Dead Man Running Read online

  "His wife and children?" Mira asked.

  "Oh, they're just like me. We left nothing to chance."

  Elias leaned forward on the couch. "What was the plan once you became president? It seems like you didn't do much to change our trajectory until Wiley came along."

  "Yes, we found that change is hard. We underestimated the human need for self-destruction and the destruction of others. The animus of your race was greater than we anticipated. We are not gentle creatures by any means but we pale at your hatred and savagery. Frankly, we were going nowhere fast until Wiley came along."

  "When did you plan to stop Wiley? When had things changed enough?" Mira asked.

  Elias leaned forward, pointed at the collective. "You have a lot of blood on your hands," Elias said to thousands of creature that really didn't have any hands. "When was enough blood enough?"

  The collective opened its 'mouth', closed it. The group sat in silence for a half minute before the insects responded.

  "We can't believe you just said that. Do you know how many millions of our kind you kill daily? And you want to bitch about what, a couple hundred thousand dead humans?"

  "You can't possibly compare insects to humans," Mira said.

  "We're all God's creatures," the collective voiced.

  "You believe in God?" Elias asked.

  The mouth grinned. "Actually, we don't, but, when we do terrible things, we've learned to invoke His name. Just like y'all humans." The collective laughed, its Obama voice echoing off the walls. After a minute the collective resumed the conversation.

  "We wanted to change leadership in more countries. Fortunately America's influence has grown and we can get the cooperation we desired on wars, famine, nuclear arms and the environment. We will set humanity on a new path, one that will assure the future of 'Spaceship Earth' for all its inhabitants, even its so called lesser creatures like us."

  "America is unquestionably the most powerful nation." asked Mira. "I helped Obama shut down all of Wiley's bomb plants and the reverse bomb plant in Quincy. Technology that America alone owns."

  The Obama creature nodded. "And America's enemies are fully aware of its new capabilities. Funny how that knowledge has changed behavior." The collective laughed, the strange hollow sound bouncing around the Oval Office's smooth walls.

  "The Russians and Chinese are being very cooperative with Syria. The Chinese have let the value of their currency be determined by market forces. Even the North Koreans have come around – they have begun to dismantle their nuclear program. America, that bastion of freedom and the planet's best hope for survival, is the most powerful nation on the planet and we have you two to thank for it."

  "And that gets us what?" asked Elias.

  "Freedom," it said. "Your testimony will be filed away by Executive Order, not to be reveled for a thousand years. Neither of you will be prosecuted, something I will guarantee with a secret presidential pardon."

  "My grandfather?"

  "Him too, Mrs. Turnbull. He can continue working in his magic shop."

  Mookie helped the bugs back into the Obama costume. The 'Obama suit', as the collective called it, was a significant technological achievement in its own right; one Elias could not imagine being created by a bunch of cockroaches. After several minutes 'President Obama' stood in front of Mira and Elias. With a sweep of his hands, he gestured for the pair to stand. He walked them to the door.

  "What do you want from us?" Mira asked.

  "Your silence." His steady gaze met both sets of eyes. "I hope we have an agreement."

  Elias and Mira looked at each other, they nodded.

  Elias spoke for them both. "Yes, sir. We won't say anything about this." He turned to Mookie. "What will you do?"

  "Ben Wiley's old church is in a bad state. I've been helping to rebuild."

  Obama shook their hands, opened the door. "I'm sure as you consider what I've said, you will conclude that all this was for the best. For all the planet's inhabitants. America's a better and stronger nation and it has you to thank for it," Obama said as he ushered them out of the office.

  Elias – destined to be haunted by nightmares the rest of his life – never quite came to that same conclusion.

  Eschewing the limo, Mira and Elias decided to walk home. They walked hand in hand.

  "Have you heard from Manchester?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "No and his people haven't heard from him either. They think he's lost and I have to agree."

  "So, we assume she's not really dead."

  "We have to – the inferno created by the RPG didn't leave any DNA to test for what was supposed to be her body and that of her child."

  "Wiley knew she was siphoning funds, purchasing real estate but that knowledge died with him."

  "Do you think Mookie would know?" she asked.

  "You mean Reverend Sills?"

  "Is that what he's calling himself?" They shared a rare laugh.

  They quieted, exchanged a somber look. "Maybe he can help," Elias said. "He, like us, has a lot to make up for."

  "More than we ever can," Mira said.

  Elias nodded his head and they spent the next several minutes in their own thoughts and regrets.

  They stopped walking as they had reached their condo. Elias faced his bride. "Jan is too smart, too focused on protecting her child. She's in the wind now and we'll only discover her once the child grows and begins its murderous ways."

  "What will we do?" she asked.

