Heckel Casey (21 page)

"Apparently, I should be asking you that question more."

"I'm fine. I feel great."

My mouth went dry. Actually, it felt like my vocal cords had disappeared or maybe were somehow glued together. I had no idea what to say, and if I could, I didn't know how to get the words formed. Words like
scared, petrified, afraid, frozen, incompetent,
and
nincompoop
started to filter across my mind, and the longer it took for me to open my mouth to say something, the dumber I felt. My brain turned to guacamole.

Sela looked at me with loving, eager eyes, which only exacerbated my dimwitted, paralyzed condition. She stood in front of me and put her hand on my cheek. Her touch felt like a spark, a spark that I needed to jumpstart the battery in my brain.

"Sela, I…um…I…ah…wow…um," I said thinking that I must sound like a complete numbskull, and I mean that my skull was really, really numb.

Sela just laughed and put her arms around my waist. Her hair fell across the side of my face as she leaned in toward me. At this point, I was literally shaking and the feel of her cheek pressed against mine caused me to tremble even more.

The only words I could put together to actually make sense hit their mark dead on. "I love you, Sela."

Immediately, Sela started crying and hugged me tighter. "I love you, Heckel Casey…with all my heart and soul."

I started to cry. We held each other for what felt like hours. During that time, a parade of questions marched across my mind. I felt like a spectator at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and each of the giant tethered balloons had highly decorated questions flashing across them.
What now? How do I protect her? How do I bring up a baby with evil all around? What about Madeline? How do I kill her?

"Sela, there are so many questions filling my head. The biggest one asking how we can subject our child to a world filled with Madeline's evil."

"Heckel, we are going to defeat Madeline before our child is even born. Our baby will come into a new world, a world of good people who trust each other and believe in each other. The way it is supposed to be."

A sudden blast of cold wind swirled around us. I put my arm around Sela and felt a strength I never knew I had. Any doubts of defeating Madeline or what my part was in this big game plan were suddenly put to rest.

"Yes, we will," I said firmly. The air returned to a gentle warm breeze.

Chapter 18

"Pardon me, Miss Madeline. You sent for me."

Why is it that I always have sniveling, weasely, scrawny, weak-minded men surrounding me?
Madeline thought as she slipped on a new pair of black calfskin leather boots and finished dressing.

"Yes, sit over there and wait," she barked. Sitting in front of her makeup mirror, she stared into it, feeling almost like the wicked witch in "Sleeping Beauty"
.
Why does this little shit, Heckel, continue to stand in my way? I should be able to squash him like a bug.
Yet the power in him continues to manifest itself.

"Where are they now?" she said at the groveling stump of a man sitting on the couch. She applied eyeliner and noticed that one of her eyebrows had a few gray hairs. With fierceness, she glowered at them. Slowly, the gray changed to dark brown. Her power was growing as well. She could…change things, manipulate things…and best of all, destroy things. Looking into an assortment of eye shadow, she picked a smoky dark gray to brush on above her eyes.

"They are in Flagstaff, Arizona," the man, or semblance of a man, said as he bowed lowly. "Our intelligence indicates that—"

"Intelligence is a poor choice of words for the incompetent boobs that surround me," Madeline said as she slowly painted her lips a deep maroon.

The servant remained hunched over and silent.

"You tell our…intelligence men that if they…oh, never mind. Get out of my sight before I do something I can't control and won't regret."

The man stood, quickly mumbled some appreciative remark and back stepped with a speed that looked like a fast Michael Jackson moonwalk.

After Madeline finished curling her hair, applying perfume and touching up her nails, she continued to admire herself in the mirror. A soft knock on the door interrupted the one-person admiration society.

"Come in," she said seductively, knowing full well who it was.

"You called for me, miss?" a handsome young man said. Long, dark-brown hair stretched down his back. He wore a black turtleneck shirt that emphasized the physique of a body builder. Madeline inched her way to him and licked her lips.

"Yes, I did. What is your name?" She said, walking around the man as if she were examining a fine new Porsche or a choice filet mignon. Madeline stroked his soft long mane while inhaling deeply his earthy scent.

"Jackson. Jackson Steele."

She took his hand and led him to the sofa.

Later that day, Madeline met with several of her generals. They feebly tried to explain the loss at the Albuquerque Central KOA.

A large, burly man in a black leather jacket said, "We don't know what the hell happened. The minute we entered that campground, it was a shit storm. I mean there were all these booby traps all over the place, and—"

Slamming her fist into the long, conference table brought the piss and moan session to an abrupt stop. The silence in the room sucked the life out of everyone. Tension hung like a raptor ready to strike. Madeline so much enjoyed the use of fear. It was such a controlling force.

"Were there any remaining men left in your…so-called army?" she asked calmly, standing up and walking around the table. The eyes of seven men followed her every step. She could see the sweat forming on the forehead of each man.

"With all due respect, Miss Madeline, those men died for…"

Before he could finish, Madeline seized the back of his hair, jerked his head violently back, and screamed into his face, "I don't care what you think. I demand respect. I do not tolerate interruptions. Do I make myself clear?" Spittle sprayed from her mouth, hitting his face.

The man's neck was bent so far back that he could hardly breathe. With eyes wide with fear, he grunted a nonsensical syllable and tried to nod his head. When Madeline let his head go, he muttered a string of apologies.

The silence in the room went to a new level. No one looked at the man. The other six men sat frozen with their heads down.

"Now, where was I?" No one dared offer an answer. "Oh, yes. If there were any men left from the attack at the KOA, I want you to…" Madeline stopped and saw the fear on each man's face.
Hmm…thumbs up or down? If I have them all killed, I might lose some loyalty.

