitor with a video-feed of red heat-signatures, of the hiding rebels ahead...The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Some redneck Intersexuals stood up and started shooting at them ¡ª but the Kevlar-vested, antipathetic female military-police, kept marching on ¡ª the strategized columned army wall then, inserted the nozzle of their machine guns into a slot in their plexi-shield ¡ª and they returned fire...


    The Intersexuals stopped shooting; many were taking cover ¡ª after some were hit dead by the organized counter-fire...


    Russell Collins orchestrated next...


    "Okay, they are close, guys ¡ª booms away, start the sprinklers!"


    The stylized utility sprinklers on the grass lawn were activated, with the unsuspecting monolithic soldiers advanced on. More sprinklers on the pavement started showering the runny, in spiral lariat at the striding soldiers, who kept on pacing forward...


    The sprinklers were attached to long garden hoses that trailed to the open car park...


    The ends of the hoses were affixed to gasoline drums ¡ª with three hiding Intersexuals, hand-pumping the fuel out ¡ª that was dousing the looming adversaries...


    The Intersexuals resumed and returned fire ¡ª their bullets created friction on the oleaginous laved plexi-shield ¡ª resulting, multiple small fiery explosions ¡ª with the consequence that transformed the gasoline sodden troops into human torches...


    The bellowing policewomen were now scrambling aimlessly on the flaming lawn, before dropping down like wingless fireflies.


    Sergeant Desiree Brown who was in charge of the second entrance assault mission ¡ª she beheld in aghast, at her hors de combat troopers screaming out by the dozen...


    Witnessing first-hand, the charring female combatants going skinless ¡ª whose inner flesh then, razed to their slow crisp-death.


    The redneck prisoners celebrated their inestimable victory of killing an entire palatial platoon ¡ª with a minimal casualty on their side. The Christian rednecks then made their "Jack Raisin'' dance moves and dragged the Middle Easterners to join them in their victory joy.


    One of the dancing Middle Easterner said to his countryman while seeing the burning carcasses of the dead soldiers around them...


    "That is good combustion ¡ª it must be our Iraqi oil!"


    *


    Elite Commander Petersburg was in hilarity laughter while witnessing the sortie juggernaut Hummer''s destruction of A-Block ¡ª with half of the building''s wall collapsing by the firepower, and followed by the killing of scores of Intersexuals trapped inside...


    She hollered out at ear reach...


    "Die you freaks! I have got more surprises coming for you all, you fucking she-bitches!"


    The sergeant inside the Hummer passenger seat ¡ª monitored, and saw lesser red dots in her tablet screen. She then gave an instruction to the gunner...


    "Okay reload!"


    She rechecked coordinates the heat-thermo of Intersexuals holed up in B-Block, while the gunner attached another bulky magazine of bullets into the gun chambers to hit the B-Block next...


    There was an inhalation of enormous clamouring, where many Blacks yelled out before their eyes ¡ª many were witnessing a figure dashing into the open yard...


    "Look! It is the Preacher!"


    "Oh Allah, what is he doing now?" Hajja exclaimed in disbelief...


    Every onlooker in the cell-blocks, and on rooftops ¡ª eye-witnessed the blanket-clad, scar-faced, intrepid bald monk who exposed himself out into the open big-yard...


    He was running on the mud soil towards the Hummer, armed with only a rifle in his hand ¡ª while the soldiers inside the vehicle were reloading the ammunition. The e-SWAT sergeant who was monitoring the heat-scan monitor spoke out troublous...


    "Quick, one of them has come out in the open!"


    The woman-gunner at the back, mocked in an unshakable high spirit, after killing scores of the gaolbird rebels earlier ¡ª while manning the artillery from inside a bulletproofed vehicle...


    "What can he do ¡ª stick his dick into the Hummer''s tail-pipe, and shoot us all?"


    "I would love an anal too!" The female driver, rejoinder back. They all then laughed aloud.


    Commander Petersburg chewed on her half unlit stogie and spotted the figure on her binoculars ¡ª she recognized the one known as the Preacher, now in the open...


    He was someone whom she had once, held a gun at him, many years ago at the Cathedral ¡ª ready to execute him for killing five of her troops back then. If it was not for that Secret Service Wolfe intervention, Petersburg would have pulled the trigger...


    "I know you, you motherfucking bastard! I should have killed you that day...


    "... but what a twist of fate now ¡ª you got your ass out-open in the oven now, like a pickup delivery-boy in my kitchen ¡ª to make your final delivery to heaven today ¡ª I am cooking your ugly Holy-ass as a chunky bullet-ridden pork-steak, to be served hot on Jesus'' lunch plate," the chuckling stodgy officer mumbled inwards to herself in delight, witnessing Doran the Preacher pacing forward towards the stationed Hummer.


    The Preacher envisioned ahead of ''seeing'' the seven-year-old boy of himself...


    Dressed in coal-soothed clothing, standing alone in the open yard ¡ª the seven-year-old boy said to the passing blanket-monk...


