Chapter 60: The Aftermath
When Elliot regained consciousness he found himself in a similar situation to what had happened before. He was sore all over his body, but in particular his face. He was blindfolded and there appeared to be a hood over his face. His mouth was partially gagged and he was sweating underneath the hood. His hands were handcuffed behind his back.
Almost instantly, he thought of Edita, Elisa, Jesse and even Jasper. They had risked their lives for nothing. He didn’t know for sure if they were alive or dead, but the hope that he would manage to see them again dwindled with every passing second.
He was starting to dwell on it too much. He was feeling down and depressed. Snap out of it, he told himself. Self pity is the enemy. Hope is the only thing he could cling to, however weak an ally it might be.
The only sound Elliot could hear was of footsteps in the corridor outside the room. Occasionally there were a few muffled conversations, the words of which Elliot could not determine.
After about an hour of regaining consciousness in his incredibly uncomfortable position, Elliot could hear a contingent of people walking purposefully towards the door. The footsteps were heavy, so heavy in fact that they were most likely the footsteps of Reapers. Perhaps three or four of them.
The door was unlocked and several individuals entered.
“Mr Tomkins,” a familiar voice addressed him. Elliot recognised it as the voice of the President of the United States. “All your friends that we know about have been eliminated.”
As the politician spoke a Reaper removed the hood and the blindfold before spraying Elliot with a spray that burned his eyes and blurred his vision.
“You no longer have any friends or allies that we are aware of, but of course, we need to be sure. Meet Clement here. According to him, there are two members of the original group of rebels still unaccounted for. A woman named Dorothy and a man named Jeff. We want to know where they are.”
The chemical substance sprayed onto Elliot’s eyes still burned.
“I don’t know,” he declared in pain.
The Reaper administered another spray of the chemical before preparing a truth drug, which he injected into Elliot’s arm.
“When was the last time you saw those two fugitives?”
Elliot didn’t see how the truth could hurt. It was after all several days since he had last seen them and he didn’t have a clue as to where they had gone to.
“The last time I saw them was over a week ago. They thought that the rest of us and me in particular were holding them back, so they left. I don’t have a clue where they went to. That was in the forest on the outskirts of the city where Clement betrayed us.”
“Liar,” Clement responded. “He’s lying. He has to be. He knows where they are. He’ll talk. He’s weak.”
The spray on Elliot’s eyes was causing him tremendous pain and he could not see. He was also incredibly frustrated because he was telling them everything and they did not believe him.
“Why do you think I would lie? I have nothing to hide. What makes you think I would lie?”
President Westwood signalled to one of the three Reapers and the seven foot tall individual struck Elliot a powerful blow to the chest. Elliot was sure that several of his ribs were broken and he rocked so far back in his chair that he almost toppled over.
Elliot was almost ready to cry. “I’m telling you the truth,” he declared aloud.
“Another thing you should be aware of,” the President stated, “That stunt you pulled last night, had minimal impact. Coverage was delayed. The stream wasn’t live. Nobody outside of that rally knows anything about it and the disc has been destroyed. Even if you don’t tell us the truth, we will capture your friends and this time we will not be so merciful. If you don’t tell us, we will make the rest of your life a living hell. If you do, we will make it as painless as possible. You don’t want to die a slow death now do you?”
The Reaper closest to Elliot punched him again, but this time in the stomach. Elliot received blow after blow and every time he claimed he was telling the truth they ignored him. Every blow was a source of frustration as much as it was of great pain. Even as the faintest rays of hope in Elliot’s mind seemed to be snuffed out, he told himself that he had to keep fighting for fighting’s sake. As long as he was alive he had to keep fighting. If he died, he died and with some luck he would go to a better place. Even if every bone in his body cried out in pain, he would fight until the end.
There followed four more interrogation sessions in the space of what seemed like two days. Elliot was exhausted. He found it hard to sleep in such an uncomfortable position. At the end of the fifth session, the American President indicated that it might be his last. His life it seemed was about to be over and he was powerless to prevent it.
