Beast Machine (38 page)

“
I am not lying, my friend;
she was found dead just a few days ago, like I had said,”
said Jimbo. “
Found dead in
what was described as a ‘man-made crater’ that looked like a bomb
had exploded and her throat was ripped out.”

“
Ripped out?”
said Elliot apprehensively.
“Not slit? Not slashed? Her throat was just straight ripped
out?”

“
Ripped clean out,”
said Jimbo. “
Apparently,
the entire scene was exceptionally gruesome, not Dr. Spotila
gruesome but still disturbing. That’s the word from some locals
there. I couldn’t get a photo from the crime scene – the cops down
there aren’t as friendly as our Sheriff up here.”

Gora sat next to radio
pensively. She was waiting for the moment where she was linked to
at least one of the slayings. So far, though, Dr. Spotila’s death
was ruled an accidental suicide and not much has been done in
regards to figuring out Dr. Borehole’s death. She was clean, for
now, but she just had a sickening feeling she would become the
prime suspect, and have to go on the run to protect herself and her
beasts.

“
Sitting next to that radio
box isn’t going to help, ya know?” said Tubman. She walked over to
Gora and put her paw on Gora’s shoulder. “How about we do something
to take your mind off all this?”

Gora pushed her lips to the
left side of her face. “I don’t feel bad about killing Borehole or
Spotila, but I would feel dreadful if you or the others were
caught.”

“
We’re never going to get
caught, Gora. Not as long as I’m alive. I ain’t going to become a
slave, in this body or my human body. We’re all too smart, too
strong willed to be caught. We’ve made mistakes in the past two
missions, yet we’re all intact and nearly ready for the next one.
We’ll be fine, Gora.”

Gora sighed, “You’re right.
I can’t let possibilities and fear chain me down. We must
continue.” She looked at Tubman and smiled. “You’ve been a great
addition and I’m glad you were created. Even though you were a bit
of a hassle to begin with…”

Blushing, Tubman said,
“Well, Gora, you created me after all.” Tubman never knew that
Owlbert was the one that created her.

“
No, I mean, I’m glad your
human self – Harriet Tubman – was created. If such a miraculous
person such as you – er, her – was not created, was never born,
we’d be without our glue. Without our heart. You kept the group
going with creating the hole, you helped get Hitbear out of trouble
so Borehole didn’t see him, and you were so brave entering
Spotila’s facility. We wouldn’t be this far along without you,
Tubman.”

Still blushing, Tubman
replied, “Well, I guess, thank you, Gora.” She looked down at her
feet and stood up on her haunches. “Let’s stop being sappy and try
to get it right for the next one. Sound good to you?”

“
Yes!” giggled Gora. “I can
be too serious sometimes!” She stood up and walked with Tubman over
to Hitbear and the injured Owlbert.

The pair was watching
television from a set that Gora had pulled out of her storage so
Owlbert had something to occupy himself while his wings, beak and
talons healed. Each beast was enthralled with modern television
shows: the quality of the picture, how it was in color, the effects
and the animations – it was all appealing to the beasts!

“
I faintly remember
watching films on large white screens, but this,” said Hitbear,
“this is incredible! How did they fit a projector and the film
inside of this slender box!?” He looked around the laboratory. “Is
there a projector somewhere in this messy lab?” He kept looking
around, first seriously, then foolishly after realizing there was
no outside projector for the television.

“
Bear, can du be quiet,
bitte?” asked Owlbert weakly. “I can’t hear zee sound!” Hitbear
stopped fooling around and returned to a quiet gaze at the
television.

Owlbert was placed in a
jerry-rigged hammock of sorts with bandages covering his wings. His
beak wore deep scratches and a few bumps, while his talons were
mostly fine aside from two being chipped. Feathers were often being
shed as the medication Gora placed on his wings was strong but not
without side effects. The healing process was arduous and, frankly,
boring for a quick witted creature that liked to hop about the
laboratory to find new books to fill his mind with or head outside
to fly through the forest looking for bugs or mice.