    "Doran, it is the Devil''s will to lust for blood spill ¡ª it should stop ¡ª turn back and surrender now!"


    The blanket monk-priest ignored his guilt...


    The Preacher was now twenty feet away from the stationary armoured vehicle before he started to scurry sideways along with the Hummer. The minatory turret gun following him from above the barrette roof...


    It was triangulating to lock on the spasmodic Doran...


    The monk kept looking above towards the sunny heavens ¡ª he then saw a flying white bird ¡ª gliding above the prison skies ¡ª he positioned himself on the fitful move...


    The white bird descended and perched on the power cable, which ran across the prison yard ¡ª he thought that it was a sign that Sister Lisa Marie was calling him...


    He was at peace with himself...


    He needed to make the sacrifice to give up his ghost away ¡ª just like how the nuns before who had given their lives ¡ª to protect him and his monk-brothers ¡ª when the enemy attacked the Convent...


    His current death would result in the rebels'' surrender ¡ª and that would stop the further bloodshed in Tombscradle...


    The perched white bird on the line watched him from above ¡ª and Doran heard a voice...


    "You are special..."


    The bird flew away from the extended power cable line ¡ª Doran saw it as another sign now ¡ª that was totally contrary...


    Every eyeball in Tombscradle waited for the imminent horror to follow...


    No one had stopped him, nor had stood along beside the lone monk''s final moment ¡ª when he was about to face his immediate death...


    Peter the monk was with some White inmates who were also in lamentation ¡ª he wiped his tears, saying out to himself...


    "God has made him so heroic and fearless."


    The equally sadden Hajja was beside him ¡ª and overheard Peter''s conspicuous attribute mention of his devout brother''s sang-froid courage ¡ª but, Hajja was instead swallowing his angry words, and he muttered out to the Blacks...


    "What a stupid fool! It is a real shame to go out as a martyr ¡ª when he was destined to lead us."


    The Black leader''s thoughts of the Preacher''s inestimable but short-lived insurgency attempt that had only momentarily given hope to every inept willed prisoner of Tombscradle ¡ª but it was now coming to an end ¡ª as kismet, where the Soldier of God was now about to die for them...


    Hajja then accepted of what was to follow after the oblation event of the Preacher''s death ¡ª every one of the prisoners would next be massacred ¡ª after losing their faith and hope, to put their final-fight on for their Redemption Day, as promised in his sermon to all prisoners for five years...


    Those present there at that moment, were waiting for the Hummer to open fire ¡ª and everyone anticipated Doran''s instant demise ¡ª Warden Graves was looking closely down at him, with a wide grin, inveigled for a similar outcome from her office window.


    On the roof, Reeves and Marlin at the watchtower waited solemnly for it to also happen. Reeves particularly was livid by the day''s outcome ¡ª which he felt was similar to Doran''s empty promises of freedom as in the past ¡ª where he would self-sabotage and end up in solitary...


    But now, the monk has opted for fulfilling his death-wish ¡ª as he said once before, in the cage ¡ª to be on time to chow with his God at the supper table...


    Even the elite force troops had stopped attacking. They watched and anticipated for Commander Petersburg''s retaliatory nub command...


    It then amplified on the radio channel, to the gunner inside the armoured vehicle...


    "NOW!"


    The Hummer''s machine gun fired simultaneously, with Doran diving straightaway backwards, and he rolled on the sloppy mud ¡ª lying unscathed on his back ¡ª the Preacher next shot his rifle on automatic upwards towards the sky...


    The volley of bullets from his AK47 struck a power-cable, which streamed across the yard ¡ª snapping it into two ¡ª one live, serpentine end of the lengthy electric cable alighted ¡ª and oscillated on the rooftop of the Hummer...


    The women police-soldiers inside the metal armoured vehicle jumped, thumped and jolted on their seats. The driver''s door then opened ¡ª and the toasted trooper dropped dead, with her face down to the muddy ground ¡ª her uniform was smothering from the electrocution...


    Commander Petersburg, who gaze at, in total disbelief ¡ª the half-cigar dropped from her lips as the woman self-exclaiming...


    "Holy Jesus, come fuck me..."


    Warden Graves looked aghast out from the office window at the mystique Doran''s indestructible presence of him ¡ª still standing undefeated and alive in her prison big yard...


    The entire shemale gen-pop leapt up in jubilation, like a stadium of spectators celebrating a last-second miracle soccer goal being scored ¡ª in witnessing their providence of the heroic Preacher ¡ª who had just surmounted the odds in their Redemption Day...


    With the immediate propitious moment, Hajja and Li Chi led the hundreds of Intersexuals outside from their prison blocks ¡ª they were spilling into the big-yard ¡ª to salient their counterstrike on the remaining sixty-odd undermine elite soldiers survivors who stood still, looking dazed in conquest with their guards-down. The Black prisoners fired their weapons and cried out...


    "Redemption! Redemption! Redemption!"


    Commander Petersburg scuttled in falling back from the festered fires ¡ª to hide behind their last line of defence near the buses.


