With These Eyes (25 page)

The force of Tasha's speeding truck tore the
braided steel and carbon-fiber cable like a blade of grass. A
corner of her rear-view mirror provided a look at the panicked face
of the bullet-train's driver behind her. He had activated his
emergency brake system. Sand was spilling from tanks in the cars
onto the metal rails under the train. A cloud rose from the wheels
as energy from the speeding train sublimated much of the sand.
Where the sand vapors cooled, the matter deposited a layer of
vitrified quartz. The train’s undercarriage was sparkling in a
layer of fresh glass. The gap between Tasha and the locomotive's
aerodynamic nose was widening.

Like a dog that had sprinted to the end of
her chain, the tightening power line yanked Tasha's truck back and
stopped her dead. 15,000 Volts were looking for a place to go and
that was going to be the ground. Tasha’s truck provided the perfect
vehicle. The cab was engulfed in a sea of sparks and arcing
electricity. Fortunately for her, the inside of her cab provided
the safety of a faraday cage. The principle behind this phenomenon
is that current travels on the outside of a sphere, leaving the
inside neutral. She had become a prisoner in a cage of electricity.
The deafening sound of scraping metal filled the air when the train
came to a stop just inches behind her.

Ralf's train had just cleared the mayhem at
the shopping center and coasted to a stop. An angry Tasha was
pushing the deployed airbag out of her sight. She reached for a
knife holstered on her calf and swiftly cut herself out of the
locked-up seat belt. The buzzard was trapped in a cage of energy.
Her helplessness added to Tasha's rage about Isabelle's escape. A
few of her Troopers came staggering out of the cloud of dust and
rubble that emanated from the chaos at the mall. A few members of
her platoon had come within earshot. She shouted over the noise
from the arcing electricity. "Notify public relations to put out a
cover story for this. Make sure they send out a picture of the
package and call it the latest attack in her spree of terrorism.
Why hasn't anyone cut the power yet?"

With every second she was trapped, Tasha grew
more angry. A Trooper came running with a digital pad under his arm
with an answer Tasha had not expected. "I tried, but they put me
through to him." He held up the electronic tablet so Tasha could
see the screen. Gene's face filled its entirety. He was onboard
the Goose
, on his way to Berlin to celebrate his coronation
away from the eyes of the public. The grand ball held in his honor
was to take place at opulent
Schloss
Sanssouci
, the
palace of a former feudalistic Prussian monarch. Gene's mode of
travel was unique. His private jet was a converted heavy-transport
plane. Two lavishly decorated levels and added fuel tanks left
little available payload. With his six enormous jet engines always
at full throttle, Gene's trail was marked by thick, black smoke.
Like an army of flying monkeys, a fleet of jumbo-jets swarmed
behind him, carrying his support staff and luggage. Gene was in his
favorite part of the Goose, the temple-deck. It occupied both
levels of the plane and its gilded walls were clad in priceless
jewels. Sacred, ancient artifacts truly gave it the appearance of a
temple. On one side, a golden throne atop a platform carved out of
emerald was occupied by an impatient Gene. The throne looked like
it had been used by rulers of a lost civilization and was one of
his many relics plundered from temples and ruins. At his feet was
the holographic projection of trapped Tasha.

"I find your lack of success most unsettling,
Commander." Gene's voice was full of anger as it reverberated from
the tablet's speakers before Tasha.

Like Gene, Tasha was not used to such
failure. Her anger reflected her frustration. "She got lucky."

"Your incompetence is forcing me to break off
my plans to attend tonight's festivities."

Tasha was aware of the significance of the
secret coronation ceremony. She felt the problem could have been
solved much swifter. "Then let me deal with her in my own way."

"I'm surprised she hasn't already become one
of your
accidental death
stories. Kill the entire city if
you have to - I don't care, but put an end to her." Gene waived his
hand and the power that kept Tasha trapped was cut. Tasha's
hologram disappeared.

Gene’s company had a stake in most of the
world’s museums and archeological digs, which left him at a very
privileged position. Texts from every ancient civilization told of
a different way of life. During the golden age, man and woman lived
in harmony with nature. From this harmony came divine abilities
that were so powerful, only an enlightened society would be able to
sustain itself.

