In this chapter we meet a new character, the President of the United States! His character is based upon David Palmer from the TV show 24. Enjoy!
Beatrice and Roy snuck to Mullet Finger's old camp at the golf course so they could talk without the risk of being overheard. They didn't have much time, they'd purposely missed the bus so they'd have some time to talk.
"It's sick what she's doing to him. Just sick." Said Beatrice.
She told Roy all about how Mullet Fingers was locked in his room all day, given barely any food at all and forced to do chores for Lonna.
"...And so now she's barred his window, locked his door from the outside and put these awful bracelet things on him so that if he leaves the yard, it'll fry him. And even worse, he's not even trying to escape, it's almost like he's given up hope...given up on life. I hate seeing him like this, Roy, we have to do something." Said Beatrice.
"Yeah, you've got that right." Said Roy, trying to plot a way to get Mullet Fingers out.
He first remembered something from a book he'd once read, then discarded that idea because in order to do it they would require a flying car. The Eberhardt family car could do many things, but Roy was pretty sure it couldn't fly.
"Wouldn't Lonna be charged for Mullet's truancy?" Roy asked.
"Nope. I heard that some big shot in the government pullet some strings and had him registered as mentally distraught and a danger to other students. It says that she's legally home schooling him." Said Beatrice angrily."
"Well...give me some time, I'll think of something. I promise." Said Roy.
"I know you will, cowgirl. I gotta go. Don't mention this to anyone alright? If Lonna finds out, she'll just have another excuse to beat him. I'll see you later." Said Beatrice before leaving.
Mullet Fingers was kneeling on the attic floor. He was supposed to be cleaning it. At the moment, he was going through some old boxes, supposedly sorting them. His was frightfully skinny now, his ribs clearly visible on his chest. He now had huge bags under his eyes. He was going through a box of old newspapers. Why his parents had kept them was beyond him. Most were of his stepfather. Pictures of him playing pro basketball and such. But then, he came to one particular article that suddenly made him stop. On the front page of the newspaper was Roy, Beatrice, Kimberly Lou Dixon and his head. It was from the day he and his friends had stopped the Mother Paula's people from killing the burrowing owls. Letters had been written to the paper about how brave he was. Suddenly, his mouth fell open and he dropped the newspaper.
What the hell am I doing? He thought.
He had given up. He'd let his cow of a mother win. Suddenly, he felt a surge of energy.
Lonna Leep was awoken from her nap by a loud banging. She grumbled angrily as she crawled out of bed to see what the commotion was about.
"What the hell are you doing up there, boy?" Lonna shouted up the stairs.
The banging had been coming from the attic. She stormed upstairs and burst through the door. As soon as she walked in she felt a surge of horror. Her son's shoes were lying on the floor, the laces had been removed. She then saw the they had been tied around a hole in the window from. She walked over to the window and looked out. An axe, four broken bracelets and two metal boxes that were completely wrecked were strewn across her front lawn. Suddenly, something caught her eye. A blond figure running down the street.
"DAMN IT!" Lonna screeched.
President John Kresc was working at his desk at the White House, when he was interrupted by Donald Viseige, the Vice-President.
"Donald, please come in. What can I do for you?" The President said, his voice was very deep.
John Kresc was a very popular president. He was the first African-American president that the United States had ever had. Many people had questioned his position, but he had proved them all wrong. He was now expected to win the next election.
"Mr President, I was wondering if I could discuss with you the matter of the Leep boy." Said Viseige.
"Oh, yes come in. Have a seat." Said Kresc.
"Mr President, before I begin I'd just like to ask that what we discuss in here doesn't leave this office." Said Viseige.
"Of course," said Kresc, producing two shot glasses from his desk ", shot of whiskey?" He asked.
"No thank-you sir, I'd rather just get down to business." Said Viseige.
The President shrugged and put the bottle and glasses back in his desk.
"So, what is it you want to discuss? I thought you were going to make sure he didn't try to interfere." He said.
"Well sir, I'm afraid there's been a problem. I've just gotten off the phone with his mother, she said he ran away again about half an hour ago. I think, sir, it's time for us to take more, ah, extreme measures." Said the Vice-President.
"Extreme? Define that for me, Donald." Kresc asked, leaning back in his chair.
Viseige got the feeling that the President knew exactly what he was talking about, but just wanted to hear him say it.
"What I mean, sir, is to...erm...have him...taken care of." Viseige said in an unnecessary undertone.
The President raised his eyebrows. "Taken care of?" He asked.
Viseige hesitated. "Have him...killed, sir." Said the Vice-President.
There was a long silence. President Kresc got up and went to look out the window.
"Are you suggesting, Mr Viseige, that we arrange the assassination of a teenage boy?" He asked.
Viseige noted the fact that the President was no longer speaking to him on a first name bases.
"Yes sir." He said.
"Honestly, Donald, what has this country come to? Arranging to kill teenagers who stand up for what they believe in? When I was young that would be inexcusable. You'd be fired just for suggesting it." The President said, pacing his office.
"Sir, need I remind you the threat this boy is to national security?" Viseige asked.
"The threat he may be to national security, Donald, may be. We have no way of knowing if he's ever been contacted by his biological father." Said the President.
Though he was an extremely popular president, John Kresc was also considered to be 'soft' by many in the administration. Donald Viseige was one of those people.
"Sir, it shouldn't matter whether he's been contacted by his father or not. We've seen what he's-"
"Yes it does matter, Mr Viseige. We are talking about the life of a teenage boy. I think we owe it to him to get our facts straight before condemning him to death." Kresc said.
"Mr President, forgive me sir, but do you have any idea how-"
"Mr Viseige. I am a well respected president. I am not going to taint the record not only of myself, but of the country, by murdering a young boy who cares about what happens to creatures who are unable to defend their selves." The President said, his voice now growing louder "If you bring my significant proof that this boy is as big a threat as you say he is then I will take into consideration the necessary procedures that need to be taken. If there is nothing else you'd like to discuss then I would kindly ask you to leave my office."
Viseige got up. "Yes sir, my apologies for upsetting you." He said before departing.
Kresc went and sat down at his desk. He took a deep sigh and opened the record of Napoleon Bridger Leep on his computer. Only sixteen years old, attended three years of school, comes from a broken family. The President felt sorry for Napoleon. The truth was, John Kresc couldn't bear to have this boy killed for the sole reason that he reminded the fifty-three year old President of himself at that age. He too had been a runaway, had family problems. It was frightening how much he and Napoleon had in common. He was prepared to do anything in his power to prevent this boy from having to be killed. He owed it to himself and Napoleon Bridger Leep.