The QUEEN SONG

PART 2

(22) Scene 46-49

09/03/2019 
Mike W McCoy

Version 1.0

<>46<>  A reluctant resolution.

The Death Valley air stirred itself still. 

“Damn cold,” Mahn mumbled, then tried to steady his step down the small slippery sand dune.

The ground leveled-out about 30 strides farther south, just short of the massive coal-black helicopter Uncle Ueo’s Triad men had used. 

“Oh, that is why,” he giggled drunkenly, and held up the almost empty bottle of whiskey.  His slashed hand had was bleeding dramatically, slicking up his blazer's sleeve a dark crimson. 

“Get back in the game,” the triad captain scolded himself gruffly, tossing the bottle aside.  Its landing was muffled, and didn’t draw the attention of the figures standing at the edge of the helicopter’s extended rear ramp.  A low green glow, from inside the machine, cast a spectral spell on them both.

The Yellow Hand underboss, Xais, was being clasped around the shoulders by the much taller Firstborn, Jax.  The half-breed Alien man-child was smiling, as if just telling a joke the henchman couldn’t hear, but the triad leader’s forced facial facade was uncanny, and made Mahn pause.

The professional criminal focused his T-glass shades past Jax’s bright Guayabera shirt, the slicked back black hair, the wide pointy toothed grin, and tried to see into the Firstborn’s dark eyes.  It was within that minute moment, that Mahn learned there was nothing human lingering inside the mind behind them. 

Xais was saying something as he waved at his Number One.  But, Mahn stayed lost inside his swirled slightly drunk thoughts.

“-it’s only Mahn.”

“Oh yeah, brah,” Jax agreed loudly.  “I know him.  Ain’t that right,” he finished with an accusatory stare at the triad tough.

Xais passed a raised eyebrow glance over them both.  “Um, of course you do, Jax.  Now Mahn, he’s loyal, that one.” 

Then looking directly at Mahn, “Almost to a fault sometimes.” 

“Yeah, loyal,” Jax repeated, with a disappointed smirk at the approaching drunk. 

From inside the helicopter, the high pitched cries of an infant echoed out, drawing each man’s attention.  Jax cracked a knowing crooked smile, and looked about to speak, but Xais cut in.

“Sounds like my wife woke up.”

“Wife?” Jax asked. “Oh, my sister you mean.”

The underboss tried to keep his voice from cracking.  “Right, your sister.”

Mahn could feel the tension from a car’s length away.

“And,” Xais’s bravado continued.  “Um, she’s just like your mother, right?”

“Oh yeah, brah.  Just like Mother.” 

Mahn felt there was more behind the remark.  Especially in the way the Firstborn moved his lips silently, and tilted his head, as if listening to the quiet of the desert.

The Twin inside had stopped crying, just as the Snake’s computer enhanced sight singled out the trio of men standing at the edge of the clearing.  They were of the better-fed variety, and wore filthy raged jail-orange jumpsuits as costumes.  Handfuls of cactus needles pierced their exposed sunburned shins and blood streaked feet. 

They stood silent, and swayed slightly, just like the awaking thicket of smart-cactus behind them.  The shortest, having more clumps of greasy hair than the other pair combined, lifted an arm, and held it pointed back towards the Grand California Resort.

“Oh shit,” Xais mumbled to himself, overstanding a ‘Something’ big was going on.

“I should go,” he added, and took a step up the helicopter’s lowered rear ramp.

“Oh, no worries brah,” Jax replied, never taking his gaze off the trio of cultists.  “You go, I have work to do,” he said more to himself than for Xais.

Mahn sidestepped away from the departing Firstborn.  The trio of cultists trudged forward to follow, their looks were oblivious of the triad man. 

The underboss cursed something incoherent in Chinese, and strode into the rear of the crab-shaped aircraft.  Xais paused, just as the machine kicked to life, spooling up the twin rotor design.  Standing still, and staring at his drunk Number One, the desert sand began to swirl. 

