SALVATION chapter 18

Chapter 18

Zoot Suit Man growled frustration on several levels. The one on the motorcycle was going to be like a monkey throwing proverbial wrenches into the workings of his plans. He knew this to be true because as a ranking General in the armies of the underworld Zoot Suit Man possessed the power of foresight. It was a milky crystal at best however, coupled with the tight political reigns dictated by the kingdom downstairs he found himself sitting like a lame duck. "Fucking politics!" His rage bellowed into the atmosphere bouncing off pillars of moisture stacking themselves like giant mushrooms off the Gulf of Mexico. As if in response to a tantrum the heavens released a purple bolt of power followed by a thunderous clap.
Zoot Suit Man cowered. His eyes shifting side to side as pelting rain fell a reminder how easily he could be touched.
He hated the old souls like the one temple inside the motorcycle rider. He'd peered at it back at Brawley then stepped back in revulsion recognizing it for what it was- untouchable.
Maybe two or three lifetimes ago while the thing was stitching down it's seams he'd have concocted a means to slither in via the weakness of a stressed life. Now it was too late. Assassination the only option.
"Big fish that got away," he mumbled to himself aware his thoughts and actions may quite possibly be subject to monitoring.
He also hated the fact if successful eliminating the man as he tried outside the shit kicker town, he'd be cut by his own double edged sword. The old soul was ready to move on and if Zoot Suit Man pushed the envelope it meant trouble for Methuselah just down the road. When old souls move on they always wind up Generals for the other side.
"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," he snickered at the irony of it all. He hunkered down at the base of an oak tree that instantly turned the color of charcoal.
Above all else he hated Methuselah. Hated the better than thou attitude of the politician sitting in the comfy confines of his elevated throne. Spitting policy and missions statements to subordinates such as Zoot Suit Man under the constant frenzy of squirming pussy straddling his lap. The bastard pretended confidence when in fact Methuselah was driven by fear. His first priority always protection of the balance of power. The rights of passage in the lower echelons of the universe dependant on it. Everybody answers to somebody.
Ten thousand Generals were currently chained and caged in the depths of Hades for simply exercising what Zoot Suit Man determined displays of enthusiasm while fulfilling their campaigns.
Personally Zoot Suit Man thought General Goloth did an outstanding service with her work in Russia-Germany-Poland during and after the second world war. She however was not shown a hero's welcome when she came marching home. Methuselah was in a rage claiming to have nearly lost his keys to the realm. Goloth's reward was her tits cut off and her head stuck on a stake. A welcome wagon on the inside shore of the river Styx.
Most Generals secretly sided with Zoot Suit Man's thirst for the big show
and Methuselah saw his strategy kept the domain's legions in a state of famished readiness.
Methuselah's strategy of plausible deniability rest major responsibility on the palms of weaker souls. Affording self protection under the guise of free will. Especially stealthy in an age of reason. Man's obsession with natural science and technology over the last two hundred years compels eager explanation the aspects of the universe in terms of natural phenomena. Perfect camouflage.
Zoot Suit found his concentration at last and set about the task of organizing his priorities. He had given Herman Gilespie the power of invisibility. Herman would now trek under the direction of Little Birdie to
his final destination. There Zoot Suite Man's campaign would be realized. He trusted Little Birdie to teach Herman how to use the power efficiently as to remain undetected. Alone Herman would do something stupid in a heart beat. Wind up captured. Reduced to a sideshow freak in a traveling circus. He knew Herman was in Vegas now and he hoped to holy hell Little Birdie had a handle on it. The last thing he needed was Herman making a spectacle of himself.

