Skin Deep III - Chapter 6 - 'Come Into My Parlor' Said The Spider To The Fly free porn video

Chapter 6 'Come into my parlor,' said the Spider to the Fly All Roads Lead to Rome The Boogeyman had managed to hitch a ride on an unmanned agricultural feed vehicle carrying hay. The vehicle stopped north of a place called Martic Forge, and began automatically off loading pressed hay blocks into an adjacent pasture. After that he left the main road having walked some fifteen miles into the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country. In the dark, he had been able to walk just outside of an ancient unused roadway for most of the night. With no ground traffic except for approved ground vehicles, there was no one around to see him limping along the shoulder. The homes he passed for the most part, were dark and quiet. Every once in a while, a dog would smell the danger in the air and begin barking wildly to warn of the impending doom on the air. When he collapsed from near exhaustion he had made it across most of Pennsylvania to a spot on the map known as Drytown. Based on the evidence on the floor of the cave where he now hid, there was little doubt as to what was happening. His blood ran out in small winding rivulets to small pools of slow running ground water that, over the centuries had leaked up between the cracks in the rocks. This water in turn, ran out of the mouth of the rough, shallow cavern he had found this morning just before the sun rose. This mixed with the profusion of rain water out side and escaped into a roadside drainage trough. This again fed to small streams that led to creeks. These creeks were the natural run off channels that fed Muddy Run Reservoir to the south. The rain continued incessantly, graduating from a drizzle to an intense driving rain with strong gusts of wind that almost toppled him where he walked more than once. The lightening put on a horribly fantastic show and at times, the Boogeyman worried it might reveal his position to someone that might be watching from a darkened widow. Once, the sirens of emergency vehicles could be heard far off in the distanced from the direction from where he had just come. After that, with the exception of the rain and thunder, the night was still. The rain had been the only thing that kept his bare muscle tissue from drying out, cracking and falling off like some old discarded shell. The rain had also hidden many hazards on the ground. Rocks, glass, bits of wood and other abandon materials poked and jabbed at his feet and legs. Roadside briars left abnormally large gouges on his hand, arms, legs and hips. They cut through him deeply and left behind, on their thorns a toxic mess for anyone or anything unlucky enough to brush the now deadly stingers of a once harmless briar. Not everything that lived or walked fell at the touch of the Boogeyman. Most large wild birds didn't so much as blink at the hit of The Vulture. Small birds, domestic animals, sheep, and pigs all fell when in proximity of the illness. They were devoured as quickly as humans once the viral-bacterium began its explosive proliferation in the body. Cats too were especially susceptible as were most other domesticated pets. In the days that followed, the light of those days would find that most cattle, some horses were immune. While chickens and domestic turkeys vanished wherever the viral-bacterium surfaced, wild turkeys seemed to flourish in the newly vacated environment. Now, as the sun brought only minimal daylight to the world outside his sanctuary because of the intense storms, he looked out on a world that would soon kill him as surely has he had killed that old farmer back up the road. Great pieces of his tattered body now lay on the cavern floor, a toe here, three fingers by the entrance where they had snapped off when trying to enter. They had become lodge in a small crevasse and had simply popped of when he had been unable to free them. Afterward, as if to mock him, they fell easily out of the crack in the stone and lay motionless at his feet, much the way his penis had back at Farmer John's house. A portion of his calf had pulled away from his leg and now hung limply down his leg. He had stepped on something in a puddle and split his heel open. Now the bone of his heel pushed through the opening and clacked on the rocks when he walked. Oddly enough, there was no longer any pain. And this was the first sign that he was able to completely recognize as being truly a bad thing. Parts of himself had been falling off for as long as he could remember. There had, however, always been pain associated with these events. The pain told him that his body was still working desperately to heal itself. Now, unable to eat and without the fortified vitamins he had taken for nutrition, his meds to help his body heal more efficiently and the medicated mist that had kept him moist while delivering additional medicine to his body all gone, his body was decaying at an accelerated rate. He would never make it to Washington. He would be dead by tomorrow maybe sooner. Hell, he might be dead already as he had first surmised back in that little cell. He wanted to shake of the notion that he was already dead, but he was too afraid that if he gave in to the impulse, he might just shake his head right off his shoulders. Boy, he thought, wouldn't that be a fucking surprise? He grabbed a bag of materials he filched from tool a shed about three miles back. The Boogeyman dragged it over the rough cavern floor and emptied the contents. Inside were several shop towels, cord and a roll of some sort of shiny metal tape. He taped closed the open wound on his right heel, wrapping about two yards of the tape around and around his foot and heel until it stayed put. Then one by one, he wrapped the shop towels around his feet, clumsily tying them as best he could with seven fingers at the ankles to fashion makeshift shoes. He took a moment to be grateful that the pain was gone. Though he knew, in some rudimentary way, that his body's nervous system was now shutting down, for the moment just to be pain free and able to put cloth against his body seemed like a gift from heaven. Next he taped his draping calf back against the back of his leg, securing it and keeping it from dragging along the ground behind him. It didn't return any functionality to his leg, which was now almost useless, but it looked better. He tried to smile a lipless smile at his handiwork and managed only to resemble a cardboard cutout in a Halloween window display. He once more gazed out at a wet and stormy world. He wondered what the people of this place were thinking as they woke to the news of his coming. How many had died, a few, a thousand? He couldn't say. He personally had no idea of the extent of his power. He only knew that this power was also killing him. Now that his nerve endings had given him peace, he even managed to get a bit of sleep, nodding off where he had been sitting to do his self- improvement repairs. As he slept, he would never know that no news of his exploits in central Pennsylvania had made the morning news. Instead the news was dominated by the wrath of a killer storm moving slowly south across the northern tier states and the death of an old woman whose mother had once held the hearts of her fans in the palm of her hand. The Boogeyman slept among the rocks of the shallow cavern in a hillside. It was the first real sleep he had had in years. He might have stayed that way until he slipped away into death's sweet embrace. Might have if it hadn't have been for the curiosity of a Pennsylvania State Officer named Hoyt McNabb. Officer McNabb's eyes bulged as he hovered over a scene of inexplicable destruction. The rain had washed much of the evidence away, not that any one could get close enough to really tell what evidence remained. In the dim light of the morning he could see several things that the