The Gathering Storm Read online

  The crowd began going completely nuts. The Mayor grinned, and then guffawed. Damn, what a fight! This would be talked about for months to come.

  The two combatants rose slowly, on wobbly legs. Both had tear-stained faces from the effects of the pain they had inflicted on each other. They circled again, trying to regain their breath.

  Red sprang a kick to Blue’s knee, but she caught it on her outer thigh. Then Blue lunged forward and drove a combination of fists to her rival’s stomach and chest. Red tried to cover up with her arms and hands. This left her face unprotected. Blue closed on Red and sunk her teeth into the woman’s jaw line on the left side of her face. Red screamed and again tried to claw herself loose from the damaging bite. Blue shifted her bite to the neck, drawing blood.

  Red sagged, and Blue let her fall to the ground. Blue then straddled and sat on the stunned Red in a classic schoolyard pin, her knees holding Red’s shoulders to the ground. Blue cursed at Red, and then, to the howling appreciation of the crowd, spit in her face. Twice. Blue used her hands to smear the spittle all over Red’s face, as the defeated woman’s heels beat a powerless drum beat on the ground. Blue rolled off Red, and somehow had the energy to stand up. She placed her bare right foot on Red’s face and pressed it into the grass. Blue raised her right fist in the sign of victory.

  The crowd went wild. Coins began to be thrown at the victor, as bills would not have reached the arena floor.

  “Where in the hell did you find these two, Joe?”

  The former professional football player gave the Mayor his signature grin. “Oh, you know Boss, word gets around to me. Seems that Red tried to steal Blue’s husband. They were going to fight in the street when their people told them to fight for something real, not just sex. So, here we are.”

  “Goddamn. I knew there was something to why they seemed to hate each other. Well, get Blue and Red cleaned up. I want to speak them both about their futures.”

  Mayor Young was already sizing up the next competitors for the next match when Red and Blue showed up in his box suite. Both had cleaned up rather well, aside from some swelling and bruising. Red would not look at Blue, and instead looked at the ground.

  The Mayor a large envelope to Blue. “Your reward. Certificate stating you and your family are exempt from harvesting, unless you or your kindred commits a felony crime. There is also some money and chits you can use. You are one tough woman. Care for a drink?”

  Blue not only looked at him and through him as well. Damn, the Mayor thought. I don’t envy any man who steps out on a woman that ice cold.

  “No, thank you, Mayor. May I leave?”

  Mayor Johnson sighed. “Yes. Good job. You’re going to be something of a legend around here.” She did not reply, just bowed and turned to leave. She glared at Red. “Leave my husband alone, or I will gouge out your eyes.” Blue hissed at Red. Red kept looking at the floor as Blue left.

  The Mayor looked at Red. “Well, you lost. But the fight was so good, I decided to find something for you.” He tossed her an envelope. “You have dispensation for one year. Then your family can be harvested.”

  She looked at him for the first time, surprise in her eyes. “Thank you. Oh, thank you!”

  “There’s a little cash there too. Given your impressive performance, I think we might be willing to offer you a second chance. Maybe you can fight someone else for permanent status if you’d like.” He took a closer look at her. He found her strikingly beautiful, damage and all. “Unless you might be willing to offer another barter of some kind for my consideration…”

  It was early the next morning when Mayor Johnson awoke in his suite, Red cuddled up to him. He did not know her real name and did not care. She had quickly decided what side of the bread the butter was on, and, for that matter, who supplied the bread. Red let him know that she had nothing to return to, she had no children yet. So, for now she was the Mayor’s main squeeze.

  She had made herself available and willing all night long, knowing that for a man like the Mayor, that attitude cemented the deal. If she performed like this on a regular basis, hell, she could stay forever.

  The mayor kissed her firm curved figure, and extricated himself from her grasp. He took care of his bathroom needs and was getting dressed when he heard a small knocking on the outside door to his suite. He went to the door and peered through the peephole. It was Joe.

  “What’s up, Joe?”

