Beast Machine (35 page)

Doctor Borehole, noticing
Gora’s confusion and sadness, stepped down into the crater. “I will
look through the crater. It’s highly likely
you
just misremembered the spot, hm?”
Gora was unaffected by any snide remarks from Doctor Borehole, she
was only worried about her beasts.

The ever-so-modest Doctor
Borehole made her way to the center of the crater, with the help of
her smartphone and a handy flashlight application she looked about
for the natural source of pollution. The light from her tiny device
was quite blinding and helped project strange shadows onto the
trees from piled up rocks and dirt.

Neither Hitbear nor Tubman
could notice which human was in the center of the crater. If they
knew that it was absolutely Doctor Borehole, they would jump in and
nab her. Then, at the behest of Gora, kill her right there. Break
her neck or slash her throat. It wasn’t the original plan, or even
a good plan, but it was their current plan and it needed to
work.

“
I can’t find anything,
lovely,” shouted Doctor Borehole back at Gora, thus alerting
Hitbear and Tubman that it was in fact Doctor Borehole in the
center. “How very typical of you, hm?” She smiled at the fact that
Gora was wrong, but then quickly frowned because she knew her
career of climate change denial was over.

“
I’m sorry it ended this
way, Gora, I truly am,” said Doctor Borehole. “I am going to switch
my stance, change every wrong that I have helped perpetuate, and
help change the world for good! All of what I said in the car was
true! Thank you for bringing me out here to realize that. I needed
this. The world needed this.”

Gora, only partially
listening, smiled meekly at the smug doctor trying to repent for
her sins. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” said Gora quietly.

Doctor Borehole started to
walk toward Gora with her flashlight application still on. Suddenly
a loud,
wawk
sound
from above could be heard, drawing the attention of Doctor
Borehole, Gora and the two mammalian beasts. A continuing
wawk
could be heard as a
creature from above dove down and made a direct hit on Doctor
Borehole.

The creature knocked Doctor
Borehole to the ground, causing shrieks from the doctor. Her
flashlight application caused the blinding light to flicker
everywhere as she struggled to fight off the creature. The fight
did not last long as a loud scraping could be heard and a
loud
POP
was made.
Doctor Borehole made no more shrieks and her flashlight application
was positioned in a perfect spot to show an incredible amount of
blood gushing from her body, specifically her throat.

Hitbear and Tubman decided
to
not
enter the
fray, out of cowardice and curiosity of what the creature was
trying to do.

The creature could be heard
spitting out Doctor Borehole’s larynx. The faint shadow of the
creature could be made out: it was licking its body clean of blood.
After this quick moment of tonguing its body, the creature sprung
up and headed toward Gora.

Gora, shocked by seeing
Doctor Borehole killed forty feet in front of her, was still
apathetic toward her life since learning that her beasts may be
gone forever. She raised her hands up as if she were telling the
creature she were ready to be taken.

“
NOOOO!” yelled Hitbear and
Tubman as they rushed from the opposite side of the crater. Their
cowardice and waiting left them too far from being able to reach
Gora in time.

The creature landed mere
feet from Gora and said, “Vas ist zee matter, Frau
Gora?”

Gora smiled as large as
humanly possible and picked up the bloody owl. She hugged and spun
around the injured owl.

“
It was Owlbert!” screamed
Tubman. The injured owl had waited in the tree branch for an
opportune moment to strike Doctor Borehole down. “It was
Owlbert!”

Tubman and Hitbear locked
hands and danced cheerfully with one another.

“
Ja, danke,” said Owlbert.
“Can du release mein body? Ow!”

“
I’m just
so
happy,” shouted Gora.
Tears ran down her face. “I have no words to explain
it!”

“
Ja, ja!” chirped Owlbert
weakly. “Glad to see du as vell, but vas are vee to do with zee
doctor’s body?” Owlbert extended his injured wing towards the hard
to see bloodied, throat-less body of Doctor Bridget
Borehole.