Elliot’s sight was still poor arising from the spray that had been administered to him repetitively but on what seemed to be the third day, the American President entered the interrogation room with a Reaper once more.
“Mr Tomkins,” the vile politician addressed him, “we believe that you are no longer of use to us. This is your final chance to provide us with information on the whereabouts of your friends in order to save your own hide. Anything that you know could be of benefit to us. If you cooperate you could spend your life in a comfortable cell with cable tv and internet and a bed. Otherwise it will end for you right here right now. We are done playing Mr Nice Guy.”
In the next ten minutes there followed some waterboarding techniques mixed with some more punching to Elliot’s already brittle bones. At the end of what seemed like ten minutes there was a knock on the door.
Chester Bucannon the security guard entered. He seemed apprehensive.
“Mr President,” he said hesitantly, “we have a situation here.”
The President appeared agitated and was about to speak, when someone who looked like the President entered with a Reaper and a security guard in tow.
“Chester, arrest those imposters,” the second President insisted.
The security guard was uncertain of how to respond.
“Chester, can’t you see that we’re in the middle of an important interrogation and these are changelings hoping to rescue the prisoner.”
“Chester,” the second President declared. “If they have been interrogating him then they can tell us what they have learned. We have the intention of executing the prisoner and not freeing him. Any fool can see that. This convict is number one on the most wanted terrorists list. Don’t let them get away with it. Ask them what have they learned.”
The first President Westwood was stumped. He didn’t know what to say. In three days of interrogation he had learned very little.
“If this imposter really was the President of the United States he would have learned something about the prisoners brothers in arms. We on the other hand, know the location of hiding places in the locality that are being explored at this time. We also have an idea as to where they might be located. It is only a matter of time before we close in on them if indeed they are not in this very room. Chester, you have the opportunity to go down in history. Keep your gun pointed at these men and shoot them if they move. My security guard and this Reaper will tie the two of these imposters up.”
Chester appeared to be siding with the second President as he pointed his gun at the politician standing over the prisoner.
“Chester, you’ll be hanged for this,” the original President snapped.
“Don’t be fooled by him,” the second President Westwood reassured Chester.
As soon as he uttered those words, the second Reaper punched President Westwood and knocked him out cold.
The first Reaper who had remained largely silent up to now, uttered, “You won’t get away with this,” in a deep voice.
Once the original Reaper and American President were bound and gagged, the second Reaper started to untie Elliot, but then handcuffed him and placed a hood over his head.
“Ok Chester,” the second President Westwood addressed the security guard, “you keep pointing your gun at these frauds and there will be a medal in this for you. I’ll see to that. In a little while, I’ll send for reinforcements. Good job Chester,” he said as he patted him on the shoulder.
The four men left the room. Once they did so the second President Westwood was addressed by one of his secret service agents.
“Mr President, they are waiting for you. Here is your speech. You are supposed to be going live in four minutes.”
“The President of the United States does not pander to anyone,” the politician declared in an arrogant manner. “Lead the way.”
The second Reaper and the security guard who had initially accompanied him, led the prisoner in the opposite direction that the President was headed.
The politician walked down the corridor of the army base, flanked by three members of the secret service. The President stuck out his chest and ensured that he had a dour expression on his face to convince voters that he was indeed the genuine article.
An associate of the President handed him a typed speech. Neither man barely uttered a word.
The second President ascended a metal stairway. A door was held open for him by a security guard. There was music playing in the background and as soon as the politician walked through the doorway the crowd cheered and waved their flags. There were over a thousand people both in front and behind where the microphone was located.
The Politician waved to the crowd without a hint of a smile before taking his place at the podium. He opened the speech and read the first two sentences. President Westwood placed his hands on either side of the podium in front of him, as if to show it who was boss, and started to speak.
“My fellow Americans. It has been an honour to serve you. The past eleven years have been the proudest of my life. Together we have accomplished many great things. We have annihilated the Changeling threat, proven that climate change is just baloney and re-established family values at the heart of our government. We’ve also stood by our comrades in the NRA. If they want to go around shooting some people who are we to stand in their way.