wind and rain could not hide. The grass of the dooryard of this once peaceful little farm house was black. The dead grass radiated out almost one hundred yards from the house. In what was becoming known as the circle of death was an empty livestock pen, an empty pair of jeans and an empty red flannel shirt. There was also a pair of what looked like it might have been work boots, but most the ?boot' was gone, only the soles remained. More disturbing were the six empty police uniforms that lay scattered about the dooryard. Three cruiser HOVs from the local county law enforcement office sat idling in the yard, just inside the circle of death. They had gotten only this far before succumbing to whatever had killed everything else down there. "McNabb..." On the WR was the face of his Captain. "What in the fuck are you still doing out there?" "I think that whatever did this may still be alive," he fired his engines and coasted off in the direction of a trail that was now some forty meters wide and getting larger. The wide swath of dead grass appeared to continue on deep into the woods at the edge of the property. "Feds there yet?" Captain Oliver asked. "Not yet. They're held up because of the God damned storm." Oliver's stern face was nearly through the receiver's screen. Any closer and the man would be in the vehicle with McNabb, "Just don't go down there," "You're kidding me right? I wouldn't put this thing down if both my engines blew. All I want is to make sure no one else wanders up on this." "Alright, but when they get there, you get out. Let the Feds deal with finding whatever did this McNabb. We've been told to stay the fuck out of it. I know you McNabb, you're a damn fine trooper, but you don't know where your responsibility stops and someone else's starts." "Responsibility? My responsibility is to the people of this state. I'm a law enforcement..." "Authority then," Captain Oliver barked, cutting McNabb off, "let's call it authority if that better satisfies your sense of purpose. You will get out of there when they show because you don't have the authority to refuse." "Captain," McNabb turned his scanners to the wide path by which the Boogeyman had left the property, "Captain that shit is spreading. I think the rain must be helping to move it along. Either way, there are homes in the way of that thing. The fucking Feds are going to be here trying to contain whatever happened here. In the mean time, I can at least get people clear of the spread of this shit." "NO! Return to your scheduled rounds. I have assurances that they're going to send enough people to handle this. They'll contain the spread of whatever this is and find what's spreading it. As soon as they arrive, hand the ball to them and get back to work." McNabb rolled his eyes in disbelief. "We know what this is Captain. It can only be one fucking thing." "I don't know nothin, except that you're paid to do the job as I see it needs to be done. You're a good officer; don't make me add insubordination to your list of impressive credentials." The receiver's screen went black before McNabb could say anything. Below him, a Federal Hazmat team was approaching from the ground. He was hailed but on audio only, no images of the men below were transmitted. "Officer, the area has been secured by Federal Investigators. Submit your report to the wave frequency you see on your screen and return to your duties." McNabb squinted his eyes in distaste and mumbled to himself, "You guys been talkin to my boss?" He keyed his ewave-report to the frequency and off it when. He was surprised to see that no record of it had remained in his data memory system. "Hey!" "Return to your duties, Officer." "Wait just a God damn minute here. You can't just delete reports off of..." "Return to your duties or you will be shot down and arrested..." McNabb sat back bewildered, "You'd shoot me down?" he asked. Suddenly is ordinance voice alarm sounded, *WHOOP* *WHOOP* "Particle Beam Lock, Particle Beam Lock, engage evasive counter-measures." "Whoa fuck!" He cried. He slammed the yoke forward and flew off into a stand of trees about a half a mile away. McNabb forced the yoke to his left and back, swinging the wide back end of his cruiser around to face the direction he had just come from, "You SON OF A BITCH," he cried! McNabb allowed the vehicle to remain there, hovering behind the knot of trees that stood on a small knoll at the edge of the Milton homestead. He was about to call in the attempted assault when his attention was drawn to several vehicles on the ground exiting the woods in the direction of yet another swath of dead ground vegetation. "They're on it alright," he said to himself. The mechanical beast that blundered along the dead and dying path of grass, knocking down trees, stripping up the land beneath the machine and leaving a steaming, chemically treated path of barren soil behind it. Whatever the thing was treating the ground with, it was hot. Nothing living however, seemed to flee from these behemoths thundering mechanical presence. Hoyt McNabb had lived around these lesser hills of the Pocono Mountain foothills since childhood. He knew the woods were teaming with deer, birds, squirrels, skunk and even an occasional black bear. The woods appeared to be empty. What could have driven the wildlife off in such numbers as to render the woods vacant? McNabb watched as the machine made it to the road across the two lane country drive and turned laboriously, hulking its way around awkwardly, slowly to make a complete 180 and return, chewing up land, rocks and trees on its way back into the woods. Whatever they let out, it was bad. He decided to see how far to the south this thing extended and just how far they had followed it. Hoyt lifted the State Police HOV up and flew slowly south east. The trees didn't seem affected by the poison, or whatever it was. Deep down inside he had a suspicion but no evidence beyond what he'd seen at the Milton farm. This had all the earmarks of an outbreak of The Vulture, only the devastation was far more vast than anything any of the public service bulletins had ever described. Maybe it was a new super strain. Something someone had been trying to keep under wraps. Who would experiment with something this deadly? That was the question. But there was no doubt that the Feds had been tracking it. That monster machine they had eating up acres of prime Pennsylvania farm land didn't just appear in the woods. It had been put in the vicinity some time ago. They knew that whatever had caused this was out here. But what was that something? McNabb decided to follow a flight pattern that would make it look on flight tracking that he was making normal rounds. His patrol area was extended from central Pennsylvania State to the boarder of Maryland. He could make two complete sweeps in an eight hour period in a normal day. He would maintain a tight jogging flight pattern west to east and back until he found the end of the trail. It might take a while but he felt he could find the end of this path if he just stayed on a western heading 265? and an east bound heading of 96?. He ignored blatant in flight airspeed violations, airway right of way and access violations as the public cruised just a few hundred feet above him. He instead visually scowered the ground for signs through the dense forest. Roadways on the ground were maintained primarily for farming vehicles and the roads were barren today. Once, he caught a glimpse of an old green John Deer tractor, hauling a load of what looked like hay from one side of the road to a pasture on the other side, but no furthers signs of that horrid black trail of death. His pattern had been tighter than normal and it had taken him nearly all day to accomplish one half of his ordinary patrol. By six o'clock he was ready to give up. Whatever was out there, was too well hidden and he no intention of searching for it on