One in Ten Ch. 10

In a final cluster-fuck, there was the majority of one airmobile division and two Ranger battalions right outside the city that were NOT part of our Regional Military Commander's power structure. The Rangers belonged to Joint Special Operations Command and the Airmobile belonged to the Old Southwest Command - the old US Southwest States and several northern states of old Mexico.

Their RMC was probably really, really curious when she was getting her only active service division back, too. I hoped she wasn't holding her breath. She had a shitload of territory to cover, a small number of support and reserve units to use and, oh yeah, there was a plague breaking out right over the border in California with the corresponding exodus.

While the Federation was in a really bad way, the Europeans were totally screwed. All morning long, their leaders had been standing up and telling their populations that things were bad - a deadly flu outbreak in China - but they were going to ride out the storm. The EU and the Federation were on top of the crisis. They could all breathe easy.

Somewhere between lunchtime and dinner - depending on which European time zone you were in, the Federation government was overthrown by a military coup, or so it seemed. Collectively, the citizens of Europe took a deep breath - and then totally freaked out. There were runs on the banks and mass migrations from the cities.

Factories, trains and overnight package delivery via the internet stopped. The Pope called for calm while quietly sending units of the Swiss Guard to protect a handful of boys' schools the Holy See had established on the island of Sardinia. In France, Italy and Spain there was a call for a General Strike. Some midlevel functionary ordered the evacuation of the Louvre, setting off more panic.

In Germany, a peaceful vigil turned violent and the Chancellor declared Martial Law. In Poland, Hungary, Bulgaria and the Ukraine, a State of Quarantine was declared along with a midnight curfew. There was a run on the stores. Ireland, the UK, the Netherlands, Belgium and Scandinavia appealed for calm.

You could see it in their leaders' eyes. It wasn't going to be enough. The European economy was going down the crapper in the next 48 hours and nothing could stop it. After Nigeria imploded at the end of the first Gender Plague, the only states in Africa that mattered economically where Egypt, Greater Ethiopia, Kenya and the Republic of South Africa.

Yes, there were states in West Africa. That was the problem; there were a lot of little states. In the center of Africa, southern Angola and Katanga had been gobbled up by the RSA. North of that was a No Woman's Land all the way to the Sahara - which has spent the last fifty years marching south.

The RSA had 'leaked' the information to its people about the oncoming Plague, so the official revelation wasn't crushing. They were talking quickly with their African neighbors, the few European powers that were still taking their calls and South America, trying to keep some kind of economy going. They needed India.

India's response was that they had Plague in 18 of their largest cities. India was one of those nations that came through the Gender Plague 'okay'. Unlike China's One Child policy that had left them male-heavy, India always had plenty of women. She was sent reeling from all the deaths like everyone else, but she'd come out comparatively stronger world-wide.

India was one of the five great world economies along with China, the Federation, Russia, and the RSA. Everyone thought China was fading fast, now India was about to go the same way, Russia's biggest trading partners were the rest of Europe and China, in that order, and now the Federation was 'iffy'. There was no way the RSA could carry the weight alone.

In a final act of feminine superiority, Dimples had destroyed Western Civilization. She had to share credit with the T2 virus for the rest of the global catastrophe and I was sure she was okay with that. For me, it was the start of my flight to freedom. I could do no more damage there. That wasn't really important because at this stage of the disaster, Capri had been willing to use her stun gun on me and drag my ass to the elevators if I hadn't cooperated.

"Ladies, I have to run. Take care and be good to one another. I wish you all the best of luck," I signed off. "The Final Word for today is 'Resilience'." The presidential staff cut her connection. Maribel nodded good-bye and returned to her job. She was telling the audience that GNN would start running continuous updates on plague outbreaks and work toward a cure.

What else could she say? No one chased Capri and me to the elevators. No one on this floor was jumping ship. In a sad reversal of fate, they were the ones realizing there was nowhere for them to run while I had finally found a way out. Special Agents Fraklos and Vabishi met us at the elevator. They must have made it up seconds ago.

"Time to go, Israel," Fraklos gave me a weary half-smile. "We are going to try and bluff our way out the back. For some reason there are over a thousand young ladies gathered out front."