Mahn faced him back, then stood firmer and straighter, as if on parade rest.  The moment stretched, both men continued facing each other, the engine noise increased, and the downward thrust neared liftoff velocity. 

Mahn’s sad jawed smirk looked about to speak, but Xais waved it down, and bowed formally. 

“I know, I know.”

The henchman bowed back.  “Orders boss?”

“I need you to stay here,” he replied with a sullen tone.  The words, though expected, still hit hard, like bullets.

“I want you keep an eye on things.”

“Sure boss,” the underling answered automatically.  “What about that...wedding present?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that,” Xais admitted. 

“Boris, called it a demon,” Mahn offered, and waited for a reaction.  Other than a raised eyebrow, he got nothing.

The underboss continued to gaze into the desert night.  “It will be day soon.”

Neither man wanted the story to end this way, but they knew it must.  They were both so mad at themselves, they couldn’t even face each other eye to eye. 

“Make sure it doesn’t see sunrise.”

“This is madness,” Mahn mumbled as the loud helicopter began to lift off. 

“I will send help.  Think of it as a promotion.”

Mahn backed up, and a reluctant resolution to the realities bit deep.  “There is no help for any of us!” he yelled at the night.  

The powerful downdraft muffled the final words of Xais, but Mahn heard them.

“I know.”

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<>47<>  Abbreviated attention.

Mr. Sumo led the train, pushing the stumbling figure of special agent Boris.  The medium sized mob of disciples, and assorted detritus of devotees, clicked and clanged behind them, with the abbreviated attention of frightened animals. 

The last of the moonlight dragged ‘Despair’ to the emotional mix of ‘Grim & Spooky’ that oozed between the strong smell of sex and slaughter. 

Off to the left, the partially crumbled South wall of theater bordered the empty patio of the Olympic-size pool.  A short sprinter’s distance to the right, sat the dented and dusty white limousine, last used by the Yellow Hand triad.

The pool itself appeared filled with odd shadows, sloping sand, and near catatonic cultists.  Most of them swayed listlessly, but others were still, like the scattered corpses.  A dull off-key psionic Song roamed the yard.  The Soundtrack was peppered with dull chanting, high pitched animalistic screams, and flashes from freaky fireside phantoms.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Boris grumbled. 

“Quiet.” Mr. Sumo responded with another hard shove.

The nooks and crannies of the Boris’s acid singed face became sharply highlighted, and he twisted them into a stupid grin.  The taunting worked, and the Enforcer added another bruise to those already smearing the special agent’s exposed upper torso of scraped angry flesh.

Boris rolled with gravity, and slid forward.  He stopped less than a handful of paces away from Jax.

The Firstborn strode forward slowly, and behind him a wave of trance-induced sleep-walking disciples squirmed. 

Intermixed within these insatiable followers, was some exotic-egotistic-elegance expressed as random clumps of fresh-to-the-fringes devotees.  This new batch of cultist were not true believers, no yet anyway. 

Boris felt Mother’s mental acuity Sing the leading edge of the Queen Song.  He was sure the mob, inside the ruins of the theater, was excited, worshiping and wailing wildly around the pedestal displayed Alien egg.  The deflated special agent hobbled on, towards the pool’s deep end, and the diving platform.

Mr. Sumo violently thrust Boris to his knees.  So when he looked up, like a condemned man awaiting the sword, Boris saw something odd behind the approaching figure of the Firstborn. 

A trio of short figures slinked along the pool’s far rim, and despite the murky lighting, Boris thought they were Ninjas, just like at Club Uzi. 

“Yoshi, please don’t be here.”

“What’s that?” Mr. Sumo grunted, and delivered another strong slap.  Boris whirled back, pinpricks of light danced behind his eyes. 

“Stop that, brah,” he heard Jax command.  “He’s mine before Mother.”

Boris refocused just in time to see the speaker stop at arms-length away.  The tall man-child assumed an arrogant posture, and glared down at him, at his melted face.  Boris felt the mental hate Jax radiated.  It clashed with the Queen Song of Mother almost enough to cleave his brain. 