Chapter 32

El Dorado

His tie color remained
purple for this debate, but Chairman Obelis’ suit color went from
gray to black. A subtle change McCarthy of all people suggested.
“You’re out there to win them with your voice, not your damn
fashion sense!” His undershirt remained white. His nerves were
non-existent, a good sign for him since many more eyes would be on
him tonight.

Unlike Bella Vista, the
city of El Dorado allowed non-city residents to attend the
gubernatorial debate. This meant any media outlet could attend,
and, with the craziness of the last debate, many of the mainstream
media outlets sent a legion of reporters.

El Dorado was more prepared
than Bella Vista to accommodate residents by having the debate in
the local community college’s ballroom. Cameras from national media
outlets were set up all along each wall. The community college had
their own camera placements too: a camera was set dead center from
the stage about fifty feet away, and two smaller ceiling cameras
were pointed where the candidates will sit when it is not their
turn to speak.

It was difficult to tell
which camera and reporter represented which network, but,
regardless, Chairman Obelis knew that he had to be sharp tonight.
“No slipups; just bide your time and give them what they want to
hear.” If he were to rile up the crowd again, it would definitely
be recorded and everyone would know what he said to rile them up –
not some flimsy disdain for a football team.

Luckily, El Dorado wasn’t
as wild for the Razorbacks as the citizens of Bella Vista. This
meant that Southwyck wouldn’t already have an advantage over
Chairman Obelis or Steenburgen. Unfortunately, El Dorado was a huge
oil and gas town. Headquarters or small outposts of oil and gas
companies were located in the town. Companies such as Arkansas Oil
and Gas, Gaxxom, Frack-Tech (out of Canada) and OEG (Oil Expedition
Group) all laid claim in the city of El Dorado. This gave an absurd
advantage to Southwyck, as he was going to lift regulations, lower
corporate taxes, and make life easier for big business in
Arkansas.

“
Welcome to the cozy South
Arkansas Community College,” said an announcer. He was not the same
announcer from the debate at Bella Vista; rather, he was an anchor
from one of the major networks. Either ABC or CBS, Chairman Obelis
couldn’t remember. His name was Don McSuede and he was more of an
entertainer than anchor. Ratings motivated him, not truth or
news.

The Republican National
Convention leaders did not do Arkansans many favors, but they did
push for McSuede to help guide Southwyck through the debate since
Chairman Obelis proved to be at least a capable opponent to their
candidate Southwyck. The Democratic National Convention leaders
still did not offer to help Steenburgen in any way, shape, or form.
She was still left to her own accord.

“
Or South-Ark as they
pleasantly call it! El Dorado is truly a fantastic gem of a town.
One of the best towns in these United States of America. Gas is so
cheap here! I filled up my Miata for only $17.” McSuede laughed
obnoxiously. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and wore a loud
yellow tie. “Now let’s get this thing started. Who here is ready
for a gubernatorial debate?”

The crowd cheered, louder
than the beginning of the Bella Vista debate, but it was a
restrained cheer. No one in the crowd was wearing overalls or
smelled of pig slop, but their faces still held the pain of the
harsh economy that had befallen them.

“
How about I simply
introduce our candidates and then we can just begin the debate?
Don’t want Huxley Obelis to start another riot!” laughed McSuede.
The crowd laughed along with the announcer. Chairman Obelis
standing at his podium, along with the other two candidates, began
to laugh as well. There wasn’t anything he could to rectify the
situation.

“
The republican candidate
is Mr. Ryan Southwyck!” The crowd cheered and clapped loudly.
Southwyck waved to the crowd during his introduction. “He prefers
Jesus, low tax rates and football!” The crowd cheered and clapped
loudly, again, but zero ‘pig sooie’ chants could be heard, to the
delight of Chairman Obelis. “He would make a fine
governor.”

“
The democratic candidate
is a Ms. Felicia Steenburgen,” said the announcer flatly. A few
pity claps, along with some cheering from her mother and friend
could be heard. It was pathetically quiet. “She, um, believes
that
Love and Charity
will bring Arkansas back to the forefront of America. She also
thinks cats are the fantastic.” The crowd didn’t even give her pity
claps after that.

