Beast Machine (41 page)

“
Don’t flap them yet,”
asked Gora, her mouth full of extra string that was cut off in the
process of tightening the strings. “Just have to place and tighten
them accordingly.” She finished on the back strings and stepped
away. Gora removed the extra strings from her mouth to size Owlbert
up after properly placing the wings on him. Her eyes slowly moved
up and down, then side to side.

“
You look pretty good,”
said Gora with a smile. “They’re not the same color as your real
feathers, but function over fashion, right?”

Owlbert began to slowly
spread his wings. He looked to his left, then to his right to
admire and inspect the wings. Each of the wings had prosthetic
feathers attached that looked awfully similar to his real wings’
feathers. They were just as light as his natural feathers and
reacted to any air current like his natural feathers.

The prosthetic feathers
were a flat black color, a difference from his tawny brown and
white feathers, yet it didn’t bother him much so long as they were
just as effective as his natural ones. He, however, couldn’t feel
anything through these wings or feathers, which made him sad. But
they would suffice for the little genius bird.

“
Ja, very gut work, Frau
Gora!” he cheeped loudly. “I like!”

Gora approached the fixed
up owl and gave him a big hug. “Do you want me to fix your talons
too?” she asked.

“
Nein,” said Owlbert as he
shook his head. “Mein talons are not as important as flying. They
vill grow back, ja?” He clicked his beak happily.

Click, click,
click.

“
Sounds good, Owlbert,” she
smiled and patted the beast on the head. “I’m going to see the
progress of the other two. I’m not sure either can handle modern
technology when looking for information. Hitbear had issues when he
was first created.” She sighed and walked to the other side of her
laboratory.

“
Ja, sounds gut!” said
Owlbert. “I figure out how to fly again!” Owlbert stretch his wings
out again and did a little shake. “I need to get loosened up ein
bit!”

He plunged off the table he
was standing on and… hit the floor. Hard. “Ow! Gravity! Mein
enemy!” Luckily, there were leftover books from Gora’s research on
the prosthetic wings stacked near the table. He used the books next
to the table to hop his way back on to the table. He stepped to the
edge. “I get it this time!” He wiggled his back side and waved his
wings up and down. “Eins, zwei, drei!” He plunged off the table
once again.

-----

Gora passed scraps of her
old inventions on the way to where Hitbear and Tubman were planning
the next mission. She admired each invention that she could
identify as she passed: a functional tube that properly doled out
every potato chip in the tube without breaking the chip, her deadly
muscle expander with dried brown blood and smelly guts still on it
from Algernon the hippo-man, a small robot made out of aluminum
that was supposed to clean up any broken vials around the
laboratory, green tinted sunglasses that were supposed to somehow
work as lightweight night-vision goggles in dark places, and a kit
to perform a colonoscopy on yourself.

Each invention marked a
low, lower and lowest point in Gora’s life.

She nearly made it to the
other side of her laboratory, but stopped to laugh at the absurdity
of those inventions and her life. She then continued to walk to
where Hitbear and Tubman were planning the mission.

“
Yo,” called Gora
playfully. “What’s good?” The other end of her laboratory was
filled with all her shelves of books, maps, computers and where the
Beast Machine sat, looking upon the group ominously. The odd pair
of Hitbear and Tubman had come up with a relatively simple method
to kill Silva by letting Gora have the killing blow on him.
However, they needed to find where he currently was before any
solid plans could be hatched. They were having some trouble with
that part.

“
What’s good?!” replied
Tubman. “This shithead wants to just pipebomb every place in
Arkansas that Takeo Silva has ever worked. This includes hospitals,
doctor’s offices, some pet store named ‘Kitties Korner’, and a
museum in Texarkana.” Tubman’s ears, normally floppy, were tense
and standing straight up. “There were more places but I couldn’t
keep listening to his stupid ideas.”

“
Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said
Hitbear. He put his hands up around his chest after the accusation.
“I only want to pipebomb – or just blow up – places where he
worked, where no children will be! We’d just have to make sure no
children are involved, obviously! It’d be more precise than just
blowing up a building at random.”

Tubman angrily adjusted her
bandana, “You’re still a shithead. How would an explosion of any
kind help us be discrete?” She crossed her arms and shook her head
dismissively.

“
Ah,” said Gora quietly. “I
see you’re getting along just peachy here. At least Hitbear knows
how to use the internet it appears.” He nodded at Gora. She
swallowed her saliva loudly before asking, “Any idea when you’ll be
close to implementing a plan? Any plan? Any little thing to run
past me?”

“
Not at this rate,” said
Tubman, uncrossing her arms. Her ears began to ease as she spoke to
Gora. “What about creating another beast? Another brain and body
would do wonders for us.” Tubman turned to Hitbear and he nodded in
agreement.

“
No,” said Gora coldly. Her
eyes briefly darted to the Beast Machine and then back to Tubman.
“That’s not something we need right now. Keep working on finding
Silva’s location, I need to make sure Owlbert is getting acclimated
properly with his new wings.” She turned to head to the other end
of the laboratory. Tubman’s ears tensed straight up
again.

“
Why can’t we, Gora?” asked
Hitbear. Gora turned back around swiftly. Her face had become red
and puffy. Her eyes nervously skittered left to right. “I’m sure I
can do it, if you’re too busy! I watched you create
Owlbert…”

“
There’s just not time for
it. I don’t want to mess up the cohesion of the group at the
moment.” Sweat began to develop on her brow and forehead. It was
profuse and evident.

“
Cohesion?” said Tubman.
“We barely function together as it is. What’s it going to hurt?”
Tubman angrily adjusted her bandana again. “We have time, too. We
haven’t found exactly where Silva is located! I can search for
Silva’s location and Hitbear can create another one of
us.”