foot. His mind flashed to the grim sight of six empty police uniforms laying scattered willy nilly about the Milton's dooryard and shuddered. Officer McNabb swung his vehicle around, switched off his duty beacon and began a leisurely flight back to Scranton. On his way there, he caught a glimpse of something in the fading light on a large tract of land a few miles south west of a small township called Newmanstown. There seemed to be one of those patches of dead foliage near a small meandering creek that cut around an outcropping of rock. No one was tracking him with his duty beacon off, so going lower to have a closer look wasn't really violating his Captain's orders. McNabb flew the cruiser down within a few feet of the stream and hovered there surveying the landscape. This was very similar to the trail he had seen at the homestead further north. He used his onboard map to find the location of the farm and pinpointed the farm several miles north of Drytown. This would have put whatever made this trail far from proximity of the path he had seen earlier this morning. In McNabb's mind, that meant only one thing, the Feds had lost control of whatever was doing this. The trail of dead grass was too narrow here to have been laid down too far in the past. McNabb remembered the way the trail near the Milton farm had seemed to widen with time. This suggested that the trail below had been made by a second outbreak of what had happened at the Milton farm. This was too far from the farm to be related to the earlier event. McNabb followed the trail of death until it stopped at stream along a ragged outcropping of rock that ran along the base of a hill that lined the roadway for about forty yards. There was no place go from here. The sheer rock face of the hill the stream coursed around was rough and jagged. You'd almost need climbing equipment to get up it and there were no signs of the widening path of destruction on either side of the hill. Perhaps whatever it was had been washed downstream. Whatever the reason, the trail stopped here. McNabb landed his vehicle wide of the death trail on the opposite side of the creek from where the trail stopped. He cautiously got out of the vehicle as the rain pelted him and approached the creek. The water seemed clear enough for a polluted creek with drainage runoff. McNabb began to visually search the area for anything that appeared to be unnatural to the landscape. As you might expect, the water of the stream ran swiftly because of the volume of rain and the small stream had it overflowed its banks some, but... His heart caught in his throat. A small trickle of dark red blood ran from a narrow opening in the craggy rock face of the hillside next to the creek. "Hello?" he called out, but nothing cried back. "Is anyone in there?" He withdrew his F-Tazor from its holster and a small electric torch and flashed the light around the opening of the cave. "Holy shit," he whispered as the light froze on what looked like two horribly mangled fingers lying at the mouth of the cave. Thinking there might be another victim of the thing that had tracked across northern Pennsylvania, presumably killing the Miltons and six officers, Hoyt approached the cavern slipping once or twice on loose stones in the creek. "Hey! I said, is there anyone..." There was a terrible rumble that came from deep within the cave and for a moment, McNabb felt he had stumbled onto a wounded bear's lair. He backed out quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly. The slippery rocks of the creek caused him to loose his footing and he pitched backward, pin wheeling his arms for balance he would not regain. He landed fully in the creek on his back as something lurched from the mouth of the cave. The thing that lifted its six foot two inch frame in front of the mouth of the cave seemed to have a human shape, but there was no way in Hell that this thing was human. It cast its gaze around to see what had disturbed it and found Hoyt laying helpless in the stream. "JESUS!" McNabb shouted, started beyond words. The thing took an unstable step toward Hoyt and announced. "Not Jesus... death." Hoyt thrashed about looking for his F-Tazor which had fallen from his hand when he had slipped into the creek. The creature stepped into the water a few feet upstream from Officer McNabb. "Stay away from me," the state policeman begged. It wouldn't matter if the Boogeyman had stayed away at this point. The microbes that flowed from his body into the creek didn't take long to find their supper. Hoyt's feet vanished painfully inside his polished black patent leather shoes. They were lifted up like little black boats of the River Man on the river Styx and floated past Hoyt's unbelieving eyes. The Vulture made short work of Officer Hoyt. His uniform floated away down stream and vanished around a bend in the creek. Down stream, the creek fed a reservoir where most of Central Pennsylvania acquired their drinking water. By morning much of the state would be in the grips of the worst epidemic in history. The Boogeyman lurched toward the police cruiser and opened the hatch. "Good, a ride..." he said and chuckled. He might make it to Washington after all. He climbed inside and closed the hatch. No one saw the police HOV lift jerkily into the sky and move slowly away south east, well below the tracking radar systems of the day. He was cautious to avoid flying over well populated areas and frequently had to stop and hide the vehicle from other traffic. Then there was the storm. Just when it seemed he had regained his bearings, the gale force winds of the storm all around him would force him to the ground to seek shelter before being able to make much headway. Three times he became disoriented and flew several miles off course. By morning he had gone as far as he could. And even though the HOV he piloted was capable of being in the District of Columbia in a matter of an hour from where he'd started, when the sun threatened to expose him, he had only gone as far as a small burg in the southern part of the state along the western bank of the Susquehanna River. He would hide here and, if he lived through the day, he would continue on to Washington when the sun fell. This was how The Boogeyman came to the town of Rouston, the place where all roads seemed to eventually lead Misery Loves Company Gary looked out the open hatchway of the HOV he intended to fly back along the flight path he had just been given. The port side of the vehicles faced north and Gary could see the angry dark clouds of the gathering storm clearly out of the hatchway. He half expected to see a Federal Agent enter the HOV and guide him at F-Tazor point to some clandestine location. What entered the HOV was not a man in a black suit but a pair of sculptured, feminine legs jutting out of a black dress. She lowered herself into the passenger seat, turned and smiled at him, and said, "Hi Sweetie!" "MICHELLE? Goddamn it, what are you doing here?" Gary cried as his wife settled into the passenger side of the HOV. The look on his face was so comical, that she just couldn't push back the laughter. "Oh Gary..." she laughed with her hand over her mouth, "You should see your face." "It's not funny Michelle, this isn't safe!" Gary snapped at her angrily, "Besides..." he said in a quieter tone, "you, almost made me piss in my pants." He admitted humbly. In spite of her smile, there was so much nervous fear coursing through her body at that moment that she taste it, thick and coppery in her mouth. It was a relief to hear Gary's voice in such a light hearted and natural tone that she lunged forward and grabbed him by the neck. She pulled him to her and their lips locked together in a long passionate kiss. They didn't break until they heard Randy's voice on the radio. "I see you have a visitor too." "Huh?" Gary said taken off guard. He looked in the rearview display again and there, sitting