Resurrection - Part 2 of 2

Time to rise and shine, said Michaels voice. Breakfast is almost ready, and weve got a busy day ahead.

She put on the sweater she had worn the night before but decided on jeans instead of the pleated skirt. It didnt take her long to find a pair that fit, though getting them past the shackles on her ankles proved difficult.

In a breakfast nook adjacent to the kitchen, Michael had laid out a plateful of French toast, topped by slivered almonds and powdered sugar, and small bowl of raspberries and blueberries.

Orange juice?

No thanks, but Id love a cup of coffee. This is wonderful. Did you cook it yourself?

Yes, said Michael. Im actually a very good cook, at least when it comes to breakfast. I only have Margaret come in to prepare dinner because I dont like to have to figure out a meal after a long day at the office.

What do you do? SG asked. Whats your business?

Michael hesitated. Im a contractor. We build things.

What kind of things?

Well, roads and parking lots. Thats why I was at Marston yesterday. We made a bid on resurfacing all of their parking areas and interior streets.

Oh, said SG, who looked out the window and changed the subject. What a lovely view. Looks like its going to be a nice day.

Michael was relieved. She hadnt connected her long hibernation with the company he now headed. Maybe she had been so out of it during the few hours before she was buried that she didnt remember who did what to her or how she ended up on Dedkaff Road. He had read the report Chief Patterson brought him with great interest and thoroughness. He was especially interested in this warning: Subject may revive and try to escape at some point in 1973. If so, she may seek revenge. All parties who were witness to or involved in the interment of subject should be notified promptly of any changes to the surface of this stretch of Dedkaff Road.

Michael decided to test her memory. It was risky, but he needed to have some idea of what she knew, and what she wanted.

First thing after breakfast, were going to get those shackles off of you. I have a friend who has a machine shop. He can do the job safely.

I dont know, said SG playfully. I was sort of getting used to them. And the chain could come in handy was a weapon.

No. Were taking it all off, even your collar, which I find very alluring. All that stuff draws attention to you the wrong kind of attention. Im worried there are people out there who mean you harm.

SG looked at him thoughtfully. I guess youre right. But the truth is, I intend to do some harm myself.

To whom? he asked.

To Dean Toopermann and her sister. To a student at Lackanooka Junior College named Louie Ungtjur. To some other people whose names I cant remember. I dont even remember their faces. I just remember the day I was . . . She hesitated.

The day you were buried under a road east of town, he said.

Yes. How did you know?

It was in the newspaper yesterday. About how a naked woman popped up from a hole in Dedkaff Road and got hit by a truck. And disappeared.

It was in the papers? What else was in there? SGs face was filled with panic. Did they know about the hobos she had murdered?

Nothing else, said Michael. Except that the truck driver said the woman s wrists and ankles were shackled.

Can I see the paper? she asked.

Sure. He rummaged through a stack of papers on a counter and pulled out the previous days Lackanooka Ledger. The story about the strange accident on Dedkaff Road was on the front page.

So was a smaller story about two homeless men found dead by the Lackanooka River. Ones skull had been crushed. The other had drowned. His body had been found a few hundred yards downstream from the first ones. Police speculated that the second man had killed the first during a fight, then had fallen exhausted into the river and drowned. But they admitted it was just a theory, and they hadnt found the murder weapon.

Michaels voice interrupted her reading. Okay, well get the shackles off, then well find out about this Dean Toopermann and Louie what s-his-name. And while were driving to my friends house, youre going to tell me who you really are and how you managed to survive being buried for 17 years.

SG looked at him sharply. How do you know I was buried for 17 years?

Michael tried to keep his composure. He wasnt prone to blushing, so he assumed his face betrayed nothing.

I dont know, he said. I thought you mentioned it.

I didnt, she said firmly.

They looked at each other in silence.

Finally, Michael said, Okay, Ive got a confession to make. I know who you are. I know how you ended up buried under asphalt. The crew that buried you worked for my grandfather. The company I now run did the job.

Is that why you were at Marston College yesterday? To find me? To figure out how to put me back underground?

No, Michael said, almost shouting. Absolutely not. I was on campus yesterday for exactly the reason I told you, to bid on a job. And I didnt know anything about your background until last night. While you were sleeping, the police chief came over. He had a file on you, a very thick file. You can read it if you want to. Its in the study.

No. I dont want to read. I just want to know what you know.

Ive told you what I know. As far as those people you want to get even with, I dont know anything about them. Seventeen years have passed. They might not live in Lackanooka anymore. They may not even be alive.

SG thought this over. Did you tell the police chief I was here, in this house? she asked.

No.

Why not?

Because I wasnt sure where he stands in all this. One of his predecessors was involved in having you put away. Some of the most powerful people in town were involved. I thought the safest course was to keep quiet about you.

When were you going to tell me about all this?

I dont know. Maybe never. I found it all so hard to believe. I still do.

That Im . . . Supergirl?

Yes. That youre Supergirl and that being Supergirl didnt protect you from being .... He fell silent.

Being what? SG asked.

Being raped and beaten. And not just the day you were buried underground. It appears a lot of people had fun at your expense. Rape. Sexual torture. General mayhem. Its all in the file.

The file is true, SG said quietly. All those things happened to me.

But if youre Supergirl, how could they do it? Why couldnt you stop them? Was everybody in town running around with kryptonite dildos?

SG thought carefully about how to answer him. She wanted to be truthful, but she wasnt even sure she knew the truth.

Theres something wrong with me, she said at last. Something I dont understand. At first I submitted to the abuse because I didnt want to blow my cover. Then I discovered I liked it. Its very difficult for me to talk about this.

I understand, Michael said. I mean, I understand that it must be difficult.

But you dont understand my . . . what shall we call it? My perversion?

Hey, Im not being judgmental. Its the 70s. Anything goes.

