David Robbins - Houston Run

“Not just the Malcontents?” Ferret asked.

“No. The mutants, in particular, are operated on a lot. But it’s for their own good. The Superiors are only doing what’s best for us.”

“Do you lick their boots for ’em?” Lynx said sarcastically.

“No,” Barney replied. “Why would I want to do that?”

Lynx motioned at Ferret, and they dropped several paces behind Barney and Gremlin.

“What do you make of this garbage?” Lynx inquired.

“The Superiors, whatever they are, totally control the human population here,” Ferret stated. “The humans are given a minimal education, just enough to enable them to properly complete their assigned work, and are duped into believing their lives are terrific. Perhaps some form of brainwashing is involved, some psychological techniques we’ve never heard about. The humans seem to possess no freedom whatsoever, and if Barney is any example, they don’t seem to mind.”

“Barney is an idiot,” Lynx commented.

“But a content idiot,” Ferret noted.

“I guess if you don’t know you’re an idiot,” Lynx reasoned, “then you never realize there’s more to life than your own stupidity.”

Ferret grinned. “Why, Lynx! I’m impressed! That was almost profound. I didn’t think you had it in you!” he joked.

“Barney ain’t the only dummy around here,” Lynx retorted.

The Intelligence Building loomed directly ahead, to the right of the sidewalk. It was an imposing edifice, 40 stories in height, its sides constructed of an opalescent synthetic substance.

Ferret scrutinized their destination. “How are we going to get inside? There are bound to be guards.”

“I’ll think of something,” Lynx asserted.

A small park, consisting of little more than a narrow strip of grass and a row of deciduous trees, separated the sidewalk from the Intelligence Building. As they neared the park, Lynx caught up with the man in orange.

“You’ve done real fine so far,” Lynx said to Barney. “But your job ain’t over yet.”

Barney slowed. “What do you mean? You wanted me to bring you to Intelligence, and we’re almost there. My job is done. Let me go back to the loading dock. Please.”

A large vehicle was coming their way, bearing south on Serling Boulevard, its headlights resembling the baleful glare of a gigantic, prowling creature.

“You ain’t going back to the dock,” Lynx said.

“Please!” Barney pleaded. “Let me return to my work.”

“Not on your life,” Lynx stated.

The large vehicle, evidently a truck, was 50 yards to the north on Serling.

“If I let you go,” Lynx said, “I know you’ll run to the Superiors and rat on us.”

“I won’t!” Barney averred. “I promise!”

The truck was 40 yards away.

“Do you expect me to trust you?” Lynx demanded, grinning. “How dumb do you think I am?”

“I can answer that one,” Ferret volunteered.

The truck was 30 yards off.

“Don’t bother,” Lynx said to Ferret.

Barney glanced at the approaching truck. The corners of his mouth twisted upward. “Don’t ever say I didn’t warn you,” he mentioned. “I tried to tell you. You shouldn’t have brought me along.”

“You got us here, didn’t you?” Lynx stated.

“You made a big mistake,” Barney declared.

“Oh?” Lynx responded smugly. “How so?”

At 20 yards distance, the truck began to slow.

“You remember me telling you about my Orwell Disk?” Barney asked.

“Yeah. So what?” Lynx said.

“I told you the Superiors use the disks to monitor us,” Barney remarked.

“So?” Lynx snapped. “If they’re millions of you dorks livin’ in Androxia, there’s no way the Superiors can keep tabs on everybody at once.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Barney said. “They use computers, and the computers can keep tabs on everyone. Every single one of us. And the minute one of us strays, the minute one of us enters an area we’re not supposed to be in, the computer alerts the Superiors.”

At ten yards, the truck started to drift across the boulevard.

“Lynx!” Gremlin yelled.

Lynx spun, realizing their peril too late.

The truck angled across the highway, its headlights focusing on the four figures on the sidewalk. Its brakes screeched as it lurched to a halt. The cab was plunged in darkness. The rear consisted of a long, canopy-covered bed. As the truck stopped, its occupants began piling from the back, their black boots smacking on the asphalt as they jumped from the bed. They raced around the cab, converging on the quartet on the sidewalk, fanning out, encircling them.

Barney was smiling triumphantly.

Lynx turned from right to left, debating whether to make a run for it, seeking a way out. But they were surrounded within seconds, hemmed in by a ring of humans and mutants wearing black uniforms and wielding steel batons. There were 12 of them, each one conveying an air of wickedness, each one with a hard, cold expression. Whether human or mutant, neither betrayed the slightest hint of emotion in their eyes. Their black uniforms fit snugly, and their pants were tucked into their black boots. The mutants resembled those in the infamous Doktor’s Genetic Research Division, displaying a variety of animalistic traits. Some were decidedly reptilian, others mammalian. Lynx glared at a tall, frog-like form six feet away. He raised his hands and clicked his tapered nails.

“Come and get it, sucker! I’m in the mood for frog legs!”

The frog-man didn’t respond.

There was a loud click, and the door of the cab swung open. A Superior stepped to the ground. His hair was blond, his face pale, and he wore the typical silver uniform. But clasped in his right hand was a not-so-typical weapon, a coiled whip.

“Oh! We are in trouble, yes!” Gremlin moaned.

The Superior strode toward them, stopping a few feet off. He stared at the dockworker. “Barney 137496. You will explain this unauthorized action, please.”

Barney walked up to the Superior. “I’m sorry! I really am! I know I left my post without permission. But I didn’t have any choice! These three made me bring them here. They said they had to get to the Intelligence Building.”

“Did they use violence on you?” the Superior asked.

“Yes,” Barney answered. “That one”—and he pointed at Lynx—“threatened my life.”

“Blabbermouth,” Lynx said.

“Barney is telling the truth then?” the Superior asked, addressing Lynx.

“Barney is a wimp,” Lynx replied.

The Superior looked at Barney. “You will return to your post immediately. You will perform your duties as instructed.”

Relief washed over Barney’s face. “Of course!”

“You may be questioned by Intelligence tomorrow,” the Superior stated.

Barney started to turn, then gazed up at the Superior. “This won’t go on my record, will it? I mean, my wife and I are up for procreation approval next year. I hope this won’t prevent us from being okayed.”

“Your file is without blemish,” the Superior said. “You have always met your production quotas, and adhered to all directives. You are rated as an AA-1 Citizen. I do not foresee this incident posing a problem. But if it should come to a hearing, I will personally appear and vouch for your integrity.”

Barney beamed in appreciation. “Thank you! Thank you, sir!” He jogged south on Serling, returning to work.

“What a moron!” Lynx cracked. The Superior stared at Lynx. “The three of you will come with us. Resistance will be useless.”

Lynx chuckled. “You ain’t takin’ us without a fight, chuckles!”

The Superior scrutinized Lynx from head to toe. His gaze rested on Lynx’s forehead. “Where is your O.D.?”