Chapter 53

Harold could not get back to sleep. It was 5 am. He got up and walked into the kitchen and fixed some orange juice and toast. The paper had arrived and he read it at the kitchen table. Emily was still deep asleep. He finished his toast and got on the exercise bike. Thirty minutes later, he was covered in sweat, and he had seen all that Headline News had to offer. He took a shower, dressed, and went into his study to boot the computer.

He worked for several hours but was deeply unhappy. All was well on Venus. He downloaded the latest atmospheric conditions; everything looked excellent. He ran his simulator a few times on different animal payloads and realized once again that variety was the spice, or at least the fuel to life. The great variety of animals and plants was the key. Any simulation he did with a limited number of creatures ended up in a cycling state of feast and famine. The more critters he added, the greater the total number of critters that could survive and the greater stability. Around 8, Emily got up. It was a Saturday, and she tried to sleep in. Robert had been watching cartoons for an hour. She came into Harold's study and kissed him on the head. Harold didn't look up from the screen.

"Sweetie, What's wrong?" Emily could immediately sense that he was not his usual jovial self.

"I had another dream. This time it was a Zebra." Harold was quite frustrated.

"Harold, You know that a Zebra is 25 sizes larger than an A Bra don't you." Emily knew Harold loved the stupid seventh grade jokes. He didn't even smirk. She kissed him again. "I love you very much. Do you want some OJ?"

"No, but thanks, I love you too." Harold worked on the computer for another two hours and then decided he would run some errands. He could do them all by phone but he missed actually going to stores and restaurants. The secret service agents and the private security trainers had told him to stop doing this but he wanted to go out. Harold walked into the kitchen, kissed Emily, and then walked toward the door to the garage.

"Where are you going?" Emily was concerned.

"I've got some shopping to do."

"Harold, do you think it wise?"

He returned to her, hugged her, kissed her on the lips, and then turned back toward the door. He opened the closet and got out the Kevlar Vest. It looked much like a fishing vest but was a full centimeter of Kevlar. It was a bit heavy and stiff but he was used to it. He loved the pockets, and kept them full of stuff. He also took a Kevlar raincoat. It looked much like a rain coat with a hood. It was a bit heavier than a standard coat but well worth it. He walked out to the garage, pushed the button to open the garage door, and then climbed into the white Suburban. He switched on the phone and called the security people. They would follow him all the way.

Harold drove down to the freeway and then got on towards Daly City. He loved 280, the big, fast, cut through the San Andreas Fault. Further south there was a beautiful lake that was actually in the crack. He turned east on 380 and got off at El Camino. He turned left towards Tanforan, and then right into the CompUSA. He parked in front and the security vehicle parked next to him. He put on the sun glasses and hat and walked into the store. He loved to wander around computer stores. He didn't really need any of the stuff. He just loved to look. He preferred Fry's but Palo Alto was too far. Fry's had electronic parts, computers, test equipment, software, stereo equipment, magazines, and all the stuff you find in a 7-11. Food, tampons, soft drinks. It was a supermarket for everything a hacker could need to live on. Harold was always tempted by the new doo dads for his computer. It was easy to spend $10,000 with one's eyes at a store like this. None of it was truly needed. Harold played with a few machines in back that had full motion video, audio, and virtual reality.

He then realized he had better do his real errand. He walked out of the CompUSA and jumped into the Suburban. The security car followed. He drove over to Tanforan and went into the mall. He went into the Victoria's Secret. He hated this but it was Emily's birthday in a week, and she loved this stuff. He wandered around for a few minutes and tried to leave. His conscience sent him back. He found a section with clothes one could actually wear in public. Chose a couple of dresses that looked about right. A 25 year old salesclerk wandered over.

"May I help you, sir?"

"Oh, yes thank you. I wasn't looking. I..." He stuttered a bit. "It is for my wife. It's for her birthday. Could you tell me what size I should buy in this?" He held up a very nice dress.

"Do you know her size?" An obvious question but rarely known.

"I looked at the tags in her closet, of the clothes she actually wears and they say medium, and 10, some 12. She is about this tall." Harold put out his hand to indicate her height. "She is shaped about like you, a little heavier. She weights oh 130 to 140 pounds."

"This will fit her." What a shock, a man who actually brought enough information to buy a piece of women's clothing. "She can always return it. May I ring it up for you?"

