Political Humor |

Chapter 9: Escort Service

by Chris Cameron

“Et Tu Cynthia?” I said as she closed the cabin door behind us.

“It’s not what you think.” Cynthia replied and sat down on one of the couches across from Steven and his new boyfriend. “Sit Max.”

I obeyed her command having no choice of course, especially since my old boss was brandishing a shotgun in my direction. Guns aimed at me seem to be a common thing these days. “So are you going to kill me now or later?”

“Neither.” Steven replied, squeezing his companion’s thigh with his hand. “I have a better idea.”

If what they were implying was what I thought it was then I’d rather be dead. I felt like telling them to give me the shotgun and I’d kill myself.

“Max this is Sergio.” Steven said as the boyfriend leaned across and shook my hand in a limp-wristed fashion. “He was the one you overheard talk about a paradise to the south.”

“Really.” I replied. I knew he looked familiar.

“Your arrival here is not by chance.” Steven stood up. “We share the same desires for a better place to live.”

“Well I don’t see my Shangri La dreams matching up with yours there Twinkletoes.” I was confused but I didn’t want to let on. What the hell was he talking about? Is this some kind of sermon before he blows my head off like I did with Bruce?

“Let me see if I can clear things up for you.” Steven said, and talked about his plan. Sergio saw my interest in his conversation about a better life in the tropics. Bruce was a sacrifice to get me to run. Cutter put me on the path to meet Cynthia who brought me here.

“So you set me up.” I said as thoughts about Cutter and my fist in his face the next time we crossed paths raced through my mind. “Why?”

“Two words Max…New Brazil.” Steven reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of wadded-up paper, and unfolded it on the floor into its original shape. It was a crudely-drawn map of what used to be South America.

He told me that where Venezuela and Colombia once existed was now New Brazil. Crops grew outdoors. People worked and lived like they did before the cooling happened. It might not be paradise but it was normalcy.

“We want you to be our security, along with Cynthia and escort us there.” Sergio said, finally breaking his silence. “You used to be a cop, you know how to handle a gun, and Steven tells me you were one of his best bouncers.”

“Are you serious?” I laughed. I was never into geography but I knew that the old Brazil was thousands of miles away and years back in the history books. In the way were the Roaders and Off-Roaders and who knows whatever other groups or gangs were between here and there. Even if this place was real, the four of us would be dead in no time flat .

And these flitters wanted to hoof it there walking funny all the way.

“What if I say no?”

“You are free to go, but you will be left to the angry mob of flitters, as you like to call us.” Steven said. “They will be arriving soon by the way because I told them you were here.”

I had to hand it to the creampuff. Unlike the clothing he wore, Steven covered his ass in the planning department. Was I suddenly feeling a sense of respect towards a fag?

No matter what, it was either take my chances with flitters who wanted to kill me, or two who wanted me to be their bodyguard on a trip to the promised land. “So when do we leave?”

“Immediately.” Steven smiled and threw a gun at me. “It’s the same one Cynthia uses and as you have seen quite capable of taking down those awful UNknowns.”

“What makes you think I won’t kill you now that I’m armed?” I said as the thought crossed my mind.

“Again Max, we share that desire for paradise.”

The flitter had a point there. Not like I haven’t dreamed of the same things they want-a normal place to frikkin’ live.

Well, normal as can be in this crazy world.

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