3 SUM (17 page)

“This meal is for your mind,” he said, “not your gut.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“A surgeon, Professor Altruist Huxley. I took your memory away.”

“Then I should kill you.”

“With your handbag?”

We both laughed. He was right, I couldn't kill anyone.

“Valery 01, I had no choice, believe me.”

I did.

“But you still have those memory cells.”

“Where?”

“In your tongue.”

“That's crazy.”

“Maybe, but eat the food I'm about to give you, and those missing weeks should come back.”

“Should?”

“It's worth taking a chance isn't it?”

He was right, and I was suddenly feeling hungry all over again.

The pasta was served, and under the pretence of showing me a new hat from his shopping bag, Altruist, if that was his name, added some grotesque looking food to my plate.

“You expect me to eat that?” I said in disgust at the cold faux leather slices.

“It's called beef,” he said.

I had to admit the smell was growing on me. Anyway, in for a penny in for a pound, of beef.

One fork, nothing, half a plate still nothing but the taste. But with two servings left, boom the battlefield. Then the even tastier Colonel Anais, a bombshell in her own right, and Fatale the spy.

The prof looked at me, he didn't have to ask, he could see my expression, but he did anyway.

“You remember?” he asked.

“Everything.”

“Good, then my theory works.”

It looked like I was someone else's experiment, but I wasn't complaining, and neither was the prof as he got his coat to leave.

“What if I lose my tongue?” I asked.

“Don't worry, those memories are securely back in your mind, and you're not going to lose that are you?”

“No.”

Though I was about to lose my head. The crossdressers were still staring, and laughing, as I paid the bill. I made my way across to their table. They could tell with the look in my eyes, I wasn't in the laughing mood.

“If any of you sissies are looking for a fight, I'll be waiting outside.”

They made the right choice, and I accepted their apologies. After all, I was a fucking war hero, even in a catsuit, and this time there was no turning back.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Venelope poured herself another shot of vodka, and looked across the river at the dusty museum wrapped in cobwebs, the Houses of Parliament. She was on the top, three floors up; the highest allowed in the Femocracy. The skyscrapers and towers had long ago been demolished; they had been phallic symbols of man's dominance, once striding egotistically over Mother Nature. Only the white posts could strut across the landscape, drumming their fingers whilst men danced to their tune.

Vespertina was still laughing, the photos of Valery 01 on her lap.

“He looks ridiculous,” she said.

“Indeed,” agreed a tipsy Venelope.

“And the look on his stupid pretty face, in front of the flowers too, priceless.”

“He's trying to look cute.”

“Fool. If only Valiant the caveman could see himself.”

Vespertina couldn't resist laughing. “His memory?” she asked.

“As expected: no recollection.”

“A shame in a way. I would have enjoyed the humiliation on his painted face.”

Venelope didn't mention her own intrusion, exploitation.

“Don't worry, there are millions of others,” she said.

“Their time is coming to an end.”

“Armageddon?” asked Venelope.

“The Undiagnosed are winning the war. It is only a matter of time. Well, they can have this planet, what's left of it. There will be a new world, female only.”

“And me?”

“You have always known the day would come my sweet. I have been candid.”

A shemale was not entirely a female.

“At least you have let me have one last drink, cheers.”

“You know?”

“Have I not had access to your heart for these last fifteen years?”

“I begged you to have the chop,” said Vespertina, a rare tear in her eye.

“I know, and I also understand.”

“In less than a week I shall signal the apocalypse, and leave this cursed Earth with women's finest specimens. Venelope, please understand that I couldn't bear the thought of you being nuked, alone, frightened without me to protect you.”

“I do, and I know that is why you poisoned my vodka.”

“You knew?” asked Vespertina.

“Of course.”

“Then why drink it?”

“Because you became the reason for my life. Good luck, my sweet love.”

Venelope sat on the sofa taken from Buckingham Palace years ago, the country had a new Queen, and Vespertina closed her deep brown eyes.

Vespertina picked up the phone.

