'You stupid bitch. I'm on the steering committee of the goddamned Chamber of Commerce. I don't know who you are, thinking you can come in here and rip us off, but you have made one truly dumb mistake.'
She had time enough to turn herself invisible but she panicked. His finger jerked on the weapon's two triggers and she heard a noise like hell cracking open.
{fursuit19} is somebody there
{fursuit19} hello
{fursuit19} hello
fursuit19 HAS LOGGED OUT
[AOL Instant Message transcript, 4/18/05]
The Blackhawk came in low and slow over the juniper-studded arroyos that surrounded the prison. Clark touched the Civilian's arm and pointed out Pike's Peak. As they drew closer he said, 'Let me officially welcome you to the Big One.' He felt strangely proud of Florence-ADX'though he certainly had not built the prison, nor did he particularly like it. It had become his headquarters, however, and in a sense his home.
The Civilian looked excited. 'Is it true you've got Pineapple Face there? You know, Noriega? And the Unabomber?'
'All the prisoners were removed in the first days of the Epidemic.' The Civilian looked disappointed, yet as they circled around for final approach it was Clark whose expectations were truly shattered. When he'd left the prison had been a safe, discrete structure, hidden carefully behind its multiple layers of unimpregnable fencing.
In his absence it had turned into a shanty-town. Tents and primitive shacks of corrugated tin had been erected in a wide semi-circle around the side of the prison facing the road. Narrow alleys ran between the ramshackle housing units and these were full of people in civilian dress. More than a few waved at the Blackhawk as it roared overhead. They looked healthy enough. There were children, too, and some animals: dogs, sheep, even a few horses. A stretch of rolling hillside had been cleared of vegetation and turned into a parking lot for dozens of vehicles. Not just the buses and vans of the convoy Clark had personally lead from Denver but smaller passenger cars, too, motorcycles and bicycles and a smattering of single-engine airplanes.
The Blackhawk set down on a pad on the roof of the prison where Vikram and Sergeant Horrocks were waiting to meet it. Vikram had his iron bracelet on and had added a new accessory, a strangely curved knife long enough to qualify as a short sword. Horrocks had dressed up in full uniform as if he expected Clark to demand an immediate inspection of the troops. Clark introduced the Civilian around and then gestured at the small town that had sprung up outside the gates. 'Word gets around, I suppose. When did this start?'
'It is only a very recent phenomenon,' Vikram assured him. 'But more come in every day. We do not let them inside of the fence but they don't seem to mind. They know your name, Bannerman, and they expect you to protect them. We could hardly turn them away, you know.'
Clark shook his head. 'This means new security issues, a whole new perimeter to keep secure, not to mention the health problems they'll face without proper sanitation. And we can't offer them any kind of medical care.'
The Civilian grabbed his arm. 'Jesus! Who's a gloomy gus? Come on, Bannerman. You've earned this.'
He lead Clark to the main gates. Horrocks ordered for them to be opened and they swung out to reveal a gathered throng of people who pressed up close to the entrance as soon as it became clear. A man in a tattered business suit rushed up and grabbed Clark's hand.
'Captain, I'm Jim Jesuroga. I've got to thank you'my family couldn't make it on our own.'
'Let me kiss him!' a woman shrieked, a middle-aged matron with dyed maroon hair. She wrapped her arms around Clark's neck and pecked at his cheek. Her children came up behind her, their eyes bright with hope, while others moved in, all of them wanting to get close, to touch him, to speak with him if only for a moment.