54) Super Sunday, 2/16: 4 –
4:10 AM – “Unfired Again!”
Captain Capps, something
of a fighting dog himself… needing only cropped ears under his buzzcut and, perhaps, a spiked collar… heard the new
commotion well before the managerial contingent, that being Big Sonny, Faubourg and Miss Dominator, Effie Lou, Mark Tenison, Anjelika and the
visitors from the FCC…
“Fuckin’
idiots broke into the kennels!” he slapped his forehead.
“Is
that bad?” Big Sonny inquired.
The
Captain’s head swiveled – taking in the angry barking, and another sound… a
faint, though swelling symphony of human screams and growling, flesh-ripping
snarls audible during those intervals when the automobiles were backing up,
regrouping for further assaults against the Giga-Plex
fence.
“Not
for us. Not yet…” the Captain
estimated. “It’ll thin the herd…”
Vern
Cooth suddenly giggled. “Until the men from Waco come to save us from
those wackos outside…”
“That’s
supposed to be confidential, Commissioner…” Sonnenschein
admonished.
“I’m
not just any old Commissioner, I’m the Manager,”
Vern bawled…
“Then
we will have to see whether it’s worth my while to save your sorry ass…” Big
Sonny bristled.
“Exactly
what are you talkin’ about?” Kristi finally broke in.
Vern
flapped his arms.
“Birds! Big black birds!”
Chaine turned to Sonny.
“You sent for the cavalry?”
“Such
as it is. And I am not promising a damn
thing, nor am I really admitting anything because, if a private rescue
operation were in the works, it’d be
part of a wholly commissioned enterprise of Gig-Enterprises, undertaken for the
sole benefit of myself and my entourage…”
And
Sonny extended a hand outwards to encompass the loafing Soft Shell Dixieland
Band, a handful of dispirited clowns with smeared make-up playing penny-ante
poker or staring, mesmerized by Evan Augsberg; the
other two remaining Giga-Grrrlz and the foreign
placekicker (who was entertaining the salesclerks in Cameraland
by booting boxed camcorder cassettes personally marked down by Mark Down Mark
towards the 007 Club)…
Tenison sprang to attention. “Stop that!
That’s private property…”
Jarlo Knupp gave the caffeinated
manager a middle finger.
Vern,
glaring at David Lee and Kristi, declared: “Even if you did send for reinforcements from above, neither I nor my staff
would be able to participate. We have
the image of the Commission to consider…”
“Speak
for yourself, buster!” Kristi objected.
“I
speak for the Commission as an entity.
We are going to stay here and face whatever it is that those idiots out
there can throw against us; we are going to stand tall and stay the course, and
when the time comes…”
As
Fred Faubourg clapped, silently, David reminded the
Manager – “You fired us. Remember?”
“Well,
you’re unfired again,” Vern said.
“Re-hired. Effective immediately,
until
“He’s
right!” the store manager seconded.
“It’s our obligation to maintain a strong profile and never let the
bastards show that they’ve intimidated us…”
“Stop
sucking up, Tenison…” Big Sonny finally removed his
hat, slapping his knee three
times. “You and I both know that you’d
kick your wife and children aside to get on my bird. Oh I forgot… you’re not married anymore…”
“Meanwhile,
ladies, gentlemen…” Captain Capps pointed out, “we’ve got a howling mob
outside, a mob with guns and automobiles, our communications are cut off and…
what about the ammo in our truck?”
“Sent
those two kids from the tech booth out but…” Tenison
shrugged painfully, “ …I’ve probably just dispatched
them both to their untimely, but probably deserved, deaths…”
For
only a moment, Capps could feel for the store manager… among said feelings:
contempt, astonishment at Mark’s un-understanding of human nature and a gnawing
sense of dread that, if this was the public face of Giga-Mart, he would be
screwed ‘til the end of his days and then some.
“One of the burdens of command,” he finally nodded.
And
all present observed a minute of silence… well, fifteen seconds… for Skinner
and McHale.
“If
Waco is coming for Big Sonny, they can take us
too…” David tried to assure Kristi, “Mr. Tenison, it’ll
be up to you to find a place for them to touch down...
“Forget
it! There’s no way,” Vern Cooth waved his arms in angry dismissal… “you couldn’t land a Cessna in that parking lot, let alone a
helicopter or, even, a fleet of helicopters under all that fire…”
Kristi
snapped her fingers.
“The roof! A ‘copter could land on the roof, easy… Mr. Tenison, how do we get up to the roof?”
“Don’t
tell me that you’re abandoning me, too…” the store manager flinched.
“She
doesn’t work for you. Or you!” David reminded
Big Sonny, then turned to Vern. “Or
you! Neither do I…”
And
as they stood in a circle of mutual recrimination, Anjelika
spoke up.
“I have made extensive
reconnaissance of physical plant in preparation to do my duty. All host enterprises for One World properties
are similar… there will be entrances at north and south ends, approximately
center of the Mall. These may be
accessed from those catwalks above where our friends…”
A
gunshot broke the attention of the group… another zombie fell, screaming all
the way down, finally raising a puff of black dust anew as he landed in the
blood and toner-spattered aisle between Appliantology
and Cyberia. Rifleman Stu gave Capps a
smile and a thumbs-up.
Mark
Tenison pointed to the corpse, then to two of the Mexicans
who’d ventured out of the loading dock area with information – purposefully
ignored. “Take that up to the front of
the store and throw it on top of the rest!”
Anjelika had been waiting patiently and, when the store
manager finished, continued with her narrative, “…our friends have been at display of themselves for the better part of
an hour.”
Mark
assumed the worst. “Oh fine! Fine!