“Bring me dinner. I know it's early, but I have a voracious appetite.”

Venelope was removed from her apartments, it might spoil her food. She was just another spurned lover unable to go on. It wasn't unheard of; young besotted women hung themselves over her rejection.

Vespertina ate with relish, much tougher than any steak she dined on. Only those who could adapt fast enough survived; even the bright and the beautiful could find themselves extinct. Though one thing was certain, the end of man was coming.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up the pretence, and be able to look at myself in the mirror, or the eye. But if I wasn't genuine, no longer Valery, would anyone notice? I applied the eyeliner, my only makeup concession. I wasn't hiding anymore, and perhaps with the heat I could be forgiven. After all, wasn't less more? I'd risk it, hell, wasn't I the guy who'd fought on the front lines, crossed over enemy lines, and made it back to tell the tale? I was Valiant 01. And, with a snip of the rosebush cutters left by Cordelia 615, I was free of my cage.

I looked in the wardrobe for the most masculine outfit I could find. My reference point was Vadim. I cut the frills off a white blouse, and tucked my bell bottom trousers into a pair of boots, in spite of the rising temperature. My pants were now a little loose, which was no bad thing. I did a few press-ups, and instead of a wig wore a scarf bandana. I'd take my chances, until Colonel Anais Eve visited in five days' time. For her I wanted to play a little game.

“Hey what's with the look?” shouted Cassie in my direction as I took my seat at the office.

“He's trying to start a trend,” threw in Trudi.

Trouble, Gillian, was marching my way. “What the hell happened to you?” she asked. “You look like a ...”

“Man?” I said.

“Exactly, and not a very good one either.”

I sighed.

“You are still medicated?” she asked.

“Do you know any guys in our glorious Femocracy who aren't?” I replied.

“That wasn't my question.”

I just stared at her, until she whispered in my ear. “You can have your fun, Valery 01, but we shall see who's smiling when you stay behind.”

True to her word when the shift finished Gillian blocked my path.

“Going somewhere?” asked Gillian.

“With you?”

“Correct.”

Gillian marched me to her office with her arm locked over mine, she liked the control. I could see Delight and a couple others watching.

“Some crossdressers have all the luck,” he said.

Gillian was too busy strapping up to notice my cage was gone.

“Valery, it's even bigger,” were her last words before the desks were turned.

Now it was my turn to take control, to be the invader. She was moaning, but not complaining. Her head was still spinning as she left the room, buttoning up her shirt.

“My dear Gillian, whatever, or whoever, have you been doing?” asked Claire in the corridor. “You look absolutely radiant.”

She soon found out, and the office had a new boss, albeit clandestine. I wondered if the medication programme controlled their behaviour as much as it did ours; whether we had all become complicit in a revolving deceit. It had the same rules as the Undiagnosed, bluff and pretention, just a different game.

I left work with a swagger, leaving them both to tidy up their hair.

I was still on a high when I looked under my floorboards. I picked up the DVD entrusted to me by Queensy, the one I'd just had time to hide when I grabbed my marigold handbag. It was a Christmas present from Steve 873. Did he love me? Probably, and I hated to think of him rotting away without his favourite conditioner.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Sometimes he felt he was standing on the edge of a dark abyss, a black cave beneath his feet, a bottomless pit. This was one of those bleak lonely moments. Professor Altruist couldn't stop himself, and lifted the stolen gun to his temple. The breakthrough, the third sum was still unpublished, but he stretched his fingers towards the void. Obliteration and oblivion were just a squeeze away, then no more pain, ever. He pulled the trigger outside the Dean of Faculty's office.

The tranny secretary heard the blast and stepped outside.

“Oh my Mother Nature! Julian 15, get me a mop and bucket,” she called to her assistant.

Colonel Anais wouldn't let go of the telegram. The Council was still sending her to The Department of Nail Polish and Varnish to present an award for best new design, Valiant's office.