    She radioed in desperation for backup...


    "Quick, send them now! Send them now!"

 Chapter 14

    WARDEN GRAVES WAS FORCED DOWN into her rotating office chair behind her desk ¡ª with the machete end at her throat. The guilt-filled and distressed Ramirez in a shaky voice was reasoning out aloud in Spanish, before executing her...


    He was right now, caught in-between his past loyalty to her, and with his current arrangement for his survival...


    "I have no choice Warden ¡ª either, I hand you to them ¡ª or the Sambos will kill me!"


    The speechless Graves looked back at him outright with desperate thoughts...


    ''Where is that fat-assed Olsen? She was supposed to be here to protect! That dolt is never reliable and screws-up any given orders!''


    Now Graves was desperately countering Ramirez by knocking some senses into the rubicund ruffian, with any thinkable promise from off her sleeves to stay alive...


    "Please consider my offer, Ramirez ¡ª if you help me now ¡ª I will get Governor Harris to pardon you ¡ª and she will cut you a deal, so you will walk away Scotts-free, with your prison record squashed clean, how about it?"


    "I am so sorry Erica, this is not a horse trade ¡ª if I come back empty-handed, I am already a dead-meat, the moment I walk out of this door ¡ª It is too late for anything now..."


    The anguished Intersexual responded, but the woman was still hindering with her roseate options...


    "Please listen here, I have always been lenient to you and your people since you all arrived here ¡ª return me this favour and help me escape ¡ª and, you can come with me too ¡ª I know a secret passage that will get us both out of Tombscradle undetected. Once we are outside ¡ª you will be pardoned for your heroic bravery in rescuing me the prison warden ¡ª and you will definitely get your immunity...


    "Come on Julio, we can escape together!"


    Ramirez was befuddled but at the same time, he was aware that those Blacks rivals were having the upper hand in the gen-pop numbers, and now they were also armed...


    Even if he did escape to the outside world, and was amnestied by the governor as promised ¡ª the word would then be out in the streets...


    The facts of the two cell blocks of almost 500 Hispanic, butchered by the Blacks for the price of his freedom ¡ª he would still end up dead, in the midst of his criminal underworld community.''


    The corollaries made the malady Ramirez doubt in the warden''s persuasive coaxes...


    He was angrily ribald at the inflated woman now ¡ª who was simply stalling her own death...


    "Pardoned? Hah, I don''t believe that puta Governor of Texas would grant me that. The bitch will just throw me into another prison ¡ª because to all you women, we are just are mere freaks ¡ª so that, you can milk semen out of our fucking dicks ¡ª Why, so that, you cunts can multiply, and walk forever on the earth!!?"


    The machete struck down, and chipped the wooden surface of the warden''s desk...


    The warden saw that Ramirez was adamant in his decision to execute her ¡ª and, her only way out, was to take him out herself ¡ª there was a .9mm Luger inside her desk drawer...


    She had to move in with discreet ¡ª and execute him fast...


    "Look, you are not thinking ahead, Ramirez! Come, let me put that on paper ¡ª and you can have a proof of my word!"


    Her hand reached and opened the drawer ¡ª but, Ramirez had a fleeting sight of her palming the pistol inside ¡ª he refluxed with the wielded machete with unprompted swiftness ¡ª and, the rotating chair revolved a full circle, before revealing his handiwork for his own eyes...


    A glimpse at the headless Graves...


    "So, you wanna put your words on paper, you cunting puta bitch? Hah! I rather will put my freedom in your own puta blood!"


    Crimson thick blood from the machete dribbled down, and Ramirez was still cursing in Spanish ¡ª recalling his years in paying the price of bartering sexual favours with the woman of authority who held him captive ¡ª bartering sex to the ''Cougar'' for the saccharine privileges given to him and his people; ever since the age of eleven.


    He stepped out from that office, gripping the woman''s severed head by the hair ¡ª it swung like a pendulum ¡ª leaving behind a dripping trail of worming red scintilla bloodspots on the floor.


    *


    They remained hidden in a locked windowless pantry room. The wall clock was pointing way past their lunchtime ¡ª the Wesleyans were normally the early-birds lining up in the prison mess hall during all their meals ¡ª but anyway, nobody expected that today was the Redemption Day ¡ª with the crazy Preacher starting his promised revolution in Tombscradle, without any prior warning to them or anyone...Stolen novel; please report.


    But, it was not a wasted day either...


    The three Intersexuals had devoured slovenly with the sop of food from the refrigerator, satisfying their sweet-tooth with real candies, cookies and pastries at the pantry.


    It was something they had not indulged for a long time since they left Wesleyan ¡ª it was where the meals were finer over there, prepared by European chefs ¡ª compared to ¡ª the mysterious processed meat patty that was served in the prison''s chow menu ¡ª that tasted the same, whether it was poultry or bovine.


    They could hear the faint skirmish outside the locked door in the IMU administration building ¡ª but. they remained seated on the floor ¡ª waiting for the ordeal to settle down on its own ¡ª but, Joe was restive and he suggested out to Kiki-boy and Hank...


