Video Star (Voice of the Whirlwind) Read Free Page B

But I’ll see you at the guard station around five, okay?”
    “Sounds good.”

8
    That night, his temples throbbing with pain, Ric entered Marlene’s condeco and walked straight to the kitchen for something to ease the long raw ache that coated the insides of his throat. He could hear the sounds of Alien Inquisitor on the vid. He was carrying a two-liter plastic bottle of industrial-strength soap he’d just stolen from the custodian’s storeroom here in Marlene’s condeco. He put down the bottle of soap, rubbed his sore shoulder muscle, took some whiskey from the shelf, and poured it into a tall glass. He took a slow, deliberate drink and winced as he felt the fire in his throat. He added water to the glass. Alien Inquisitor diminished in volume, then he heard the sound of Marlene’s flipflops slapping against her heels.
    Her eyes bore the heavy eye makeup she wore to work. “Jesus,” Marlene said. She screwed up her face. “You smell like someone’s been putting out cigarettes in your pockets. Where the hell have you been?”
    “Smoking cigars with a rentacop. He wears so much equipment and armor he has to wear a truss, you know that? He got drunk and told me.”
    “Which rentacop?”
    “One who works for the hospital.”
    “The hospital? We’re going to take off the hospital?” Marlene shook her head. “That’s pretty serious, Ric.”
    Ric was wondering if she’d heard take off used that way on the vid. “Yes.” He eased the whiskey down his throat again. Better.
    “Isn’t that dangerous? Taking off the same hospital where you were a patient?”
    “We’re not going to be doing it in person. We’re going to have someone else do the work.”
    “Who?”
    “Cartoon Messiah, I think. They’re young and promising.”
    “What’s the stuff in the plastic bottle for?”
    He looked at her, swirling the whiskey absently in the glass. “This cleaner’s mostly potassium hydroxide,” he said. “That’s wood lye. You can use it to make plastic explosive.”
    Marlene shrugged, then reached in her pocket for a cigarette. Ric frowned. “You seem not to be reacting to that, Marlene,” he said. “Robbing a hospital is serious, plastic explosive isn’t?”
    She blew smoke at him. “Let me show you something.” She went back into the living room and then returned with her pouch belt. She fished in it for a second, then threw him a small aerosol bottle.
    Ric caught it and looked at the label. “Holy fuck,” he said. He blinked and looked at the bottle again. “Jesus Christ.”
    “Ten-ounce aerosol bottle of mustard gas,” Marlene said. “Sixteen dollars in Starbright scrip at your local boutique. For personal protection, you know? The platinum designer bottle costs more.”
    Ric was blinking furiously. “Holy fuck,” he said again.
    “Some sixteen-year-old asshole tried to rape me once,” Marlene said. “I hit him with the gas and now he’s reading braille. You know?”
    Ric took another sip of the whiskey and then wordlessly placed the mustard gas in Marlene’s waiting palm.
    “You’re in America now, Ric,” Marlene said. “You keep forgetting that, singing your old Spanish marching songs.”
    He rubbed his chin. “Right,” he said. “I’ve got to make adjustments.”
    “Better do it soon,” Marlene said, “if you’re going to start busting into hospitals.”

9
    The next day Ric went to the drugstore, where he purchased a large amount of petroleum jelly, some nasal mist that came in squeeze bottles, liquid bleach, a bottle of toilet cleaner, a small amount of alcohol-based lamp fuel, and a bottle of glycerin. Then he drove to a chemical supply store, where he brought some distilling equipment and some litmus paper.
    On his way back he stopped by an expensive liquor store and bought some champagne. He didn’t want the plastic bottles the domestic stuff came in; instead he bought the champagne imported from France, in glass bottles with the little hollow cone in the bottom. It