  “Mayor, we have a problem headed this way, fast. It’s that crazy ass Talbot and his Kraken Flying Squad. They’re on the outskirts of Atlanta.”

  “What? Coming here? What the fuck, is he nuts? There are a half a million brothers just waiting to kill his sorry pale ass. Nobody has that many bullets.”

  “Well, Boss, he already kneecapped two young men that got in his way, and a Falcon traveling with them harvested a third. After that, everyone scattered.”

  Most of the survivors the Squids classified as dark meat had begun to centralize around the major pre-rock strike population centers in the former tri-state area, because that was where the food and other supplies were first delivered to by Director Lloyd and his people. Attempts to organize some type of subsistence farming on earlier fertile lands were mostly failures. During the past year, instead of Falcons dropping supplies, large balloons and dirigibles were being used for the supply drops. Definitely not as accurate, they made up in tonnage. As long as he and the other “Mayors”, representatives of the major population centers, supplied a monthly quota of “meat” to the gigantic harvesting center in the former port of Savannah, Georgia, the food and other supplies kept coming.

  When in the beginning, organized resistance to the “quotas” was attempted, a few things happened. Initially, food and supplies stopped and people began starving, fighting, even eating each other. Robos and their Falcons then began random harvesting in the middle of the night. This was usually initiated with the demolition of buildings while people were still inside. Finally, as they fled the fire and destruction, people of color were unceremoniously snatched up and slaughtered, sometimes while suspended overhead. There was nothing like blood raining on someone’s head to create a quick attitude adjustment.

  The survivors chose the “Mayors” to talk to the Tschaaa. In a flash, agreements were made, and once again the age old process of basically buying and selling people so that others could survive began. Now, an average of five thousand Cattle were required delivered to Savannah for “processing” each month, including a substantial number of veal units. Most of the fresh meat went to feed the Squid’s young. The Mayors and their helpers had to insure delivery, or else the Falcons came looking, with the help of the Krakens. Sadly, some individuals were willing to sell their own young. But, since abortions were common place in some communities pre-strike, it wasn’t that difficult a leap.

  Talbot and Company never came this far into Cattle Country. Not ever. Talbot must have suicidal thoughts, robocops or no robocops.

  “How close is he?”

  “Within the hour, he should be here, barring a major firefight.”

  “Fuck!” the Mayor exploded. “Just when I start enjoying myself, this shit happens. Get the office ready, Joe, for their arrival. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Sure, Boss.” Joe left. He knew the drill.

  Martin Luther returned to Red and woke her up.

  “Honey, something’s come up. Stay here in the suite. There is some food and drink in the refrigerator, some DVDs near the TV, some women’s clothes in the closet. Just do not leave. In fact, lock the door when I leave. Understand?”

  Red could tell he was worried. She had no desire to screw up a good thing. She had found a protector and sugar-daddy and did not plan on blowing it.

  “Anything you say, Mayor.”

  Mayor Luther stroked her cheek. “When we are alone, call me Marty. I like you, Red. Like me back and we will get along just fine.”

  “Yes, Marty.” She reached up and kissed him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all
.

  Mayor Luther quickly dressed and recovered his Luger from beside the bed. He had decided a long time ago that if Talbot and company came for him, he would fight. Tonight might be the night. Or maybe not. He met Joe at the office. He had a couple of his security people standing at the door to the office, each with sawed off double-barreled twelve gauges, obtained by Joe from God knows where. The Mayor poured himself a shot of bourbon and tossed it back. He needed it to help settle his nerves. Then, he sat back to wait in silence.

  About a half hour later, they heard a large number of engines in the streets nearby, followed by some shouts and a single gunshot. The Mayor sat frozen, staring at the door to his office. He could hear the loud hoots and howls of Torbin’s men, along with the thunder of their heavy boots, coming up the stairs and then down the hallway.

  “Hey, boy! Watch where you point that shotgun unless you want it up your ass.”