Gene knew mankind had fallen from grace and
was suffering in fear. Gene had harnessed the power of the diamond
that laid within all. He once felt like he could move mountains
with his mind. The anger over mankind’s selfishness returned him to
a life guided by survival reflexes and his own pain. Gene was
longing for the days when he was a divine being. He wanted all of
man to experience the splendor of abundance without envy.

In the year prior, Gene ran a “love and
happiness” campaign intended to snap the population out of their
rather tragic lifestyle, guided by anger and fear in place of
compassion. The reaction his customers brought towards Gene when he
tried to help, was enough for him to lose hope. Customers flooded
in droves to the products of the Tefis corporation, who continued
to sell toys, clothes and weapons ambulating around the concept of
killing all that offends. This principle followed one of the
ancient societies in the practice of
Pax Romano
. The idea
was that every land conquered by the Roman Empire was peaceful
because there was no one left alive to raise trouble.

Gene knew full well that the human spirit
could not be suppressed for eternity. A person’s spirit naturally
seeks a state of happiness. Survival mode and reflexes of anger and
aggression can only maintain humanity for a limited time. That
moment had long gone past. Gene’s heartfelt effort to offer
humanity a world of peace and understanding was only met with lost
sales. Gene’s effort prompted a wave of ridicule for what had been
perceived by the angry world as weakness and a lack of connection
with reality. That was to be his reward for attempting to better
the lives of nature’s children. A world that chose to poison and
neglect their bodies and minds, and even bring misfortune to those
who sacrifice their own means to contribute to the greater good.
Gene had given countless nights and days on business trips and
meetings for a greater cause. His family was the world.

What does he see when he finally comes home
from work for dinner? An ungrateful world population who chose to
use the technological advances he had brought them as a means to
turn into abominations of the human mind and spirit. Many would
spend their spare time eating cheese-dip or complaining instead of
bettering themselves with the innovations Gene worked so hard to
attain for them.

There was even technology that would allow
everyone to have free energy. Gene ran a few television specials on
quantum energy, which prompted two extreme sets of opinions. What
had then been Gene’s flagship program lost most of its viewers and
advertisers when one of the camps saw him as a U.F.O. fanatic. The
other, extreme opposite of the divided field of viewers fell into a
stooper of paranoia. Alien abduction stories became rampant. The
mob turned to web sites that reaffirmed their fears by promoting
the ill concept that they were imprisoned by their own planet. Once
fear had taken hold of the masses, reassurances of an impending
doomsday had become easier to accept than the premise of peace. The
absurd had become reality: The people feared peace. Someone who
promised peace was perceived as a bringer of death.

Broad use of antidepressants surfaced their
homicidal side-effects. A girl whose mind had been numbed by a
daily doses of such pills had felt compelled to commit a gruesome
act. Although her brain had been chemically removed from its
environment, she was tried in court as a responsible adult. She was
incarcerated for the rest of her life, unaware of the true cause of
her violent deed. This defied all logic. Gene’s anger and
frustration grew. He decided it had come time for action. Gene saw
only one way out, and it had to be soon before anger destroyed the
whole world. When he promised a world of freedom, people were so
afraid to make important decisions on their own, they were accusing
governments, industry, and a variety of real and imaginary secret
societies of plotting against them. Gene lost customers and support
for his firm. He saw humanity at its worst; fearful and unable to
follow logic enough to make their own decisions. There was no more
reasoning with his selfish children. It had come time for a
beating.

Still over the Atlantic, the Goose and
entourage turned south towards Africa.

28 JOURNEY TO BERLIN

Freezing wind whipped under Isabelle's full
face helmet as she raced on Ralf’s bright yellow motorcycle along
the Hamburg-Berlin Autobahn. A short ride across the southern part
of Denmark and a ferry ride had taken her to Germany. The
Winterdienst
road service had done a nice job keeping six
lanes of highway dry and free of snow. A moderate amount of cars
and trucks zoomed along the high-speed roadway in both directions.
Traffic cleared out of the fast lane to let Isabelle speed by on a
picturesque journey through snow-covered forests and fields. All
along her way, she noticed a large number of woodland creatures who
lined the roadway. She rode past families of deer, saw bunnies on
the snow by the side of the road and it seemed every tree in her
view was populated with squirrels and birds. Nature was keeping a
watch on one of her own.

