Hear No Evil . . . (18)
Brief memories of running. Past street lamps and darkened store windows. Tiring and slowing. Panting. Into the animal-stench of his home. Climbing the ladder to his hayloft, the safety of warm blankets and a soft pillow lulling him to sleep.
Ethan rolled and grunted at the gentle poke to his side. Through bleary eyes, he saw that
it was now dawn and the awakening poke was from Cassie's finger.
Ethan? He lip-read. Are you awake yet?
He nodded and sat up, stretching his cramped muscles and brushing off the hay clinging to his shirt, damp from night-sweat. With the aching muscles came the rush of memories. No longer tired, Ethan whipped off his blanket and in a spray of straw grabbed Cassie by the shoulders.
"Is it real? Is it?" he released a stunned Cassie and fell back onto the pile.
THE JANE AUSTIN MEMORIAL RE-EDUCATION CAMP
With a gasp and prick of pain, Rachel's eyes traced the path of trickling blood down past her palm onto her wrist. Her hand formed a fist, clutching the tattered cloth and slammed it to the surface of the table in front of her.
She muttered a curse, "I am never sewing again. I don't care." her voice rose with each word. "Screw you guys, NO MORE stitching!"
She felt, then saw, the hipbone of a guard pressing into her side. "No more?" Rachel sighed and hung her head. "That's not the attitude you should have, young lady!" The guard turned to smile and verify to the other guards that he was just as much a sadist shit as them.
The others complied, smiling, leering... one even giving a thumbs up.
He grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her out the chair, not without the cursory kick to the shin.
Regimental Commander Jake Berenson was late for drill for the first time in his career. It was overlooked, of course and he drifted through the motions of leadership in a daze. The assimilation of Wilton Regiment was going better than last weekend, at least. Jake silently thanked his brother for teaching him the proper way to run things.
Warren County White Youth Regiment was distinctive in the delegation of leadership. Each solider was trained to take over the job of the man above him. So even the lowly private was qualified to run a platoon anywhere else. This rid Jake of the constant babysitting which would otherwise be required. It was common belief that ignorance bred obedience. Lack of intelligence meant lack of will.
However, Warren could run quite smoothly for a long time even if their Commander was not present. Jake utilized that advantage by sitting in his office, a desk in the Unit Administrator's area. See Jake was a great leader, albeit, he admitted to himself, a little less than humble. But that was good. If a man can recognize his weaknesses, all the better he know his strengths, Jake reasoned.
Cmmdr. Berenson had something more important to do than join in the daily exercises and supervise the blocks of instruction proceeding throughout the day. See, it was the weekend. Moreover, if he wanted to get his new squad together, brief them and then head out to the Gardens... well, might as well start planning it now.
First, he would call Marco and head somewhere neutral, away from their parents. He'd test out this new "morphing" magic personally. Then after he had made sure it was safe, Jake would call the others and gather. Order them to morph too. Make sure they know that he would protect and care for them like all of his soldiers. And also like his soldiers, he would demand obedience and versatility.
Yes, he chuckled to himself. With me as their new commander, they'll get creative real quick.
Cassie and Ethan had puttered about the barn. Except for the assurance that neither were crazy, they had not spoken in hours. After finishing daily chores, both traveled up to Cassie's room to enjoy the cool air rising from the root cellar and clean up a bit inside.
Half way through a pile of fresh laundry, Cassie's mother popped her head through the door.
"Hey Cassie- Oooohh!" She grinned. "I see you two are catching up on some cleaning?"
Cassie faked a grin, "Yeah, Mom." she weakly replied. "Just getting some weekend work in."
Was her own mother one of those things? Was there a Yeerk here forcing her mother to smile nervously?
Her mother nodded and looked at Ethan, then back to Cassie. "Um, when you get finished, why don't you get him all spiffed up like you had him a couple days ago. Your father and I have- uh, a surprise." With that, she was gone.
Ethan tucked the legs of the pants he was folding and twisted his eyebrows at Cassie. She shrugged and started rummaging through the closet.
With a sigh, he tapped her on the shoulder and began shuffling clothes also. Making it clear to her that he'd prefer to dress himself. While he didn't consider himself to be vain, Ethan knew of the adage that clothes "make the man." Dreamily, his mind drifted back to that day at the mall...
Ethan methodically handed out fliers, always watching Jake from the corner of his eye. His mind drifting to time spent in the warehouse. Reciting the lessons illegally given to him. In a bi-lingual country, it was still radical to teach slaves German. Not that they didn't pick it up on their own however.
The soldiers had implied that Jake was the son of a Jew and a Dog. Or a bitch.
"Hey, I'll take one of those fliers. Hey. Hello?" The kid tapped Ethan's shoulder, breaking him from his reverie.
"Oh, sorry. Here." Ethan focused and spoke slowly to keep his voice clear. Seeing how Jake was standing firmly, feet planted, Ethan straightened his posture and squared his shoulders.
"He said 'Don't underestimate me' and something about a son-dog or underdog'" Ethan muttered in sign language, hand twitching. He could be like that. If Jake was Jewish and managed to get commander . . . what the hell was stopping Ethan?
Walter and Michelle were patiently waiting at the dinner table. A pot of something
spicy bubbled on the stove.
Cassie's mother cleared her throat. "Honey, your father and I were discussing what you had said to us the day we gave you responsibility over Ethan," she stated calmly. "And we want you to know that we're both very proud of you."
Walter chimed in, "While what you said was dangerous and never should be repeated
Outside this house-" He paused and waited patiently for his wife to bestow the "mom's look of utter seriousness" upon Cassie. "Which you'd better NOT... it made us feel a bit ashamed of ourselves."