Now he was laid up in a
hammock with his wings bandaged and his beak looking unfamiliar. It
was a grueling time that could have been spent doing things to
further Gora’s goals and to enrich his own mind. Not to mention the
affable, but immature, Hitbear was his only source of companionship
considering Gora had been huddled around her radio since they got
back from California and Tubman wasn’t one to sit
around.

“
I’m enjoying the ones
where you can see the actress’s nipples!” said Hitbear with glee.
“It must be
so
cold
wherever they are!” He giggled loudly.

Owlbert sighed as he tried
to crane his neck to look toward the incoming Gora and
Tubman.

“
How’s the television
watching going?” asked Gora. “What about your wings? Any
better?”

“
Ja, they’re okay…but this
ist ein utterly boring time!” replied Owlbert. “I vant to read! I
vant to fly! I vant to help prepare for zee next mission! Can’t du
find something to quicken zee process of this?”

“
Aw, Owlbert, aren’t you
having any fun watching television with me?” said Hitbear. He
frowned slightly at his owl buddy.

“
I don’t know what to tell
you, Owlbert. I don’t want you to damage your body anymore,” said
Gora. “You need to rest.”

“
Du made that claw of metal
for bear!” said Owlbert angrily. He wiggled in his hammock. “Du
can’t do anything for this? For me? Bitte, Frau Gora!” His eyes
filled with emotion. A small tear escaped and fell onto his
feathery face.

“
I…,” said Gora softly, “I,
I guess, I’ll see what I can do.” She placed both hands on her head
and scratched it furiously. Her hair was, unusually, down and
rested just beyond her shoulders.

“
JA! JA! DU ZEE BEST!”
screeched Owlbert. He attempted to click his talons together until
he realized those talons were chipped. Despite the chipped talons,
he was happy that he could potentially be out of the hammock and
moving again soon. He began to make owl noises loudly.

WHOO WHOO WHOOOO! WHOO
WHOO WHOOOO!

“
Can you quiet down?” asked
Hitbear. “It’s hard to concentrate with all this noise!”

“
Oh shut it,” said
Tubman.

“
Since I’ll, apparently, be
working on a contraption for Owlbert, Hitbear and, you, Tubman will
have to prepare for the next mission,” said Gora. She fingered out
a few knots in her hair. “You two must get along and research this
next one well.”

“
Who is it?” said Hitbear
absently; he was still focused on the television.

“
Takeo Silva.”

The laboratory, except the
television, went quiet. Tubman looked into the air with a furrowed
brow and Gora stared emotionlessly at Owlbert’s hammock.

Hitbear let out a loud
laugh. “Haha! That guy?” said Hitbear. “Oh, I’ve been waiting to
get my hands on that piece of dirt and smother him out of
existence!” He took both his claws and mashed them together to
simulate what he was going to do to Takeo Silva.

“
When do you want to start,
bear?” asked Tubman. “I’m ready whenever.”

“
After this show ends!”
exclaimed Hitbear. “About fifteen minutes, my friend!” He waved
Tubman off as he continued to watch the television set. “I’m
waiting for the dragons to appear. I think that’s what they’re
called, dragons.”

Tubman turned to Gora, “How
about we create a new member? We could definitely use more help.”
She glared at Hitbear. “We have the brawn, but we could use more,
uh, finesse and more options is never a bad thing.”

Gora turned cold, “No,
that’s a bad idea. I’m going to get started on that new equipment
for Owlbert. Don’t dally on that strategy.” She quickly turned away
from Tubman and the others. She walked to the other end of the lab
to her main table used for preparation for all of her previous
inventions and pulled up a chair. She grabbed a pen and some paper
to begin sketching out how the apparatus for Owlbert might
work.

“
Wasn’t that a little
weird?” asked Tubman to Owlbert, and to a lesser extent
Hitbear.

“
Ja, but Frau Gora ist just
stressed!” replied Owlbert. He readjusted his body in the hammock.
“It ist ein stressful position.”

“
Huh?” Hitbear said softly.
He didn’t hear the question nor did he care, the television had his
full attention.

“
Ugh,” said Tubman. She sat
down and began to meditate as she waited for Hitbear’s television
show to end.

