Beast Machine (50 page)

Chairman Obelis tossed the
letter and envelope to the ground. He pulled another letter from
the ceramic bowl and opened it. This letter was from ‘The
Department of Defense’ seeking states to buy used military
equipment to give to local police departments. This letter was
discarded as well. He pulled another letter from the ceramic bowl.
This letter was from the ‘Smithsonian’ pleading for education
initiatives to be made in the state of Arkansas. This letter was
tossed down on the ground. He went through every single letter in
the ceramic bowl, totaling over seventy letters. None of those
letters were from ‘The Interior of Secrets.’

His glare turned toward the
letter from ‘The Interior of Secrets’ that still sat peacefully on
the ground. He bent down and grabbed the letter. It wasn’t opened
with a flurry like the other seventy some letters; rather, he
gently pried open the envelope with his thumb. He removed the
letter from the envelope.

Dear Mr. Huxley
Obelis,

I would like to
congratulate you on winning the gubernatorial race in Arkansas by
default. It is no easy task for a person outside the traditional
realm of politics to enter into the fray and succeed so quickly.
Again, congratulations.

I am writing you today
because there is an overall problem with your platform and,
frankly, your ideals. Your infectious charisma and access to nearly
unlimited resources to actually accomplish your ideals is worrisome
as well. Without getting into too much detail, I would like to ask
you kindly to end any plans that you may have to enact your ideals.
It would be disagreeing with federal protocol that I am in charge
of and take quite seriously. I do not want to ruin a fledgling
governor’s career so quickly. You seem to be a promising person and
politician. It would be a shame for me to end it all for you. I am
sure you value yourself over your constituents in a situation such
as this.

Please
understand,

Sylvester
Heston

Chapter 42

Hiatus

Gora hadn’t slept more than
a few intermittent winks in the past 75 hours. She had driven the
entirety of the 30 hour trip to Little Rock and the 25 hour drive
on the way back to Pendleton – she sped most of the way back. Out
of fear, out of regret, and out of adrenaline she sped.

On one hand she was
entirely satisfied that Doctor Takeo Silva was dead and that she
was the cause of his death, so she can continue her mission to seek
revenge on the other scientists on her list. But on the other hand,
she had lost a lot in the process.

In the past 75 hours, she
had lost her first beast to a gigantic man that shot light out of
his body, her second beast was still incapacitated from the light,
and her third beast was suffering from a severe limp. All because
she wanted to get revenge.

“How’re you feeling?” said
Gora, kneeling next to Tubman’s cot.

“
I’m still sore, but I
can’t imagine I’ll be out of commission for too long,” replied
Tubman wearily. She playfully adjusted her bandana and tousled her
ears to ease Gora’s anxiety. “What about Owlbert? How’s he
doing?”

“
He’s still not awake, but
his vitals are stable.” Gora placed her hand on Tubman’s arm. “Let
me know if you need anything. I’ll let you rest.”

Tubman smiled and then
closed her eyes. Rest was necessary for Tubman too – she had been
to hell and back as well. Not just in the past 75 hours, but the
past several months of her second existence. She had been thrown
into a world of danger, revenge, and bloodlust from a world of
danger, revenge, and bloodlust. Would her hell ever end?

Gora walked over to her
workbench and sat at a chair. “I need to invent something,” she
thought. “Something that will free Hitbear so we can continue with
our plans.” She picked up pieces of metal, nuts and bolts, extra
material from Owlbert’s polymer wings, broken vials from her broken
vials heap, unbroken vials from a cupboard, string, and Technicolor
tubing. She tried to hurriedly combine the odd ingredients to
create something useful.

Each time was a failure,
not because Gora wasn’t trying or that the materials were
irregular, but because she was rushing and not thinking correctly.
“Damn,” she said as a bizarre looking box fell apart.

“
Damn,” she said louder as
a magnified light generator broke into pieces.

And “Damn!” she screamed as
a makeshift gyrocopter caught fire and crashed into the floor. “God
fucking damn it,” she was in tears. “God fucking damn it, I can’t
concentrate.” She fell to her backside and covered her face. “I
can’t do it. I can’t save him, I can’t save anyone. I’ve become a
pathetic lump. What the fuck happened to me?”

A furry paw tapped her
shoulder. Gora turned her head slightly, still covering her
face.

“We won’t get anywhere with
you blaming yourself,” said Tubman. She sat next to Gora. “I would
rarely lose a runner when I’d help them escape, but when I did…when
I did, I remember feeling this great void in my heart…in my soul. I
never thought it would go away – in a sense it didn’t fully go away
– but I did what I did best then – I ran. I ran to help more
runaways escape from the inhumanity of slavery. I filled the void,
mostly, with the happiness of knowing that I helped someone escape
a wretched life. I continued my life’s mission; it helped keep my
mind off of the bad.”