Why do I not find that reassuring? SG asked, with an edge to her voice. Oh, well, whether you understand it or not, I like rough stuff. I get turned on when men manhandle me and not just men. Dean Toopermann and her dyke sister did terrible things to me. I hated what they did to me. Yet I craved it. How can I possibly explain?

She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Michael, not knowing what to say, said nothing. He wanted to embrace her, but something held him back.

Is that why you didnt have an orgasm yesterday afternoon? he finally asked. He was surprised by his own question.

I guess so, SG said quietly. You were so good, so considerate, so competent and confident. And yet . . . .

And yet what you wanted was someone to beat the shit out of you or hook you up to some electrical torture device. He spat out the words with a vehemence that he instantly regretted.

Thats right, she said, with a hint of defiance. I wanted someone who was less interested in pleasing me in doing what pleases ninety-nine women out of a hundred than in someone who would treat me like an object, a whore. Not even a whore a cunt.

Michael sighed. What rotten luck! Thats something I just cant do. Ive always prided myself in knowing how to make women happy in bed, then along comes the most beautiful woman Ive ever seen, and I leave her cold.

SG laughed through her tears. And Ive always thought I wanted a man just like you good-looking and smart and kind and with a healthy attitude toward sex. And instead, all I really crave is to be treated like shit.

She went to him and they embraced tenderly. She felt tremendous affection toward him. She loved him . . . like a brother.

# # #

Michaels friend at the machine shop looked at SGs manacles and scratched his head.

Never seen anything like this before, he said. No locks. It seems they fitted the half-circles together and welded them in place. If you dont mind my asking, mam, howd they do that without burning the hell out of you?

Tony, Michael said, remember. No questions.

Okay, okay. No questions. But this is going to be difficult. Im going to have use a vise to hold each shackle steady, then saw through it.

He looked SG in the eye. Youve gotta stay real, real still, cuz if this goes wrong, you could end up with a nasty cut.

SG stayed very, very still. Nevertheless, while he was cutting the shackle off her left ankle, the saw did its job more efficiently than he expected, and the blade sliced into her skin.

At least, it seemed to slice into her. She flinched in pain, and Tony instantly pulled the power saw back. He expected to see blood gushing from her leg, but there wasnt a drop just a white line where the blade had struck, and it quickly disappeared.

Fucking amazing, Tony said, in awe.

Yeah, said Michael. Theres a lot about her thats fucking amazing. And youre not going to mention any of it to anyone, right?

Absolutely, Michael. I never seen the broad pardon my slang.

SG smiled. Thats okay. Ive been called a lot worse.

# # #

They had lunch at a sandwich shop on the edge of town. The assistant director of the public library, an attractive woman named Maria, met them. She had graduated from Marston and knew just about everything there was to know about town and gown gossip.

Toop is in a retirement community down in the Florida panhandle, senile and dying of cancer, she told them. Her sister, the wretched Regina, choked to death on a piece of cucumber. I know its terrible to speak ill of the deceased, but she really was an awful person.

I agree, said SG.

Now, as to Louie Ungtjur, he went to prison. He had a habit of roughing up women, and he finally went too far. She was a Marston student and the daughter of a big-time journalist in Cleveland. He killed her while they were having sex. It wasnt clear whether what was going on was rape or consensual, but he killed her, and that was enough to send him to the pen for 25 years. He came up for parole last May, but he got turned down.

His uncle at the bank couldnt help him? SG asked.

Nope. The bank folded in 69, and ole Uncle Oscar went to the pen even before Louie did. Cooking the books and embezzlement.

SGs look of disappointment prompted Michael to say, Well, it sounds like everyone got pretty much what they deserved. Good riddance to them all.

Sure, SG said with a tight smile. A happy ending.

After Maria left and they were walking to the car, SG said, And what about your grandfather? Hes the last piece in the puzzle, isnt he?

Michael felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.

He was just doing what he was hired to do, he said. It was just another road contract.

They got into the Jag, and Michael headed back to his house. The most direct route would have been through town, but he was worried about being seen with SG. So he took a couple of county roads that got little traffic.

After a few turns, he realized that he was being tailed. It was a big white Ford. All three of the police departments unmarked cars were big white Fords. Everyone in Lackanooka recognized them.

When he was within a few hundred yards of his house, Michael saw that three cars were parked in front of it. Two were regular patrol cars. The third was the chiefs. He could have tried to make a run for it, but eventually he would have to come back home. If the young woman beside him really was Supergirl, she should be able to handle half a dozen or so Lackanooka cops.

He pulled into the driveway, and the car that had been following him pulled behind him. No escape now, Michael thought.

He expected a civil greeting. After all, he and the chief were social acquaintances, if not friends, and there was no reason for any rough stuff. It wasnt as if SG was wanted for some crime.

He stepped out of the car as Patterson approached, but instead of a handshake he got a punch in the gut. Thats for not telling me you were hiding Super Slut, Patterson said. Then, as Michael sank to the pavement, Patterson kneed him in the jaw and added, And this is just a reminder that your grandpa is a sick old man who no longer counts for shit in this town.

SG had opened the door on her side and found herself facing three officers with drawn pistols and a fourth armed with a shotgun. She considered what to do next. The bullets and shotgun pellets wouldnt do her any permanent harm, but Michael was just a few feet away, on the other side of the car, and a stray round could kill him.

Turn around and get your hands behind your back, a beefy sergeant told her.

She did as she was ordered, and he quickly handcuffed her. No problem, she thought. She could break these easily enough.

But the sergeants next move was a problem. He yanked her head back, and she found herself pressed against him. Her hands, cuffed behind her, were against his manhood. She squeezed it and considered tightening her grip and disabling him. But suddenly his right hand, which held a sponge, was covering her nose and mouth.

Chloroform? No, she thought, there was no smell. Then all thought disintegrated, and she lost consciousness.

It worked, said the sergeant. He held her by one arm, and another cop grabbed the other. Her body had gone limp, and her head rolled back and forth as they jostled her. But Im kinda sorry it did. She gave my prick a nice little squeeze before she blacked out.