"What?" I gasped.

"Less impressive sex, Bitch," Capri muttered. Her phone rang. She saw the number and groaned.

"Hi, Mom," Capri plastered on a happy face.

"Honey, did you overnight that shipment?" Mom got straight to the point.

"Oh, I tried Mom, but he fountained so much into me that I gagged. I ran to the bathroom, threw up and accidently hit the sensor - it all got flushed down the drain - all three loads," Capri sniffled.

"You WHAT!" her mother snapped.

"I know Mom, I've let you down again. I know I'm a failure, but I promise to try harder. I can go down on Israel right now," she turned the phone my way for a second. "I'll suck him off before the elevator makes it to the ground floor and - I don't know - spit it into my purse and send that to you," Capri pleaded.

"Ah...I'll call you back," Capri's Mom stammered and the connection went dead.

"Whore," Capri griped. Her phone rang again. "Damn it," Capri growled. "This is new," her tone changed when a video of an ambulance appeared. It took Capri a second to figure out who the driver was.

"We need to get here," Capri showed the screen to Fraklos and Vabishi.

"That's straight through the mob," Vabishi looked at her dubiously. "We won't make it." I was paralyzed by the thought of me in a sea of female bodies tightly packed together. I had done this. Since Monday, I had done all this to myself.

I was an emotional masochist. I hurled my fractured psyche at the very things that I knew would tear me up inside and chisel away at what little mental reserves I had left.

Angel.

Angel's eyes, her smell and the way her lips parted slightly before she spoke. How her eyebrows came close together before she unleashed her anger at me - often deserved.

The way my heart felt when I cried while she held me - the absence of my shame and her lack of condemnation, or pity. She wouldn't always like me. She did love me. I couldn't give up my faith in that belief. Not now.

"Angel is with Roni," I spoke up. "We are going to the ambulance."

"Israel, I'm not sure we can get you there," Fraklos observed.

"That's okay, you are not coming," I grinned at her. "Capri and I have a better chance on our own and quite frankly, if I don't go for Angel, she'll come for me. I might as well make it easy on her for once in our relationship."

"Israel..." Vabishi started to try and talk some sense into me.

"Give it up," Capri sighed. "He loves her. He's going. I'm following along because I have jack-all for job opportunities now." Capri really liked me...or maybe she was remembering her promise to kill me once we survived all this chaos. I preferred to think she liked me.

"We'll run interference with the police and reservists while you two make a break for it," Fraklos shrugged. "It hasn't been a pleasure in the slightest and thank you for making my life long dreams and ambitions totally irrelevant, Israel Jensen."

"Stick with Dimples. She'll see you through," was my only advice.

The elevator doors opened and a half dozen female faces were looking our way. Barring strict protocol or routine, if someone acts like they know what they are doing, people tend to accept that they know what they are doing. That was the scenario Fraklos and Vabishi were playing out. The Metropolitan Police and the Army Reservists had orders concerning me.

To the police - "this was a Federation matter". To the Army - "the President had just been arrested for treason so they had to go back up their chain of command to figure out if they had valid orders or not". They were FBI - they were elite FBI. Could they be mistaken? Could they be helping a male fugitive from responsibility make his escape through a mob of girls?

That was crazy talk. Besides, I didn't look like a man about to make his bid for freedom. I looked almost catatonic. That was because I was nearly catatonic from fear. Less we forget, I was gang-raped by a bunch of girls close to the age and social make-up of the ladies outside, right down to them being interested in me because of the sexual favors I had willing given to another.

I had no internal hero to call upon. I never viewed myself as heroic. I was a victim and an exceptionally unfortunate one at that. There was no shard of my psyche that could do this.

'You are free to do whatever you want'...bunny hop with a smile...'you were that man before you came here'...holding hands...'thank you'.

I had not given up the will to live for 87 days. I had exited that sorority to graduate at the top of my class. I walked into a sea of policewomen to save the life of a boy I had never seen and would, most likely, never know. I was not a coward. I was a survivor and a good man - a good human being.