next to his son-in-law was his daughter, Beth. "Hi Daddy," she said waving on the display. There was a large defiant but happy smile on her face. Randy nudged her in the display, and both Gary and Michelle heard Randy whisper, "I told you he wouldn't be happy." To Gary's surprise, Randy didn't sound upset. In stead, he looked to be almost... relieved. Gary turned and faced forward. He closed his eyes and took a deep, relaxing breath of fresh air. It dawned on him that he too, felt relieved. At length however, he turned to Michelle and asked, "What is this all about?" "We decided that we belong with our husbands." Michelle said very frankly. "And I decided..." Gary began. "You promised me along time ago to never leave me Mister. And now you're trying to welch out on our deal." "I am not." Gary said defensively, almost whining. "Then what do you call this?" Michelle asked. "I..." Gary scowled, "This is different!" "No Gary. It's not. I asked you to never leave me. If I was going to go through life loving you, then all I asked of you was one thing, don't leave me alone." Her face did not betray the torment that lie just behind her pretty young face. It was her eyes that turned her in. Michelle began to cry. "We out lived ourselves a long time ago Gary." Michelle turned and faced forward and stared out the windshield as she spoke, unable to look Gary in the face. "Maybe it's right that this end now. Maybe they'll leave the kids alone. If they don't, well, we'd be fooling ourselves to believe we could protect them forever. This is going to be the best chance they'll ever have to run far away and be left alone. Those bastards will have what they wanted all along. And us, we had each other far beyond that time we should have had together." Michelle turned, reached out and caressed her husband's face. "I love you Gary. I think I'm only now beginning to understand just how deep that love runs. I can't live without you. I won't..." "You and Beth could have gotten away!" Gary cried mournfully. "For what Gary, to be alone, to constantly be aware of just how far away we were from each other? What do you think my life would amount to at that point? No, we said we would go and give up our story together. If that's not possible, then we'll be together, for a while anyway." She was quiet for a while, but Gary could sense that she wasn't quite finished so he sat and waited, "I've always done what you've asked me to do, hell, what you've ordered me to do. I guess I have to admit that I can't defy you. If you tell me to go, then I'll go. But before you make your decision, let me tell you this... I will never ever get over you for leaving me. I'll always love you. But I'll live out my life with a broken heart." Gary blushed, ashamed by the indictment, "I don't want you to remember me that way, and I don't want you to have to live that way." He exhaled in a single heavy gust, out of answers, spent in his will to fight her. "Maybe you're right. We've had more time than we've had a right to." Gary sat fearing the words that hid behind his lips. He didn't want to say them. Doing so would not only commit himself and Randy to a death sentence and now, his wife and daughter along with them. "What kind of man does this to his family?" he muttered under his breath. "The kind of man that knows what his wife and daughter really want. We're grown adults you know. We understand the risks. We just want to be with the men we love. That's all. Till death do we part." "This isn't a risk Michelle, this is pretty much a done deal. I think you're taking that out of context." He looked over at his wife, teary eyed and she simply shrugged. "So sue me." She said with a loving smile that absolutely melted his heart. "I'm going to miss that smile." He said. "Not for at least three more minutes." Michelle said cheerfully. She snaked her fingers into his and gripped as tightly as she could. "Come on Gary, let's get the hell out of here." Gary looked down at the monitor, "You ready to go?" Randy and Beth were both locked in an embrace, "Sorry, I'll check back later," Gary said. They both parted laughing the thick laugh of two that had been crying. "That was beautiful Mom." Beth said sniffling. "Yeah," * Sniff * "I think we're as ready as we're ever going to be." Randy added, "You never told me they were this hard-headed Dad." Beth slapped Randy on the shoulder hard, but good naturedly. "Ouch!" "You never would have married her if I had. I would have wound up supporting her this whole time... it would have been a mess. I'm just grateful that you can't smell a conspiracy when it's right under your nose." Gary replied. This time Michelle slapped Gary across the shoulder. "Ow... That hurt." "Oh stop it you big baby." Michelle chastised. The two HOVs lifted in unison and sped away toward destiny. There was not much conversation on the three-minute trip back to their first home. Michelle trembled most of the way back. At times when Gary glanced over to her, she looked as if she might start throwing up. He considered many times in that short final trip of setting down and letting her out. He knew that would have only delayed the inevitable. They would have found her eventually, captured her, and dragged her away, alone and terrified. At least this way he could be there to comfort her as long as he could. He considered killing them all. He could at least make death merciful. As he considered it however, he had no idea were to begin to make it painless. They were anything but fragile and Gary understood that it would probably take more than he had to kill them even if their bodies were mortal. His love for this woman, who should never have been, mounted to new heights he had never before understood. Now, in the face of all his fear and feelings of unworthiness in the midst of her beauty, here she was, clinging to him. Around them was the air of doom and still she was here. Her knuckles were white from the strain of her grip on his hand, she was petrified and still, there she sat unwilling to be separated from him. His shame at his occasional doubt in the strength of her love burst his heart. How could he have ever wasted one minute ever doubting her feelings for him? Yet, men are all insecure about the love of a beautiful woman. They may hide it, some with anger, others with self loathing, while others still trod though their day with a caviler air about them, seeming to care of nothing but the moment. Inside however, doubt silently eats at the soul of every man. Michelle was so... everything. She's always been everything, everything to everyone and here there she sat, probably going to her death and she would not leave him. It was the most amazing thing Gary had ever felt. His heart wished for just one more hour, just one. So that he could say goodbye to her his way, properly. He wanted just enough time to make her understand how much she really meant to him. And maybe he had. Maybe by showing her I didn't really want to be apart either, by letting her come be with me, maybe she will understand. It might not be right, but it was as right as Gary could make it. "Michelle," Gary whispered, so low that Michelle almost didn't realize he had said anything. "Yes." She said sweetly. He spoke as softly, as gently as she had ever heard him speak before. His words were as soft as satin and as cool as a summer garden spring, "I wish I knew how to tell you just how much I really love you. I don't. I don't have the words for such a thing. But if I did... oh... if I did, it would truly be a grand thing. You would be impressed." For all her fears, for all her desires, Michelle found herself truly wanting only one thing out of her life. To always be with the man that had rescued her from herself. Michelle understood what would have happened to her if Gary had not been the one there that night for her. For twenty years they believed that the act of their making love