Youre lucky she didnt turn it into hamburger meat, said Patterson.

Now what? asked a lieutenant.

Now you and Parker bring the big cheeses grandson down to headquarters and book him for resisting arrest. Thatll get him out of the way for 24 hours. Meanwhile, were going to take this flying cunt out to the quarry and have some fun until her cousin arrives.

Whos her cousin? the lieutenant asked.

Now, who in the fuck do you think her cousin would be? Patterson said in exasperation. She survived 17 years underground, survived getting hit by a truck, evidently flew from the accident scene all the way to town, and now she crumples up like a wet Kleenex when she gets a whiff of ground kryptonite.

The lieutenant looked at him blankly. You mean her cousin is Batman? he finally asked.

No, asshole, shes Supergirl. Her cousin is . . . . Oh, forget about it. Just get lover boy here down to headquarters.

# # #

Patterson and his driver and two other cars with two officers each headed northeast. SG was unconscious in the back seat of the chiefs car. They were well beyond their departments jurisdiction, but the city owned 22 acres of land in the country that officers were supposed to use for training. An abandoned limestone quarry had been turned into a lake, and there was a firing range, a lodge and three cabins.

Superman and the Defense Department officials werent due to arrive at the county airstrip until 8 oclock that evening. It was now only 3:30. Plenty of time to have some fun with Miss Sallie Gale.

They parked in front of the lodge, and Patterson slipped a noose made of nylon cord around SGs neck. He yanked the cord, and she tumbled out of the car. He dragged her up the wooden steps of the lodge and into a big high-ceilinged room with wooden rafters. There was exercise equipment on the far side of the room, a ping-pong table to the left, and a fireplace and big sofa to the right.

Patterson looked around, then sniffed. Its musty in here. Lets get those windows open.

What if she starts screaming? an officer asked.

So? Patterson asked. Were 20 miles from town. Nobody lives anywhere near. Anyway, I dont think shell be making much noise. In fact, lets give it a test.

SG was lying on her side, near his feet. He kicked her savagely in the stomach. Her breath rushed out, and she curled into a tight ball.

See, no screams. Now, lets strip her.

They pulled off her jeans and ripped her sweater to shreds. Then Patterson pulled her upright with the noose, and the others looked at her with mouths agape.

Shit. What a body! one whispered.

They bent her face down over the ping-pong table and raped her repeatedly. When she moaned and seemed to be regaining consciousness, Patterson slammed her on the back of the head with a billy club.

After they had finished, Patterson dragged her to the middle of the big room. Watch this, he said.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small bottle of smelling salts. He had found it in the same safe where he had found the file on her, and the powdered kryptonite.

He opened the bottle, then grabbed her hair and lifted her head. Barely had he put the bottle under her nose than she began coughing and her eyes fluttered open.

Do you know who I am, bitch? he whispered.

She looked at him without comprehension.

Do you know where you are? Of course not. Well, lets just say youre in purgatory. Youll be out eventually, but while youre here, youre going to suffer.

He leaned down until his face was inches from hers. And youre going to enjoy it. He had read her file very carefully, especially the comments of young Louie Ungtjur about how much she seemed to enjoy being gang raped at Lackanooka Junior College, and Dean Toopermanns on what she perceived as SGs sexual perversion.

He pulled SG up to a kneeling position, opened his fly and put his prick inches from her mouth.

What are you going to do with this? he asked.

She said nothing.

He yanked the cord hard, and the noose tightened around her neck.

What are you going to do, bitch?

Suck it, she croaked.

Thats right. Youre going to suck it til I cum and swallow every drop. Then youre going to do the same for my men. Every one of them. And why are you going to suck them?

I dont know, SG whispered.

Patterson kicked her in the groin, but before she could fall to the floor he yanked the cord and pulled her back onto her knees.

Why are you going to suck us all off? he demanded.

Because Im slut, she said, almost inaudibly.

Because youre what? he shouted. Speak up, bitch, so the rest can hear you.

Because Im a slut. She spoke loudly this time, in the tone of someone completely defeated.

She sucked all six of them, starting with the chief. And when she was finished, they took turns testing her ability to take a punch. One would hold her from behind while another hit her as hard as he could in the stomach.

The blows were painful, and she begged for mercy. But she didnt collapse or lose consciousness.

Shes tough, the sergeant finally said. Is that why the Defense Department is interested in her?

I guess so, Patterson said. All I know is that someone brought it to Washingtons attention that she had come out from under Dedkaff Road. I get a call from the Pentagon saying theyre coming to pick her up. Some important project. And Supermans going to be with them.

Wont he be pissed that weve raped and beat up his little cousin?

Guy from the Pentagon said we could do whatever we wanted with her. They plan to do a lot worse. And its all okay with the guy in the blue tights. It seems he thinks its his patriotic duty to sacrifice Super Slut if it ll enhance national security.

SG lay on her belly, conscious but limp. Patterson slipped his shoe under her and flipped her onto her back.

She really is a honey, he said softly. All the punishment we put her through, and she still looks like Sleeping Beauty.

Only there aint no prince gonna kiss her pussy and make a happy ending, said the sergeant, to everyones amusement.

# # #

The helicopter didnt need an airstrip for landing, but Patterson had recommended it because it was an open space that was easy to get to but wouldnt be busy after sunset. The three police cars were parked next to the tarmac, on a concrete pad in front of the Jeffs Air Service hangar.

The cops themselves were standing, waiting. Two of them held SG upright. She still seemed shaky.

They had dressed her in some of the finery left by hookers who joined the cops for occasional weekend festivities: hot pink shorts cut so low that the top barely covered her pubes and a white bikini top that did a similarly inadequate job of covering her nipples. They had used some makeup left by the hookers to tart her up. Her lips were brilliant red and they had turned her eyes into something out of a vampire movie.

Waitll Superman gets a load of this, Patterson had chuckled.