    "We can''t stay here, let''s go now."


    "Then what, face those Jamaicans coons out there again? They almost fuckin'' killed us just now, right? I say that once all the fighting is over, we then go out ¡ª are you with me, Hankster?"


    Kiki-boy looked at his gang-mate who normally concurred to almost anything he advocated, which were normally mere specious and unavailing based excuses...


    But, Hank was silent in thoughts and Kiki spoke out...


    "What are you thinking, bro? I am thinking, that this Fat-fuck here is gonna get shot dead, the moment he walks out that door!"


    Joe felt it was even more unsafe to remain there because the guards may walk in and probably put a bullet each into them ¡ª so he voiced his gravity out at Kiki for remaining inaction, after enthusiastically volunteering in the prison yard earlier, to participate in the Preacher''s reinforcement calling.


    Big-Joe then made a splenetic remark...


    "Do you know, you just monkey-mouth, and you only good at bragging in a lot of shit, Kiki ¡ª but deep inside, you are just a real fucking pussy?"


    "Fuck, you fat-assed ding! How do you expect us to fight out there without any damn weapons!!? Even that fuckin'' bitch Reeves Jensen had on lying to us that the Preacher is getting us guns ¡ª and look at us now, we are fucking cornered in here!


    "Use the little brains of yours, Joe, it is wiser to hide in here, than we risking our lives out there!"


    Kiki became defensive and was still untenable...


    It had been half an hour since the craven Wesleyans locked themselves up in the pantry ¡ª so Joe finally stood up and exasperated...


    "Fine, you stay, I am out of here..."


    Joe started walking to the door. Kiki-boy was bowled over for a second when his buddy Hank also stood up saying...


    "I am going too Boy, what is the fucking use of hiding in here?"


    Kiki-boy now made a snide remark out to him, with remonstration...


    ''Hank, so, are you also a stupid moron like that goofy-fat ''J Cat''? You follow his ass now, you are gonna get yourself ki-killed out there we-without a gun, you f-fool!"


    "Then remain here in the Enterprise, Captain Kiki-Kirk."


    Hank smug back ¡ª it baffled Kiki more, who was now left alone in the pantry room...


    "Hank, fuck you! You-ki-ki-kunt!"


    Kiki-boy''s actual name was Kirk ¡ª with last name unknown...


    He used to stammer a lot when he was excited and panicked when he was younger in Wesleyan ¡ª and he usually went stuttering ''ki-ki-ki'' ¡ª before he started uttering any sentence, and even to his own real name ¡ª so, the nickname stuck.


    The annoyed Kiki was left alone, threw the half carton of orange juice that he earlier had slaked. He got on his feet and left the room to join them. Kiki trailed alone on the elongated hallway until he spotted Hank and Joe ahead, staring inside a separate room. When he reached them, he shared the spectacle which they both were peculiarly looking at...


    It hung above, from the ceiling.


    The trio froze in shock awhile, viewing in horrid at a sanguinary sight of the naked Capt. Olsen strung up to a slow rotating ceiling fan...


    All her four limbs were severed off at the joints ¡ª her face was bleeding with pencils impelled into her eyeballs and earlobes ¡ª two soda bottles were inside both of her sexual orifices.


    The Black Jamaicans had left behind their spite message, for their growing hatred at the thriving Aryan-Pride movement among the guards in Tombscradle ¡ª where many guards rococo hate-tattoos on their arms emulating Capt. Olsen ¡ª Walking-Tall like some ''Buford-Pusser'' figure, and they whipped anyone in their way with their rotangs.


    Joe switched off the slow rotating fan which had caused the blood drips in circular motion, forming bloody scintilla rings on the outer floor...


    The severed limbs of Capt. Olsen''s tattooed arms and legs too were in the middle of the room ¡ª bent and displayed in the likeness shape of a Nazi Swastika on the floor ¡ª inside in rings of splats of her own blood.


    "Is she dead?"


    The wide-eyed Kiki-boy murmured, standing behind the two bigger Wesleyan boys who then stepped closer, to check the moribund and motionless hanging body of the blinded Olsen. The Captain of Guards'' limbless body then gave a sudden jolting jerk-like movement ¡ª her erected head, screaming out defensively...


    "You fucking Niggers!"


    The ''Billies'' trio soon scrambled out of the room ¡ª shrieking in fright ¡ª into the hallway.


    *


    Only a dozen of the surviving Elite soldiers stood the ground, fighting back the advancing hordes of armed Intersexuals in the prison yard. The rabble numbers had been significantly reduced in the ghastly battle with the shooting Blacks, Whites and Asians.


    A frightened e-SWAT member pleaded to Commander Petersburg...


    "Sir, we have to retreat, we have to run ¡ª there are too many of them!"


    It was a wise measure before the mission''s e-SWAT platoon amounted to none ¡ª but, the conceited Commander barked her spleen out...