  "I'll continue to serve my constituents as long as they'll have me. You can be my partner, in everything." He rubbed her belly. "And we will be terrific parents. And she – for Hamid said it was a girl – she will be raised the right way and someday, she will have to be there to stop him."

  She lifted her lips to his and kissed him.

  "Have you heard from Hamid?"

  Mira shook her head. "Not for several weeks. He's gathering what's left of the world's purveyors of magic. He is obsessed with preventing this from happening again. He wants them to use their collective powers to magically block this from re-occurring."

  "Do you think he'll be successful?"

  Mira took her husband's hand and led him into the building. In the elevator she answered him. "Magic builds upon the past generations. Our daughter will be more powerful than Hamid and I combined. If he doesn't find a way…."

  "….she could make it happen again."

  Mira nodded. A tear came out of her eye and wordlessly the pair bathed in a shared guilt their decision to continue the pregnancy represented.

  "He'll be successful," Elias declared as the elevator doors opened.

  "God help us if he isn't," Mira said, wrapping her arm around her husband's waist.

  EPILOGUE

  COSTA RICA – MARCH 2017

  Jan Sugerfoot Wiley Marquez returned home to her palatial estate on the west coast of Costa Rica. Her monthly clothes shopping complete in Cartago, she was ready to sit down to a sumptuous dinner prepared by her personal chef Manuel Sosa and relax with her five year old son Alonzo.

  As she walked into the house she could sense that something was wrong.

  Usually a whirlwind of activity, nothing stirred.

  Her son was a terror, she knew it. She expected him to come tearing down the steps or out of one of the wings of the house with his nanny Sedalia Camandora on his heels.

  All of the child's nannies – nine of them in his short life – encouraged her to be harsher with the boy, even spank him. Costa Ricans didn't seem to have the same reluctance to punish corporally as did their American counterparts.

  But Jan couldn't bear the thought of hitting her child. He, she thought, was a miracle child. Plus, quite frankly, she was a little afraid of him. Early on she had seen the extra set of teeth he was capable of bearing at a moment's notice. The teeth she had finally convinced him never to show to anyone else – "they'll just be our secret, baby".

  He was brilliant, astounding his tutors. Barely kindergarten age, he
was already solving algebraic equations and conducting chemistry experiments. Having mastered English and Spanish, he had moved on to Mandarin Chinese. His capacity to learn was insatiable and he completed one book every day, turning the second floor of their home into one of the largest libraries in the country.

  "Alonzo?" she called out as she climbed the stairs. A strong coppery smell came to her nostrils and she quickened her pace. "Alonzo? Sedalia?"

  She reached the top of the stairs and looked down the long hallway. Light flooded the hall, let in from the home's unique glass roof. From his bedroom, Alonzo Jesus Sugerfoot emerged. He wore matching shorts and shirt, red with blue train prints. The train was 'The Little Engine That Could'.

  His tiny hands and the front of his shorts and shirt were drenched in blood.

  Jan ran to her son, grabbed him, and shook him. "Alonzo, what did you do?" She shook him hard.

  The boy, more beast than ever now, looked his mother in the eyes until she was forced to look away. "You're hurting me mother, please stop." The words were preternaturally calm.

  Jan took her hands off her son, took a step back. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Tell me what you did."

  The child reached out with a bloody hand and took his mother's hand and led her into the bedroom.

  There was a tea party around the 'Winnie the Poo' chair and table set.

  "Miss Sedalia is helping me have a tea party," he said.

  What was left of his nanny occupied a seat decorated with the smiling face of 'Tigger'. Sedalia's head was missing and several of her limbs were upon the table, set in front of various action figures or stuffed animals.

  Jan fought back the bile rising in her throat. "But, baby, Miss Sedalia is dead."

  Her son looked at the woman, as if seeing her for the first time in her current state. "Okay, I guess she is. But, she is still helping me have the party."

  He looked up at his mother and grinned with his full set of teeth. There were bits of the woman stuck between the sharp and bright white teeth.

  The sight invoked a fight or flight reaction down to Jan's elemental core but she did not dare move.

  "Mother, she really is helping. She's the food. One can't have a party without food."

  Connect with Barry C. Davis Online:

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/barrycdavis

  Blog: http://blackmantellingtales.blogspot.com/

  Other Novels by this author available for the Kindle:

  A Strange and Bitter Fruit http://www.amazon.com/dp/B003A846YK

  Sweets http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004V056AY

  Young Gifted and Bad http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005O3GPKC

  Jimmie Barnes http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00439H0K2

  Black Man Telling Tales http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004VSATI0

  Outer Twilight http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004VSZTIU

  Rose of the Badlands http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0073UOCB8

  2