  Mayor Luther had encountered the voice before on the telephone and recognized it as Talbot, public enemy number one.

  Talbot and company burst through the door using the two security men as battering rams, sending them sprawling at the foot of the Mayor’s desk. Joe stood with his hand on his great bowie knife, standing still but ready to explode into action if necessary. Talbot regarded the Mayor’s aide. “Joe. Long time no see. I still say you would have been one of the best players in the NFL if not for the Squids. But then again, we wouldn't be having all this ‘fun’ now would we?”

  Talbot turned his attention to the Mayor. “Hey, Marty. Sorry, but we had to gut shoot some meat outside that got too close. The Falcon has already harvested him, so there’s no mess to clean up. But I digress. Lieutenant Sparks.” Ray Sparks handed Talbot an object, which he took and tossed unceremoniously on the desk with a resounding clatter. “Look familiar, Mayor?”

  Martin Luther saw it was a spear. He picked it up and examined it. It took him only a few moments to notice the information plate on the shaft. “Property of the Atlanta Museum of Natural History” it read.

  “I never was one to hang around museums, Mr. Talbot.”

  Talbot grinned. “I never thought I would see the day when homegrown badasses carried African spears in America. I mean, we used to call you ‘spearchuckers’ but I never saw one of you actually have one, a spear that is. Until the other day, when we tracked down the meat that broke through the fence in the Florida Panhandle. And now, the question is how an African spear from a museum in Atlanta, Georgia, wound up in Florida.”

  He glared at the Mayor. “Any ideas?”

  Without missing a beat, Martin responded. “I suspect someone stole it from the Museum. The place has been closed since just after the first rock strike, six years ago.” Sweat began to bead up on the Mayor’s forehead. He had no idea what else to say.

  Talbot broke the silence. “I know you don’t know. Hell, you’re too busy porking the losers of your catfight extravaganzas.” Talbot chuckled. “Yes, we have heard all about your little circuses. Wished I could have gotten here sooner to watch the last one. I heard you record them, right?”

  “Yes, we do.”

  Talbot slapped his hands together. “Good. I want a copy sent to me. As well as a dozen of your good-looking brawl babies. Well, at least as good looking as a female bruiser can be.”

  Talbot walked over and sat on edge of the Mayor’s desk. “We won’t stay long, as the ‘natives’ are getting restless. Sounds like an old Tarzan movie, doesn’t it?”

  “After we leave, you have seven days to come up with the women, the recording of the fight, and seven young livestock who get to accept responsibility for the breakout. Send them to Savannah with notes pinned to their asses stating they are the seven who planned it, and we will call it even.”

  Martin Luther hesitated. The populace would know what was happening when seven men were suddenly grabbed, above the quota they had just filled.

  “I said, capisce. Understand?” Talbot roared.

  The Mayor jumped in his seat. “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good. Now, as much as I enjoy your company, time to go. Make sure you deliver on time. Otherwise, we’ll have the robos start harvesting at random.”

  Talbot jumped off the desk and strode to the door. “Goodbye, Joe. See you next time. Hell, you might be Mayor then.” He began laughing at his joke, joined by the other Kraken Squad Members as they all barged out the door. The two now empty shotguns were tossed into the office by the Tail End Charlie.

  “Don’t forget the DVD of the fight!” Talbot called once more from the hallway. The Mayor was shaking with anger and fear.

  “You okay, Boss?” Joe asked.

  “Fuck. As good as I can be. At least I'm still alive.” He used his shaking hand to pour himself another drink.

  Talbot and his Krakens clambered down the stairwells to the street below, bellowing and laughing. They just loved to mess with anyone they could intimidate. As they joined the security team guarding their transportation, Talbot noticed a tall, muscular, very dark skinned man leaning against the wall of the building across the street. He seemed to be watching them without a care in the world, ignoring even the Falcon circling the city overhead.

  “Hey, dark meat. What are you looking at?” Talbot yelled.

  “Just some white meat fooling around with the His Honor, the Mayor.”