There was a slight gasp from the audience. President Westwood had gone off script. He picked up his neatly typed speech and started to rip it up. “You know what, my fellow Americans I’m bored of saying the same things over and over again. Stuff I don’t mean. Stuff that appeals to the lowest common denominator.
For the last twelve years, since the campaign started I have been appealing to your basest instincts. I have encouraged you to show hatred, to discriminate and to bully. I have let you down. Politics shouldn’t be about “me first”. It should be about us all as equals and trying to do the best for each other as equals.
Believe it or not, I am not the macho guy I appear to be. When I was twenty-one I saw the film The Shining and hid under the couch for most of the movie. I cried myself to sleep for days and had nightmares for months
When I was thirteen I used to pick on some kids from Kindergarten and steal Mars bars from their lunch boxes. I was quite proud of that at the time.
Sometimes weak and frightened little boys can boost their esteem in hypocrisy. Whether that is by portraying yourself as better than the next guy because they have a different skin colour or whether they come from a different country or a different planet.
As you probably know, my video of the now executed Governor Calahan was a fraud. He was killed for no good reason other than my ambition to continue as President. It is true to say that changelings live amongst us, but by no means is that a bad thing. What has happened is a gross miscarriage of justice. Changelings are no different than normal human beings. Like humans, some are capable of the kindest acts and some are capable of the opposite. I have used this fear over changelings to my own ends. I have destroyed and executed all of my opponents and all of my followers have supported me throughout this reprehensible behaviour. I am at a point where I either live with my past indiscretions or I am honest and open about them.
I say to you hatred is never the answer. I know how you might feel. I’ve been there. You feel inadequate as a human being. Certain parts of your body don’t function how they should. Girls only show an interest in you if you have money. Discrimination is about two things. Hatred and hypocrisy. If a guy you know is more intelligent than you and better at sports than you amongst other things, finding something that makes you feel superior, such as skin colour or religion, can increase your esteem. Telling lies and spouting hatred to boost your ego will not truly make you happy. Extending the hand of friendship will. The new me wants to make the most of what I have without bending the rules.
Sometimes people will let you down and not return your offer of friendship. Sometimes they might fart in your face but ultimately you get rewarded for what you give and what you build not what you take and destroy.
The President paused for a moment. He could almost hear a pin drop.
At this point a heckler from the crowd shouted, “you suck.”
The President could not tell who said it for sure. Instead he decided to go out on a limb. “Harvey? Harvey Burbage,” is that you?”
Suddenly, all heads turned and looked at the tall, powerful man forty yards from the podium. For the moment, Harvey was speechless.
“Are you a builder or a destroyer, Harvey?” the President asked. “What have you to say Harvey.”
“I said, you suck,” Harvey responded after regaining his composure.
President Westwood tried to remain calm and collected. “Come on up here Harvey. I’ve got an important message for you.”
The large and powerful man hesitated.
“Come on up here. I’ve got something to tell you in front of everybody.”
Harvey slowly made his way through the crowd who were mostly silent.
Before the dissenter reached the stage, the politician started to talk. “Now you all remember Harvey from one of my previous rallies. Harvey is the man who exposed Elliot Tomkins and delivered him to the authorities. Since then, we’ve been doing some investigating. It turns out that this man who has just come up on stage here has been keeping a dark secret. His wife Loreen and his three children Bubkiss, Tubkiss and Hallow, have all been found to be changelings. Yes that’s right Harvey your family is a fraud and perhaps you too for all we know.”
Harvey was incredibly angry. His face seemed to be becoming more and more red with each word that passed from the President’s lips.
“That’s a lie. Myself and Loreen are true American’s. We’re human beings like everyone else, well almost everyone else. I don’t like what you’ve become Mr President.”
The politician remained calm. He was supported by a dozen armed members of the Secret Service after all. He was most concerned with making sure the audience could hear him.
“We have evidence from Doctor Scheintraller himself that your wife and your three kids failed the tests we set them. It wouldn’t surprise me if you failed these tests also. You were quoted in a local newsletter of saying that Doctor Scheintraller was worthy of the highest honour that the American President could bestow for the scientist’s good work. What do you have to say about that?”
