Black Rust (22 page)

Sienna Galloway heard the outer door open, but with the door separating her office from the occupational therapy room standing only slightly ajar, she didn’t have a line of sight to the outer door.  Irritated to have her privacy intruded upon, she immediately guessed it was one of her direct reports, coming back to fetch something forgotten from a desk while rushing out the door after being sent home earlier.

Making good progress on her exclusive for the media and not wanting to be distracted by having to pretend that the civility between her and her subordinates was anything more than a veil, she opened a drawer, took out a pair of headphones and plugged them into her computer. 

With her ears safely muffled, she turned her music on and concentrated on the last thing she’d ever do as an employee of Blue Bean Farms. 

As she searched for a video file she knew she’d saved, she started to wonder if she was engaged in something illegal, exposing what might be considered corporate secrets.  But if Blue Bean Farms was acting illegally, could that behavior still be a corporate secret? 

It’s bullshit that I even have to worry about this!

Sometimes Sienna wondered if humanity had become too clever for its own good.  Would the world be a better place when Brisbane finally sank its prion-generating mutation into every last human?  Would a world ruled by halfwits be a better place?

Different halfwits?

Sienna laughed at the private joke.

The door flung open and banged against the inner wall.

Sienna looked up.

In the doorway stood a familiar, hulking silhouette.

She screamed for help.

Chortling, with slobber running down his chin, Toby grasped the doorjamb and leaned into the office.

Frozen in her seat, Sienna looked right and left for a weapon as her mind ran through an inventory of what items lay in her desk drawers that might serve to protect her.  Nothing.  In desperation, she shouted, “Goose, you better come in here and get your pet!”

The purse!  The pepper spray!

Sienna looked to the floor.  Where was her purse?

Kicked under the desk while she was working?

It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Toby locked Sienna in a feral stare and stepped into the room.  He crouched and spread his arms wide as he moved forward, ready to pounce left or right. 

Sienna scooted her chair out and stood.  “Stay where you are.”

Toby ignored the command.

“Do as you’re told.  I order you!”

Toby raised one of his meaty hands and dragged it across his mouth, leaving a glisten of the drool he’d smeared.

Sienna glanced at the desk sitting against the wall opposite hers.  It belonged to her second-in-charge, a backwoods nephew of Workman named Caleb.  Sienna had reprimanded him on three occasions for using a cattle prod on the degenerates in the training compound, and after each incident, she’d caught him using the cattle prod again.  She knew he kept it at his desk.

Keeping her eyes on Toby, she started across the floor toward Caleb’s desk.  She pointed a finger at the door.  “You, go!”

Toby kept coming, slow and careful.  He was a hunter.  She was the prey. 

“Goose!” she called.  For the first time since she’d laid eyes on Goose nearly a year ago, she wished the creep would answer.  She hoped this was just another of his intimidation tactics.  “I’m quitting.  I’m leaving.  You and Workman can have this whole goddamn place.  Call off your dog!”

If Goose was out there, he didn’t let on.

“You win.  I quit.”  Sienna heard fear in her voice as she yelled.

She stepped behind Caleb’s desk and took her eyes off Toby in quick glances as she pulled each drawer out. 

Toby was close.  His breathing grew rapid, he smiled, giving a frightening hint of what he was planning to do to her.

Sienna glanced at the other desks.  Could she jump up on top, leap from desk to desk along the wall to stay out of his reach and get to the door? 

Maybe.

She was lithe.  She was fast. 

He was a brute.  Slow.  Stupid.

Then she saw it—three feet long, dull prongs at one end, tape-wrapped handle leaning between the wall and the desk—the cattle prod. 

Yes!

Sienna grabbed the cattle prod and pointed the business end at Toby.  She didn’t see recognition of the device on his face, but he paused.  She said, “You know what this is?  You want some?” She poked it toward him.  He didn’t flinch.

She put a foot on Caleb’s chair, poked the prod at Toby once more and stepped up onto the desk.  “Back.  Back!”