Thunder clouds cracked overhead as Hal sat on the edge of a pine
desk inside the stuffy office quarters of B&D Auto Repair.
He waited for the resonance to subside in an effort to maintain a calming demeanor when speaking with Mary and Albert Fairfield. Outside, Riverside County Sheriff Deputies wrapped the property line with ribbons of crime scene tape matching the color of their rain slickers.
Three helicopters rest on the immediate perimeters. An LAPD Bell 206 Hal had flown in on. An FBI Bell 412 with side door cargo bay. Also a huge dirt colored U.S. Army CH-47 Chinook. The United States Northern Command had been monitoring the case closely as FBI and Police updates rolled into their computers and phone lines. The scene at Desert Center caught attention as a possible National Security matter.
The invisible bundle at the back of the repair facility was guarded by U.S. Army personnel. The FBI had been advised after it's initial investigation the evidence would be confiscated by the military and deemed classified.
Hal had been instructed to inform Mister and Missus Fairfield the mass of invisibility was in fact a form of experimental stealth technology developed by the United States and subsequently stolen by foreign espionage. The sample located behind their business an attempt to transport the technology out of the country via Mexico. Mary and Albert Fairfield were being treated as patriotic hero's in light of their coincidental discovery and timely notification to authorities.
All a white lie of course as no one on the ground had any clue what mysterious components created the illusion of invisibility. Hal felt a responsibility to convince the couple however in the spirit of their protection. Lending his impromptu speech the best acting skills he could muster.
Hal perceived his current role as that of 'good cop' knowing full well the couple would soon be visited by strong arm federal lawyers armed with affidavits of sworn secrecy for the Fairfield's to sign. They would be told in no uncertain terms if those sworn commitments were in any way violated the couple would be subjecting themselves to charges of treason.
He shivered hoping Samantha's chopper would arrive soon. He was not prepared for the sudden shift in weather bringing with it a constant drizzle and his bones chilled.
The reversal of mind cementing his decision to bring Sam into the case was not uncharacteristic of Hal's psychological assimilation. Especially when confronted by the mixtures of emotion surrounding a woman he cared for. Eons of conditioning flowed through hard wires of evolution beginning a million and a half years ago when prehistory men gathered concepts of who they are by the roles they played. Hunters-leaders-protectors of the tribes from which they sprang. Hal's natural gravity toward protection was the driving force in his initial response.
Not until he'd finished his conversation with Samantha did he sensed a rising concern. His decision hadn't adequately blend with the emotional complexities of a modern man. Samantha is not just a woman. She is a highly skilled sharpshooter capable of lethal hand to hand combat. Trained with the ears of a fox and eyes of a hawk. He needed her. If for no other reason than to protect him. Together they would watch each other's back and hadn't that been his concern all along?
"If you'll excuse me Mister and Missus Fairfield I am going to step outside. I am expecting my partner to arrive any moment." Albert and Mary nodded grateful for the break in interrogations that had not ceased since the arrival of the first Sheriff's Deputy almost three hours ago. They had felt closer to each other at this moment than they had in years. The traumatic events of the day bringing them together. Albert's right arm held his wife's shoulder in a bonding embrace.
Hal stepped outside shielding rain under the metallic roof line of the building. He pulled a pack of Pall Mall's from the inside pocket of his gray sports coat and lit one up nodding to Agent Marsh and Sanchez, two FBI men assisting in the case. After an initial search of the immediate area for any sign of Gilespie's presence, they were busy scouring the property for evidence of his departure.
He worked his way to the back of the shop where the team of infantry and police where swapping war stories like old chums.
The hunk of invisibility wasn't invisible any more. Rain had clung and saturated the mass to where over half the chrome framed motorcycle exposed it's self like a dead deer after Mister Hendley's Celica plowed it over. It had an appearance of hovering. The left side of the bike lay against the ground still invisible somewhat protected from the rain. Before the drizzle started the same method of detection had been deployed by the services of a garden hose attached to a outside spigot. Water sprayed over the estimated boundaries exposed the previously unexposed for what it was.
Hal had called in the license plate confirming the chopper to be the stolen vehicle of Jason Blackwell. He then put in a request to Chief Dodd's office that local authorities be alerted of the possibility Gilespie escaped the area in a stolen vehicle.
He turned his attention west to the familiar echo of rotor chop approaching from that direction. Stamping out the cigarette he made his way around pot holes of puddles forming in the black top to a vacant section south of the property. Sam's chopper was coming in and he wanted to be there to greet her.