She was crying, there was a recent picture of the team. He was still alive. The poor bastard had no idea who he'd been, what he'd become. He was dressed up, but it was him nonetheless, her hero Valiant 01.

Anais was under Council protection. Vespertina and her hair lacquered lackey, the shemale Venelope, had been unable to pry her free. She would be wary on the journey, not wishing to be decorated posthumously like General Rolliet and Fatale Eve.

Chapter Thirty-Five

They tried to hide it from the rest, but they couldn't disguise their body language, flicks of the hair as they sauntered by my desk. Gillian and Claire weren't quite sure what had hit them, only that it was a missile. I must admit it was quite enjoyable seeing them in makeup and heels; for a fund raising event, they told the others. Well, I guess it was raising something.

The day had arrived and in exactly thirty minutes Colonel Anais Eve would arrive to thank the team for their hard work. We were all in dresses, and I wore a long blonde wig, much to Claire's disappointment, who'd developed a fetish for my bandana. I knew I had to move fast, my latest depot was overdue and I was no longer caged, locked, or plugged.

Claire handed me an opened package, she'd had hers the day before and I guess you could say she was paying me back. We could pull a few strings, more so than some non-essential war departments. It was the key to a recently available property; the address was on a large white tag. Professor Altruist Huxley, his death, like his blood, splashed all over, had boxes of samples I needed to retrieve. I pushed it into my handbag as Claire clapped her hands, and Gillian announced our visitor.

The door swung open and in she strode in full uniform. Colonel Anais was as gorgeous as ever. She scanned the room, but only locked eyes with mine. Gillian coughed rather nervously, and I tried to pretend we were strangers. I felt sorry for Cassie and Trudi, always making the extra effort and always outdone.

Behind Anais marched two shemale guards, and it really was a meeting of past acquaintances. Cordelia 615 had finally made the big time, escorting none other than a Femocratic colonel, and proudly wearing the armband of the Council; a white design on orange silk with a two headed woman looking in opposite directions.

Gillian and Clare tried to flatter our high ranking visitor but Anais stifled her yawns. Every time she glanced at me I coyly fluttered my eyelashes and smiled. Her mouth was down, her eyes unlit; at least from the way I had once known them.

“And which genius designed the camouflage nail polish?” asked Anais.

The office cooed. Had she just said genius?

“We all helped,” said Trudi, attempting to garner attention and favour.

Cassie tried a different tactic, recognising talent and hoping to ride on its skirts. “Valery 01, he's in front of you,” she said.

Anais looked me up and down, from the ribbon in my wig to the spikes in my heels. I could see a tear in her eye. She brushed it aside, but I was too much to bear.

“It came to me in a dream,” I said.

She was walking away heartbroken; she couldn't face me, and I was losing her.

“Really,” she said, turning around, “and, tell me, what was the nature of this dream?”

“I was floating in the sky, with a wounded angel.”

“Go on,” she said, smiling.

“I had to make a sacrifice.”

“Which was?”

“My life for hers.”

“How sweet,” said Anais.

“And the nail polish?” asked Claire, drumming the desk with her fingers.

“The formula was given to me in a movie,” I replied. “It was crazy but gave me such joy.”

“I'm about to have lunch, would you be kind enough to come along?” Anais asked me.

“Really Colonel, this is too much,” said Claire, “you're supposed to be seeing me and Gillian.”

“And have you ever seen the front, the war up close?” asked Anais.

“Of course not, no one here has, we help the cause in other ways.”

“Indeed you do. And let's keep it that way, shall we?”

Anais clapped her hands. ‘Shemales, bring Valery 01 with us; we're going out to eat.”

If you'd have given Trudi and Cassie a little push, they would have fallen off their stools.

Anais whispered in my ear as we walked out. “Great job, Valiant, you even had me fooled.”

We were dining at The Hotel Feministo, a shrine to Carla Marks overlooking the Lake. Her bronze statue stood at the front, polished daily by worshippers. The food was the best in town, and you had to be an officer, or be with one, to get in.