Now you are abandoning me, too. I
thought that Germans were brave…”
“I
am Austrian, not German. And I do not
have martyr complex in situation beyond repair.”
“Now,
honey, let’s all think positively.
Although,” and Big Sonny impatiently slapped his knee with his hat,
“…Fred, if the insurance company gives me any grief over the civil insurrection
provisions in our policy…”
“But
I was…” Mark objected
“Not
now, Tenison.
As I was saying, Fred, we have to be ready to fight a two-front
campaign; the legal and public
relations…”
Sonnenschein droned on while, to make Mark’s job all that
much harder, a few of the rank and file… drifting around the perimeter of the
bosses, trying to glean useful information… were closing in on him, the
impertinent Craig Synch even daring to ask questions…
“Sir,
if the company is sending helicopters…”
“There
will be no evacuation,” Tenison cut him off.
“Not for you, not for me, not for anybody on these premises not
specifically assigned from corporate headquarters… I don’t know where this
leaves you, Anjie, or the Eagles…”
“We’ll
follow our own exit strategy…” said Captain Capps, jaw set, mind exploring
possibilities that tumbled over one another like the tumblers on a combination
lock. If Sonny did leave them behind…
well… that sort of absolved them from their commitment to remain behind and protect
his goddam property, didn’t it?
The
merchandise, after all, was insured.
A
communal murmuring had begun to emerge… Craig Synch muttering to Vicki…
“This
store is the fuckin’ Pequod…”
“But
if there is a way to the roof…” Vicki encouraged him, “that man… he says he
won’t help us, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t hold out, find some other way
down…”
“…or
what was that ship where they had the mutiny with the guy rolling steel balls
in his fist?” Craig wondered. “The
Flying Dutchman?”
“Maybe
we could find a tree and shimmy down?
Up? I thought I saw this bunch of
phony trees over on the east side, in front of the chocolate place…”
When
the murmurings had grown loud enough to compete with the recalcitrant
Dominator, the periodic teeth-rattling crash of vehicles against the gates, the
baying of the hounds, the gunshots and the screams, Captain Capps laid down the
law…
“If
any person within these premises makes an unauthorized attempt to escape, my
men and I have full authority to shoot-to-kill…”
Jurgen Jenssen from the 007 Club,
standing back on his heels with his partner, Sammy Mulaire,
arms crossed, fired back “Why?”
“Why? Because,” said Lester, having ascertained
that Sonnenschein was watching, “if you were
captured, you could be tortured into providing information that might prove
harmful to the cause…”
“What
information?” Mulaire shot back. “What cause?”
“What…
what torture?” Jurgen blanched…
“That
is something I have not been authorized to tell you. Case closed!”
And
Captain Capps nodded towards the boss – Big Sonny nodded back.
¾ ¾ ¾
Ray Wilson lifted the trapdoor in Oil Change Charlie’s office up
by a half an inch. It was covered by a
filthy rug and a chair, but the chair was on rollers and rolled off as he
emerged, carrying two briefcases of unshredded United
States currency and a black garbage bag, full of the stuff that busy, busy
dreams are made of. Sabra followed with
more of the same, finally, Honey Keissler, tugging
and moaning…
“This hurts!”
“Well, it’s your
share. You don’t want it, lay some down
or all of it, even, but you ain’t getting’ none of
mine. All we gotta
do us lug this shit out to my wheels, and we are rich…”
Ray, of course,
chose not to mention that, just as soon as the goods were loaded into the
Explorer, he’d have a 45-calibre surprise for both girls – who were hot, but
not that hot…
“There’s somebody
in the garage…” Sabra pointed…
A derelict in
rags and a long, filthy beard… his name, in fact, was Dusty – though few ever
asked, certainly none of the three Giga-Plex
escapees… was rummaging through the tools and parts left behind by the first
wave of looters. He’d recovered a
screwdriver and a couple of boxes of sparkplugs, and hailed the three emerging
from the office with a hopeful wave…
“Find something?”
Ray checked
around to be sure that there weren’t any more bums in Oil Change Charlie’s
garage. Then, he hoisted and shook the
bag, and smiled. “Got the candy from the
candy machine…”
“Gee that’s
lucky. I ain’t
found nothin’ here, but this…” and he displayed his
modest treasures, ruefully, then reached down to snatch up a discarded
cigarette, sticking it… unlit… between cracked lips. “Could you spare a couple Mars Bars,
bro’? Or an Almond Joy, some Life
Savers, anything…”
“Tell you what,
man,” Sabra answered, pointing with a grin, “you go
down this trapdoor in the office, there’s plenty of candy left. They keep it under a sink opposite the
stairs… you gotta feel around some boxes, tho’…”
“Really!” Dusty flashed her a smile, wide and generous as
the sun… a dusty, cloud-spotted sun.
“Hey thanks, lady. I love candy,
more than I love anythin’… ‘cept wine… ‘cause it’s easy
to chew.”
He smiled
broadly, showing black, rotten stumps that might once have been teeth and Ray
grinned back, uncomfortably, then hoisted his bag and the cases, motioning for
the two girls to follow…
“You are one bad,
bad lady…” Ray shook his head.
“‘Gonna be a bad
girl in a bad-ass Corvette. Drive west
to
Honey, straining
with her load, lay the suitcases down while she shifted the weight of the
garbage bag of drugs and money from her right shoulder to her left. “You sing?”
“Not really,”
Sabra admitted, “but I got other
talents…”
¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾ ¾
VISIT THESE OTHER
GENERISIS SERIAL ABOMINATIONS…
THE GOLDEN DAWN BLACK HELICOPTERS