Now they smoked and talked and waited.

Finally, the sergeant said, I think I see them.

A light was approaching from the north, moving just above the horizon. A few seconds later they heard the motors.

When it was about 100 yards away, Patterson recognized it as a CH-47. It bore no markings.

They had left their car lights on for guidance, and the chopper set down barely 50 feet away. They prop wash blew off the chiefs cap.

He retrieved it, and when he looked up six men and a woman had exited the chopper: two MPs with sidearms, two soldiers with M-16s, an older soldier with two stars on his fatigues, a big guy in a suit, and a black woman captain with a medical bag.

Patterson rushed up and introduced himself.

Im the police chief here. These are some of my men. And this, of course, is the young lady youre interested in.

The general snapped an order, and a member of the chopper crew turned on an adjustable searchlight and aimed it at SG.

The general looked at her and snorted. Clearly, she wasnt what he expected. Is this her? he asked the big man in the suit.

The big man stepped close to SG and lifted her chin.

Yes, he said quietly. Thats Kara.

SG opened her eyes and her body stiffened. Kal-El, she whispered. Is it you?

The man in the suit turned away. Get her in the chopper and lets get the hell out of here.

The woman captain and one of the MPs helped SG up the steps into the helicopter. The general, the man in the suit and the other MP followed.

As the big civilian ducked to enter, the captain whispered something to him. He turned and looked at the cops, then quickly descended the steps.

Climb aboard, he told the soldiers with the M-16s.

He had to speak loudly. The engines were revving for take-off.

Captain Stevens says my cousin has been raped, he yelled into Patterson s face. Theres cum dripping down her thighs.

Hey, I dont know nothing . . . . Patterson started his denial but never finished. The punch almost knocked his head off. The man in the suit dispatched the other officers with equal efficiency. Within seconds, six bodies lay sprawled on the tarmac.

The general, looking down from the helicopter, muttered, He never used to be like this.

The captain said softly, Thats because hes never had a cousin raped before.

The general sighed. If Superman got this upset because some small-town cops had a little fun with his blonde bimbo of a cousin, how was he going to handle the really rough stuff that was in store for her?

# # #

The Chinook landed at an army base during the night and refueled. SG slept through it. She didnt awaken until the sky was turning light in the east. They were flying north; she could tell that much. But she didnt really care where they were headed. All that mattered was that she was safe. Kal-El was a stuffy pain in the ass, but he would protect her.

At the moment, though, he was up front, talking with the general. She was sitting next to the woman captain, who had been kind and solicitous through the night. Twice she had taken SGs blood pressure, and one she had given her a couple of small white tablets that she said would help her sleep.

Okay, folks, buckle up, said the pilot. Were almost there.

SG looked out of a small window. Below was a collection of low white buildings scattered on nicely landscaped grounds. An illuminated sign said DRI.

They landed on the roof of one of the buildings.

Okay, listen, Capt. Stevens told her. Youre still pretty shaky, so I want you to lean on me and Harry here. Were going to get you down nice and slow.

Stevens was right. SGs knees buckled twice as she tried to make it down the steps. They held her tight.

At the foot of the steps were two men with a stretcher. I dont need that, SG protested, but she let them help her get into it. It was strange, looking up at the early morning sky, then at the soft overhead lighting inside the building. The men carrying her, Capt. Stevens at her side, the others walking briskly in the corridor everyone seemed busy but quiet.

What a nice place to work, she thought, then she dozed off again.

# # #

When she awakened again, she was in a sunny room with big, open windows and a pleasant breeze filling the gauzy white curtains.

A nurse and a doctor stood at the foot of her bed. The nurse was watching her intently, while the doctor read a chart.

Our girl is awake, doctor, said the nurse.

He looked up. He had a kind, intelligent face.

How do you feel? he asked.

SG thought about it. I think I feel fine, she said. In fact, I feel wonderful.

Amazing what two days of sleep will do for you, the nurse said with a grin.

Two days? SG was stunned.

Fifty-two hours and twenty minutes, to be exact, said the doctor. Are you hungry?

Famished.

Good, well bring you breakfast.

The food was plentiful and delicious. She had never been in a hospital before, but she had heard all the usual complaints about hospital food. Maybe this isnt a hospital, she thought.

It wasnt. After breakfast, she was brought into a small meeting room where the general she had seen on the helicopter introduced himself and several other high-ranking officers and three scientists. Their names meant nothing to her, and she instantly forgot them except the general s. His was Piric Zafer. She wondered if his friends called him Prick.

Youre at the December Research Institute. Important work is done here, work that is essential to preserving Americas survival.

You mean national security stuff? SG asked.

Yes, the general said, with a tight little smile. National security stuff. Your uncle excuse me, your cousin is a valued member of the board of directors of this institute. His ideas and suggestions have opened exciting new areas of research.

And hes pretty good at watching over our expenses, added one of the scientists. There was quiet laughter. SG noticed that the general didnt join in. He seemed to resent the interruption.

Where is Kal . . . . where is Superman? asked SG.

He will be here shortly, said Gen. Zafer. He said he wanted to meet alone with you after this briefing. Im sure you two have a lot of catching up to do.

The general began talking about something called the Close-In Assault Option and how important it was for the Army to have a way to fight an enemy at close quarters, such as in the Viet Cong tunnels, without suffering heavy casualties. CIAO could dramatically reduce the need for our young soldiers to fight, and die, in such situations.

He droned on and even brought out charts. What did all this have to do with her, she wondered. Then he turned the briefing over to the scientist who had interrupted him, Dr. Melton Hand. He certainly looked the part of a scientist, SG thought frizzy hair that was thinning on top, thick glasses, a bow tie, even a pen holder in his shirt pocket. But his intensity more than compensated for his nerdy appearance.

This is the most exciting project Ive ever worked on, he said. CIAO started out as just a concept. No one had any idea how to proceed. Robots were considered and rejected. We just dont have the kind of miniaturization yet to create the brains for a fighting robot. Then Dr. Erbaccia here he nodded toward another scientist, who smiled shyly made an amazing discovery. Melinda, lets have the slides.