    "No soldier! We stay put and we fight back! The backup is coming any moment ¡ª just hold on and fight!"


    The livid Petersburg had refused to yield to the untenable defeat of her military-trained troop to a mob of uprising teenage guerillas ¡ª led by a proletarian cursed monk who was going to ruin her career again if he won...


    Reeves from the rooftop looked over his shoulder, to approaching rotor sound ¡ª and he spotted the twin combat Blackhawk helicopters soaring into the horizon, coming towards Tombscradle...


    Hajja heard it too, he mottled susceptible at afar, of what was emerging from the late afternoon sun.


    "Fuck, what now?"

 Chapter 15

    A BLACKHAWK CHOPPER HOVERED at the second entrance and the pilot glared at the snuffed E-SWAT combatants. Their burnt carcasses scattered on the concrete pavement, carpark lot and also on the smoking lawn below. The co-pilot frowned when looking on her hand-held tablet ¡ª she then glowered after seeing the device; with tumefy clusters of red dots inside the building.


    It was payback time...


    Like a video-game gunner, the co-pilot selected a virtual button on the tablet device ¡ª which activated the machine gun underneath the chopper. The strafing barrel fired heavy rounds at the secreted Intersexuals at the rear of the IMU administration edifice ¡ª many Whites, Arabs and the monks were hit ¡ª whereby, more perished by that single aerial attack...


    Most of the surviving rout prisoners were in trepidation, running out into the open ¡ª dispersed in the helter-skelter from the aggression hailing from above, leaving the unavailing wounded behind...


    The co-pilot selected a different virtual button on the device. A couple of missiles were fired at them directly ¡ª and the ground rocked a portion of the IMU building, before another blast reducing it to rubble smithereens ¡ª soon, more of the red dots disappeared on the tablet device screen after the explosions.


    *


    The second helicopter flew over the prison big-yard, shooting at anyone in the open, hovering in the midair of the big-yard ¡ª it began to shunt a 180 degrees turn...


    Inside the passenger holding, the co-pilot caught an x-ray glimpse of lots of red dots behind the walls of Block D & E ¡ª it was where the Hispanics prisoners were locked in their cells. The strafing machine gun discharged the pounding at the block''s outer wall...


    Inside D-Block, blood and meat chunks spewed out through the locked iron bars of the cells ¡ª flooding blood puddles outside on the ''drive-way'' walk-path, with the what-was-left-of the scores of defenceless Latino prisoners, who sprawled dead inside their locked cantons...


    The Search and Destroy Mission inflicted casualties by the choppers'' retaliation was Washington''s vengeance against the First-wave of insurgency, created by the aggressor shemales on the weaker female sex.


    Ramirez and the four Jamaicans appeared outside the IMU admin building at the precise moment of the aerial attack on the Latinos. They dashed over below and entered the empty guard station in the Hispanics'' E-Block...


    They released the buttons on the control panel ¡ª a buzzer sounded, then followed by the locked cell doors sliding open, with hundreds of terrified Mexicans survivors rushing out of their cells to safety, before the chopper''s next spread-eagle, bloodbath occurred...


    The helicopter fired a missile that now destructed part of the roof of E-Block, while the inmates dashed below to the lower floors.


    While the chopper was busy in the annihilation of the Mexican blocks, Marlin at the watchtower sniped at the whirlybird ¡ª and he discovered that it was also of bullet-proof in its physical structure. The pilot soon noticed, where the jaunty projectile angled shots were coming from ¡ª she turned the chopper facing the captured watchtower...


    Marlin knew it is time to bail out...


    The blond youth strapped the machine gun on his back and he then jumped sixty feet down, while a missile then thumped and wreaked the top of the tower ¡ª nearby on the roof of F-Block, the petrified Reeves watched helplessly at Marlin free-falling down ¡ª towards his defenestration...


    The volant Marlin alighted halfway, breaking his fall ¡ª by clenching on the power cable which he had tightrope walked earlier on ¡ª he clinched on hanging nearby while feeling the incendiary heat of the blast on his back...


    Huge chunks of the tower''s concrete, came crashing from above on to the power cable post and it inclined sideways ¡ª bringing Marlin fast downward towards the ground. He leapt off releasing the cable when he was about fifteen feet to the ground ¡ª he crashed landed, rolling into on the detritus below...


    Marlin survived the fall with a few cracked ribs ¡ª he laid supine a brief moment before he tottered to stand up on his feet, but he collapsed on his back again with deep penetrating twinge on his side...


    Reeves and Troy begin to shoot abruptly at the chopper wind-shield ¡ª it was distracting the co-pilot again ¡ª who was about to triangulate her killer target at immotile Marlin on the ground...


    The chopper then shifted an angle, and fired a missile at the roof, blasting the side of F-Block and causing the stanchion to cave in...This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Troy plunged helplessly inside and he landed on the top tier floor. The chopper next hovered over to fire another rocket missile at Hispanic E-Block ¡ª forgetting about the injured Marlin below.


