Master of Plagues by D. B. Reynolds (color ebook reader .txt) 📖

do such a crazy thing?
Larger colony members inflicted greater punishments on him. One sting after another to his body caused blisters the size of golf balls. Quarts of purplish blood filled each blister. How dare Dan swing a bat at them. He screamed from the depths of his hollow lungs. His cries of mercy weren’t heard. Keith grabbed the solid steel pole from one of the corners. When the band of colony members swooped in on him, he swung the pole wildly in their direction. His attempts to hurt them were useless. Enough stings were inflicted upon him to make his racist tattoos look like scribbled Chinese arithmetic.
All four loyal racists were in severe pain. Their would-be hate crime victim, George Pulliam, watched everything happen through eyes of absolute amazement. All attempts to save his life inside the hangar were successful.
Stuart also witnessed some pretty amazing stunts from his faithful ant servants.
How astonishing it was for the Universe to work on the underdog’s behalf.
Queen Amina used both of her strong antennaes to put a chokehold around Richard’s neck. She penetrated the depths of his soul with a set of glowing red eyes. “You rotten scumbag, you. We’re in the Twenty-First century. You’re living in a time warp if you think that you can commit hate crimes against people and get away with it. In this old airport hangar, you have the Confederate Flag and the swastika to show your so-called dominance over blacks and Jews.”
“This is all one bad dream,” Richard imagined, the painful stings rather discomforting. “Ants don’t talk, and they damn sure don’t get as big as you. Maybe I done been drinking too much corn whiskey.”
“Aren’t you repentant for what you were going to do to this man?”
“Repentant for what? Niggers aren’t even human.”
Queen Amina used one of her antennaes to execute a shock through Richard’s chest. “Black people are human too. We’re all humans made in the image of God.”
“You’re not just another ant. You’re some kinda critter from somewhere in outer space.”
“And my Jewish brothers and sisters?”
“What about those kykes?”
“How dare you throw up the big banner of a swastika in this old airport hangar. How is it that you have racist symbols tattooed all over your body?”
“My buddies and I hate niggers and Jews and faggots,” Richard proudly proclaimed, growing weaker from the potent venom of the stings.
“Jews are God’s chosen people. Jews are the apple of God’s eyes. When God told Abraham that he would bless those who blessed him, and that he would curse those who cursed him, he meant every word of it. Since you have shown your hatred, especially towards Jewish people, from this day forward, you will be cursed. All of your seed for generations to come will be cursed. Your hateful ways have brought the wrath of God down on you and your racist buddies.”
“My mind’s still playing tricks on me. Ants don’t talk. They just don’t do it. Once I wake up from this bad dream, then I’ll know it was just that, one bad dream.”
“You’re awake, Richard. This is really happening to you.”
“Ants don’t have a buncha red glowing crap around them.”
Queen Amina and the many colony members had performed their duties. She and the colony disappeared within seconds. From the window on the side of the hangar, Stuart carried the biggest smile on his face. Intercepting someone from being a hate crime victim brought him the greatest sense of satisfaction.