Oh God, thought SG, when will this ever end?

The first slide showed a man standing next to what looked like a patch of tall weeds.

Dr. Erbaccia was doing agricultural research at Iowa State at the time, and hes shown here next to a patch of normal hemp plants. As you can see, they are taller than he is, but not by much. Then he found a way, through genetic manipulation, to create this.

At this point the slide changed, and Erbaccia is shown standing next to a tree, or at least what SG assumed was a tree.

This is a genetically modified hemp plant that at maturity reached 47 feet in height. Its fibers were so tough, the plant couldnt be cut down even with chain saws. It took a small explosive charge . . . .

Not so small, Erbaccia interrupted, to general laughter.

Okay, a not-so-small explosive charge to bring it down, said Dr. Hand.

One of the officers noticed that SG was nodding off and caught Dr. Hands attention. Miss Gale, he said. Then more loudly, Miss Gale, if I could have your attention just a few minutes longer.

SG awoke, blinked and said, Okay. Im back. Sorry.

Dr. Erbaccias work was brought to our attention at DRI, and he kindly agreed to join our efforts to develop . . . . Here he looked to Gen. Zafer for guidance.

To develop a bioweapon that wont conflict with the administrations commitment to end germ warfare research, said the general. Were not talking about microbes here. Were talking mega fauna living creatures big enough to fight hand-to-hand with any man in the world, and win. And at an affordable price less than a million bucks a unit.

With that, a new image appeared on the screen. At first, it reminded SG of a big, hairless ground sloth, minus the tail. Its head was round and too small for its body. Its skin was pinkish grey.

It looks like its made of Silly Putty, SG said.

Well, in a sense it is, said Dr. Hand. The wonderful thing about Silly Putty is that you can made almost any shape with it. And weve been able, thanks to Dr. Erbaccia, to shape a number of new plants and animals, creatures that never before existed.

At this point, the door to the briefing room opened and Kal-El looked in. When SG saw him, she said, Excuse me, Ive got to go, and rushed to the door. She hugged Kal-El, and he clumsily patted her back.

Thats okay, sir, Dr. Hand said. We all need a break. Why dont you bring her back around two oclock?

Kal-El nodded, and he and SG walked down a long corridor.

You want to go out and get some fresh air? he asked.

Sure, she said. Thatd be great.

They walked outside for a while, then found a quiet spot with benches and a fountain.

Are you doing okay? he asked.

Yeah, I guess do. Ive missed you terribly. I hated being at Marston, and then . . . .

Then you disappeared, he said.

Yeah, then I disappeared.

They were silent for a while.

Why didnt you look for me? she asked at last. Why didnt you rescue me?

I didnt know where you were, he said. She could tell he was lying. He never had been a very good liar.

Why am I here?

To help with our research, he said. When she started to protest, he added quickly, Oh, I know youre not a scientist. You never did well in chemistry and math. I know, I know.

He looked at her. She was so beautiful. And so vulnerable.

Weve created something that could save thousands of American lives in wartime. A picture of it was on the screen when I walked in.

Oh, she said distractedly, you mean the big toy.

Koko isnt a toy, he said.

Koko! Youve got to be kidding. You all named it Koko? Then it has to be a toy!

Okay, he said, with a hint of irritation in his voice. Hes a toy. But hes an eight-foot-tall, 450-pound toy that could flip over an M-60 tank or tear down a reinforced concrete building. Hes unbelievably strong. And tough. Hes nearly indestructible.

SG had been watching his face carefully. Now she understood. She had been brought here to fight this thing, this . . . Koko. Or to be sacrificed to him, like some virgin in a pagan ceremony.

Right, she thought. Some virgin.

Why are you grimacing? he asked.

Nothing, she said. So when do Koko and I meet?

In about a week. They want to do a lot tests on you. To make sure youre fit and at full strength.

Why dont you fight Koko? she asked.

You know why, he said wearily. Id destroy him. It would be a total mismatch. Ive already destroyed several earlier prototypes.

But Im fair game, she said. With me it would be no mismatch. In fact, cute little Koko might even be the betting favorite.

I wouldnt ask you to do this if I didnt think you would prevail or at least survive.

Right, she said grimly. Just like I survived my college years.

You got into trouble at Marston because of your own weakness and poor judgment, he said angrily. You were in a bad crowd. You seemed to want to be degraded. I read the report. You were a little tramp.

The words stung, and her eyes filled with tears. But she wasnt going to let him off easily. I seem to remember when you wanted me to be a little tramp, she said. I remember you pulling me onto your lap and . . . .

You misunderstood, he yelled, jumping to his feet. Youve twisted and distorted what was just . . . .

Just some avuncular affection? she cried. Just Kal-El looking for a little love? Poor, pitiful, uptight Kal-El.

He slapped her so hard she fell to the ground.

Im sorry, he said, kneeling to help her up.

Keep your dirty hands off me, she hissed.

From a second-story window looking down on this scene, Gen. Zafer smiled a tight little smile. Maybe this was going to all work out, after all. Maybe the test would be allowed to go to its full conclusion. Maybe Koko would be able to do what he was created to do to kill, ruthlessly and efficiently, whether the foe was a battalion of mortal men or a lone, lovely blonde superheroine.

# # #

SG was assigned a trainer, a large, easy-going woman named Maggie.

Im here to get you in shape, she said at their first meeting. After looking at you, I dont know how you could be in much better shape, but we re gonna try.

Maggie insisted in being kept in the dark about what SG was training for. They pay me to train, not to pry into their deep dark secrets. I dont want know. You just keep working those triceps and those abs and those lovely glutes of yours.

Maggie didnt seem especially surprised when SG bench-pressed 385 pounds. This was a strange place, and strange things went on. If this gal could bench-press 385 without too much strain, then lets just try 420.