Harvey did not respond. He appeared to be completely dumbfounded.
At this time several secret service agent’s came closer to the two men in the centre of the stage.
“These men are going to arrest you now. We don’t tolerate aliens in this country of ours now do we Harvey and in my book you’re either a sympathiser underneath it all or a fraud.”
“I’m not going to no jail,” Harvey declared as four secret service agents started to wrestle with him. “This is a lie.”
The secret service men eventually overpowered him and handcuffed him. It was then that as the powerful man was being lead away, that he started to cry. “Don’t take me away. Please, please. Not my wife and kids. Not me.”
It was then that the President ordered them to stop.
“Harvey, I have something to tell you,” he declared aloud.
Harvey didn’t speak,but stopped crying and turned his head to face the politician standing at the podium.
“Harvey, I was just messing with you. I don’t know if we’ve ever checked up on your wife but they are fine and haven’t been detained. You are free to go.”
The dedicated American patriot was released and muttered the word “asshole” as he slowly and despondently walked away.
“It’s not funny when the tables are turned against you now is it Harvey? That should be a lesson to everyone in this room. Sometimes life isn’t black and white and we should ask ourselves; what if it’s us being taken away to be executed. It’s not funny. It shouldn’t be us versus them. We should instead look out for our brothers and sisters and do what we can for them. No one is inferior and no one is superior to each of us. If changelings step out of line they will be punished for their indiscretions but not before that time comes. Your actions define who you are not your genetic makeup.”
“Martin Luther King once gave an “I have a dream” speech,” the politician continued. “I have dreamed of a time when politicians and the media encourage people to embrace their differences, their inadequacies (and I’ve got plenty), their disabilities, their needs, their backgrounds and everything else that makes them different or appear inferior in any way. Make love, not war. Unite as friends and comrades and do not divide. It is time to be brave and honest about who we really are, whether we are changelings or not. How can we deal with the problems of our youth if society is not open and honest about what it really is? It is time to rid ourselves of hypocrisy. Thank you and goodnight.”
The politician turned and made his way away from the podium. It appeared that most of the audience did not know how to react.
Once more the seasoned politician was escorted by secret service agents into the army building and down a long corridor. The reactions of some of the soldiers he passed by was one of bewilderment. After walking for a hundred yards down the corridor the politician stopped. He entered the male toilet and expressly told his staff to remain outside. “I had a big lunch,” the politician declared. “I might be a while.”
A minute later a security guard emerged from the bathroom. Some of the secret service agents looked at each other in bemusement as they did not recall an agent entering the bathroom.
The agent who was an African American male in his early forties. He turned to the left and walked down the corridor. The agent tried to remain as calm as possible in the hope that his true identity was not discovered. Finally, he reached the end of the corridor and entered through the last door on the left.
The door led to a stairway that in turn led to a basement that was rarely used. Once the African American reached the basement, he could see two army officers bound and gagged to chairs in a small room. He continued walking and passed through several more rooms. The agent seemed to be in great pain caused by too many transformations of a type that was dangerous for a female. Eventually the secret agent reached a small wooden cupboard that had wheels and moved it out of the way. Behind the cupboard was a large cavity in the wall that could easily be passed through. As soon as the changeling passed through, it fell to the ground.
Elliot, Jasper and Jeff surrounded the changeling who was still in the guise of a secret agent.
“You need to change form,” Jasper whispered to the changeling.
The changeling who was finding it hard to breathe and feeling unwell, changed slowly into Dorothy’s form.
“No, you need to change into your Kylot form,” Jasper said in a louder voice, “or you won’t survive.”
Once again Dorothy changed form. Gone was her well toned physique and beautiful face and in its place was a reptilian like exterior with large cat like eyes and a small nose and mouth.
Dorothy was struggling for breath and her body was shaking and sweating. There was a moment when Elliot thought she wasn’t going to make it.
Even as she fought for her life, Elliot had one burning question in his mind.
“Sylvia, is that you?” he asked aloud.
There was a moment’s hesitation before Sylvia spoke. “How do you like me now?” she asked.