I was a survivor. Survivors were rarely respected. I wasn't a hero, but I could pretend to be one for as long as it took to make it into Angel's arms. They only tore heroes apart after the fact. We walked out into the light downpour. Capri opened my umbrella. I didn't need it. I needed to be seen and I was. They called out my name and pushed forward against the line of patrolwomen.

The reservists had an answer for that. Those hexagonal devices I had noticed coming in were sonic crowd suppression devices. They ruined your equilibrium and made you vomit. From both ends, the women at the controls began working over the mob of young women. Two ranks beyond the cops, women began going down in droves.

The soldier closest to us operating the device was suddenly showered with shrapnel. She received a few painful lacerations to her upper arms, but was okay. She was still trying to figure out what had happened to cause the near-total destruction of her weapon when the device on the other end of the column shut down.

The rotator assembly had exploded, fortunately sending slivers of composite away from the woman operating that weapon. That soldier was going 'wtf' when the first one figured it out.

"Sniper!" she shouted over her com-net and ducked down into her vehicle. The reservist sergeant in charge of this detail didn't panic.

She starting figuring out what kind of casualties she was looking at - none - and where the fire was coming from. The first sonic technician was doing those physics herself. It took her a few seconds to work the trajectories and she didn't like what she came up with. She should be dead, as should her comrade controlling the other device.

That sniper hadn't missed. She'd hit exactly what she was aiming at without killing any of the soldiers involved.

"Sergeant - rounds coming from the south, down Marlowe Avenue. She must have at least five meters of elevation, if not more," she said. That was ONLY a few acres of real estate.

Right about then, the fifteen seconds those sonic devices effected someone after they had been subjected to the attack wore off. The policewomen had easily held back the closest two ranks of girls the devices had not affected. Now those girls behind those two ranks were getting back on their feet, covered in their own vomit. Those girls were very, very angry. They surged forward.

The policewoman in charge gave the order to use tasers while calling all units to rush to the scene. Patrol cars had been coming this way since the growing number of girls was detected. They had been moving in cautiously so as to not incite an incident. It was a slow escalation of force. Now they turned on their sirens and came running.

More cops would have come running if not for another calamity a few kilometers away. Keverich mobsters had attacked and killed the Mayor and most of her entourage. That was what the reports were saying anyway. Beyond that, the police were still rounding up and detaining thousands of men. They were stretched thin.

The police went to tasers, a few girls went down, and then one girl countered with wasp spray. In many ways, it is worse than pepper spray. For starters, it has a longer range. This girl dowsed the cop who just tasered her friend. This woman closed her eyes and got an arm somewhat in the way - she was partially incapacitated.

The girl then turned the stream on the cop to the left with the same results. The patrolwoman on the right had her eyes wide open when the spray hit her face and went down screaming. The police cordon collapsed. This was not the Arena. The ladies wanted their plight to be recognized, or their support of me to be known.

There was anger, not bloodlust. The blinded policewoman was picked up by a group of girls, carried forward to one of the light transport vehicles and told to stay put. Cops were taken down fighting. A few tasers were stolen - no firearms. They wanted GNN to come out and record their voices and witness their defiance.

The reservists were putting a second, smaller, line together when I shouldered past them from behind and ran into the press of girls. Even those who weren't here to support me recognized me. Capri and I were quickly engulfed. I could feel the last sands of my resolve falling through the hourglass. I had to hold on just a little more.

I scanned the group of girls closest to me, seeking the lead lioness.

"I have to get to that ambulance," I shouted my appeal. She seemed worried and confused. "My girlfriend is there," I explained. There was that tinge of jealousy. There was also that spark of romance, a modern day 'Tale of Two Cities'.

This lead lioness began shoving other girls, getting their attention and forming a protective knot around me. My words came back to haunt me.

"We have to save one life - just one life - His!" she pointed at me. "Come on ladies, let's go." This group of total strangers forced a path against the tide, working toward the rear of the mob.

I never let go of Capri's hand. I couldn't have made it this far without her and I wouldn't have been worthy of continuing on if I let her go. An eternity later, the pressure eased and we emerged on the far side of the mass of humanity to see Roni and Angel outside the ambulance, waiting for me.

Angel took two steps toward me, I took a few steps toward her - I was losing the ability to count.