Gora wiped her eyes, “So
you think we should abandon Hitbear? Just leave him to rot in some
cage?”

“
No, not at all,” explained
Tubman, “but we aren’t going to get him back by rushing back there
with faulty inventions that will put everyone else in danger. We
need to stick to your original plans, and come back to Hitbear when
the people at that place won’t expect it.”

“
He could be moved. Placed
in a dungeon somewhere. We should act now.”

“
I want to act now, just as
much as you, but it would not be smart, Gora. Look at Owlbert.” The
pair looked back toward the incapacitated owl, resting in the
hammock Gora had made for him. Wires and tubes going in and coming
out of his body, connected to machines to keep his health correctly
in tune. He would be fine, but for now he would be useless to any
future missions. “I’ve got a rough limp and you’re not going to be
right enough to go back there. Even when the both of us get
healthy, Owlbert won’t be right enough to help.”

“
What should we do then?”
asked Gora. Her eyes widened and she frowned.

“
We have to make another
one of us,” said Tubman. Gora bit her lip. “I know I’ve been saying
this for some time, but we need someone else to help us in all of
this… this chaos.”

“
I can’t,” said Gora. “I
just can’t.” Gora shook her head and tears flowed out
slowly.

“
Why not?” said Tubman
quietly. “Please, Gora, we need help and we need it now. I can help
with the research, if that’s the problem in all of this. I can
figure out that internet-machine to help out. All you’ll have to do
is press the buttons.”

“
No, it’s not that…” Gora
gulped loudly and then hiccupped.

“
What then? Just spit it
out – if you want to be able to save Hitbear you are going to have
to tell me why we can’t have another one of, um, one of me. Another
beast.”

Gora stood up quietly and
looked at Tubman, “Fine, follow me. She’s not going to like it, but
follow me.”

“
Um, okay,” said Tubman.
She hopped up and followed by Gora’s side. Her limp was getting
better but was still noticeable. “What do you mean by
she
?”

The pair walked over to the
corner where Gora deposited her used vials. It was a mountainous
pile that stood roughly five feet high and cascaded down to roughly
eight feet wide. Not every vial had a liquid or product in it, but
many did and the result was that most of the vials stuck together
making the vial pile sturdy and hefty.

“
So this is where the stink
comes from?” said Tubman.

“
Oh hush,” said Gora. She
walked to the wall and scraped her fingers against it. “Where is
it…” she muttered. “Ah, here.” She found a soft spot in the wall
and pushed it in, causing there to be a round indentation in the
wall. “Stand back.”

A loud whirring and
bustling sound could be heard.
Whi-zzz-iii,
whi-zzz-iii, urt-urt-urt.
The sticky vial
pile, the floor piece under it, began to rise up then move
sideways. It moved enough to the right that it revealed a
staircase.

“
What the hell, Gora?” said
Tubman. “You’ve had a cellar this whole time?”

“
Follow me down,” said
Gora, already two steps down.

“
My leg, I’m going to need
help.”

Gora grabbed Tubman and
held her like one holds a puppy. The stairs were shorter than the
ones that tortured them in Spotila’s building, but there was no
light. When Gora found she had no more steps to go by way of her
feet hitting cement, she yelled out, “Illuminate!”

And that is what the room
did.

Bright panels of light
began to turn on, one after the other. It was quite the change of
pace from Gora’s dimly lit, gloomy laboratory. There wasn’t much to
the room: a few generators, emergency rations of food, blank
concrete walls, and one large red box labeled ‘AMMO’. This seemed
nothing more than a safe room. The last bit of lights turned on for
the last dark part of the safe room – right in the middle of the
room.

“
By God,” said Tubman as
Gora set her down. “What the hell is that?”

A massive tube sat in the
back middle of the room. Steel appendages that looked like spider
legs reached to the top of the ceiling and down to the concrete
floor, with the tube in the center. There was a light inside the
tube that turned on and a blue liquid that filled the tube was now
noticeable. Tubman and Gora walked toward the tube slowly,
precariously.

“
Gora?” said Tubman.
“Please… tell me what this is.”

As they stepped closer,
Tubman noticed that there was a body floating inside the tube of
blue liquid. No, two bodies. She stepped even closer, and then
noticed that the two bodies were in fact two parts of the same
body. The torso of the body floated near the top of the tube, while
the legs sat near the bottom of the tube just hovering there. An
intestine strung between the two, as if to keep them together but
let them have their own space. Tubman noticed the split body
belonged to a woman. A woman with a half shaven head, full lips,
bites marks on her arms, and long fingernails. She tapped on the
glass and the woman’s eyes opened.

Tubman flew backwards.
“Gora!” said Tubman in a scared voice. “Who the fuck is
this!?”

“
It’s Aster Granzella,”
said Gora. “My mother.”