Sylvia was at her most vulnerable physically and psychologically. She was unmasked. She had effectively revealed a secret she had kept from Timothy her whole life and know she desperately wanted to know how he would react.
Elliot’s vision was still somewhat blurred from the spray administered to him, several minutes earlier. He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. “A little bit of make up and you’ll be fine,” he responded with a smile on his face.
“Fuck you,” she replied while still in pain.
Inwardly her spirits seemed to be lifted. She stopped shaking and sweating and her breathing started to come back to normal.
“Well you still look prettier than me,” Elliot responded, still hurting from his time in captivity.
“I missed your speech. Was it any good? Did you go on about high street fashion, or your favourite perfume?”
It was then that Jasper interrupted.
“We have no time to waste. We probably have only five minutes before they find us.”
Sylvia gingerly climbed to her feet, albeit in changeling form.
“Who would have thought that you would make such a good Reaper,” Elliot said turning to Jeff.
“Don’t push your luck,” Jeff replied.
At least Elliot felt reassured that this Jeff was the genuine article.
“Are, you still hurt Jasper?” Elliot asked in a whisper.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied as he too walked away slowly.
As they walked away, down a long dark tunnel, Elliot had a burning question in his mind. “Can you turn into Marilyn Monroe?” he asked Sylvia aloud.
“Do you not like my current form?” Sylvia responded with a hint of a smile. “Am I not good enough for you?”
This conversation was going down an all too familiar path for Elliot. Maybe he shouldn’t ask for too much he thought to himself.
“Elliot, what are we going to do now?” Sylvia asked aloud.
The secret service agents had been waiting outside the men’s room for close to twenty minutes. One of the men, a veteran of twenty years service named Brett Harrison was the first to speak.
“Something’s not right,” the forty-six year old said aloud to his three colleagues.
“I’m not going in there,” another named Buster declared. Buster was intimidated by the President and knew that the slightest mistake would be berated by him for the rest of this career, however long it lasted.
The other two secret service agents didn’t want to interfere either.
A further twenty seconds passed. “I’m going in there,” Brett said aloud. Slowly he opened the door. The sink and urinals were all unoccupied. He looked at the cubicles. Only one of the four cubicles appeared to have its door closed. Brett was as anxious as he had been at any time in his long career.
“Mr President,” he called out aloud on a number of occasions as he moved closer to the door of the cubicle.
There was no response.
Brett, braced himself for a moment. This could be the end of my career, he thought to himself.
He placed his finger on the door and gave it a gentle push. It opened slightly but not completely. “Mr President,” Agent Harrison called out once more before giving it one more push.
Just as he had anticipated, the cubicle was unoccupied.
Agent Harrison ran out of the toilet. “The President is missing,” he declared aloud. “Anyone, did you see were that other agent went?” as he jogged down the corridor. None of the other secret service agents had monitored the movements of the man who had left the toilet twenty minutes earlier.
Agent Harrison and his three colleagues reached the end of the corridor and stood outside the second last door on the left.
“You two,” he pointed to some of his colleagues, “go through that door and be on alert. Guns ready.” He was directing them to enter the last door of the corridor.
Agent Harrison and his colleague named Buster Goldsmith both anxiously entered the room with their guns held out and ready for combat. In front of them was a scared security guard who had turned his gun on them without firing. The security guards hands were shaking.
“Put the gun down,” the experienced agent ordered him.
Slowly but surely Chester Bucannon lowered his gun, even as sweat started to drip from his face.
“What’s your name?” the veteran agent asked him.
“Chester sir,” the security guard responded with his gun now on the ground.
“Chester, who are those two men with hoods over their heads?” the secret agent asked.
“One of them was pretending to be the President and the other one is a fake reaper,” Chester responded.
Immediately, Brett Harrison ran to remove the hoods from both hostages. He discovered that the second man was the US President and ungagged him.
“Mr President, an imposter has made a ten minute speech, claiming to be you. What are we going to do now?”
As angry as President Westwood was, his complexion had now become redder, but for once he appeared temporarily at least to be lost for words.