    Reeves scrambled on the litter of wreckage roof slates, and he reached the gap fissure on the roof ¡ª and he yelled inside the hole...


    "Troy! Troy! Are you alright?"


    He heard a voice from the smoking crevice of the caved roof...


    "Yeah man, come, jump inside, Reeves ¡ª it is safer, we are no match to those birds!"


    "You stay put there, crimey!"


    Reeves then sundered away from Troy and began to run on the fractured roof to the other end of F-Block.


    *


    Li Chi tied an RPG on the end of the rope and it was pulled up to rooftop by his Chinese gang counterpart, Wu Leong who was still on top of A-Block. Doran looked out of the barred window from below ¡ª he seemed to be in a state of powerlessness again ¡ª while witnessing the twin choppers aerial slaying of more Intersexuals who were hiding inside the war-torn prison blocks.


    Peter the winsome and naive monk ¡ª drew closer to him...


    "Doran, what are you going to do now? What are the voices saying to you?"


    Hajja appeared from behind and smacked Peter''s head. The black leader held a pistol below Peter''s jawbone, and he rebuked loudly...


    "What do you expect the Preacher to do next, you fool? Sit on the back of God''s winged unicorn ¡ª and face the two army fighter helicopters?"


    Hajja intervened with more sagacity as he next addressed the Preacher...


    "Doran, it was truly a miracle in seeing how you knocked out that Hummer a moment ago ¡ª but, you are not going to do another crazy attempt like that! You do nothing ¡ª and you stay put here!


    "If you go out there and die right now ¡ª everyone will instantly lose their hopes and their will, to fight any more ¡ª and then, we will all be doomed!"


    Doran held Hajja''s hand that trained a pistol on Peter, he reciprocated his shortcomings...


    "But Brother Hajja, I cannot bear witness to be a bad Sheppard ¡ª and see God''s Army get slaughtered out there and do nothing about it!"


    Hajja responded back with a good judgment of warfare wisdom...


    "But every wise Sheppard will surely have a few good and trusted guard dogs ¡ª you have to equally trust them to do their work too. As we speak now, Li Chi is now masterminding an attack...


    "Let''s pray that it will succeed."


    *


    The injured Marlin staggered in the open yard and he took cover at the side of E-Block building where the Hispanics were holed inside with Ramirez and the Jamaicans. Marlin was in severe pain and he rested his back on the wall, before collapsing slowly to the ground, holding his bleeding side...


    He was done fighting for the day.


    *


    The Chinese triad Lieutenant stood on the roof of A-Block, and he aimed the RPG launcher. Wu Leong fired the thumper and it accurately countered the chopper ¡ª blowing and mangling the blades up...


    The swooning chopper instantly nosedived for a crash and it cart-wheeled on the big-yard, scattering a radius of spewed metal hunks.


    The entire denizen of all colours and races rejoiced in celebration of the vicissitude victory over the Blackhawk down. Hajja embraced Doran tightly, and both the holy men of their own faiths exulted with praises to the heavens. The angriest person on the ground was the concealing Elite Commander Petersburg who was really cursing in umbrage with every profanity that she ever knew at the Intersexuals'' further triumphs.


    The pilot of the second helicopter spotted out the black smoke from the crash site ¡ª emerging from the rear of the IMU building, she manoeuvred her craft towards A-Block rooftop to bolster an attack. The Chinese gang on the roof started running for safety with strafing bullets triggering at them. Sections of the roof tiles spewed, followed by the chopper firing a missile...


    The explosion caved in the roof centre ¡ª a few Chinese plummeted to their defenestration death fall ¡ª three tiers down inside, splat-landing onto the concrete ground floor below.


    Wu Leong and another surviving Chinese took cover behind a metal ventilation-duct on the roof, but the co-pilot in the hovering chopper scanned and ¡ª she spotting the duo ¡ª hiding as red dots on the screen of her thermos-heat hand-held tablet...


    Li Chi looked in horror from the ground, expecting the worst fatal demise on his trusted comrade...


    The pilot was about to blast a missile on the two stowing Chinese ¡ª but, from across F-Block rooftop, Reeves snuck up, and raised his rifle and fired his every last bullet that he had...


    One of Reeve''s targeted bullets struck the tail rotor of the chopper and ruptured the mechanism. A loud sibilant sound was audible ¡ª causing the chopper exiting out of control, with the pilot desperately trying to regain flight control...


    It spun a few times in aerial rotary motion before smashing head-on into the roof of the IMU admin edifice. A big explosion erupted while at the same time, while the running Joe, Kiki-boy and Hank were departing from the building entrance...


    The fiery wreckage structure of the craft plunged behind the screaming trio ¡ª and it exploded for the second time on the ground.


    "It was from Jensen! He shot the bird down!"


    Hajja pointed at Reeves standing alone on the roof across the yard, every prisoner was exulting to his accomplishment...


    Li Chi looked displeased that the final glory was taken away from Wu Leong ¡ª despite, Reeves had also saved his triad comrade''s life at the roof.


