CHAPTER 38 - RESCUE FROM THE SKIES

The sad march of Little Ben to her execution proceeded quickly by Rapido, until they stopped at the tiny station in Dumpling Tarkington about 4 kilometers outside the Capital. The procession would proceed from Dumpling Station, along the Via of the Aqueduct to the Capital City Stadium. The route had been chosen carefully by Justice Done in consultation with The Order. The first priority was good sight lines, clear of snow, for the youtube crews and favorable sites for mobs to hurl stale bagels, old coffee grounds, and ripe tomatoes. The old aqueduct, standing solidly after a century of neglect, provided both a spectacular backdrop to the drama of the march, but good camera locations as well. Special “hurl here” zones had been created to assure the best spectacle possible for the cameras. The Order had insisted on a modicum of security and the route was considered safer than the river route or the route through Oakwood Park. Justice Done did not want any untold lynchings, or mistaken drowning, before the stadium was reached. A sell out crowd was assured and refunding all those lindens would be a impossible for the funds were quickly deposited in the Bank of Zwinky.

The procession had begun at 10:00 am and proceeded in great solemnity. Famous anchors stood upon the Aqueduct and described the slow progress in deep and somber tones. All except Geraldo, who was screaming epithets at Little Ben and after a few moments, became totally incoherent with froth and drool obscuring his mustachioed face. Geraldo was shooting for record ratings and he was well on his way toward accomplishing his goal.

At the station the security guard of The Order had been doubled. They formed the famous battle square of the Her Sacred Army. The crowd surged around the battle square as it pressed through the throngs lining the road but the battle square could not be broken. In the center of the square they placed Little Ben and she was dragged along the cobble stone road by the two biker girls. A tall thespian, gesticulating madly, and dressed in a costume resembling King Henry, led the procession. The Drum and Bugle Corps of the School For Wayward Girls followed. They played muffled funereal music. Occasionally when the procession would halt, for a potty break, or to clear the road of ruffians or lynch mobs, the bugles would sound out a lovely dirge. Ticket scalpers preceded the procession and followed in its tail. Tickets were selling for thousands of lindens in the van, and in the rear they were quickly discounted to something close to face value.

Where the Via of the Aqueduct cut across the Old Bamboo Highway, Little Ben fell from exhaustion. She could not rise. The two biker girls stopped for a moment to rest and light hand rolled cigarettes. The vinyl clad biker girls were out of shape and they too were tired from the long walk in the sunny but cold weather. The air was still and bright in a way that only a day can be after a night of hard snow. After a short pause, and a couple tokes, the biker girls yanked Little Ben to her feet and told her to walk. They would rest at the next “hurl here” station about 500 yards away.

The column drew to a halt at the hurling station. Several skinny cue card girls stood on orange crates and held hand lettered signs over their heads. The signs were always outside the camera angles, but well within view of the surging mob. A group of cheer leaders from the local pre-teen correctional facility and auto shop were prancing and bouncing on the far side of the road and forming a perfect backdrop for the anchors of youtube which droned on and on with nothing to say but bubbles and squeaks. “Gimmie a “D”, shouted the cheer leaders. “Gimmie an “O”. Gimmie an “O’, Gimmie a “M”. “What’s that spell, What’s that spell,” shouted the cheer squad. The mob shouted “Doom” and burst out laughing.

The cue card girls held up a sign that said ‘Hiss Loud’, and the mob began hissing. Then the card read “Insults!” and the mob responded with epithets and curse words, which the youtube outlets were careful to beep out, but made sure that your could clearly read the lips of the angry crowd shouting into the cameras. A card sprang up that said “Surge Forward” and the crowd responded in a wave of human misery and pushed hard on the protective cordon of Sisters. The cordon held with the help of cattle prods and a few stun guns. A truncheon or two was also needed as several rag clad avatars sank to the ground in a bloody pool. Several sisters made certain to rub their faces in the blood of the fallen to ensure good press.

Homeless people had been hired in the capital and provided lunch, wine, and free transportation to the line of procession by Lupine News and their rival Colloidal Broadcasting Stations. The homeless added not only to the volume of the mob, but significantly added to the smell and Lupine News’ new smell-o-vision on the internet was getting spectacular ratings. However viewers could stand the smell for only a few moments before forced to change stations.

The sign reading “Hurl Now” went up and Little Ben and the Biker Girls were pelted in a hailstorm of filth and epithets.