"She seems awful old," the lead lioness remarked boldly. I doubted Angel cared.

"Love is timeless," I turned and told my unknown saviors. "Thank you."

"Come on, Ladies," that girl laughed. "Let's go get them," and she led that dozen young ladies back to their chance to be famous.

"Come on, gang," Roni shouted over the noise. The reservists were using their middle vehicle's grenade launcher to bounce tear gas grenades off the surrounding buildings thus disrupting the crowd. "Capri, you and Israel get in the back," Roni helped me along. I saw Angel get in the driver's seat.

We were hustled into the rear of the ambulance, Roni shut the doors and ran back to the front passenger side. The vehicle rolled away, only accelerating when we were clear of the chaos. For a second, I thought of Doyle Crane. I wondered if he was finally living the life he'd always wanted - upholding the long tradition of investigative journalism and unrelenting social commentary.

"You did it, Israel. You made a difference," Capri comforted me. "I think a vacation is in order." Mouth agape, I stared at her then I started laughing. It was my crippling hysteria; it was a deep vibrant echo of a former life. "What's so funny?" Capri studied me.

"I haven't had a vacation since I was ten and my Mom and I spent a few days at a rustic little bed and breakfast in upper Minnesota," I enlightened her.

"After that, it was all summer camps, therapy, college and finally here," I shook my head. "I've never had 'nothing' to do since 'that night'," referring to the night the Aurora Slasher took me.

"Nothing?" Capri chuckled. "Can you take a sexual joke?"

"I'll do my best," I sighed.

"When you get tired of sitting around 'doing nothing'," she 'quoted' with her fingers, "I think there will be a few women around who can help you with that." I wanted to joke back with Capri. She was fun. Those mental reserves? Those last grains were slipping past. I couldn't muster the strength to do anything more than keep my eyes open and my mind receptive.

Angel drove the ambulance to an abandoned, pre-Plague warehouse west of the city. We switched to a passenger van that Angel had liberated from Police Impound. As the women were transferring the medical equipment from the ambulance to our new ride, I overheard their quiet discussion.

Someone had to retrieve Venus and Samantha. Roni had contacted Samantha and those two were going to the Farmer's Market and wait to be picked up. They were coming to the conclusion, with Capri's urging, that Capri take Angel's personal vehicle. Roni was a paramedic with a skill set our group desperately required. I needed Angel to be there when I mentally returned to the world.

Capri joked that she was a lawyer; a profession that was about to be rendered useless. I wanted to say something except their logic was unassailable. Capri was right, Roni and Angel were correct in agreeing with her and I couldn't volunteer myself. I was in no shape to make the drive even if the other three would let me go. I knew they wouldn't.

I wasn't going to make a false declaration when I knew the outcome and the sacrifices being made on my behalf. Venus had rubbed everyone the wrong way at least once. Samantha...Samantha was the Quiet One. She didn't stand out, sparkle, or shine. She was steady and unspectacular. They were also part of us and the tribe had decided to not leave anyone behind.

Capri left in the car, going south. Angel, Roni and I headed west for a few more kilometers. We came across a home off the beaten path - decent acreage, mostly wood covered with the dwelling not clearly visible from the road. As we turned down the gravel driveway we saw a sign; 'Trespassers will be' - with white tape over the bottom word(s) and the addendum 'use your imagination' finishing the warning.

The house was a sprawling one-story affair that didn't look fabricated. It looked woman-made, except that woman had an incomplete knowledge of architecture and home construction. Angel pulled around to the side of the house. It appeared we had been told to park there.

"Where are we?" I murmured.

"Kuiko and Aniqua's co-worker's home," Angel informed me. "I understand he's disreputable, if not downright criminal."

"We figure people won't know to look for you here," Roni added. We piled out of the van, gathered the approached the door.

There were two hand-made, woodcarvings on either side of the main, side door. One was 'Jethro McFarlane' and the other was 'If the pussy ain't fresh, I ain't interested'. Kuiko's information came flooding back. Still, who said shit like that? Angel drew her sidearm, put it behind her back and knocked on the door. Aniqua answered fifteen seconds later.