    He walked with his head bowed, among the rest inmates who spilt out bravely into the open big yard ¡ª everyone around Li Chi was jubilantly celebrating over the Preacher''s earlier prevailing prediction ¡ª on the fall of both the prison guards and e-SWAT troops...


    Li Chi then recalled the conversations he had with Hajja yesterday ¡ª which had now proven him wrong that the Preacher was not a wounded animal in destitute inside a cage. The monk-priest was now seen as the Deliverer of hope to the many ¡ª they all were now crying out his name, while the Preacher stood victorious ¡ª among his newly formed shemale-army in the fiery Tombscradle''s battlefield.

 Chapter 16

    EVERYONE WALKED INTO THE OPEN YARD. Out of about one thousand seven hundred of the Intersexual Tombscradle prisoners ¡ª fewer than nine hundred inmates survived the seven hours of ghastly insurrection ordeal, instigated by the Preacher on that day in Tombscradle.


    Doran, Hajja and Li Chi sauntered across the muddy yard towards E-Block, with the throng of Blacks and Whites following them from their rear...


    The bloody ground was filled with the carnage ¡ª macabre remains of fellow prisoners, prison guards, Elite-soldiers whom all fell deceased, among the scattered metal chunks of the once ominous e-SWAT choppers, which were blemishing now in profuse black smokes.


    The throng known as The One God''s Army now stepped on the broken-down warden''s apartheid fallen fences ¡ª that she used before to divide and ruled over the incarcerated races ¡ª they were all preceded towards the green grassed compound of the Hispanics...


    Elite soldier Sergeant Desiree Brown hid alone, while she watched the mass gathering.


    Doran noticed Reeves and Troy conveyed the injured Marlin ¡ª the masses laudably cheered out to them too...


    "Jensen! Jensen! Jensen!"


    Reeves Jensen and Marlin Petroff were hailed among the valour heroes that gave conquest in the uprising in Tombscradle on Redemption Day ¡ª they both brought down a minatory Blackhawk and knocked out both of the kill-frenzy watchtower-snipers.


    Doran stood on the grass, he caught the sight on to his right, where a group of Middle-Easterners were dragging the Elite Commander Petersburg who was tied and gagged. Li Chi and the Chinese triad then strapped the e-SWAT Commander to the soccer goal crossbar.


    The Preacher also saw the reunion of Michael and Peter ¡ª they both were hugging and praising orisons to their God that they have survived. There were less than a dozen of the blanket-monks present with them ¡ª many died on that day as martyrs ¡ª in the Preacher''s mutiny to liberate the mass denizen of the penitentiary.


    Ramirez and his unarmed Hispanic people stepped out of D and E-Blocks ¡ª they approached the Preacher and Hajja near the soccer pitch.


    Ramirez was lugging a small satchel and he emptied the content ¡ª Warden Graves'' severed head tumbled on the grass...


    Ramirez booted the head to Hajja, who stopped the tumbleweed-like rolling, haired cranium with his heel...


    "I have delivered what I have promised, Hajja ¡ª please spare my people."


    The Black leader was satiable with the purvey of the evidence ¡ª that the loathed warden was finally dead. Ramirez turned to the gathered mass and he attested his pawns and detente out openly. The Hispanic leader spoke out, he glanced finally at Doran...Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    "I pledge that my people from now on will serve the Preacher and his God''s Army. We will not fight with each other anymore because the true enemy is the one that hates our kind and will do anything to easily exterminate us all if we don''t unite ¡ª just as you had preached to all, padre,"


    Doran nodded ¡ª Hajja approached and he shook Ramirez''s hand.


    Both the motley leaders transcended their differences ¡ª the rest of the Blacks and Latinos rooted out aloud with the schism of the two hatred rivals that now was resolved. Everyone turned and looked at Doran ¡ª and raised their guns and fired in the air, chanting aloud...


    "Preacher! Preacher! Preacher!"


    Doran calmly walked to the soccer goalpost where the gagged Commander''s wrists were bound to the crossbar. Behind him, some of the once implacable Hispanic and Blacks who were in pax, and were having waggish fun ¡ª by booting the warden''s head around on the pitch like a ball.


    Doran pulled out a single sock that was gagging the loudmouth woman and he dropped it on the ground ¡ª an Iraqi picked it, and wore back his borrowed sock...


    Commander Petersburg gasped to regain her breath before she started yelling in stentorian...


    "You, fucking religious freaks! You wait now ¡ª more of my backup will come next to hunt all you sons of bitches!"


    "We never meant any harm to your kind, woman ¡ª but if you insist to start a war ¡ª the One God''s Army with its Heavenly Guidance ¡ª will punish and crush you all, until the last warmongering female on earth falls, and bites the dust beneath our feet."


    The Preacher cautioned his presage to the captured Petersburg...


    "Fuck your religious mambo-jumbo prick sermons, you ugly mug ¡ª the US government has already declared war on you, and the rest of your bitches here with dicks! You will all go down, and will not have a chance against us ¡ª do you all hear me you, Jesus cocksuckers?"