McSuede covered the
microphone and asked the producer next to him, “Is that really what
she fucking put down? Unbelievable.” Steenburgen stood behind the
podium emotionless, breathing her heavy breaths. McSuede removed
his hand from the microphone. “Thank you, Ms. Steenburgen, for
coming out tonight!” Zero claps, zero cheers. It appeared her
mother and friend got stage fright or didn’t even want to support
Steenburgen’s silly idealistic ways anymore.

After a brief moment of
awkward silence, McSuede stated, “And, Mr. Riot-Inciter himself,
Huxley Obelis!” The crowd clapped loudly, roughly the same volume
as for Southwyck. “He didn’t give us any information for a short
introduction tonight, unfortunately, but wanted to tell you that he
does
not
hate the
Razorbacks football team!” Chairman Obelis waved around to the
crowd, forcing a big smile on his face, opting to avoid his bored
looking face as much as possible. The crowd cheered loudly and a
man could be heard yelling, “GO LONGHORNS!”

Upon hearing a man yell,
“Go Longhorns!” the crowd cheered loudly. “GO LONGHORNS!” the crowd
kept chanting. Louder and louder it got.

“
GO LONGHORNS!” Hands were
raised into the air to make tiny longhorns, signifying that
person’s allegiance to the University of Texas’ football
program.

“
Another strange ritual of
chanting ‘Go Team’,” noted Chairman Obelis on a piece of paper. He
looked up from his podium and the crowd was still chanting
feverishly. Southwyck, albeit a Razorback fan, motioned his hands
like the crowd’s to hype the crowd up further. “Easily riled up
when it comes to anything sport related. They, seemingly, love
football more than life itself.”

“
Settle down!” urged
McSuede. “I said settle down, damn it!” He banged a book hard onto
the table. The sound echoed through the microphone onto the
speakers. The crowd, despite being in a cheerful mood after the
chanting, did oblige McSuede and shut their mouths. “Thank you,
folks. Sorry about that outburst – I’m just used to controlling the
room, ha!” Mild laughter dispersed from the crowd. “Now let me go
through ten of the topics that will be discussed tonight. The
topics will be randomly selected – by me – but the ten topics are:
Religious Freedom, Taxes, Global Economy, Oil and Gas.” Members in
the crowd clapped loudly. McSuede paused for a moment, placed his
fingers to his lips, rolled his eyes, and then continued,
“Education, Climate Change, Marriage Equality, Militarization of
Police, Gun Control and National Parks.”

The crowd clapped quietly,
and fearfully, after the final topic had been read.

“
That is quite the
smattering of topics, candidates. Are you all ready?”

“
Of course, Don!” shouted
Southwyck over his microphone.

“
I… am… Ready…” breathed
Steenburgen.

“
Let’s do this!” said
Chairman Obelis cheerfully. He smiled a calm smile.

“
The first topic will be
given to Mr. Ryan Southwyck,” said McSuede. “He will have two
minutes to give his, erm, ideas or plans about the topic. Then the
other candidates will each have a minute to refute any possible
claims. Steenburgen will go first rebuttal, then Obelis will give
his rebuttal. Now, Mr. Southwyck, the topic is taxes. What are your
plans for the state tax code?”

The crowd completely
hushed.

Southwyck began to speak,
“Well, thank you all for having me here tonight; despite what ole
Huxley did in Bella Vista, he’s an all right guy I
think.”

“
Mr. Southwyck, you don’t
have time for this,” interrupted McSuede.

“
Oh, right, right. I plan
to completely lower the tax for any business, big or small, in the
entire state of Arkansas! Yeah!” Southwyck clapped behind his
podium. “I’ll lower it as legally possible, then I’ll try to lower
it some more! Because, frankly, these businesses mean more to this
state than any poor person or any person waiting to get some cancer
medication! What has a poor person ever done for me? Nothing! What
has a poor person ever done for big business? Nothing!” He never
was the one to hide his agenda, but he was being extremely blunt
about it. Too blunt.