Toby waved a hand at the prod, but Sienna jerked it back before Toby could get hold.

He scooted closer, holding up his hands.

“Have it your way.”  She pushed the button on the handle, jammed it at Toby’s grasping hand, and touched skin. 

Toby yelped and jerked his arm away.

She poked toward his face and Toby stepped back.  “Yeah.  That hurts, right?  You don’t want any more of that.”  She gauged the distance to the next desk.  Poked the prod at Toby one more time to get him moving back, and she made her leap.

Toby rushed in while she was in the air between the desks.  He thrust a powerful arm across her waist and flung her. 

Sienna felt helpless, like a child’s doll. 

She’d never have guessed Toby could be so strong. 

Her heels knocked Caleb’s computer off his desk as she flew over and hit the wall behind.

She crumpled to the floor, dazed and trying to catch her breath.

A big fist hit her in the face, blinding her to anything but flashing stars and pain. 

Toby hit her again. 

Big hands lifted her and threw her over a desk.  A chair flew across the room.  Computer equipment crashed.  Sienna struggled to get away, to move, but a hand pressed on the middle of her back, holding her bent over the desk.  She pushed.  She elbowed.  No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get out of Toby’s god-awful, strong grip.

He jerked at her blouse from the back.  Plastic buttons popped off and tinkled across the floor.  He jerked again, pulling her arms back as he yanked the shirt all the way off.

She screamed.

He grasped her bra and pulled, snapping it into pieces.

“Don’t!” She was regaining her senses.  She knew what was happening.  “Don’t!  No!” She kicked.  She flung her elbows back and hit arms, legs, torso—nothing seemed to phase the ape.

Toby’s fat fingers slid under her waistband inside her pants at the small of her back.

“No!”

He jerked and her jeans dug into her stomach.

He jerked again.  The button on the waistband popped off and the zipper separated.  She screamed as the jeans went down and the zipper’s metal teeth dragged down her thighs.

One of his hands mashed her face onto the cold metal of the desk as he pushed himself against her, his other hand groping, his mouth making animal noises.

She turned her head to pull free and he grabbed a handful of her hair.  He jerked her head back and then banged it against the desk.  Everything went hazy again.

Lutz hadn’t been hurt.  He hadn’t even been threatened, not since he’d first been ordered to stand still after seeing the Blue Bean logo on the door of the truck.  He’d made a feeble attempt to run back into the woods, but with each step he took, he was silently pleading to be ordered to halt. 

No warrant for Lutz had yet been issued.  Blue Bean could inconvenience him at worst.  What they most certainly would do was haul him out of this hellish forest where the plants and insects were intent on killing him, one micro-bite at a time.

Since the moment of his capture—rescue—he’d done as told with the exception that he hadn’t answered any questions aside from providing his name.  He complained when they took his rifle, pistol, billfold, and phone.  He’d demanded his freedom at least a half-dozen times and each time was ignored.  That was the extent of their conversations. 

They’d driven him onto Blue Bean property and eventually unloaded him in front of a remote building that might have been a ranch house a hundred years ago.  It was built of weathered limestone with rusty iron grates bolted into the stone over the windows.  An old wooden barn was slowly collapsing from rot nearby.  A windmill with half the blades missing stood beside the remains of a water tank.  No other houses or buildings were visible across the fields in any direction.

After they stowed him in a holding cell in the country-house-turned-jailhouse, he was subsequently ignored.  He had plenty of time to wonder whether they’d torture or beat him for information they might think he had—he was certainly in the right kind of place for that.  He wasn’t sure what he’d tell them, but he had an ace up his sleeve he’d show if he had to. 

His only other worry was that a rattlesnake might crawl up through a crack in the old wooden floor and try to snuggle with him.

When they finally came back to his cell, they led him out, and loaded him into the pickup.  None of the guards would say where they were taking him or what his fate might be.  He figured—hoped—they were going to set him free, maybe by taking him to the property line and telling him to get lost, hopefully on a road frequently traveled.

That wasn’t to be.