"We most certainly know that slavery is wrong, Cassie," (mother's name) clarified. "But if we're to stay afloat it's a necessary evil."
Still working the Parental A-Team act, Cassie's father removed his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his shirt. "What we're getting at is that we decided to, well ask Ethan if he'd like to join us at the dinner table tonight. As a family."
He blushed a bit. "Your mom's making chili," he offered.
Sitting beside him, Cassie's mom gave Ethan a little wave, waggling her eyebrows.
Ethan made a short chuckling sound and nodded.
As the newly minted illegal family unit set the table, the phone rang in the kitchen. Walter picked up the receiver, listening with a comically confused expression on his face.
"Uh, yeah. See, she's just sitting down for dinner. But I'll tell her you called."
He slowly hung up and turned to Cassie.
"Hon, why in the world is Jake Berenson calling you?"
The pounding in Rachel's head had almost faded. The man across from her remained completely motionless. In the haze, she wondered if he was even real or simply a concussive illusion.
"I've been watching you for a while." His voice was flat. Dead. Emotionless.
The Educator pulled his chair out from the desk slowly and with a slight groan.
Rachel smiled, knowing it was her well-placed foot that had caused his discomfort. Yup, he was real all right. Had the bruised nuts to prove it, she chuckled quietly.
Catching her moment of mirth, The Educator eyes narrowed. He tugged the front of
his shirt down as he stood, smoothing the wrinkles. Rounding the desk, he sat on the corner, casually crossing ankle over knee.
They stared at each other in silence for what seemed like eternity. Neither willing to bend to the other. He was waiting for her to speak first, Rachel realized. To beg him for liency.
Well... not fuckin' likely.
After a long moment of consternation, The Educator took the time to search for his cigarettes and lighter- and his composure.
Rachel used the bought time to examine her interrogator, torturer and, most likely, future
murderer.
He was tall and lean, blonde and blue-eyed. The picture of Aryan dominance. What one might call a poster child. Was probably spoon-fed Imperial propaganda the second his lips were ripped off his momma's tit, she thought with a sneer.
On the other hand, with her similar appearance, she was tied to a fuckin' chair.
"So I suppose this is where you teach me a lesson... ra-" she didn't finish the sentence.
But he knew what she was going to say and reeled back, appalled "Are you kidding me?" he snarled. "You can't be more than thirteen years old! I'm a prison officer, not a child molester."
Rachel kept her mouth shut on that one.
"Now the reason you are here is that little scene during class today." He pulled a sheet of paper of the desk. "No more stitching?" He sighed and put on hand on his knee. "Granted, stitching is an archaic practice- However! It is your duty as a female of the White race to maintain and repair. Just as it is my job as a White male to provide and rule."
He slowly slid off his chair and walked towards Rachel.
"Now, you're this close to the gallows." he made a gesture with two fingers. "And while you may be fine with that, I am not. Although your background states some Jewish relations, you yourself have clean blood and fine features. Eliminating you would be a waste. Unfortunately, you're too young to marry off and chances are your mouth will get you killed before you reach marriage age anyway."
Rachel choked back her rage as her mind tried to sort this information. What was he getting at?
"I need my host... I need to gain more power. To advance to a higher echelon in this society. But only married males are allowed to become upper officers."
"Host?" Rachel thought, confused.
The interrogator's tough-guy demeanor faded, as he seemed to be pleading his case.
"I have the education, the background, the years of duty and good standing... now all I need is the wife." he whined.
Emboldened by his show of weakness, Rachel spoke. "What the hell? Are you proposing? You said yourself, I'm too young to marry."
"No, YOU said it yourself. There's only two ways out of here." he threw the words back at her.
So the barracks were bugged, just as Jamie thought.
"I'm proposing a deal." He placed his free hand upon her bound one. "Between two creatures who are both in a bind."
Tobias's parents had been gone for a long time. Though there were many different versions told to him by relatives, one thread was constant in each lie.
His father had left, his mother was retarded.
Not wanting to see a healthy baby go into slave hood, they had so nobly rescued him from that fate.
So they could have a free slave of their own. Shifted between Uncle and Aunt, each taking their share of his labor. He remembered a time when he was thin and weak, which kept him shy today, but it was impossible for him not to notice the changes.
The face in the mirror no longer so gaunt and hungry, his body responded quickly and his muscles did not burn when strained like they used to. No, he was no weakling. He knew all that he lacked was up in the noggin, not the vessel.
Rubbing the knot in his shoulder, Tobias swung his legs down off the couch onto the floor. Of course, since the springs were broken, this caused him to sink down into the black hole of a cushion, thrusting both his feet into the air.
He muttered a curse to himself and struggled out onto the living room floor- or more specifically, onto a spine-bruising bottle on the living room floor. With a groan of pain, he leapt to his feet in excitement, forgetting the couch, the bottle, the crappy apartment and his child-abandoning parents all in a moment.
Because last night, he had met an alien. And it wasn't out to destroy the human race. Bonus.
But now he had a purpose where one wasn't before.
"Elfangor" he said aloud, voice laden with respect.
Elfangor was his name. He had given Tobias an actual meaning in life besides surviving. An opportunity to fight for something that others took for granted.
Pride. Honor. Dignity. Purpose.
All those he had been denied and all those he was given in one conversation with Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul. The one person on Earth that didn't make him want to bury himself in a hole and it wasn't even a human.
Snores from a nearby room informed him that Uncle Assface was still asleep. The beer stank wafted in and out of his nasal passages with each pass of the oscellating fan.
"Don't worry, Elfangor," Tobias looked down at his hands which now held the power to become an animal and save the human race. "I won't waste your death."
Now to find that cat...
End of Chapter Eighteen (18)