Gora sighed, “I just don’t
believe we need another beast to help us complete this mission.”
Sweat from her brow dripped down onto her lips as her eyes avoided
the eyes of the beasts. “I wouldn’t even know who and what to
create. Just drop it, please.” Gora walked over to the Beast
Machine and made sure the case holding the tiny static animals in
vials was locked. It was. She turned away from Tubman and Hitbear
to return to Owlbert.

“
I don’t understand her
deal about making a fourth… fourth one of us,” said Tubman to
Hitbear. “She’s never been that rude to us before.”

Hitbear raised his metal
paw up, “I think she’s been
that
rude
to me before.”

“
Funny,” replied Tubman.
“I’m not sure what even caused that and I don’t even care to find
out. What new info have you come up with… on that computer? Is that
the correct term?”

“
Yes, computer,” said
Hitbear, now lying on his stomach, began tapping carefully on a
keyboard with missing keys. The desktop computer and all the wires
were splayed all around Hitbear; the monitor sat atop six large
books, the tower of the computer rested about six feet away under a
table with several moving fans around it to keep it cool, an
Ethernet cord for the internet ran under the belly of Hitbear,
another monitor also under the table, and a wireless mouse the size
of the average woman’s hand under Hitbear’s massive natural bear
paw. “I found the man he’s been working for, or at least the last
person listed that he worked for.”

“
Go on,” said Tubman. She
climbed atop a chair and let her feet hang off the edge. Her ears
went floppy.

Hitbear’s eyes scanned the
monitor for more information. “It’s a guy named Chairman Obelis.
He’s running for some sort of government position. Ah right here!
He’s running for governor! Governor of Arkansas it appears.” He
scrolled the screen down to read more information.”

“
Silva is? Why?”

“
No, this Chairman Obelis
guy. Silva’s apparent boss. His name, this Obelis guy, is familiar.
I remember hearing it during a radio advertisement a few months
ago.”

“
Oh, so what do we know
about this Obelis guy?”

“
We don’t really need to
know anything about him. He doesn’t matter.”

“
Okay, we already knew
Silva is connected to the state of Arkansas, so any other
information on that screen? What’s Silva been doing for this Obelis
guy?”

“
Well, according to this,
Silva’s just been a consultant to Chairman Obelis since the
campaign for governor began, a few months ago. His title is,
um,
Consultant on the Well-Being of Animals
and Environment to Chairman Obelis Campaign
. That’s what it says here at least.”

“
So, he’s an animal guy?
Like a veterinarian?” asked Tubman. She kicked her feet gently into
the air.

“
Looks like that so far,”
replied Hitbear. “It appears more like this Obelis guy wanted
Silva’s name recognition; whoa! Holy shit!”

“
What?” said a startled
Tubman.

“
I don’t know how we didn’t
put that together,” said Hitbear. “Why didn’t any of us
realize?”

“
Put what together? Just
tell me what you’re talking about bear.”

“
Those Silva nose filter
advertisements? The ones that play all day on the radio.” asked
Hitbear. Tubman nodded. “Those are made by the Silva we are
after.”

“
Huh,” said Tubman. She
looked into the air, eyebrows curled downward. “So, uh, what does
that have to do with anything? He was a scientist and an inventor –
which, again, we already knew. How is that going to help
us?”

“
Well, Tubman, give me a
damn second!” replied Hitbear. “I’m trying to figure it out.” He
quickly began to read what was on the computer monitor, muttering
words occasionally.

Tubman hopped off her chair
and walked over to the map of Arkansas they had opened on a table.
She looked at the city of Little Rock, where Gora last believed Dr.
Silva lived. There was an inset map of just Little Rock in the
bottom right corner of the map, where Tubman’s eyes landed. She
began to read the neighborhood names of Little Rock.

Pleasant
Valley.

Hickory Creek.

Chenal Valley.

Cammack
Village.

Otter Creek.

“
Nothing too unusual
sounding about the neighborhoods,” thought Tubman. Her eyes drifted
to the west of the city. There appeared to be nothing but highways
and train routes, yet something caught her eyes.

Just about an inch on the
map away from Little Rock sat a small black dot. Above the dot
read
Pinewood Hills
. It wasn’t part of Little Rock’s corporation limits, but was
close enough to Little Rock that the mapmakers decided to include
it.

“
Hitbear,” said Tubman,
looking up from the maps. “Look up the poorest towns surrounding
Little Rock.”

“
What for?” he replied. His
face was still glued to the monitor. There had to be something
about that nose filter that Silva created that would lead the group
straight to him. “I’m a little busy here.”

“
Just do it, damn,” said
Tubman. She returned to looking at the inset map.

“
Fine,” muttered Hitbear.
“What county is it in? I’m sure that’ll be easier.”

“
Uh,” she replied. Her eyes
glared over the map and then the inset map for information. “Says
Pulaski County. Yeah, Pulaski County. Search for the poorest towns
in Pulaski County, Arkansas.”

“
No shit, Arkansas,” said
Hitbear. He shook his head, as Tubman giggled slightly.

“
Let me know the results
when you get them.”

“
Of course.” He tapped away
at the keyboard, moving his plump real fingers quickly. He came to
a website for the state of Arkansas. “Let’s see…” he said to
himself. “This thing hasn’t been updated in several years,
2010
to be
exact
.
But, there’s
really nothing out of the ordinary in terms of income numbers.
They’re all roughly the… whoa, there’s one that’s extremely poor
town on here.”

“
What’s the name?” asked
Tubman.

“
Says
Pinewood Hills
, the average income
there is a paltry $15,500 a year
per family
of four
. Jesus Christ, how can those people
live? I don’t even know the standard of living in the United
States, but that seems awfully low.”

“
That’s where Silva
is.”

“
How do you
know?”