The pickup drove up in front of Blue Bean’s admin building, a structure Lutz recognized from the images sent over earlier by Ricardo.  What Ricardo’s images didn’t show were the armed men strolling around outside the building, keeping an eye on anything or anybody trying to approach.

The guards were an irrelevancy now.  Lutz figured he was scot-free.  He’d come to the attention of the people in charge.  Unlike the dipshit trustees, the people running Blue Bean must have realized they couldn’t hold him.  In fact, they had probably come to understand that by holding him against his will they were breaking the law in a felonious fashion. 

The trustees hauling Lutz opened the back door of the pickup and told him to get out.

Just as Lutz planted his feet on the ground and started to ask questions, one of the admin building’s glass doors swung open and out strode a country boy who looked like he’d lived forty hard, hard years.  He wore cut-off sleeves, a beat-up straw hat, and a smile that would frighten a dentist.

“Howdy,” the man said.  He extended a hand to shake as he stepped up in front of Lutz.  “Goose Eckenhausen.”

Lutz walked over to shake Goose’s hand, and Goose immediately took his hand back and put his hands up in front of him. “Whoa.  Looks like you got yerself in a mess of poison ivy.”  The ragged smile stayed on his face. 

Lutz ignored the comment.  “Are you in charge here?”

“You have no right to hold me.”

“Hell,” said Goose.  “We ain’t holdin’ ya.  We’re lookin’ after ya.”

Lutz looked at a plastic bag being held by one of the trustees guarding him.  It contained his possessions.  “I need to use my phone to make a call.”  He motioned toward the bag as he looked at the guard on the other side.  “I need my rifle and pistol back, too.”

Goose waved a hand, gesturing at everything that could be seen from horizon to horizon.  “This here’s a work camp on Blue Bean property.  It’s part of the Texas penal system.  Unless you’re a Texas Ranger or State Trooper, you can’t be totin’ no guns ‘round here.  It ain’t lawful.”

Lutz nodded at the gun on Goose’s hip.  “You’re armed.”  Lutz glanced at the other men.  “They are, too.”

“We work here.”

“Give me a ride off the property.”  Lutz told Goose.

Goose slapped Lutz on the shoulder.  “Yer gittin’ all worked up ‘bout nuthin’, son.  Why don’t you come on in?  Boss Man wants to have a word with you.”  Goose turned to go.

Lutz didn’t move.  “I thought you were in charge.”

Goose spun around, giggling.  “In charge ah these boys, that’s all.  Mr. Workman runs the farm.  He wants to talk to you.”

Lutz looked at the bag containing his phone.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that stuff,” said Goose.  He took the plastic bag containing Lutz’s effects and told the trustee to leave Lutz’s weapons at Irene’s desk.  He then led Lutz inside.

Getting through the woods had been easy.  The search for me had moved on.  When I came out of the forest on the backside of the training compound, I saw d-gens loitering still.  Whatever effort Blue Bean was putting into getting them corralled wasn’t enough.

With no trustees around I could see in the immediate vicinity, and with the gate still wide open on the other side of the compound, I walked the perimeter, keeping a pace to match the d-gens I saw.  I’d sacrificed my weapons for the d-gen disguise I was wearing, it made sense to act the part as well.

Once I arrived at the front side of the compound, I noticed in the distance a group of men herding a small group of d-gens into a fifth wheel livestock trailer hooked onto the bed of a pickup.  They were far enough away that none of them noticed me.  I was just another stray.

I passed through the gate and went toward the first building on the left.  Sienna Galloway’s office was supposed to be inside.  With luck, I’d find her there.  Unfortunately, the door didn’t face the gate.  I figured it faced the expansive open area in the center of the compound, so I walked along the wall to get to the front of the building.

Something inside bumped the wall.

A woman inside screamed, but the sound stopped abruptly.

I hurried around to the front of the building.

Following the sound of the scream, I opened the door with caution and saw down the length of a room with propaganda art on the walls and children’s toys scattered across gaudy carpet.  At the other end of the room, a door opened to reveal an array of desks in a back office. 