“Swell,” Boris grumbled, unable to stop himself.  “You again.”

“Yeah brah, me,” Jax confirmed a split moment before Boris passed out.

<>[]<>[]<>

<>48<>  Ma’am, your orders?

“Agent Yoshi, look,” Mr. Hiedo spoke softly.

“What?” she responded, taking the small scope. 

“Down there, at the pool,” the Ninja continued, as if she had never asked.

The older woman glared back at him.  The fresh streaks of blood across his stylized black costume were now caked with sand, giving him a tiger-striped appearance.  A pistol was missing, but the katana, and shorter kodachi blade were clean and ready for action.

Past him, and also using the static limousine as concealment, was the similarly dressed Mr. Takaoka.  But, his face was hidden behind a coal colored cloth, and both eyes showed a fierce loyalty to the woman who had saved his life.

Yoshi duck-walked to the front to the car, and looked towards the circus around the pool.  60 or so semi-ambulatory disciples milled about, and quarter as many more, obviously dead bodies, were scattered about.  At the deep end, the Firstborn stared down at Boris, kneeling at his feet.  Behind the mutilated man, Mr. Sumo stood ready to deliver another powerful punch. 

“Ma’am, your orders?” Mr. Hiedo asked with no response.

He shot a questioning look to Mr. Takaoka, with the same result, so he returned his gaze back to agent Yoshi.

The bandages coving her naked torso, above the designer black slacks, were slightly more bloodstained, and the filthy scrap of blanket, tied around her strong shoulders, didn’t stop her shivering. 

The Ninja could feel her ‘Hate’.  Especially when she repeatedly gouged her blade into the hood of the limousine.  It was as if Yoshi was stabbing the man at the end of her sight.

A sour undercurrent hung in the air like a wet fog.

<>[]<>[]<>

<>49<> He would succumb.

The chanting from the distant manic-voiced cult choir had become clearer.  The Queen Song now slipped along the edges of wakefulness.  It confused Boris with each unsteady move he made.  It pulled him closer and closer, towards the creature that had caused the cataclysmic spaceship crash all those decades ago.  He couldn’t resist, and soon he would succumb to the Queen’s call to mate.

“Mother,” Jax began, bringing Boris back to the present.  “I have him.”

The exhausted man tried focusing on the situation.  Mother was approaching from the far side of the pool. The mental dream-weaver personality of her dominant Alien side shimmered like a dark aura.  To his eyes, she was elegance without ugly.  A shell of smoldering desire covered her repellent physical core with illusion and shadow. 

“I know you,” Boris managed weakly.

Mother stopped advancing, and the cult crowd around Jax stepped back.  Her wild red wedding gown kimono flared out dramatically, and the pair of nurse costumed Courtesans alongside her, prostrated themselves to the sides.

“I also know you,” she whispered, but it felt like a megaphone to Boris. 

“Mother I thought-” Jax began, then stopped after only a look from her.

The special agent no longer had a clear connection with reality.  The Queen Song tugged at his urges, twisting the fight or flight response.  Mr. Sumo, and rest of his Enforcer clique felt it too, but she only desired Boris.

“Jax, my favorite,” slurring the words, as if speaking with a mouth full of sand.  “Go protect my unborn child.”

Her mental touch pushed the words.  Jax understood he was kill everyone who was not a true devotee to her. 

“Yes Mother,” he responded without hesitation.

After a nod towards Mr. Sumo, he began slowly walking towards the theater, and the pedestal displaying the Alien egg.

<>[]<>[]<>

“Now,” Yoshi urged harshly.  “Go, go, go.”

Mr. Hiedo took point, and stealthily advanced towards cover, at the corner of the crumbling theater, with Mr. Takaoka and Yoshi following.  The Ninjas paused, drew their katana swords, and looked to her for leadership.  She favored both with her frenzied scar twisting smile. 

“Gentlemen, it is now our time.  Kill all, but save Jax for me.”

The trio exchanged formal bows, then slipped past the wall.

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