During the time that had passed, Tasha and
her Troopers had recovered from their setback and regrouped for a
continued attack. A new set of undercover vehicles complete with
rolling command post had arrived in a parking lot near the mall. In
the background, a constant stream of rescue vehicles and
helicopters was busily taking casualties from the mall disaster to
medical centers in Copenhagen and elsewhere in Denmark.
Heavy-equipment cranes along with hundreds of search and rescue
workers were freeing injured shoppers from the pile of twisted
metal and rubble that filled the inside of the virtually gutted
building.

A delivery team was driving the platoon's new
vehicles off two car carriers. All were high-end German cars, made
for the swift speeds of the
Autobahn
. The command post was a
disguised heavy-rescue vehicle that resembled a blue fire engine.
Its doors sported the sun-logo, a secret door in the back of the
crew cab provided access to the surveillance room, which occupied
the rear section. A turbo-charged engine and emergency lights would
allow speedy travel when the action called for it. Tasha was
dressed in a purple leather motorcycle combo that showed off her
muscular body. A layer of thermal fabric underneath shielded her
from the frosty temperatures of the German winter. Before Tasha
stood her latest mode of transportation: a prototype super-bike.
Its mere appearance left no doubt that it could outrun Isabelle's
motorcycle. Tasha straddled the hunk of metal, rubber and plastic,
and turned the key in the ignition to
operate
. Her right
thumb depressed the start button adjacent to the accelerator. The
powerful engine between her legs created a spine-tingling vibration
that spread throughout her body. For a brief moment, Tasha could
not distinguish where her body ended and where the machine began.
She was in total ecstasy.

Tasha reached for the full-face helmet that
was hanging on the rear-view mirror and slipped it over her head,
squishing her locks into its padding. Her visor was a liquid
crystal display on which she was able to watch her familiar spy
streams in a feed from the rolling command post. A Trooper's voice
resonated from the helmet's speakers.

"Ma'am, we've located her license plate on
traffic cameras. The package is traveling eastbound on the
Hamburg-Berlin Autobahn. Last detection at kilometer marker
108."

A still image appeared on the visor with a
rear-view of Isabelle in the fast lane.

"Catch up with me!" was all Tasha had to say.
Her left hand pulled the clutch and her left foot pushed the pedal
into first gear. He right hand turned the accelerator as she
released the clutch. Like a rocket propelled by Tasha's blood lust,
the bike launched across the platoon's staging area and onto the
nearby highway. The Troopers' new motor pool had a flair of
prestige and wealth. The closed-off parking lot they occupied
looked like it was the scene of some sort of upper-crust gathering.
Smoke billowed from the command post's two exhaust pipes as it took
off in the direction of Tasha's travel. The remaining Troopers
jumped into their cars and sped off like a pack of race cars
surrounding the heavy-rescue vehicle. Helicopters and ambulances
continued to flow through the mall parking lot in a stream of
suffering, which seemed unending.

Tasha could feel the vibration from the
redlining engine in every cell of her body. The bike's newly
developed winter tires gripped the concrete corridor well and
allowed her to cut from lane to lane swiftly. The Nordic air had
kept the roadway dry, despite a snow-covered landscape. She was not
about to let her catch escape because of traffic. A new image of
Isabelle appeared on her visor projection. A Trooper from the
command post chimed in.

"Tiger-eye, the package is approaching
weather and slow traffic."

While Tasha acknowledged, a map of the route
showed hers and Isabelle's positions. After a quick ride and a
ferry crossing that more than tried her patience, the purple-clad
warrior arrived in
Puttgarten, Germany
. Her platoon had
meanwhile reached the Danish ferry port of
Rodby
. The
heavy-rescue vehicle and eleven autos loaded into a ferry for the
45 minute crossing to Germany where Tasha had to cover another 100
kilometers on country roads that virtually flew by. She was eagerly
watching the projection on her visor, where the gap between hunter
and hunted was becoming negligible. She was now deep inside the
weather front that had slowed down Isabelle earlier. Tasha
frantically flashed her headlight to urge other motorists out of
the fast lane. She felt like a tiger wanting the gazelle on the
other side of a heard of water buffalo. The drivers in front of her
were annoyed with Tasha's rude display of impatience and
reluctantly squeezed to the right. Freezing-cold rain was falling
on Tasha. Digital road signs switched from
No Limit
to
100 km/h
and signaled
No Passing.