The physical training sessions were in the morning. In the afternoons, SG was instructed in combat techniques. The aim was to make her as effective a foe as possible when she went against Koko.

The instructor, a lithe lieutenant colonel named Mason, explained to her that Koko didnt have much in the way of vulnerabilities.

Hes over eight feet tall, hes incredibly strong, and you cant kick him in the balls because theyre inside his body. Hes designed that way for protection.

I thought testicles had to be outside so the sperm could avoid overheating, SG said.

Correct. Thats why every man worth calling a man has a scrotum. But theres no Miss Monster for Koko to mate with and make little Kokos, so we dont give a damn about his sperm.

SG thought this over. Then why does he have balls at all?

Because its the most efficient way for him to produce testosterone. And we need him to be high on testosterone so he will be as mean and ornery and aggressive as possible.

SG smiled wryly. So he wont necessarily be glad to see me?

No, he wont, said Mason. Hes got a terrible disposition sort of permanent PMS, if you dont mind the allusion. And even if he found you attractive, he doesnt have the equipment to do anything about it.

Oh, no scrotum and no prick.

Well, he has a prick, but its only about an inch long. Its basically there so he can pee without squatting.

Sounds like the date from hell, SG thought.

# # #

It was not, however, to be a completely blind date. Before she would see Koko in the flesh, SG was shown videotapes of him dispatching a variety of opponents: three different kinds of combat robots, a pack of hyenas, and a creature that looked a lot like him, only smaller and covered with reddish hair.

Mason had told SG that Kokos biggest weakness was that he was slow, and it showed in the videos. But in close quarters, that wasnt much of a disadvantage. There was no place for his opponents to run to, and he eventually caught up with all of them. She also got the impression that he got better as the bouts went on.

She knew she couldnt defeat him. He would do what so many others had tried and failed to do: Koko would kill her.

She wasnt afraid, just disappointed that Kal-El had set her up like this. He really had turned out to be a bastard.

# # #

The test chamber was a circular room 42 feet in diameter, with 15-foot-high walls and a Plexiglas ceiling that formed a shallow dome. The walls and floor were made of steel, covered by a synthetic material with the consistency of cork. This padding was intended to keep Koko from hurting himself. Only the ceiling was unpadded.

The observers stood in a circle, looking down through this ceiling. Koko had just entered, through a movable section of wall. He was full of enthusiasm, running around, sniffing the air, waiting for whatever games his keepers had in mind for him today.

SG stood at the apex of the ceiling. At this point, there was a device that opened and closed like the aperture of a camera. It was closed at the moment.

She wore shiny black shorts and no top. A knife was in a sheath strapped to her right leg. In one hand she held an electric stun gun. It was attached by a cable to a compact battery pack on her back. In her other hand, she had a nine-millimeter automatic pistol.

At a nod from Gen. Zafer, Dr. Hand pressed a button on a console and the aperture opened.

SG dropped almost soundlessly to the floor below.

It took Koko several seconds to realize he had company. He had been sitting near the wall, inspecting the bottom of his left foot.

He looked up, blinked and slowly rose to his feet.

SG took a deep breath. He was huge.

He suddenly lurched forward. SG sidestepped him deftly and jabbed his left leg with the stun gun. Koko gave a howl of pain, grabbed his leg and turned to see what had hit him.

In an instant, SG was behind him. The second jolt was in his left buttock. Another cry of pain. Another attempt to wheel and confront his tormentor. Another failure, followed by another jab, this time in his right side.

So far, so good, SG thought.

Above the contest, Zafer was grumbling. Too slow. Too damn slow. Hes too easy to outmaneuver.

Just be patient, said Dr. Hand. Weve seen all this before. He learns. His reactions get quicker. Hell finally nail her.

Dr. Hand was right. After seven or eight successful jabs with the stun gun, SG moved in for another attack. But instead of trying to turn to meet her, Koko kicked out and swept his leg in an arc, from front to back. It knocked SG off her feet, and she landed on her back. In an instant, a fist the size and density of a cinder block came down hard in the middle of her belly.

The semiautomatic went flying as she curled up from the blow. What was worse, she had dropped the stun gun. Where was it?

She found out the hard way: by rolling onto it. The pain was searing. She arched her back to escape it, but that just exposed her breasts and belly to Kokos relentless fists.

Each punch pushed her back against the floor, and against the stun gun. Each spasm of pain left her open to new punches.

Youve got to stop it, Superman said at last. Youve proved your point. Kokos won. Now get her out of there.

We cant, Dr. Hand said.

And we wont, added Gen. Zafer. Koko is a killing machine. We wont know how effective he really is until hes killed her.

Go to hell, Superman said, climbing out on the Plexiglas dome and heading for the aperture.

The general gave a signal to someone in a booth above the dome. A second later, a stream of greenish gas hit Superman square in the face. He went limp and slid back down the dome. Two MPs carried him out of the observation room.

In the test chamber, Koko was growing bored. He had beaten this intruder senseless, perhaps even lifeless. Yet still her body kept popping up each time he punched it down. Finally, he gave SG a kick and she rolled off of the stun gun and onto her belly.

Her shiny black backpack looked interesting, so Koko tried pulling it off her. But it was strapped on, so he put a giant foot on the small of her back and yanked. The back pack came off, and SG gave a cry of pain as her arms were twisted backward.

The cry reminded Koko that he hadnt finished his most important business. So he began pounding SG again. Then, for a change of pace, he grabbed her ankles and swung her around his head, faster and faster. Finally, he let her go. She crashed into the wall and landed in a heap on the floor.

Hes getting overexcited, Dr. Hand said. A dozen tiny monitors and transmitters were imbedded under Kokos grey skin, to keep track of his vital functions. Two of those functions pulse rate and blood pressure had climbed to unsafe levels.

And now beast grew even more excited as SG twitched and uttered a soft moan.

Programmed to kill, Koko couldnt rest until any being that came near him was dead. And this soft creature refused to die.