"Excuse me, Miss Madeline," someone behind her said in a mousy, skittish voice. Madeline spun around ready to inflict pain on the person. Standing in front of her was a small boy of about ten years old. He flinched when he saw Madeline start to lunge at him. Abruptly, Madeline froze. His innocent, boyish face caused her to quickly recede. "What is it?"

"There's an elderly gentleman who wishes to speak to you, ma'am. He's waiting out in the—"

Madeline brushed the hair out of the little boy's eyes, knelt down to face him and said, "You are such a polite and handsome young man. You tell the nice man waiting that I will be done here in a few minutes. And later, you come back to see me and we'll have some ice cream. How does that sound?"

The boy smiled, thanked her and left the room in a hurry.

"Now, where was I…oh, yes…the men left over from the debacle at the KOA. I want you to reward each soldier with a week's furlough." The men around the table breathed a collective sigh of relief and mumbled to each other. She had their loyalty.

After discussing her next idea to eliminate Heckel Casey and exterminate the resistance he led, she dismissed her so-called 'cabinet.' Minutes later, Harold Barker opened the door to her suite and walked in.

"Mr. Barker, it's a pleasure to see you again. It's been a while," Madeline said, walking up to him and offering her hand. His grip was firm and his skin was icy cold. There was a scent about him that was nauseating. It had that old-man smell mixed with a rotting-meat odor.

"Miss Madeline, you look stunning," he said as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She wanted to shiver from his touch, but resisted. Her stomach did somersaults and she could feel a gag reflex turning on and off. "Please, have a seat," she said leading him to the sofa. Madeline sat across from him and immediately noticed him leering at her, so she slowly crossed her legs, highlighting her expensive black knee-high leather boots. She smiled, thinking that all men, for some strange reason turn to jelly when a woman wears high-heeled, sexy boots. And the fact that the stiletto heels could double as a mean weapon amused her.

Harold cleared his throat, cocked his one eyebrow, and with a pompous tone said, "Miss Madeline, there is the matter of this Heckel person that is beginning to…shall we say…cause us concern." Harold got up from the sofa and started pacing around the room.

Madeline frowned.
Who does this wrinkled old prune think he is?

Harold spun around, shook his cane at her and yelled, "I'll tell you who this wrinkled old prune is. I'm the person who's responsible for all your power and without me, you'd be the one wrinkling or more like turning to dust by now."

Suddenly, Madeline felt very strange. Something was making her insides feel as if they were put into a blender and set on puree. She looked down at her hands; the skin looked wrinkled and was mottled with numerous brown age spots. She jumped off the chair and ran to the nearest mirror. The horrific image stared at her—a skull with sunken orbs, skin barely hanging from her jaw and hair that was white and straggly. Madeline screamed so loud that her throat was raw. She rubbed her hands to try to smooth out the wrinkles and looked in the mirror again. Several maggots fell out of her ear. "Make it stop," she yelled. "Please, I'm so sorry I…"

Harold came up behind her, put his hand on her shoulder and whispered, "Get rid of Heckel, once and for all. He's dangerous and not to be underestimated." As he blew softly into her ear, she could see her reflection in the mirror slowly transform back to her normal image. He gently kissed her cheek and backed away. Madeline was struck at how she now looked in the mirror. "What did you do? I look even better," she said as she examined all her features. Her hair looked more luxurious and shinier than ever. It appeared as though the best make-up artists from Hollywood spent hours pampering her. She also particularly enjoyed the purple streak down one side of her black hair. "Wow, you have…" Madeline spun around to address Mr. Barker. The room was empty.

Her thoughts immediately turned to Heckel. She paced around the room, deep in thought.
Infiltration! That's it…I need to get someone inside to befriend him and kill him.

"I think I know just the men to do it," she muttered as she went back to the mirror to admire the new look.

A soft knock interrupted her gazing. "Come in," she announced, stroking the purple strands of hair.

"You asked me to come back to share some ice cream with you," a small voice said behind her. Madeline turned around to see the small boy smiling. He looked like he was straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. He had curly red hair that complemented his numerous freckles. His smile was angelic and contributed to the sparkle in his green eyes.

"So I did. What is your name?" Madeline said, leaning down to stare into the innocent boy's eyes.

"Bobby Stewart," he said confidently.

"Well, Bobby, since we have to wait a bit to get our ice cream here, how about you and I get more acquainted. Let's sit over here on the sofa." She ushered Bobby to the sofa and moved several pillows. "I'm just going to make a quick call to get our ice cream brought up here," she said as she picked up the walkie-talkie off the coffee table. Bobby swung his feet back and forth playfully as he looked around the room.

"Now, tell me all about yourself," Madeline asked as she sat next to Bobby.

Jackson Steele arrived later that evening. His black leather jacket was slung over his shoulder as he walked into Madeline's bedroom. Tossing it over a high-backed Victorian chair, he asked, "How can I serve you Miss Madeline?"

Ah, my loyal, obedient servant…well trained just like a puppy. She had one thing in mind, but knew they'd get to that later.

"Please have a seat, Jackson," Madeline said motioning to the love seat near the fireplace. She admired his tight, firm buns that were showcased in a pair of soft black leather pants.
Yum!
Can't wait to remove them.

Walking around the room, Madeline outlined a task for Mr. Steele. He listened politely and intently, every so often nodding his head in complete understanding.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked coming up behind Jackson and massaging his strong, broad shoulders.

"No, ma'am. I will do what you ask quickly and completely," Jackson said with darkness in his eye. "I live to serve you."