Leanna O’Regan shook her head free from Dante Valderez’s grasp and glared at him, saying defiantly, “Let go of me! I have something to say.” She was quivering partly in rage from the tight grip of the two guards holding her arms, and partly in fear as she watched out of the corner of her eye the progress of the guided missile on the green screen next to her. She started to rub her bare arms in the cool air of the battleship’s bridge deck, and spat at the leering General Thompson looking at her up and down in her white t-shirt and shorts. “I’m freezing… now, as I said, I’m not Rosa Jardine.”

General Thompson nodded his flabby head at one of the light-grey armoured guards holding Leanna, who let go of her to grap the yellow hoodie on the floor. The other guard let go of her to allow her to put the hoodie back on again, and after putting it on, she tensed up when the two guards tried to take her arms again. “Let her stand free,” General Thompson intoned, looking at the console with the green screen and smiling slightly on noting how close the guided missile was to its target, the Paraiso en la Tierra ranch. “You can’t save your CIM friends in Ojai, but you can save the others if you can tell us more about the transmission we intercepted.” He looked up from the screen and directly at Leanna, her hair still strewn about her face. Leanna pulled her hair back and tucked the loose ends under her hoodie and zipped it closed.

“What I wanted to say is that you are a lying creep, and I have no reason to disclose anything to you,” she said steadily, folding her arms in front of her. The General’s eyes widened in anger, and she continue talking as his face reddened. “Rosa Jardine knows nothing about the California Independence Movement, so leave her alone.” The General opened his mouth to say something, but Leanna interrupted him, saying, “My name is Leanna O’Regan. Your dumb PABs may have passed along my alias, Princess Argentum. I was transporting the suitcases of gold to deliver them to their rightful owner.”

“And who would that be, Princess?” Dante asked menacingly from behind his respirator. “And what about the slide photographs of parks around California?”

“HA! Your friends are dead, Princess Argentina, or whatever your silly alias is. Look!” General Thompson said gleefully as he pointed at the green screen, showing where the winding path of the guided missile ended in a bright circle near a mountain range east of the California coastline. Leanna dipped her chin to her chest and relaxed her arms to her sides.

“And what about the slides, Leanna? Who were you delivering the gold to?” Dante growled as he moved closer to Leanna, grabbing her by the shoulders again and turning him around to face him. 

Leanna looked into Dante’s dark eyes and at his scarred forehead and bald scalp, covered in scars from burns and cuts. She lifted up her arms, attempting to push away his hands, but Dante was much stronger and was able to keep his hold on her. One of her hands grabbed at the tubes connected to the mask covering his nose and mouth, and she pulled the mask from his face. She grimaced in horror and stopped struggling as she stared at Dante’s disfigured face inches away from hers: a gaping, ragged hole of glistening tissue and teeth.

*** This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. ***