Down toward the end, I saw the source of the noises I’d heard, a steroid-juiced Bully Boy was struggling to get his pants open with one hand while he held a blonde woman bent over a desk in front of him.  I saw a familiar tattoo on her arm.  I’d found Sienna Galloway.

I’ve heard it said that it’s those choices you make when you don’t have time to think that tell you who you are—behind the façade you show other people, behind the lies you tell yourself. 

I don’t know if it’s true.

I think maybe it’s a rationalization to help people feel good about mistakes they’ve made that happened to turn out well.

Either way, that’s how I made my decision, in an instant, when I saw that bald-headed gorilla trying to rape the blonde woman I’d almost shot the night before. 

I let go of the door and ran on feet practiced at silent sprints, like a jungle cat coming in for a kill.

The Bully Boy could have seen me running at him had he glanced up just once.  He didn’t.  His libido had hypnotized him with naked skin and the possibility that his waggly little Johnson was going to do something naughty.

I was running at full speed when I passed through the doorway into the office, when something—a sound maybe, or a peripheral blur in his vision—caused Bully Boy’s head to tilt up for a look.

I’d made my leap by then, and if his mind had time to understand what he was seeing, he’d have seen an angry looking d-gen flying at his face.

He had no time to react.  In fact, his fate was sealed the moment I passed through the inner door at a run.  After that, nothing he could have done would have made a difference in the outcome.  No time.

My shoulder hit Bully Boy square in the face as I wrapped my arms around his giant head.  I gripped tight and let my body swing around over his left shoulder—I wasn’t trying to tackle him.  My momentum carried me, torquing all my weight on his massive neck. 

Through my hands pressed tight against his slick head, I felt the vibrations of bone snapping and grinding.  My feet, and then my knees, hit the wall behind the desk, and I let go of him so I could catch my balance.

My back hit the wall, and I landed on my feet, looking at Bully Boy, who was looking at me with wide eyes, an opened mouth, and a body facing 180 degrees in the other direction.

His neck was broken.  His spine severed.  He collapsed between me and the desk.

I stepped on his genitals out of spite as I made my way quickly around to the side of the desk.  Sienna Galloway was breathing, but she wasn’t moving much.  I laid a hand on her back.  “Hey.  You okay?”

She jerked.

“It’s okay.”

She looked at me, confused.  She pulled away.

I stepped back to let her know I wasn’t a threat.

She pushed herself off the table, covering her breasts with one hand as she looked down and spotted the dead Bully Boy at her feet.  She stumbled and fell against the wall beside the desk.

“You okay?” I asked.

She had blood dribbling out of her mouth and flowing out of her nose. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

She looked down at the Bully Boy, tried to get away, but tripped on the jeans pushed down around her knees.

I pointed.  “He’s dead.”  I spotted what I guessed was the remains of her blouse laying on the floor on my side of the desk.  I squatted down and picked it up.  I reached it out to her.  “Why don’t you put this on?”

She was struggling to get her pants pulled up and giving me fearful looks.

I laid the blouse in front of her, turned my back, and took a few steps down the aisle between the desks.  “Take your time.  You’ve got a bloody nose and mouth.  Are you dizzy?  Can you keep your balance?” I was concerned she might have a concussion.  “Anything broken?”

“I…” She was fighting with tears.  “I’m fine.”  That sounded angry. 

I decided that was probably good.

I heard the thud of a foot kicking dead Bully Boy meat.  Maybe she was stomping his dead dick, too.  Also good.

I gave her a moment and then glanced over my shoulder.  She had her pants pulled up but was having no luck getting them fastened with shaky hands.  I turned away.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Christian Black.”

“Why are you dressed like a degenerate?  Why do you have a Blue Bean collar on?”

I glanced back again.  She had her blouse on, open at the front except for a hand holding it together.  Her other hand was keeping her jeans from falling down.