"What do you think of the style? I mean, suppose you were a thirty-eight year old, would you like this? She has blondish hair and blue eyes. Light complexion." Harold never knew what looked good. But he did know that women had that mysterious skill to know what looked good.

"I would get it in the blue, not the green. And then I would like this very much." No sense of color or taste, but organized.

"Could you do me one more favor?" Harold hated this part more than the rest. "Could you show me what to buy her of the other stuff. Something a woman, uh, not that you're not a woman, something a thirty-eight year old woman would like." The sales clerk led Harold over to the lacy unmentionable section. She chose something that Harold thought looked snazzy. It was hard to imagine what anyone would look like in such a thing. But when Harold thought of Emily in it, it looked about right. The sales clerk wrapped it all in boxes and then took Harold's credit card. He walked out of the store quite pleased with himself and his purchases. He then went into a book store and bought her a couple of books. Finally he went into a jewelry store. This stuff always was such a rip off. He looked around a bit, and then decided to just call his friend in New York. If he was going to be ripped off, at least he should let a friend do it.

He walked back to the Suburban and climbed in. The security people followed. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove along El Camino. There was a MacDonalds on the side of the road and he pulled into the drive through window lane. He would have loved to go inside but he felt he would give the security people a break. He ordered a MacChicken sandwich and a large Diet Coke at the microphone. There was one car ahead of him in line.

Suddenly four men named Bob with black ski masks and AK-47's jumped out of the sedan in front. Four more appeared from a sedan behind the security car. They immediately opened fire on the rear security detail killing both men instantly. They looked in the window of the Suburban and pointed at Harold motioning to open the door. Harold put the Suburban in low four wheel drive. He hit the automatic dial button on the cellular phone. And then just as he was about to gun the engine, He leaned on the horn and turned on the siren. As the vehicle lurched forward the two men in front jumped out of the way. The off road bumper hit the back of the sedan and there was the sound of crushing metal. The big vehicle just pushed the sedan out into the street. Harold switched into two wheel drive and accelerated down the street. The men behind opened fire with their machine guns. Many of the bullets hit but were stopped by the Kevlar armor. A few hit the tires but the gel just sealed the holes. Finally the right rear door window shattered under the fusillade and a few rounds hit the rear inner plexiglass wall. Four of the eight jumped into the second sedan and the other four ran to a white van parked at the curb by the McDonald's Land Kids Play Pen.

The cellular phone connection was made. "Good morning Harold. What can we do for you?"

"Condition red. I have lost the security people. They are dead at the McDonald's on El Camino near the 380 crossing. They will need ambulances at the scene. I am heading north on El Camino. There are two vehicles in pursuit. A white Ford panel van and a late model gray four door full sized Chevy. There are eight men in ski masks with automatic weapons. They have used the weapons. Oh, shit." Harold saw a red light ahead. In the intersection there was a school bus that had run into another full sized late model gray Chevy. Harold locked the brakes and spun the wheel. The big Suburban rotated and slid with great grace. He did a perfect J turn in the intersection and then stomped on it back south on El Camino. "Correction, I am now headed south on El Camino. There was a road block in the intersection to the north of Tanforan. There is an accident there as well. The sedan and van slowed in the intersection and made the U turn. The both vehicles headed after Harold. The sedan that had hit the school bus followed them. Harold opened the small panel under the dash. He hit two switches with small lights above them. The lights came on and immediately a mixture of oil and six point 5 cm tall stars dropped from two canisters at the rear of the van. The first sedan hit the oil slick and blew all four tires. It skidded to a stop. The van stopped and picked up those four men. They abandoned the car and followed in the van and the car that had been in the accident.

Harold wasn't watching this, he was accelerating up the on ramp to highway 380. He took a small tubular key from around his neck. He unlocked a box at his feet and pulled out an Uzi and several clips. He slowed as the merge approached and then turned north onto 280. The top speed of the Suburban isn't its virtue. It is the ability to have lots of armor and mass. The sheer bulk of the vehicle is its virtue. Harold looked behind him and realized that these guys meant business. They were still in hot pursuit. "I am now headed north on 280. Two vehicles in pursuit. No police vehicles in sight. Please advise."

"Harold, Daly City, San Bruno, and San Francisco Police have been notified. Can you out run them?"

"Unclear. They are gaining on me at present. The road is quite clear. Should I attempt to use force?"

"Your call, Harold." The security force could only guess at the situation. They left it up to Harold.