that beautiful Saturday afternoon had been the cause of being unable to return to her former life. Gary had soothed her, made her feel comfortable, easy about being a girl for the weekend, and in the end, wanted like no one else had before in her life. She rewarded that by giving herself to him, first physically, then emotionally. But Michelle had never seen herself as the beauty that everyone touted. Michelle saw only the woman who woke in the morning with matted hair and sheet and pillow marks embedded in her face. She saw the crust that gathers in one's eyes as they sleep and felt disgusted with her appearance at times. She worked hard to be a showcase wife for Gary. Not because she was concerned so much about being a beautiful woman, but because she felt Gary deserved one. She would have walked around naked all day if that had made him happy and on more than one occasion, she had deliberately done all her house work in nothing but a lace apron just to see the look on his face while he watched. She wanted nothing more. And still he showered her with some of the most extravagant gifts and original settings to show his undying love for her that she would go to bed feeling inadequate for him. This was the man, after all that rented the Eiffel Tower for their anniversary for God sake. What kind of man does that for their mate? One who loves them without question or hesitation and believes they could never show it, her mind answered. Oh if Gary only knew that it had never taken more that a gentle touch or a tender look from those captivating blue eyes of his. What did it matter, he would not of believed it anyway. She felt she may have been talented, but that was all she had to give Gary in return. That and herself; and how insufficient that felt at times. There had been countless nights when she lay awake, unable to sleep from the worry that one day he would wake, point at her and scream, "Fraud! Fake! Cheat!" She feared that she would never be enough for him and oh God how she loved him... It was a bond tighter than the SKIN she had become trapped in. It seemed each day that love grew and made her more helpless to him. And when she felt desperate from that growth, when she felt there was no more room for it in her heart and that it might, one day soon, simply explode, it would grow again. Sometimes she would physically writhe with the pain from it. It felt like a living thing trying to punch its way out of her tight skin. She would not have had to have worried about living long without him. She would have withered soon and faded away inside a body that would remain forever young. Now, in that last moment when she called in that final marker, he had once again made good on his love for her. She had asked and he had delivered. What could she ever give him now in return for such a loving thing... The answer was simple, nothing! Her heart broke into a thousand pieces at his confession of love. How she wished she had done more, been more, cared more... "I..." she wanted to say so much, "I..." she began to hyperventilate. Gary stopped her. "I know sweetheart. I know. You've shown how much you love me every single day. I just wanted to say thank you, that's all." "Oh God... th... th... th... thank you." She said in a shuddering breath as the tears poured down her face. "Gary," It was Randy. "Yep." Gary said, afraid to say too much for the torrent of emotion raging inside him. "Beth is pretty upset here. Hell, so am I for that matter." Gary suspected they were having a moment much like the one Michelle and he were sharing. "Coming clean are we?" Gary asked. "Yeah, pretty much. She wanted to say goodbye, just incase things got hairy fast." "Sure, Button?" "Daddy?" "We're here Button." "I love you both, and... I'm sorry for wrecking your HOV, you know, back when..." Both Gary and Michelle burst out in emotional laughter. "Oh Honey, thank you... but you didn't have to apologize." "I know, but I wanted to. I never really said I'm sorry." "I love you sweetie. We both love you both so much. Never let that thought go, Okay?" Beth nodded in the monitor and returned to crying. There was a moment of silence, then Randy was back on the screen. "Uh... have you noticed how deserted the streets are down there?" "They're setting up a surprise party for us, that's all. They don't want any uninvited guests." Gary responded. As they approached the old district, they could see countless HOVs had lined the old ground streets, now used as landing space for blocks. No one else had been given clearance to depart or land and there was no wave chatter from other pilots. Now the streets in the vicinity of their home were barren, no HOVs and no people. The sight of it sent a chill down Gary's spine. I wonder if they thought we wouldn't notice? They must be ready in case we did and decided to bolt. Well, we're in the trap now, no turning back. He closed his eyes and sent out a silent mental plea to his youngest, Shelly, get the hell out of here when you can. Dunlap watched as two of the four units designated for the operation descended into the parking garage of the Shipley's building. That was three, he made up the forth unit. He would have felt better with more units on scene, but there had been no word from the six agents, that comprised almost half their complement, Loudon had sent to assist agent Sharps with the subject that had escaped from Stanaford. "We going in boss?" asked Joseph Rocmart. Rocmart had been the odd- man-out in an uneven cadre of agents. Young and mostly inexperienced, like the last kid to get picked for dodge ball, it fell to Dunlap to train him. "There are three in now?" Dunlap asked, referring to the three other available units he had at his disposal to complete the operation. "Yeah, and the target is approaching, only..." "Only what," Charlie demanded. He took his eyes off the skies and turned his focus to the tracking grid. "There are only two of them. The third HOV is still on the ground at Saint John's." "They could be just lagging behind..." Dunlap said, expanding the view on the monitor, trying to pick up the third HOV. "Or, they could be trying to stage a diversion boss." Dunlap stopped, turned and looked at Rocmart, "Don't even think it." "There...Shit, they came up on us fast," Rocmart said pointing up into the sky. "Sure as shit, only two. Well, there's no time to go inside now. We wait until they go in and we follow them once they're wheels down." With the third HOV still on the ground, they had no way of knowing who of their party were in the approaching vehicles. There only chance at a full acquisition was to take those approaching and wait on the third vehicle to arrive. They could not let anyone have access to the residence. Once inside, the situation became a wildcard. Their mandate was clear, apprehend and contain with zero public interference and as few public eyes as possible. Charlie Dunlap's wave receiver hissed briefly as the digital dial clicked off the frequencies in rapid succession. "How goes it?" asked the familiar visage of his friend and boss. "Birds are in the roost buddy. We've got em. Waitin on them to land now." "Excellent!" Brad cheered with a smile so large that it nearly distorted his face. "Guess you're going to want a promotion after this?" "It wouldn't hurt Chief." Dunlap admitted. "We'll talk about it after the clean up here," Loudon informed. "Nasty business, terrorists." Loudon paused, letting the implications of his statement sink in. "I'm putting you in charge of the investigation; make sure you account for your target's whereabouts once you bring them in. I wouldn't be surprised to find that they had something to do with this awful tragedy." Dunlap said nothing. He understood what had happened at Columbia Center. Everyone there was dead. With everyone dead and the only clearance on record after the event given to the Shipley's, this would only provide probable