Dead Man Running (17 page)

"They'll never back us against the Jews
, grandfather
."

"They don't have to – they say they are all about fairness and justice.  With Wiley as our spokesperson, perhaps by linking the Palestinian cause to civil rights and the long American struggles with race, we can make the case that Palestinian nationhood is long overdue and deserved justice for our people."

Mira hoped her skepticism did not show on her face.  "So I work for him now?"

"Yes.  You need to, as they say, keep him on message.  Point him towards the Palestinian cause.
  His position on the Foreign Affairs committee is key
to that
.
"

Mira nodded. 
"And what happens when he needs to eat?"

Hamid stroked his hairless chin.  "You let him eat
."  He thought about it some moments more.  "No, you
arrange
for him to eat.  You make sure nothing destroys our plans."

"But, what about the people who are killed?
  The innocents.
"

"As the American military is fond of saying, they'll merely be some 'collateral damage'.
  Most important is the long term viability of our people."

"I don't like it grandfather Hamid."

Hamid's eyes flashed the anger of centuries of abuse and betrayal at the hands of the world's powers.

"Do you think our people like starvation? 
Do they like e
conomic and mental depression? 
Do they enjoy h
umiliation every day
at the hands of
the Israeli's?  You have doubts about the
morality
of feeding Wiley
?
  Where's the world's morality?
" 

"It is murder grandfather Hamid.  We need to call it what it is."

He threw his hands up in the air and stood.

This was familiar to Mira – she had uncapped the volcano of her grandfather's mostly hidden passions. 

"Our people are murdered every day
by
Israeli
soldiers
and planes
.  A Palestinian child starves every day.  You cry for the Americans who must die to sustain Wiley.  Why?  Why cry for them and not
for
our own people?"

He stopped and stared at Mira.  When the young woman had no reply he continued.

"Ben Wiley, as a black and Democratic congressman gives us a foot in the door
of
the White House for
possibly
the next six years.  We'll own him and can manipulate what he says and does.  Forget him being president."  Here Hamid paused to chortle.  "That will never happen.  Wiley will be capable, for a zombie, but not
that
capable."  He laughed again, giving Mira an opportunity to question her grandfather's sanity.

"The more I think on it, Wiley will be our prototype."

"Prototype?"

"Yes.  Every several years the Israeli Prime Minister visits
Washington
and addresses a joint session of Congress.  His remarks, mostly denigrating our people, are met
by
thunderous applause.  We need to change that dynamic.  We need to create a chorus of voices in
Washington
that are
for
our people.  The next time the PM visits, the
re
needs to be some who question and oppose instead of
mindlessly
cheer."

"Would Wiley go for that – him not being the only zombie in Congress?"

Hamid smiled.  "Why not?  We can frame it as
his
personal revolution.  He would control a block of votes limited only by the number of members we dare to convert.
  And as long as they support our cause, I don't care what else they do.
"

Mira nodded and stood.  "I understand now, grandfather.  And I do cry for our people.  I'll do all that I can to accomplish this."

"I knew you would Mira.  You have always been a good and obedient child."

Mira placed a kiss on her grandfather's still agitated cheek then left the room.
She felt uneasy about the coming bloodshed but she would not voice her feelings.  Like a good daughter of the Hidar clan she would do as she was told.  It was how Hidar females have behaved for thousands of years and she had no reason to stray from all that tradition.

Chi crept down the
second floor
hall
way
, sweaty hands tightly gripping
the hatchet he had purchased in a
twenty-four hour
Brooklyn Wal-Mart. 
He paused at
Ben Wiley's closed bedroom
door.  He listen
ed
intently for any movement.  Hearing none, he
nudg
e
d
open the door. 

Thick curtains now cover
ed
the balcony door, making the room almost night-
like in its darkness.  Wiley lay
face down on the bed.

Chi
stepped lightly
over to Wiley.  He cock
ed
the hatchet
above
Wiley's head.

"You better be sure about this," a voice sa
id
.

Chi, startled, jump
ed almost out of his skin.  He pulled
the hatchet back
, looking in the direction of the voice
.
  Someone was in the
shadows near the closet
– he couldn't
quite make out who wa
s there
but the voice was familiar
.