He slowed the big vehicle to a stop at the side of the road. He undid his seat belt and climbed over the rear seat. He removed a Thompson Sub Machine Gun from the rear locker. He loaded it with armor piercing shells. He put it on single shot and opened the rear gun port. When the van was a hundred feet behind Harold put a single bullet into the engine compartment of the van. The bullet transversed the radiator without the slightest notice, it hit the oil pump, and then entered the engine block. The engine block was not designed to take this type of punishment and it split immediately. The engine would never run again. He pulled the gun barrel out of the rear port and then crawled over the seats to the front of the Suburban. He took the Thompson with him. He put on his seat belt and then put the barrel of the Uzi out the drivers gun port. As the sedan skidded to a halt on the center divide of the freeway. Harold opened fire. He aimed low and spent great efforts to keep the gun down. He saw the tires go flat and that was enough. The eight men and the driver of the third car got out of the two vehicles. Several opened fire at the Suburban as it drove off. A second white van stopped and all nine got in. They drove over the center divide and headed south. They dumped the van a mile south, dropped a magnesium flare in the gas tank, and were gone by the time the police and fire trucks arrived. Christ had helped them escape. Harold pulled off at 19th avenue. He headed north toward the city.

"I have lost them. I think. Please advise." Harold was quite shaken. He had survived but he was now starting to feel cold. He looked down at his lap and there was blood. He didn't feel any pain but there was obviously blood coming from his thigh. He drove north and then cut over toward Laguna Honda. His left leg was really starting to hurt. The thigh was swollen and pant leg soaked in blood. "I am bleeding a bit from my leg. I am going to stop at UC. Please advise."

"Harold, we will have police standby at that location. How are you doing?"

"So-so. I'm OK, but a tad bit shaken." Harold turned onto 7th avenue and then left on Judah which changed it's name to Parnassus. He climbed the hill and turned into the Emergency Room parking lot. The siren was still going and he shut if off. The big vehicle looked trashed. The front was dented. There were at least a hundred bullet holes in the rear doors. Several of the windows had shattered. The rear Plexiglas inner wall had 20 rounds imbedded in it. The drivers door had forty holes in it. One had penetrated Harold's right thigh. He picked up the Uzi and three clips. He put on the secret service badge that allowed him to carry the weapon. He dialed the cellular phone in his pocket to the security service number. Once the connection was established he opened the door and tried to get out. His left leg collapsed beneath him.

The doors of the Emergency Room opened and an ambulance driver who was just inside saw Harold. He grabbed a stretcher and helped him onto it. Harold was still clutching the Uzi when they rolled him into the trauma room. The bullet had shattered his femur. He had lost some blood into the thigh. An intern started an IV, well several really. One eventually went into a vein. Harold could feel the cold liquid enter his arm. The pain in his leg was now quite intense. They cut off his clothes and examined him fully. He had a number of glass cuts, and burns on his hands from the Uzi. Only one bullet hole. Another intern was assigned to hold pressure on his groin. The bleeding slowed but the leg felt quite cold and heavy. A young man appeared in surgical scrubs and looked at the blood on the floor. Then he looked at Harold. Then he looked at the chart. "Dr. MacAnish, I am Dr. Houston. It looks like that bullet fractured your femur and hit the artery. Normally I would like an angiogram but it is obvious what we have to fix. We will be taking you upstairs to the operating room in a couple of minutes. Do you have any other medical problems? Do you take any medications? Are you allergic to anything? When did you last eat?

Harold threw up. A woman in surgical scrubs and a gown leaned over and took Harold's blood pressure. 85/40. She opened up the IV and put in another. This time on the first shot. It was a large 14 gauge IV. Harold didn't even notice. She then took his blood pressure again and called the blood bank. She turned to the surgeon "Let's go. It's time." She pumped the squeeze ball on the iv and emptied two bags of lactated ringers into Harold on the way to the elevator. He felt a tad bit better. They moved him to the operating room table. He lay back. They put on the EKG pads, the blood pressure cuff, a pulse oximeter. He felt a small jab in his wrist as the arterial line went in. He was breathing oxygen through a face mask at this point. His blood pressure was 110/50 when the anesthesiologist pushed the etomidate and succinylcholine. He felt the fingers on this neck. Suddenly there was darkness. He awoke in the recovery room. He felt like crap. His leg really hurt now. There were two security agents standing by his bed with Uzis and microphones in their ears. The nurse gave him an emesis basin and he used it.

Chapter 54

Return to Venusomatic Home Page