He rushed at her, then stopped and studied her carefully. She was no longer fighting or trying to escape. Even the rising and falling of her chest had slowed. She was helpless, and experience told him that anything helpless and motionless was either dead or well on the way to death.

He decided to wait.

His pressures going down, Dr. Hand said, with a sigh of relief. Pulse rates still too high, but I think hes going to be okay.

What about the girl? asked Dr. Erbaccia.

Fuck the girl, said Zafer.

It was almost as though Koko had overheard his suggestion. The beast poked a big index finger into her belly, just below her ribs and drew it down until it reached the top of her shorts. He gave a little tug at the shorts and the zipper broke. Then he used both hands to tear the shorts off her.

He lifted them to his nose and sniffed. He seemed to be considering the meaning of what he had smelled. Finally, he bent over and sniffed her crotch.

His pulse rate is going up again, Dr. Hand reported.

Koko pulled her legs wide apart and licked her pussy with his long black tongue.

Blood pressures back up, too, said Dr. Hand. I think this has gone far enough.

Koko seemed driven but confused. There was something he desperately wanted to do, but he didnt know what it was.

He made a noise they had never heard before, a long cry that was neither a howl nor a sob but something of both. And he was thrusting his pelvis, as though fucking an imaginary partner.

At last, he stretched out on top of SG, and the thrusting became more rapid and forceful. Her body was almost completely hidden beneath him. Only her lower legs and one forearm protruded.

Get a team in there and tranquilize him, Dr. Hand shouted. Hes going to stroke out.

Wait, said Zafer. Weve never seen this behavior before. Lets find out whats going on.

You know whats going on, Dr. Hand shot back. Hes trying to fuck her, and he doesnt have the equipment to do the job. Its putting an enormous strain on his circulatory system.

A section of the wall below retracted, and four men with tranquilizer guns entered the chamber.

They were too late. Koko had collapsed on top of SG. Up in the observation room, Dr. Hands monitors showed nothing but flat lines.

# # #

Zafer had wanted an autopsy on SG, as well as Koko. We need to know precisely what damage he did to her before he died.

But Dr. Hand pointed out that, while they were free to do whatever they wanted with Koko, the girl was another matter. A contract signed by Zafer and the chairman of the institute made it clear that Superman alone would decide on the disposition of his cousins body, in the event of her death in the experiment.

I signed that? Zafer said angrily.

You signed it.

Then I was a goddam fool.

Dr. Hand decided not to second the motion, at least not out loud.

SG was placed in a black vinyl body bag. Dr. Hand himself zippered it closed. His last glimpse of her upset him. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were not quite shut. It was as though she had something to say and was thinking over how best to say it.

# # #

Superman put the body bag in the trunk of the long blue Lincoln Continental that was one of his perks for serving on DRIs board of directors. Gen. Zafer tried to ask him a question, but Superman brushed past him and climbed into the drivers seat.

He drove down the service road to the highway. Then he turned northeast. He knew where he wanted to go, and he knew he couldnt get there by car. But for the moment he just wanted to drive, to put some distance between himself and the institute he had served so long.

Four hours later, he pulled into the parking lot of a motel on the edge of a city he had never visited before. He didnt know anyone here, and no one knew him. He was just a big man in a dark blue suit, with a face that was starting to show middle age.

He took out a small case filled with toilet articles and swung the body bag over his shoulder. His room was on the second floor.

That evening, he ate in a noisy family restaurant on the other side of the highway, then wandered over to a nightclub nearby. It was called the Pussycat Lounge. How original, he thought. Was there a town over 20,000 anywhere in America that didnt have a Pussycat Lounge?

He ordered a double Bourbon and a pack of cigarettes. He had started smoking a few years ago, and he was surprised how hard it was to quit.

There was a stage and a short runway, and a blonde with big tits was grinding away to the notes of Bad, Bad Leroy Brown.

A young woman approached him and asked if the seat next to him was taken. He shook his head.

You a salesman? she asked.

He turned and looked at her. She was pretty. Big brown eyes, curly brown hair, a trim, athletic figure. She wore a sequined cocktail dress that seemed a bit too classy for the surroundings.

No, he said quietly. Not a salesman. Just a guy whos tired of working and looking for a little fun.

She smiled shyly. Maybe I can help.

Sure, he said. Im sure you can. What are you drinking?

Scotch, she said.

Superman called out to the bartender, who was at the far end of the bar, A Scotch for the lady. Your best brand. And make it a double.

# # #

He had pulled off his shoes and his tie even before she opened the door with the key he had given her. They rushed inside, and he slammed the door behind him.

She smiled a tipsy smile and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. Then she kissed his chest.

Big muscles, she said, sliding her hands across his pectorals.

Yeah, he said, as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. I guess Im pretty big all over.

She reached behind her and unzipped her dress. Then she wiggled deliciously, and it fell to the floor. She was wearing a low-cut bra, bikini panties and a heart-shaped pendant on a silver chain.

Youve got some nice muscles yourself, he said softly. Especially these, he added, reaching out and stroking her breasts.

She giggled and removed her bra.

He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his ankles. Then he dropped his jockey shorts.

She whistled softly. You are big all over.

And getting bigger, he said. It was no idle boast. His prick was rising majestically, like some great warrior preparing for combat and glory.

She knelt and kissed it.

Get in bed, on your belly, he said.

He pulled down her panties and mounted her from behind. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, Jesus Christ.

Are you okay? he asked. Am I hurting you?

God, no, she moaned. I should be paying you.

They made love for half an hour, in a variety of positions, and ended up with her lying on top of him, dangling her pendant against his lips.

So whats your name? she asked.

Superman. Whats yours?

Superman, huh? Well, I guess Ill be Wonder Woman. She kissed his neck lovingly.

No, she said, pulling back to look at him. Im Tiffany. Im at the club every night except Mondays and Tuesdays. And I really, really hope you come by again. Ive never had lovin like tonight.

