1-16:Pornography (part 2)
Posted: July 21st, 2009 | Author: Lisa Sinclair | Filed under: Daisy, Donnie, Elvis, Marcus, Pornography >, Pornography (part 2), Prime | No Comments »Daisy and Donnie wandered carefully and quietly through the dark and silent village.
‘This is a bad idea,’ said the voice again. ‘Bad things happened here.’
They ignored the voice. Donnie turned to Daisy, and nodded in the direction of their home.
* * *
The silence between Marcus and The Assassin was pronounced. Prime kept to herself, smiling and half giggling.
‘This stuff is great,’ she slurred to no-one in particular.
The Assassin puffed on the cigarette
‘It’s probably illegal smoking in here,’ commented Marcus, conversationally.
The Assassin offered Marcus the pack. Marcus accepted it and lit one, taking a puff.
‘So’s using nuclear weapons without a permit,’ murmured The Assassin.
‘Which means they’ll arrest us first.’
The Assassin smiled wryly at Marcus, who nodded in agreement.
‘Bored, bored, bored, bored,’ babbled Prime. ‘Bored, bored, bored.’
Marcus looked up at the access panel. ‘What’s keeping him?’
* * *
Donnie pushed the door to the house open.
‘Mummy,’ whispered Daisy.
‘Daddy,’ whispered Donnie.
Only silence answered them; it was as if they had spoken into a padded room. There was no echo, no depth to the sound; it was muffled and lifeless in there.
They stepped in and tripped over.
* * *
Alarms went off.
Elvis slid down the ladder. He rubbed his hands at the bottom to relieve the pain of the slide.
‘It’s done,’ he said.
‘This way.’ The Assassin led once more.
‘Brilliant,’ said Marcus, and began to run, his movement hampered by the wheelchair, catching himself before he tripped.
He stopped, spun the chair around and faced Prime.
‘Wassup?’ She grinned manically at him.
Marcus lifted the drip bag from the rack on the wheelchair and held it firmly in a hand. Then he hefted Prime up over his shoulders in a Fireman’s hold and kicked the wheelchair out of the way.
‘Wheee!’ she said, and laughed wildly, waving her arms around, throwing him off-balance.
He swung around, regaining his footing, and his heart skipped a beat.
A Cubist goon stood behind them, weapon drawn.
The Assassin turned and knelt, firing a single bullet past Marcus and Prime. The Cubist fell to his knees, choking, blood spewing from his throat.
Marcus, turned to face The Assassin, horror on his face.
The Assassin holstered his gun, a silver revolver with a pearl-handle and led the way.
* * *
‘Do we care?’ asked Madame Pink, standing in the control room. Each few minutes a screen that once showed a picture of the retreating quartet changed to static and snow.
‘Not particularly. I would be interested, however, to know what he transmitted up on the roof.’
* * *
Daisy pushed herself up. Whatever was on the floor was moist and squidgy.
She turned and looked into the lifeless eyes of her father. A stain of blood obscured one of his eyes.
Donnie yelped, terrified to find himself kneeling on the body of his mother.
They jumped backwards, banging each other’s heads together.
‘You have to leave!’ screamed the voice into their ears. ‘You have to leave. Now!’
They jerked upwards, as if on invisible wires just as the door opened once more.
‘Hello there,’ said The Assassin. He held a pearl-handled revolver in his hand.
* * *
The pilot looked up as people bundled into the plane behind him.
‘You ready?’ called Elvis from the other end of the plane.
Marcus put Prime as gently as he could into one of the seats and fastened her seat-belt. He put the drip bag on her lap and made sure there were no kinks in the tube.
‘You didn’t give me much time,’ said the pilot. ‘Engines are warm.’
‘Great,’ said Elvis. ‘I hereby grant you honourary rank of Priest of the Church of Elvis. Complete the paperwork back at HQ and you’ll also get the full collection of albums.’
‘I’ve already done that,’ said Marcus with a grin. ‘How’d you think I got him to turn back in the first place?’
‘Get these two out of here,’ said Elvis, addressing the newly anointed priest.
‘What?’ demanded Marcus.
Elvis had already turned and jumped from the plane to the tarmac below. Marcus gave chase, grabbing Elvis’s shoulder and pulled him around.
He stepped back suddenly.
A pearl-handled, Presidential-issue revolver was poked into his stomach, the business-end leaving an indentation in his skin.
‘I’m not arguing, Marcus,’ yelled Elvis above the din of the engines and with a determined look in his eyes. ‘Either you go with her or I shoot you and you’ll both go anyway.’
Marcus stood dumbfounded, staring at his friend.
* * *
Prime woke, roused by the discussion and found herself unclipping her harness. She fell to the floor and followed the noise. She stopped briefly to retrieve the drip bag and continued to the door.
* * *
‘I mean it!’ yelled Elvis. ‘Someone has to carry on the fight. Two is better than one!’
‘But where are you going?’
‘They’re still in there,’ said The Assassin. ‘And we have to get them out before it’s too late.’
‘I can help,’ said Marcus, disbelieving.
‘No,’ Elvis’s statement was final. ‘Go with Prime.’
‘But-’
‘Don’t but me, man,’ Elvis’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘There’s not enough time to argue.’
‘He’s right,’ said the pilot, standing by the door. He had helped Prime up and her head lolled forwards, then upwards as she snapped herself awake through sheer willpower.
Elvis and Marcus stared at one-another.
‘If we miss this launch window, we’ll be stuck here for the next two hours,’ said the pilot.