CHAPTER—18

RECIPE FOR RETALIATION

Nearly six years after her graduation from NYU, the former Megan Piccirillo decided to return to school and receive her doctorate in nursing. Offers to teach at major universities were constantly offered. Her love of working in the field kept her at one of the major hospitals in Dallas. The Boston native found the man of her dreams and married him after a year long courtship.
Megan Piccirillo tied the knot and became Mrs. Megan Piccirillo-Pisano. Thomas Pisano, a wealthy, handsome, and educated stock broker originally from Philadelphia, asked her to marry him while they vacationed over in Paris. She gladly accepted. Megan rewarded Thomas with a two year old son, Thomas Pisano, Jr., and a one year old daughter, Melissa Pisano, after four years of marriage. Their two blessings brought much joy into their lives.
After applying at several hospitals throughout the greater Metropolitan-Dallas area, Megan landed a job at The Methodist Dallas Medical Center in the northern section of the city. She couldn’t’ve been prouder to work with other sophisticated and compassionate medical care staff. The level two trauma center at Methodist Dallas became her inner sactum. She went around the 520 private room facility carrying patient charts. No one dare ignored the presence of her gorgeous face. Down every hallway on every floor, hospital employees addressed her by either saying, “Good morning, Dr. Pisano”, or “Good afternoon, Dr. Pisano.”
“Calling Dr. Pisano to emergency surgery,” announced the coarse voice of hospital staff. “Calling Dr. Pisano to emergency surgery.”
Megan knew that another patient had arrived at the medical center’s emergency room. She rushed towards the emergency room. EMTs and paramedics who’d arrived at Methodist Dallas brought in a female patient bleeding profusely from a bad car accident. The ambulance outside the building screeched to a halt. Four paramedics kneeled at the edge of the ambulance and lifted her out. Possibly, only minutes away from death, Megan and other hospital staff knew their patient required immediate medical attention. The gurney hurtled through the bright hallway.
Resuscitation of the patient was key. She’d lost a great amount of oxygen. The loss of blood spurred Megan and other staff to insert IVs into her arm. Compacted fractures caused the patient’s ribs to puncture her vital organs. Blunt trauma from the force of the crash caused open wound lacerations. The heart rhythm of the cardiac monitor displayed a reading which brought her closer to death. From opposite sides of the operating table, Megan and one of the specialized physicians reached onto the suture tray for the sterile equipment.
“Forceps,” requested one of the physicians.
“Forceps, doctor,” Megan repeated, hoping they wouldn’t lose the patient.
“Scissors.”
“Scissors, doctor.”
“Towel.”
“Towel, doctor.”
The lead physician used the forceps to hold together the lacerated tissue. Megan draped away the non-sterile areas which were being repaired. A lethal cardiac rhythm read from the monitor. The emergency room team frantically tried to revive the patient. Had they lost her? Not if Stuart Duffelmeyer had his choice. He stood right beside the doors to the emergency room with big bulbs of tears gushing from his eyes. His aggressive rubbing of the magical talisman and deep concentration sent cosmic magic into the emergency room.
The team of three physicians and two nurses experienced a gravitational force which lifted them off the ground and towards the well-lit ceiling. One might’ve thought they were in a spacecraft. A glowing yellow force field surrounded the entire emergency room. Divinely, the deep wounds of the patient closed up. A normal cardiac rhythm returned to the monitor. The one-time crushed ribs jointed together. The lacerated organs were healed within an instant.
The patient sat up and allowed her legs to dangle at the edge of the operating table. “Why am I here in this emergency room hospital?”
The doctors and the nurses gradually descended back to the floor’s surface. Neither of them could believe what just happened.
“Mam, you were in a very bad automobile accident,” Megan reminded the patient.
“I do remember running head-on to a big semi truck somewhere on the highway.”
“Actually, you’re lucky to be alive.”
Actually, she was more luckier to have the forces of the Universe on her side.
The patient grinned at Megan and said, “Nurse, you guys must’ve performed a miracle or something. I could’ve sworn that I died at the scene of the accident.”
Megan and the other staff looked at one another in amazement. The mystery surrounding them being lifted into mid-air while their dying patient was saved, came by way of miracles from The One Most High. They knew some things in life couldn’t be explained.
Hours at Methodist Dallas Medical Center were long and frustrating. Megan loved her job enough to deal with the long hours and frustrating situations. She lived by the words of her loving parents: Do what you love and love what you do. Being a doctor of nursing was a dream come true. Not seeing enough of her husband and two children had turned nightmarish.
Megan and one of her colleagues decided to take a break from the rewardful woes of the hospital. The pair sat near one of the large picture windows sipping on soft drinks and biting into delicious deli sandwiches. The view of an artful Dallas landscape was breathtaking. The sun beamed from the clear skies and down into the spacious cafeteria-style break room. Megan allowed the rays of the sun to bathe her smooth olive complexion.
She picked up a copy of the “Dallas Daily News” sitting on one of the adjoining tables. Her eyes widened from the surprise of a front page article. “Goodness, now what is this world really coming to?”
“Reading anything of interest?” asked her esteemed medical colleague.
“No, this can’t be real,” Megan objected. “Says that a group of four racists were attacked and beaten by a bunch of human-sized ants inside an old airport hangar.”
“You’re kidding, Meg.”
“Article goes on to say that these four racists claimed that these ants spoke perfect English. Says the ants confronted them about being racist.”
“What kinda drugs were they taking?”
“My point, exactly.”
“Ants don’t talk. Neither do they grow to be the size of human beings.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Wanna know what’s weird? I read an article in the New York Times about a group of men in New York who claimed that a buncha man-sized rats, ones that also spoke good English, beat them up real bad inside a Manhattan condominium. Now, we’ve got racists down here in Dallas claiming they were beat up by a buncha giant talking ants. Ya know, I hate ants to death. Those crawly little things give me the creeps.”