I bet you say that to all the boys, Superman said, sitting up and lighting a cigarette.

Yeah, I do, she admitted. But this time I really mean it. Now I gotta freshen up.

She gathered her clothes and tiptoed into the bathroom. When she emerged a few minutes later, Superman was watching television. She hesitated, wondering how long hed be in town and whether she should ask him to pick her up tomorrow night.

He traveled light. Just a bag of toilet articles. Well, maybe not so light. A garment bag hanging in the closet was so heavy the pole was sagging.

Men were so mysterious, she thought. What could be so heavy?

She slid down the zipper. The impressions came in a flood: blonde hair, a pallid face, vacant eyes.

Her shriek startled Superman, and he dropped his cigarette into the bed.

What the hell , he cried.

She rushed past him, opened the door and diappeared. He could hear her high-heel shoes clicking on the steps down to the ground floor.

Shit! he hissed. He ran to the closet, saw the partially open bag and tried to think. He could run after her fly after her, if necessary and try to explain.

Yeah, right, explain.

Option two: He could kill her before she went to the police.

Or he could wait, and hope that hed have better luck with the police than he was likely to have with her.

Three options. Killing her looked like the easiest course.

He pulled on his pants, went out on the balcony and looked around the parking lot. There was no sign of her, no sign of anyone. He rose slowly, on a curving trajectory that took him about 100 feet above the roofs of the motel and other buildings. He flew across the highway and spotted her approaching the Pussycat Lounge. Two customers had just come out, and she yelled at them. They rushed up to her, then they began yelling, too, and more customers emerged.

Silencing her was out. What was the fallback plan?

He glided back to the motel balcony. Below, a man was opening the trunk of his car, but he didnt notice Superman until he had landed. The man looked up, scowled, then pulled a briefcase out of his trunk and disappeared under the balcony.

Superman went into the room and closed the door. It smelled smoky. He put on his shirt and suit jacket. He couldnt find his shoes. The hell with them.

The only thing he really needed was Karas body. He wouldnt be able to drive anymore. Hed fly all the way to his secret hideout. And hed find a way to revive her. He had saved himself from near-death several times. He could save her. He had to save her.

He heard voices outside loud voices, getting closer.

He started toward the closet, then he saw the body bag had fallen to the floor. It was unzipped. Empty.

His first instinct was to look under the bed, as though he were dealing with a recalcitrant child.

Tiffany says hes up there, someone yelled outside.

Wait for the police, yelled another.

Superman sat on the bed. Had she somehow revived and fled? Or had Zafers agents entered the room during the few minutes he was gone and stolen her body?

Either way, he had lost her.

Footsteps approached, then there was a crash at the door. Someone was trying to kick it in, the way the cops did in the movies. Whoever it was was going to hurt himself. It took an awfully big, strong man to kick in a door.

Superman rolled up the body bag and tucked it under his arm. He decided to leave vertically, so no one on the balcony would get hurt.

He smashed through the ceiling and burst through the cheap roof just as the motel clerk opened the door, with a key. The bed was smoldering.

# # #

The police didnt buy Tiffanys story. Supermans image had slipped in recent years, but the cops werent ready to believe he had stuffed a dead girl in a body bag. Or that he was consorting with hookers, for that matter.

Still, the hole in the roof was hard to explain.

Over drinks at the lounge the next night, Tiffany told two of the dancers about her amorous adventure before she discovered the blonde in the bag.

He was fabulous, she said. I mean, at first I wasnt all that attracted. He smelled like an ashtray, and he needed a bath. But you should have seen the schlong on him. And it just kept working and working.

She sipped her ginger ale thoughtfully and said, It just shows, you cant tell about men. You get one whos great in bed, and he turns out to be some kind of sex murderer.

# # #

At DRI, Zafer was rereading the final report on Kokos fateful and fatal encounter with Supermans alleged cousin.

So weve lost him, he said to Dr. Hand.

Yes, but we can recreate him.

No, not Koko. Im talking about Superman.

Yeah, I guess so, said Dr. Hand. Im not sure its a great loss. His best work was behind him. He didnt seem to have the crusading spirit anymore. And his science was lousy.

What about the girl?

What about her?

We never found her body. It wasnt at the motel.

Dr. Hand shrugged. I guess he took it with him. Maybe hes into necrophilia.

Maybe so, said Zafer. I just have a feeling were missing something.

We dont need her. We know what Koko was capable of. And well make a bigger and better Koko that kills even more efficiently, and can take a lot of excitement. Thats what you want, isnt it?

I thought it was what we all wanted.

Yes and no, said Dr. Hand. Im in it for the science. I mean it. Sure, the money is great, better than I could get anywhere else. And I guess theres a chance well stumble on something that makes the country a little more secure, but Im not even sure that would be a good thing.

Ah, you researchers. You dont believe in anything.

I believe in the scientific method. I believe in the human mind.

Let me tell you about the human mind, snapped the general. It evolved in struggle against the elements, against predators, against other hominids. And when homo sapiens ended up at the top of the food chain, we began using that wonderful mind to fight each other. My job is to see to it that homo sapiens americanus survives and prevails.

Dr. Hand laughed. Oh quit shitting me, Piric. You just love mayhem. I wish I had had time during Kokos last bout to watch your face. I bet you were never happier in your life. Your creation, your killing machine beating the shit out of a beautiful blonde, then trying to hump her corpse. What the hell did that have to do with national security?

Zafers eyes flashed, then he suddenly broke into a smile.

Maybe youre right. Maybe I did enjoy watching her struggle and die. But how about you, Dr. Strangelove? Was science your only concern? Was it just Kokos heartbeat you were worrying about? How about your own? Was a hard-on forming, perhaps, amid the pandemonium?

Touch , said the scientist.

Zafer closed the file, stood and stretched.

Man does not live by carnage and committee reports alone, he said. Come on. Its almost five. Ill buy you a drink.

THE END