A small child, standing away from the crowd shed a tear and turned to her mommy. “Why, why are they doing this to Little Ben?” the child asked.

“Shut up,” replied her mom. “If you don’t eat your broccoli you’ll end up in the same place you horrible child.”

The child could not watch and turned away. In the distance, and with her sharp young eyes, she saw the clouds part and a silver form came rushing toward her. She looked about, no one noticed; they were all foaming at the mouth and thrashing upon the ground in a paroxysm of hate and the smell of death. The little child tugged at her mommies dress, but was smacked hard for interrupting her mother’s enjoyment of the spectacle.

Sister Letum, the officer in charge, flashed hand signals to the members of the orders Ancient Hand of Death. Just on the far side of the Old Bamboo Highway, by small fountain near a ravine and copse of woods and brambles, lay a hundred of The Order's Combat Sisters dressed in civilian garb. Letum knew when they reached that point, a planned riot would break out, and they would snatch Little Ben in the confusion and whisk her away to fulfill her destiny on Sodom Mountain in the Grove of the Druid Priestess.

Punky looked down in the far distance she could just make the column proceeding to the stadium still two kilometers distant. Punky and Daggy had planed to snatch Little Ben and drop their package, from the middle of the stadium at 1:00 as the ceremony started. But Punky and Daggy did not know that to ensure that all the tickets were sold and that the concession stands were fully sold out of snacks, tee shirts emblazoned with Little Ben’s picture, and big floppy 'were no.1' obscene finger attachments, the organizers had consciously delayed the procession to the stadium.

“What should we do Daggy?” asked Punky.

Daggy thought a moment then turned to Ed. Ed nodded in Daggy’s direction. “We snatch her here and now,” said Daggy.

Punky looked down at the long processions. “I want full pressure,” Punky yelled to Tek. The procession resembled a huge anaconda snake that had eaten a small village. It was big round and very long, but in the middle there was a bulge. A square bulge that Punky knew would the guards and that Little Ben would be in the middle of the square. Above in the engineering section Punky could hear coal shoveling proceeding at a rapid pace. Tek watched the gages rise in pressure. “I want red line,” shouted Punky, as she smashed the forward engine controls. All six engines began to roar as the ship picked up speed. Daggy started calling our speed and altitude as Punky focused on the crowd below.

“400 meters, 20 knotts,” called Daggy.

“375 meters, 22 knotts”

Punky spied Little Ben exactly in the center of the square.

“350 meters, 25 knotts”

A few onlookers turned and looked up. Instinctively the onlookers dived for the ground. But the vast crowd did not turn and as they vented their rage and furry on the slow moving procession.

“275 meters, 30 knotts,” shouted Daggy above the roar of the engines.

“Here goes nothing,” shouted Punky. She grabbed the UP&DPWN wheel and spun it viciously. The Dread immediately responded in a sickening and sudden descent. The ground came rushing up a them. The small defensive square grew larger and larger. Soon it seemed huge. Punky grabbed the UP&DOWN wheel and spun it in the opposite direction, but the momentum of the ship continued to carry them earthward as Punky planned.

“Lets give them a little spectacle for the youtube scum.” Said Punky as her thumb flipped up a red hinge covering a red glowing button. She pushed. A very loud whirling sound began followed by a deafening roar as 2000 bowling balls smashed into the forest just beyond the crowd. Earth, trees, and rocks went flying high into the air. The mob began screaming and running. Many of The Order fell to their knees and began praying.

The Dread skidded from the sky and stopped its reckless descent about ten meters above Little Ben. The Order was loosing their heads, all except Sister Letum. Sister Letum immediately grasped what was happening and she reached for her P99 and pulled back the bolt. A round slid into the chamber.

“Away the rescue team,” shouted Daggy. A rope spiraled down from the gondola to the ground, falling within a few feet of Little Ben. A black clad member of the Omega team repelled down the rope, grabbed Little Bens frail body and the rope was retracted at an amazing speed. Then a body was seen falling from the ship as it sped away into the afternoon sky.

It was silent. Only a crashing oak from the far side of the road, and the diminishing roar of the engines could be heard. It had happened so fast Sister Letum had no time to act. “Quick” she shouted at three of her prostrate team, “get him.” She pointed to the crumpled form that lay in the space only moments before occupied by Little Ben. The team gathered their wits and rushed to the moaning and writhing form that lay in the dirt. They turned him over and Sister Letum gazed upon the face of Ed Hallard.