“Do you have something else to wear?” I asked, not knowing what she could possibly have.  I was planning the next step, which I figured had to include leaving the building—that meant clothing.  I was guessing she wouldn’t want to remain.

She glared at me.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I did,” I offered as an argument.  “I told you my name.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”  She was already getting her fight back.  “What are you doing here?”

I saw her face turn suddenly to hate, and she looked around for something.

I took a quick glance and saw a cattle prod on the floor between the desks near my feet.  I leaned down, picked up the prod, and held it out to her, handle first.  “You looking for this?”

She snatched it away.  “Did Goose send you?  Did you bring Toby in here?  Because you can tell Goose—”

“I don’t know any Goose.”

“Goose Eckenhausen?” She clarified.  “Your boss.  Redneck with bad teeth.  You don’t know him?” She pointed at the corpse.  “The moron who holds his leash?”

I shook my head.

“Who sent you?” she demanded.

I glanced down at the body.  “I don’t have anything to do with this.  I heard the noise.  I came in.”

“You don’t make any sense.  You better stop lying.”

Stop lying? 
“Or what?” Probably not the best thing to say.  I looked down at myself.  “This is a long story.  I can tell you the whole thing if you want to hear it but it’s not interesting.  I’m here to see you.  You are Sienna Galloway, aren’t you?”

Sienna didn’t answer.

“Doesn’t matter.  I know you are.  I’ve seen your Blue Bean ID.  Dr. Sienna Galloway.  Five-Six.  Green eyes.  Behavioral Conditioning Specialist at Blue Bean Agriculture, LLC.”

“You work for Blue Bean?”

“No,” I told her.  “I reached into the pocket of my pants and pulled out a damp wad of money and threw it on the table.  Maybe it wasn’t the most opportune moment to offer a bribe but I was on a tight schedule, and she seemed to be bouncing right back from her trauma.  Perhaps she’d have nightmares later.  That wasn’t my concern, though. 

She looked at the cash, more confused.  “What the hell?”

“That’s ten thousand dollars.”  I looked back down at the dead Bully Boy and in the face of what she’d just gone through, the money suddenly seemed like a paltry token.  “I can get more if I need to.”

“For what?  So I won’t talk?  You don’t want me to tell anybody that he tried to rape me?” She pointed at the corpse.  “Goose did send you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about with this ‘Goose’ you keep bringing up,” I told her.  “I was there last night.  I saw you in the clearing.”

The girl’s brow furrowed.  She tried to place me.  “You…you got away.  You were there?”

Shit.  She thought I was one of the d-gens.  “I wasn’t dancing.”

“But…” then her eyes showed me she understood.  “You’re a Regulator.  You killed all those degenerates.”

“It was an accident.”

“An accident?” she yelled.  “How do you accidentally shoot two dozen innocent people?  How the hell does that happen?”

“We had a pending sanction, but the ID never got assigned.”  An unformed question in her eyes told me she didn’t have any knowledge of the details of my business.  For clarification, I added, “The sanction didn’t get approved.  It was a dirty kill.”  Everybody knew what a dirty kill was. 

“How do you get a sanction for something that never happened?  Nobody was hurt.  No violence.  They were roasting raccoons and dancing.”

“Somebody called in a tip,” I told her, “said they were sacrificing kids.  With the fog, things got confused.”

“Somebody called from the middle of the woods,” Sienna mocked.  “Am I supposed to believe that?”

“Look,” I told her, as I gestured at the dead Bully Boy.  “You’re worked up.  I understand that.  I’m just saying that somebody phoned the police.  Somebody called from the network here on Blue Bean Farms.  That’s why I was out there with my partner.  This wasn’t our fault.”

“Why would anybody call from Blue Bean, that doesn’t—” She stopped, mouth agape, like an epiphany was blazing bright in angel fire on the wall behind me.

“You know something.  Tell me.”

She shook her head, looked down at Toby, and dropped into a chair that had been pushed into the corner during the struggle.  “It couldn’t be.”

“What?” I asked.  “Tell me.”

“I think they’re trying to kill me.”