"
Mookie, is that you?  What are you doing here?
"

"
Are you sure about this?
"

"
Damn straight, we can't keep letting him kill people.  I mean, I thought this was a good idea, but then...
"

"Where do I cut it, man?"

"
You want to help?  Great, come on over.  You can cut off his head.
"

Chi turn
ed
toward Wiley as Mookie step
ped
out of the shadow
s
.  Mookie ha
d
the familiar bug eyed look
of the walking dead
. 

Chi turn
ed
back around and s
aw
the look.
  He fought to remain standing
as his legs buckled.  Bile nearly
overflow
ed in
his throat.

He swallowed hard. 
"
Man, you gotta be shitting me.
" 

Behind Chi, Wiley quietly s
at
up in bed.

"
W
h
ip, w
h
op, wham
," zombie Mookie said as he walked toward Chi.

"
I'll give your ass a wham!
" 
Chi cock
ed
the hatch
et
to strike Mookie.  Before he c
ould swing
, it
wa
s jerked backw
ard out of his hands.  Wiley had
it and he
snap
ped
the handle in two
.  Chi
broke for
the door but his path
was
blocked by Mookie. 

Mookie smile
d
then his mouth start
ed
to enlarge
.  It was
suddenly full of sharp teeth
.

Chi turn
ed
back around and there
wa
s Wiley, now standing beside the bed.
 
"
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain.
"

"Whip, w
h
op, wham."

There
wa
s a loud
growling
sound
enveloping the room
, this time coming from both zombies.

"
Oh
my God!" Chi shouted as he sprinted
around Wiley to the balcony door.  Mookie and Wiley follow
ed
him in their slow zombie shuffle
s
.  Chi unlock
ed the door and ran onto
the balcony.  He look
ed
back into the room
to
see that Wiley and Mookie ha
d
almost reached the
door
. 

Chi turn
ed
back to the balcony. 
He quickly considered his options: become breakfast for two zombies or die jumping out a second floor window onto a strip of asphalt. 

He leap
ed
off the balcony into the alleyway.

Wiley and Mookie
finally
reached the balcony. 
They look
ed
down and their zombie eyes s
aw
Chi
Bright
lying
on the alleyway, face down,
his broken body
in a
quickly
expanding pool of blood.

NINE

T
he last Sunday before the election and all candidates
we
re expected in church, none more so than the Rever
e
nd Benjamin Wiley.  The congressman's limo skim
med
above the
vibrant
Harlem
streets. 
In the rear sat
Elias, Jan and Wiley.
 
Absent Chi or Mookie a s
taffer was at the wheel with the privacy partition closed.

"
I haven't been able to contact Chi since Friday.  Do you know where he is?
"

"
Last time I saw him was Friday afternoon.  I left the house to
pick up a dress.  When I came back,
he
was gone.
"

"That's not like Chi – he knows that Wiley shouldn't be left alone. 
How was Wiley
when you got back
?
"

"
He was good.  Mookie had stopped by for a visit.  I never realized how much Mookie and Wiley have in common.
"

"
Mookie?  What was he doing there?
"

"
Just hanging out, I guess.
"

"
He wasn't any trouble?
"

Jan smiled.  "N
o, by the time I got back, he had found something to eat and everything.
"

The driver brought the
limo to a stop in front of the church.

Well dressed parishioners mob
bed
the vehicle as their beloved faith leader appeared.

Inside the church t
he usher
s
and attendants
we
re busy preparing for the service as worshipers enter
ed
.  A group of
deacons
argue
d
near the front of the church.

"
But he called me.  He called
me
.
" 
The deacon point
ed
to himself.

Another deacon raised his voice.  Small of stature, he held his head high and balanced on his toes as he spoke.  "
I should be the one leading the service.
  You know,
Brother
Rutherford
, it was Mr. Turnbull what called you, not God.
"

"
Yes,
Brother Weldon, they called and said that
the Reverend
Wiley
would like one of his deacons to lead the service.
"

A third deacon, Meeks, spoke then.  "
And that should be me as I would be the recipient of
a
call
as well
.
"

Weldon said, "
Brother
Meeks
, we can talk a lot about what you are the recipient of.  From what I hear you were the recipient of something from that little Jones girl who sits up front.  Between scratching your family jewels and making eyes at that girl, I don't see where you have the time to lead the service.
"