    The vituperative Petersburg blurted back in rage at the Preacher''s face...


    Doran could by no means comprehend the rationality behind the female cause in the present post-Medusa era ¡ª he had heard the same reasoning from other women like the warden, her guards and even the one named Agent Wolfe ¡ª who made their maxim that the new Intersexual breeds should remain lesser as their subservient ¡ª but, never as their equal.


    He reckoned that the uprising that had been sparked now would need to be pursued beyond the walls of Tombscradle ¡ª into the domain of the larger populace of Intersexuals in the cities ¡ª to those over there, who needed to be unshackled next, and be emancipated...


    The Preacher caught a glimpse of Wu Leong, who was now wearing a belt strap with a few hand grenades attached ¡ª he took one and yanked out the pin ¡ª the horrified Hajja who was standing beside him, backed away and exclaimed...


    "Preacher, what are you doing? This is insane!"


    Everyone backed away, even some ran away, leaving Doran alone near the tied-up Elite Commander ¡ª the Preacher was still gripping on to a live grenade ¡ª he clutched the Commander''s cheeks with his palm and packed the whole grenade into her mouth ¡ª like the Holy Communion Eucharist bread ¡ª that he had served in the many prison yard Sunday Masses before...


    Petersburg made a gagging choking sound biting on the bomb. The Preacher stared into the e-SWAT Commander''s budging eyeballs ¡ª and, he vowed his final libretto...


    "Woman, take this message to Hell ¡ª that The God''s Army will prevail on this earth!


    "Eat my word and you will live ¡ª spit it out, and you will perish ¡ª do this, in memory of me!"

 Chapter 17

    MORE THAN TWO DOZEN passenger cars, three e-SWAT buses, two prison buses and a bulletproofed Hummer were packed with the rapprochement of Intersexuals. They drove out from both the prison gates into the desert road ¡ª many over-cramped on the roof of all the vehicles, similar to the public transportation in third world countries...


    Reeves ran up and hopped on the ladder at the back of one of the moving police bus, where Joe was on top with other Wesleyan Whites ¡ª they shared a joke and laughed.


    The Elite Commander Petersburg was left behind tied to the goalpost, choking with an explosive in her mouth ¡ª grunted deep-throat, seeing the convoy of vehicles trailing away from Tombscradle with the liberated insurgents aboard...


    Li Chi drove the Hummer with Ramirez sitting in the front seat with him. The short-circuited vehicle was booted back running for the AOG leaders by the handy Peckerwood Russell Collins after it was electrocuted in the yard earlier. At the back-seat were Doran and Hajja.


    They all heard an explosion behind them shortly ¡ª Ramirez guffawed hard...


    "The bitch doesn''t love us ¡ª so, she spat it out!"


    *


    Blood dripped from her fingernails and onto the office floor in the blazing IMU. The office phone on her desk was ringing continuously before it stopped ¡ª and then the Warden''s cell phone ring tone came on. Finally, that too discontinued and the walkie-talkie on the side table then crackled ¡ª with the nervous Governor Harris'' voice ¡ª coming on clearly with some high-level sub-rosa instruction...Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    "WARDEN GRAVES, ARE YOU THERE? DID YOU GET MY MESSAGE TO EVACUATE ALL OF THE FEMALE PERSONNEL? THIS IS A DIRECT ORDER FROM WASHINGTON ¡ª YOU ALL HAVE ONLY A FEW MINUTES LEFT TO LEAVE THE TOMBSCRADLE''S PREMISE...


    "PLEASE EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY!"


    The headless corpse sat in there with no urgency ¡ª behind the warden''s desk.


    *


    The whimsy Sergeant Brown came out from her opprobrium hiding when the rebels left ¡ª and she slowly approached the goalpost where the smouldering deceased Commander hung dead on the crossbar...


    Her limbs below her torso had gone missing...


    Desiree Brown was the only e-SWAT survivor in the big-yard ¡ª gazing at the enemy afar, transporting themselves away...


    Her helmet dropped on the sand after peering above, looking at a bright missile which was falling fast from the skies.


    *


    The convoy had travelled half a mile on the desert road, away from the prison ¡ª those from Wesleyan on the bus-stop were singing the similar sanguine rhymes when they were first brought outside the university, with the pretext of visiting the police carnival five years ago.


    They discontinued singing ¡ª and everyone turned their heads to witness the virulent explosion in the background.


    The sunset firmament was lucidly bright as daylight for a split moment ¡ª behold, witnessing the long-ranged ballistic missile that had flattened Tombscradle afar, into its seismic, nullity rubble ¡ª it was followed by smoke and dust rings rising high up into the air.


    They all watched and were baffled for an instant at the mushroom cloud rising, before Kiki-boy''s levity voice was heard singing ''Coming Round the Mountain'' again ¡ª and the others Wesleyans joined into the symmetry tune...


    Everyone sang the mirth chorus, joyously aloud...


    ''Yippie ya-ya, yippie-yippie ya..."