cause if there was pubic pressure to reveal information and legal support (if needed,) to prevent that information from ever being released. Nothing could reverse what was about to transpire now. Loudon had put in place the pieces that would insure that someone would take the fall for a barbaric act of terrorism and turning the entire capture into a matter of National Security, outside the venue of any other agency. At the very least it would look like the Shipleys were in cahoots with someone to make good their escape. In short, the Shipley's were cooked. Dunlap knew that their electronic transaction was being recorded. This would be kept as supporting evidence to the necessity of their actions here if needed. Only, now, Dunlap didn't like the idea of the pretense of what they were doing. He felt as if he were being watched, and the eyes of those who watched were narrowed in disappointment. "Do you copy me Agent Dunlap," Loudon Barked? "Roger that Sir, clean up and gather evidence." "Right..." Loudon agreed. Loudon paused as though he were assessing some critical element he had previously overlooked. "You Okay Chuck?" "Fine Sir, just on my toes here." But Dunlap wasn't on his toes. The edge he had fought so hard to acquire the other night during his late evening chat with Brad was gone. Suddenly he felt like the one who was doomed. He was suddenly certain that if he completed this mission, he would die as a direct result of doing so. Everything about this felt wrong. They were all at the table, playing the same game, only the deck was stacked. Nor could they refuse to play. The circumstances now were of such that they were all locked in this fucking unscripted play with no way out except to go forward. "Hummm, I hope that's all it is. This is an important arrest Agent. These people have clearance to fly when no one should. We need to..." "Yeah, I know. We need to pull the records and go over them with a fine tooth comb," Dunlap finished for him curtly. Dunlap watched as the Shipley's two HOVs the deck entrance on final approach then slowly broke off and moved to the Harbor Trace street side of the building. Dunlap's brow furrowed in confusion, "What in the fuck are they doing?" "Agent? Is something wrong?" "Yeah Chief. It looks like they've initiated a ground landing. Rocmart and I are the only ones out here." "You're Fucking OUTSIDE," raged Loudon!" "If I hadn't have been, then no one would have known that they decided not to follow their filed clearance. Who the hell was going to report it with all the fucking controllers' dead?" Dunlap screamed back at his boss, no longer concerned with rank or badge status. Dunlap knew he had just checkmated his boss. Loudon would never admit it, but he wouldn't push Charlie any further either. If anything, Loudon knew good ole Chuck had just saved his ancient ass. "I'll report when this is done, out." Dunlap finished by changing to a closed wave frequency, "The subjects are commencing a ground landing outside on the north side of the building. On my signal, I want all units outside and ready to move in." Each unit responded with, "Affirmative," and only one asked, "What about eyes?" "Fuck the public, these people are fucking terrorists. We move in and use any means necessary to facilitate apprehension." "Roger that. Waiting on the signal to move in," the Agent said and then assumed radio silence. Gary slammed his fist into WR controls, jamming the open frequency control on the WR. Their ability to communicate with the outside world was blocked. "God damn it! I can't get out to the NewsServices. They've done something to the communications net." He felt stupid for not anticipating such a basic tactic. Next to him, Michelle seemed oblivious to the collapse of their plan to alert the media to what was about to happen, "Where are they Gary?" Michelle asked looking around the old park and neighborhood? Gary shrugged, "I Dunno." "Hey Gary?" Randy signaled them from the HOV in front of them now. With Gary's WR out, there was no picture, just audio across the a short resonating frequency. "Yeah?" "Looks like a ghost town, what do you think?" Randy said quietly as if in reverence for the imagined dead of this section of town. "I think we're being watched," Gary said warily. "That's what I think. We were cleared to land here. They probably assume we're going to park in the decks and walk right into their arms. That would make things nice and convenient for them, I'd have to say. It would keep our capture out of sight. I don't think they want anyone seeing what there about to do." "No luck getting out on the WR?" asked Randy. "No, how about you," Gary countered? "Nothing, looks like we're screwed. Why not break of now and go right the broadcasters? "For the same reason I didn't break for town earlier. We never would have made it. But I guess in retrospect, it would have given them one hell of a big mess to explain. Two HOVs shot down over town wouldn't be easy to explain. But they have probably already thought of that and the only thing that would have brought us is more suffering. If I'm going to roast in a fiery crash, then I at least want to die and let the suffering end." "Oh yeah," Randy chuckled with morbid humor in his voice. "I'm scared Daddy." Beth piped. "I know you are Button. I'd like to say everything's going to be Okay..." "Yes," answered his daughter, "I understand." Gary could hear his daughter lick her lips against the angst that they all felt. "My mouth's gone dry. I wish I had some water." Gary swung the HOV around and captured the ILS for descent and then suddenly broke off, "Where are you going?" Randy asked alarmed. "Fuck them," Gary said, "If they want us, the can come out in the daylight and get us. I'm landing next to the park." "But there's no one out here," Randy reminded him. "These homes have windows and closed circuit scanners all over the place. Someone is bound to see what happens. I'm going down, wouldn't want to disappoint our hosts now, would we." Randy laughed, "Not since they've gone to all this trouble. Shit no!" There were no other words spoken on their wave transmitters. Gary brought his craft to a soft landing on the old street before his former residence and opened the hatch to step out. He closed the hatch lid as Michelle watched fretfully from the passenger side. He bent at the waist and peered back into the HOV, shrugged and lipped, "I love you." Michelle smiled a terror-streaked smile but couldn't hold it. As Gary straightened, his last coherent thought before the onslaught started was, Please God, don't let them hurt my girls. If they have to go to you, let it be as quick as you can make it. That's all I'll ever ask. That's not so much is it? Beth cautiously opened the door and stuck her head out to look around. "Randy?" "Beth," Randy rasped harshly, Get back in the..." "RANDY! LOOK OUT!" Beth screamed. Three black Government Issue HOVs were filing out of the parking deck's exit tube. They descended on their position like giant, angry black bumble bees. Each one taking a tract that brought them all down around the two HOVs the family had flown here in. When they got close to the ground, they broke formation and surrounded the party of four. The men, dressed in black, with white shirts and red ties moved faster than Gary would have suspected. They were physically agile and well trained. They formed a net like circle around them as a forth vehicle joined the fray railing the others from the building's parking deck. Gary wheeled to watch the formation jell into a cohesive unit that moved and worked as one body. "We don't want trouble," Gary announced. There were no words from any of the men that stood before them. ?They're just men, they're not super heroes with superhuman strength. They're just men,' Gary reminded himself. "Don't hurt the girls and we'll come peacefully," Gary tried to reason with them. "I don't think they care