  Talbot laughed, and walked toward the young man with the big mouth.

  “My, my, we have a set of balls, don’t we? What’s your name, meat?”

  “I go by Malcolm these days. And you, what name do you go by?”

  “Talbot of the Krakens, and no, not that Church. In the old days we would be a biker gang. Now we’re the biggest son of a bitch in the valley.” His men laughed. “Don't you know you could wind up dead if you piss us or that robocop flying around off?”

  Malcolm gave one short laugh, then responded. “We are already dead. We were dead the day the Squids showed up. It’s just a matter now of when we stop being the walking dead and truly die.”

  Talbot examined him more closely. This man, with his very dark skin, was one of the smartest humans Talbot had met in the last few years. How had he stayed alive?

  “Pardon me for asking, but how did someone who looks like you not been harvested by now? The Squids, you know, love dark meat. The darker the better.”

  Malcolm shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess. Mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Go ahead. This is one of the most interesting conversations I’ve had in a long time.”

  “Did you have fun with His Honor, the House Nigger?”

  Talbot stared at Malcolm. Then he started laughing, as did all his men. He laughed so hard that he almost fell over. As he wiped tears from his eyes, he told Malcolm. “You know my man, I sure hope you’re around the next time I have to visit the Mayor. You’re a hell of a lot more fun than he is.”

  “Who knows, Talbot of the Krakens, I may be the Mayor when you return.”

  Talbot laughed again. “Well, Malcolm of the walking dead, your luck is still holding. Most folks like you standing around eyeballing us would be dead by now. So, yeah, you could be Mayor soon. If you are and I have to look you up, you can buy me a drink.” Everyone laughed, including Malcolm.

  “Sounds like a deal to me, Talbot of the Krakens.”

  Talbot signaled it was time leave. “Time to leave, Malcolm. See you next time, I hope.” He climbed into his SUV and accelerated down the street, his units soon falling in behind.

  As the sound of the vehicle engines began to fade, Malcolm straightened up from his position on the wall. He looked up to a fifth story window in a building two blocks away. He gave a high sign to the sniper manning the homemade 50 caliber bolt action sniper rifle. Malcolm knew that if he had taken Talbot out, all hell would have broken loose. The 50 probably would not have taken out the Falcon. But man, it would have been a fun few minutes.

  When you’re already “dead”, it’s the little fun things in life that get you through the day.


  CHAPTER 13

  KEY WEST, FLORIDA

  The Director Adam Lloyd became quite adept in his special form of propaganda. With the assistance of Kathy Monroe, the perfect on screen image and messenger for the Protocols of Selective Survival, the Director began spreading the word about the New Age the Tschaaa were bringing to humanity, at least part of it.

  But not everyone who received the message accepted it. This was especially true of those humans residing in Unoccupied States of America.

  - Excerpts from the Literary Works of Princess Akiko, Free Japan Royal Family.

  The past few weeks had been very busy for Adam, Kathy, Mary Lou and the Chief. The whole base had become a literal beehive of activity. Knowing the information he had just received from his Lordship, Adam lit a fire under all departments and sections, in an attempt to get things done as quickly as possible before the inevitable pushback from the populace. Only he and the Chief knew the full story of the Tschaaa ship movement, although he knew scientists and astronomers involved in the project could easily extrapolate the ships’ destinations from the angles of trajectory. When the truth of the Tschaaa plans was discovered by other individuals clever enough to put the pieces together, the information would spread throughout the general populace like wildfire.

  Before that happened, Adam needed to have a buffer in place to mitigate the effects of the knowledge that the Squids were here to stay in large numbers indefinitely. No small centralized colonies, the Tschaaa breeding areas would be huge and worldwide. He began instructing Kathy to broadcast all of the benefits the Tschaaa were graciously providing. Cell phones, the full internet, a national power grid, superior nanotechnology, and medicine for everyone in the Tschaaa controlled areas, as well as fresh food and produce being readily produced on restructured farms.