‘And that means The BSD and Sisterhood will be all over you both.’ said Elvis. ‘And Prime’s on their hit-list. You know what they’ll do–’
‘I know,’ said Marcus quickly, knowing he had no way out.
‘I have to trust you to get her, to get you both to safety,’ said Elvis. ‘You have to continue the fight.’
Marcus glanced at the tarmac, then up to his friend with a shocked expression.
‘You’re…’ he began.
‘We have to leave,’ insisted The Assassin. ‘Now.’
Elvis lowered then holstered the gun and hugged his friend.
‘Keep going. We’ll be fine,’ he said and looked up as Prime passed-out once again.
Elvis gave Marcus a trademark grin.
‘Say ‘Hi’ to Prime for me.’
Marcus nodded, a frown of concern on his face.
‘Now, go!’
* * *
‘Run!’ screamed the voice.
The Assassin was enveloped in a blue mist. He screamed heartrendingly.
Daisy and Donnie ran through the house and through to the back door.
Outside now, the children ran, terrified, back into the forest, the main path the easiest route to use and by far the quietest.
Of course, it also meant it was also easier for their pursuer.
They took a detour.
* * *
Marcus helped the pilot return Prime to her seat, then returned to the door.
The engines screamed, the volume increasing as the plane slowly moved away.
Marcus stood in the doorway and watched.
‘I hope we meet again,’ he said, expecting the worst.
He closed the door.
* * *
Elvis and The Assassin stood and watched the plane moving slowly away
‘Well, that’s it then,’ said Elvis and turned to the Assassin. He extended a hand.
The Assassin took it and they shook once, like old enemies forced to work together, like two old friends on either side of a war.
‘It’s been a while,’ said Elvis.
‘It has at that,’ said The Assassin with the ghost of a smile. ‘Just like the old days.’ They turned and strode back to the doors.
Pinpricks of light appeared in the distance; they weren’t stars.
* * *
Daisy and Donnie ran blindly into the darkness, the voice no-longer in their heads.
They emerged in a clearing, one they had not come across before.
In the centre was a blue haze, which became clearer as they grew closer.
‘You have to be hidden,’ said a beautiful creature that stood before them. Androgynous, neither male nor female; ethereal. The being had astonishing flawless skin which shone with an inner light. The creature was every cosmetic company’s dream model.
It spoke with the voice that had always helped them.
‘I wish I could make your lives what they should be,’ said the creature with a sad smile.
‘Help us,’ pleaded Daisy.
‘Please help us,’ begged Donnie.
The creature nodded, tears in its eyes.
‘Take my hands…’
* * *
Daisy-Donnie awoke with a start.
They glanced up at their shoulder. A hand was there that wasn’t theirs.
Monsieur Bleu, attached to the hand by way of his arm, spoke. ‘Your enemies approach.’
‘Oh yes?’ said Daisy-Donnie. ‘Which ones particularly?’
‘All of them,’ said Madame Pink.
* * *
‘Target ahead,’ said the helicopter co-pilot.
Panix and Miss Rook stood behind the pilot and co-pilot, hands steadying themselves against the aircraft ceiling.
Below them, the jet slowly took off, climbing almost as if in slow-motion. The pilot was well aware of the danger from above, but any attempts to avoid it would have simply ripped the wings off.
‘We have a lock.’ The co-pilot flicked off the safety on the weapons console. The systems were ready. Visual displays showed the target and a red flashing cross-hair superimposed across it.
The plane continued on its course. Slowly it climbed, the engine roar audible from the helicopter’s cabin.
‘Ignore it,’ said Panix at last.
The jet pulled away, heading east.
‘Panix to wave one,’ he spoke into his mouthpiece as the helicopter came in to land. ‘Secure the area. Wave two, join your opposite numbers and find the targets.’
‘Sisters, enter from the East and West,’ said Miss Rook, her radio held close to her mouth. ‘Secure the devices by any means necessary. Ignore anything and everything between you and the weapons.’
* * *
Elvis and The Assassin stormed into the facility once again.
‘Goddamn it, if the junk food doesn’t kill me,’ gasped Elvis, ‘it’ll be the exercise exploding my heart.’
The Assassin said nothing, but came to a stop beside a door with which Donnie would have been familiar.
And like before, it opened, and the hapless Harold stepped out.
‘Oh my god!’ he prostrated himself before Elvis. ‘I tried to deliver the message, I really did.’
‘You seem to have an effect on people,’ said The Assassin, looking over at Elvis with a sarcastic smile.
‘Uh-huh.’
* * *
Daisy-Donnie was hustled along to the Control Room and offered a chair next to a small table.
The room was a carbon-copy of the one which Donnie and Prime had become entangled several jumps earlier. A wall of screens on one side of the room, and another wall opposite.
They glanced over at the table and noticed a small black book sitting there.
‘The Book of Cubes,’ said Daisy-Donnie. Now that was odd; they were sure they’d heard of this publication. Maybe it was one of those book-into-movie debacles they had heard so much about, probably one starring an ex-comedian with a script which removed all the good bits.
In the absence of anything else to do, Daisy-Donnie flicked through the book. It contained lots of bizarre illustrations that Picasso had either drawn, tried to imitate, or had dreamed of; lots of eyeballs looking up their own noses.
Madame Pink and Monsieur Bleu studied the screens for activity, ignoring Daisy-Donnie for the moment.
‘There,’ said Madame Pink, pointing.
Two figures ran along a gantry…
Click to see the next installment: pornography (part 3)