if we come peacefully or not Dad," Randy called out from next to his HOV. "They look like they've wanted to do this for a long time. I bet they blame us for making them wait so long." From someplace yet another HOV was joining the party. This one vehicle seemed to move without the coordination that the other in the team shared. Not only was it well out of step with the choreography of the group, it landed in a spot that seemed to have no strategic advantage. ?Jesus, did they bring the entire army to take us down?' Gary wondered. A large man, broad-chested and bald, stepped from the fourth vehicle and announced, "Take the men first, then hood the women and get them out of here." Gary looked at Randy, "Hood the women?" Randy mouthed, confused. Gary didn't have much time to formulate a response; he was able to dodge the man coming at him just as the agent lowered his head at the last second for a full body slam against his HOV. The agent slammed head first into the reinforced poly-window with a terrible wet smack that told Gary, who was still shifting to his left that the man had opened a deep fissure in his head and would no longer be able to join in the dance. Take that you SOB! Gary thought triumphantly. In side the HOV, Michelle shrieked as the man hit the glass in a splatter of blood. Grayish white meat like clumps splattered out in a radial pattern against the dome of the HOV. Her hands flew to her mouth and she closed her eyes against the image that was burned there now. For a moment it felt to Michelle a little like looking at the sun for a brief second on a hot summer day. Closing your eyes had little affect once the image was burned on the retina. She squirmed and screamed and screamed at the horror that was just now beginning to unfold. There was a thud that came from the front of the Gary's HOV. There, Randy had been pinned and was writhing in pain as the other agent struggled with him. He could see Beth in the HOV silently screaming Randy's name over and over again. There were no tears, but Gary thought he had never seen anyone so scared in his entire life. Gary charged the agent that had his son-in-law and was almost on him when he was tackled from behind. He half turned as he fell to get better leverage to fend off whoever or whatever had brought him down. As he fell, he could see that the park was crawling with agents, all dressed like refuges from some sort of espionage show, better than half a dozen of them in all. Gary landed painfully on his side with an "Umph!" "DADDY!" Gary heard someone cry out and realized that Beth was out of the HOV. "Get BACK IN THE HOV!" Gary screamed as a fist that must have been the size of a comet struck him in the face. "Someone get the girl!" he heard someone shout. Gary shook off the effect of the blow and turned his head to face the man on top of him "Oh no you don't," he grumbled angrily. He managed to loop his free arm around and hook one finger into the orbit of the left eye of his assailant. "NOOOOOOO." The man screamed trying to pull away, but it was too late. Gary had his finger dug deep into the man's eye socket, the eye itself bulged hideously out of the man's face, but did not burst. "AAAAhhhhhhhhhhhh!" the agent cried in agony. The man gripped Gary's wrists and tried to yank his finger from his socket. When he did the eye burst and fell limply by the stalk of the optic nerve. "JESUS!" The agent screamed, releasing Gary's arms to cover the hole in his face. "JESUS CHRIST! My FUCKING EYE!" Gary drew back and with one blow, opened the man's face for God and the entire world to see. ?At least he isn't screaming any more,' Gary thought absently. Gary scrambled to his feet. He searched frantically in the direction from which the cry from Beth had come moments before. There were now two agents on his daughter. They had her arms, each pulling in opposing direction as if she were a wishbone to be pulled apart. She resisted as best she could, pulling and tossing her body to free herself so she could help her husband, but they were too many and too strong for her to overpower. Gary raced to her and grabbed one by the hair and threw him violently to the ground where he was welcomed by yet another, not quite so loud, wet impact. Gary then spun left as the second agent released Beth to defend himself. Before the man could strike a defensive posture, Gary struck him square in the face with his right fist and the man stumbled backward, fell back into an alley and disappeared from sight. This was followed by the sounds of rubbish and left over whatever that had been stored in the alley crashing everywhere. Gary turned his attention to back Randy who now had two agents himself, one more was bearing down on Beth. Randy broke the grip of one agent himself as Gary swung and missed agent number two with a right cross that had been aimed at the side of the man's head. Instead it connected with Randy's jaw and Randy fell to the ground, half conscious. "SHIT!" Gary cried, holding his hand in pain. His right was wearing out from the three skull blows he had delivered thus far. Instead of welcoming more trouble, Gary grabbed his daughter and flung her toward the alley. This was quickly becoming more than he anticipated. His intention was to simply give up, but after two centuries, why would they believe his family would just give up without a struggle? These agents had come prepared for a fight and now, that's exactly what they planned to dish out. The intent of the family had nothing to do with anything at this point. "GAAARRRRRYYYYYYYY!" The cry was an all too familiar one. Gary turned and there was Michelle, in the hands of two agents, being dragged from the HOV. One of them was the very man Gary had seen moments ago give the order to take the men and hood the women. "MICHELLE!" Gary shouted in a menacing growl and started to charge when Michelle screamed. "BETH, Get her..." Michelle began to call out, not worried about herself so much as she was her child. One of the agents placed something on Michelle's neck and Michelle fell silent. "NO!" He had time to take one step when Beth cried out in terror. As the agents dragged off his wife, Gary was caught in the middle, alone and without reinforcements. This would be over soon, the best he could do was keep them from hurting Beth now. Randy, unfortunately and thanks to Gary, was no help at the moment. Beth was now in the hands of the agent Gary had knocked into the alleyway. The persistent little fuck was dragging Beth to a black HOV just on the outer perimeter of where the others had landed. Gary was feet away from Beth and reasoned quickly that if he could pull Beth from the clutches of Sparky the alley-cat, then get Randy up and going, he still had a chance to get his wife back. Gary had time to notice that these two were wearing sun-block eye protection, something none of the other agents were wearing. It was enough of a difference for Gary to make note of, but nothing that seemed extraordinary by any means. Gary turned to close the distance between Beth, her dancing partner and himself when a second, older agent stepped from the shadows of the alley. Gary tried to stop his forward momentum and avoid running right into the arms of the waiting agent. He saw one of the two agents lift his arm and point it toward Gary. There was a small puff of white smoke, a sharp pain to his neck and the lights went out all over the world for Gary. He slunk to his knees and then softly to his face on the pavement as the drug took effect. It was over. The struggle for freedom had closed quickly. Gary slipped into unconsciousness with one thought on his mind. I love you Michelle. I love you... I lov... The agents loaded Gary and his daughter Bethany Benton into the back passenger seat of their HOV. They were strapped in and their arms and legs restrained with special anchored straps that doubled as seat restraints. Charlie Dunlap looked