The Zoot Suit Man snickered watching Hal and Samantha pour over the discarded motorcycle to the delight of the infantry standing around. Every time she leaned over there was an appreciation of fine ass for their mental stimulation. Other than the obvious tabs he'd be keeping on these two as time progressed, there was something about them he found threatening. His head cocked changing perspective that he might grasp what it was about the two he could not fathom. A closeness encompassed them Zoot Suit Man could not understand. A confusion in the manner they communicated themselves through body language. It was as if they possessed a secret known only to them. The Zoot Suit Man found it both fascinating and disheartening. He did not like surprises.
As for the discovery of the motorcycle it was of no concern. The knew exactly what was to become of it's fate. After the military had prodded, probed and performed every experiment know to man in an effort to gain insight as to the aspect of it's invisibility they would simply give up. Eventually sealed in a crate labeled Top Secret. Shipped and stored at a military warehouse liken to the last scene of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark.

"Waste of a nice bike," Samantha confided to Hal as they finished their inspection and moved into the repair facilities working bay. The military unit immediately began the process of tarping the bike and transporting it to the waiting Chinook helicopter. He leaned into her ear and whispered.
"I got a piece of broken tail light lens in my hand".
"Great," she smiled.
He continued, "I want to see if it reappears by it's self after time."
"Good idea." She sneaked a look around confirming no one had noticed them.
"You know what I am wondering? If this guy Gilespie was able to do what he did to that bike. He might have done the same thing to himself."
Hal thought about what she said and added. "For one, the guy's a loser. There's no way he did this alone. But, yeah your right, we may be looking for this guy and wow."..It hit him hard what Samantha had said.
If what she thought was true Gilespie could have slipped in the back of some unsuspecting motorist's car while they filled up at a local gas station. Or if he was bold enough to steal a vehicle it was going to be a shocker for the CHP officer who pulls him over and finds nobody at the wheel.
"It's creepy," Samantha said, "like everything about this case."
"Yeah," Hal nodded, "and the music thing too. Who ever did this was the brains behind that as well."
Checking their privacy as she spoke, "So where does that leave us?"
He shivered. "Right now we know he's heading east, that's a start..Listen Sam, I am freezing. What do you say we go get some coffee?"
"Oh honey! Why didn't you tell me?" She said alarmed.
He smiled, "I like that."
"What?"
He shrugged, "Honey."
"Yeah?..You like I call you honey,..honey?"
He smiled. "Yeah, don't ever stop."

Nick pushed smoldering embers around before placing another log in the fireplace. Michelle sat up in the queen size bed talking to her Parents for the second time today. She'd slept sound until 7 am when the smell of fresh brewed coffee rose her. Nick had already checked in with his friends hole up at the studio. Toby, Buck and Mac were fine other than the inconveniences that seem to center from the lack of a tooth brush and ripple outward from that point. All three men were anxious to return to their homes promising Nick they would not do so prematurely.
After initial morning contacts they felt no desire to budge from the sanctuary of the cabin. Michelle curled herself around Nick and they fell back to sleep until after noon. Now as she described to her Parents the events of the last twenty four hours Nick fought a hazy fatigue despite the quiet day.
His sleep had been restless plagued with nightmare. Finding himself emerged among indefinite landscapes shifting like fast moving clouds.
In a confusing state of roles sometimes out of breath running from an undefinable sense of evil that stalked him through forests of ravaged trees. Black and braking limbs crashed at his every step to a living floor that rose and fell like a breath under his feet. Foreboding shapes loomed above as if about to strike then with audible gasps sped away merging with dark ceilings of skyline against burnt amber horizons expanding at light speed toward infinite boundaries. As suddenly he was centered in a brilliant light. Surrounded by millions of living bubbles gravitating toward him. Their touch filling him with emotion. Some inspiring a soothing calm while others filled him with a mighty resolve. He saw himself a warrior leading charge from the upper grounds of snow capped mountains against hordes of black minion pouring out a canyon rimmed in fiery volcanoes. Thousands of naked horsemen as himself armed with golden sickles answering the call.
An avalanche of stallions born of a place where fear did not exist, tore through horror struck legions of the damned until writhing in defeat they fled- throwing themselves into the mouths of spewing fire from which they came.
"Come here baby," Michelle's arms stretched out toward him. Her cell phone discarded. He set aside the fire tools and slipped into her arms. She felt him shudder and decided he was cold pulling the blankets around them.