Sunday, December 24, 2006

A War On Christmas Carol: Chapter Eleven

"Our top story...Conservative talk show host, Ed Hughes, was found murdered this morning. Police have a suspect in custody, but have not released his name yet."

Ed's deepest fears had come true. He knew he was controversial, but he always believed that no one would dare actually harm him. He never caused anyone any real harm, at least that he was aware of.

The hooded figure grabbed him by the shoulder and guided him once more upwards.
Barb held Timmy in her lap as they sat, waiting. Mark was led in, handcuffed, by two police officers who plopped him down in the seat across the table from them. The room was windowless, one bright lamp above them, with a large mirror on one wall.

"Mark, I'm so sorry. I should have left years ago, but we needed the money, and he'd never been as bad as that."

Mark sat, stone silent. He'd already met with his lawyer, and so would say nothing. Barb sensed this, and quickly changed the subject.

"Do you need anything, Mark? I can run home and bring it here."

"No. The arraignment will be first thing in the morning, and it's only for my own safety that they haven't taken me to Rikers. No telling what some cracker guard might have in mind. I'm scared, Barb," he said, almost adding he wished he'd hadn't done it.

"I know, baby. I know."

"Listen, you and the boy should leave. There's a pile of press outside the station, and so stop at the desk and see if they can get you home."
The figure swirled around Ed to watch his reaction.

Nothing. He grabbed Ed's shoulder and pushed him forward and upward.
"Fiona, you need to come home. Ed's been killed....yes, I'm sure of it. The cops just left, and the news programs are all over it. I suspect you'll see it on the Beeb..." Here, John sneered. "...any moment now....Well, I can hold the funeral up for...six weeks? For heaven's sake, Fiona! This was your son too!...he did well, Fiona, no matter how awful you think he is. Damn you!"

And with that, John hung up the phone, and took another slug from the bottle of MacAllen's he'd opened after the cops left, belched, and aimed the remote and fired off an infrared beam to change the channel. "Bloody bastards. Probably some Jew who took offense at the Holocaust denial show. Bastards always find some nigger to do the dirty work, or a spic."
Ed cringed a little, listening to his father.

The hooded man seemed to stare at Ed, then turned on his heel and began walking.

"Wait! Is there anything I can do to prevent my death?"

The figure stopped, walked back and grabbed Ed by the shoulder and almost threw him skyward.

To Chapter Twelve