around with stony indifference at the carnage around him. He had three agents down, two of which were dead, another, the rookie, Joseph Rocmart was disfigured with his eye gouged out and his face split open. They had underestimated the Shipley's. The good news was, they had them now. The search was over. Michelle was in his HOV, Benton was being loaded into another, the senior Shipley and Benton's wife had been loaded into a HOV that was on the outskirts of the parameter of their enclosure. Dunlap looked again as the two men got into their HOV, saluted Dunlap and closed the hatch. ?Who in the Hell is that?' Dunlap wondered. Son of bitch deserves a fucking medal," he mumbled. He saluted back, informally as the HOV took off and streaked away toward The Duck Blind. Dunlap didn't stop to think or worry about anything else except getting his dead and wounded off the street quickly. The Shipley woman would be out for a while. It never occurred to good ole Chuck to count his cadre of HOVs or men on the scene. The battle ground had to be made right, the identity of the woman hidden, there were groceries to buy, people to kill, all that important stuff. As Dunlap made his way back to his HOV, a gentle, cold rain began to fall. Dunlap looked over his shoulder as he turned his collar against the brisk wind. Behind him rolling grey clouds marked the storm front that had been predicted to roll through. "Okay boys, let's get this show on the airway..." he paused and was reminded of that day he had seen God down in Cuba, snacking on the locals there, then added, "There's a storm coming!" If Michelle had been conscious, she would have recognized the voice of Charles S. Dunlap as the voice she had heard foretelling of the portent to come that morning in her kitchen just a few weeks before. It was a voice she had never heard before. A voice from the future, part of a memory she had not yet lived, but was there just the same. Alone As Dunlap turned his back to the light rain and returned to his HOV, he considered what had happened. He would have to put a narrative to it when he dictated his report and attached the scanned visual to it. Shipley had been faster and stronger than they had anticipated. He had underestimated the man's resolve, but in the end it had resulted in a positive capture. All were under arrest. In the back seat of his black and glass Government Issue HOV was Agent, Jerry Hendon, who had assisted in Michelle's capture. He was locking the passenger restraints that ran over Michelle's waist, between her legs and over her shoulders to a locking mechanism over her belly. Dunlap observed that the paralyzing drug that had been given her at the onset of the struggle was beginning to wear off. Hendon was about to a slip a limp sadist's hood over her head. "Hendon!" Charlie barked, lowering his head into the rear passenger compartment of the HOV, "I'll do the honors." Hendon responded respectfully, "Yes Sir," and handed Dunlap the soft and limp hood. Sadists hoods were a devilish device, developed some one hundred plus years ago in Germany by a group that devoted itself to a lifestyle of bondage for the sake of eroticism. While outlawed almost immediately, the law never stopped the black market demand. These devices, as it turned out, were far too dangerous in the hands of the public consumer and a worldwide moratorium was eventually placed on their manufacture and sale. Government agencies around the world, however, found them invaluably useful for restraining and hiding the identities of subversives and other individuals that were believed to be a threat to the powers that be. Once locked over the face and head, they absolutely could not be removed under any conditions without the code to unlock them. It was an excellent deterrent from trying to run or escape, since the captors were the only ones who could remove it, EVER. Charlie shivered as he held the hood in his hand. He had never put one of these on a person before, though he had seen the end result. He had seen the wild look in the eyes of the restrained as they struggled hopelessly and eternally to get them off. These things were much like the Iron Mask of French lore. Taking from the wearer all hope of identity, but worse, they took away the occupant's ability to communicate verbally or by means of facial gesture as well. Once on, the person inside essentially ceased to exist in the eyes of the world around them. Charlie looked at the mask in his hand. It was a limp lifeless thing, shiny black with two large lenses that would give the wearer sight but not much else. On the seat next to him was a plastic hook used to pull long hair through a collared opening in the back. Inside was a gag that conformed to the mouth of the person locked inside. When the mask hardened, it forced the jaw closed around the small stem that ran through the gag, allowing the wearer to breathe, take water and nutrition but little else. Charlie gently slipped the gag that was attached to the inside of the device into Michelle's mouth and then pulled her hair in back into a ponytail. From the outside of the mask, he inserted the hook into the collared opening in back, looped it around Michelle's makeshift ponytail, then drew the hook out and Michelle's hair flowed out of the thing in a perfect ponytail. He pulled the device down in back as easily as he might pull a sock onto his foot. Dunlap then clasped the two halves of the pre-programmed collar together around her neck and the hood conformed to the shape of her head and hardened to a density that could not be cut or removed by any external device. The gag expanded to fill the ?users' mouth and with the chin tightened and hardened, she would be unable to move her jaw to speak or form words until the thing was removed. The only thing that could get it off her head now was the voice of the person that had given the password to the lock. Charlie sat back and admired his work. It hid her identity perfectly. A small chill ran through again him as he looked at the number on the brass plate attached to the collar. It read, 88594493. It would be the only identity she would carry as long as they kept her alive. He knew, numbered hoods were rarely if ever removed. Michelle's eyes fluttered open behind the tamper resistant lenses of her mask. They looked up and saw a man in a black suit, white shirt and black tie hovering over her. She tried to scream and discovered quickly that something even worse had happened to her. One unsecured hand flew to her head and frantically felt where her face should have been. There was nothing but rock hard smoothness. Gone were any defined facial features such as lips, cheeks, or chin. The skin of her face was hard and unyielding. Only the vaguest outline of a nose could be felt and a small hole about the size of an electronic writing pen where her lips had been. The thing was as smooth as glass from the front of her face to the back of her neck. A thick rigid collar of the same material looped around her neck holding the thing to her head. Dunlap watched as she searched the now rigid mask for a way out. He left Michelle's one unsecured hand free so she could feel the finality of her fate. This is the part he had always wanted to see, the panic and struggle of the imprisoned trying to free themselves from that which could not be removed. He watched as she searched the parameters of the mask on her head, tried to find weak-spots, and finally tried to rip it off her head. He enjoyed the look of terror when all efforts failed and the target began to realize they were trapped. He could see inside as the woman's eyes began to become bloodshot with the stress. She was whimpering with fear, he could hear her begin to mew as panic began to flood her mind. He released her one restrained hand so that both could struggle to pry the thing off her neck and over her head. Soon she was begging him, her hands fold