Despite the television
volume being set to a loud setting, the radio of Gora’s could still
be heard as the sound echoed throughout the lab. Gora listened
closely as she began alternate sketches of the apparatus for
Owlbert.

“
I feel like those three –
circus freaks as I called them previously – have something to do
with both of these doctors’ murders,”
said
Elliot.
“There’s no evidence at Dr.
Spotila’s facility, aside from the short clip from the camera at
the security nook, but you said it was just released there was an
‘apparent struggle’ at this Dr. Borehole’s crime scene? Lots of
footprints?”

“
Yes!”
exclaimed Jimbo.
“Per the local news
in that part of California, WWNC, there were multiple footprints of
varying sizes all around the crater-like scene.”
Jimbo was reading a news article on his laptop and
paraphrasing. “
There still have to be molds
made of the footprints, but one investigator believes, ‘at least
one footprint is human, and the other two could be from humans as
well but from humans that are physically abnormal.’ Wow. The
investigator found a handful of blood covered broken talons from a
large bird, feathers and large swaths of some type of fur. Yeah,
it’s gotta be those circus freaks! I’m not sure where these talons
came from, but it’s definitely that trio of misfits! I just hope
they don’t nab that slender lady! I want her!”

“
OHH SEXY LADY!”
played over the radio from a high-pitched voiced
man.

“
Chill your boner,
Jimbo,”
relayed Elliot. Jimbo
laughed.
“I think the biggest mystery is
how you got me to friggin’ talk about this junk again. I thought it
was stupid and done with, but noooo you had to reel me back in.
Hook. Line. And sinker.”

“
That’s right!”
laughed Jimbo again.
“I
told you this mystery and murder stuff is far more interesting than
some hick state’s governor election! I must say, however, that the
rest of those scientists that are a part of ASH should be on their
toes. It’s a dangerous world for scientists right now.”

Chapter 35
The Media…the Media Never Changes

Chairman Obelis, Jeffrey
and McCarthy were all in their war-room, again, after the debate in
El Dorado. This time they weren’t answering phone calls and emails
complaining about Chairman Obelis’ harsh words about the Arkansas
Razorbacks’ football team; no, this time they were answering phone
calls and emails singing heaps of praise at Chairman Obelis for
what he said at El Dorado. Chairman Obelis dominated from the first
question and never pulled his foot off the gas until it was over.
Southwyck had broken down and was eventually successfully removed
from the stage during a ghastly answer from Steenburgen about
healthcare.

Chairman Obelis had toed
the line that McCarthy had wanted him to stay on, yet added enough
of his personal spin during the debate to make him personally
happy. He knew that most of Arkansas would be under his control
once the Carda Implants make it around the state, but still felt
more satisfied by convincing those still unaffected by the Carda
Implant to come to his side.

“
I just wanted to say, um,
that Obelis guy,” said one caller, “he’s, uh, a genuine guy and
didn’t BS any of us in that ballroom! I still don’t like taxes, but
I, uh, um, understand them much better now. At least, I think, what
they go to will be much better than anything in the
past.”

Another caller praised
Chairman Obelis’, “No nonsense approach to religion.” The caller
continued, “I completely agree that everyone should be allowed to
pray to whatever they want to at their own discretion, but forcing
religious law upon others will only cause more problems in small,
rural communities for those that don’t want to abide by
sanctimonious rules.”

Every call or email was
relatively peachy and warming, but there were still attempts at
trying to dismantle Chairman Obelis’ great night in El
Dorado.

“
FUCK YOU. TAXES R EVIL!
DON’T YOU DARE TRY TO TAX MY CHURCH OR YOU WILL FACE THE WRATH OF
GOD HIMSELF,” read one email from a [email protected], while another
email read, “Freedom is about me being able to use my guns and
money wherever I want to, not me having to pay some stupid taxes so
you can have bridges and other nonsense! Hire a private firm! NO
REGULATIONS! SMALL GOVERNMENT!” That email was from a
[email protected]. There were several more emails, but the
messages were essentially the same and from similar email
addresses. It wasn’t too worrisome to any of the three.