The hospital
11:31 PM
Martha Stewart walked into the underground house linked to the hospital panting. She has a corpse of a man with her in a gurney. He looked dried and smelled like rotten dried fish. She has been here before and knows her way through the dark labyrinth which is mostly an abandoned morgue and stores. She opened a small door leading upward through a stairway linked to the floor of the ward Alex is in. She crawled out, and the light from the flickering screen on the side drawer fell on her. Her black face shines in it even though it was dark.
Quickly, she yanked Alex off the bed. She knew he won't die sooner though she needs to be fast. She removed the cannulas and placed them on the bed. She's coming back for them.
"Damn! He's a lug. What's he eating." She whispered and gently pushed him down the opened door. The stairs have been nudged to the right leaving room for him to fall through like a lump into a bed. He didn't move but his ventilator shifted to his left cheek.
She rubbed her forehead and ran back into the ward, grabbed his cannulas and bags of drips, and replaced them with new ones. She moved quickly through it. A nurse strolled by and peeped into the room. Martha quickly moved under the bed. She walked away when a voice called her into the other ICU. She could have seen her.
Martha laughed. She needs to move faster before things get out of hand. His replacement was outered into the bed, covered and quietly she moved back down the stairs and closed it on her.
***
Genealogy
Her father was the chief architect who designed the hospital when Lexington was the mayor of Smallsvile. She still hasn't come to terms with the elites on what to do with Alex Guero but she did what she has to do now she's not reporting to them on anything her secret. They never know she's not loyal to them. They never know she's a spy working on her mission.
***
She keeps a journal too and here are some of her writing. You should not be seeing this but it's going to help you know her and something about her mission.
***
The elite controlling the buck of Smallsvile is made up of three families with one dominating and they are pure-blooded werewolves from the old Nation. Alpha is from them but he didn't know yet. They are called Dikofilla because their ancestry DNA came from the house of Dikkop who ruled the ancient kingdom where werewolves are said to first stayed in the three islands. A permafrost was found and the sequenced genomes revealed the bloodline. They are capitalist.
The Mandof are from the second daughter of Dikkop. She rebelled against her father and married a human scientist from Figma P. They're strategists.
And the Olas migrated back into Figma P. They are from the union of the second daughter of Dikkop. They are the policymakers.
Now in this new century, modern things have been happening and the humans who originally inhabit Smallsvile have been invited to become elites and some of the elites have become scientists and everything is now a great misery. Different versions of existence fighting to extinct the others. Later they'll turn upon themselves and devour their own.
I'm Martha Stewart and versions of these genealogies exist out there. I don't know which one is true.
***
"So you're, Martha Stewart," Martin said surprised.
"And you're, Nicholas Martin. A neurosurgeon from the Olas." She smiled. " Your name fascinates me. Nicholas Martin Ola. What are you doing here in Smallsvile?"
"I'm a doctor and you know."
"You're a doctor working for the Olas. You're feeding them data and Alex Guero is part of your target."
"What are you saying," he said sternly. "Alex is my friend. We went to school together."
"And he married your crush. And…"
"Please, what are you getting at, old woman.?"
"I'm saying there are conspiracies here about what you're doing here, about Alex Guero, about his daughters, and the state of the world. I know what I'm saying well, Martin."
"Hope you aren't saying I have hands in their death?"
"Whose and why are you defensive?"
He donned his head and looked towards the hound. The light on the center table where they sat didn't stop flickering. It's like all the light sources are conspiring against humanity by their continuous flickering.
"Answer me, Martin."
"I have nothing to do with the disappearance of Alex and I didn't poison her. She died of another cause."
"I know and I wasn't saying you did that. Calm down. Being this apprehensive for a neurosurgeon is bad. Man up. The elites still think you are on their side, right?"
"I was never on their side."
"I know but you made me think you are with them. That's great social intelligence. Know we'll use that against them and I know you can't betray me on this. I have been studying you for a while now. Though humans change. I just don't think you'll. You still love her."
"She was my first love. Though I couldn't tell her and Alex is my best friend. She fell for me. Just have to watch them get married. At first, I was mad then I understood that love sometimes is beyond our selfishness. I started loving her without being with her and loving whoever is with her."
"You tried. Most wars are because of love. You fought differently. You know Alex is wanted dead by the elites. Especially your Uncles John and Maddie. They see him as another revolutionary man who is commanding lots of respect. Yet, he's not loyal to them."
"I know that."
"And the feuds amongst the packs and gangs aren't ordinary. Those folks are puns on a vast board. That's why we need Alpha. That boy has the strength of Alex Guero only that he's still naive."
"He's out there to win."
"Yes. He sees Alex as a competition but he's the most level-headed boy out there now."
"Alright. So where is Alex?"
"Come with me."
***
Andrea climbed out of the helicopter and ran towards the west wing of the helipad. John Dikkop Jr's men are waiting for him. They are soldiers from the new android development coming out of Figma P. They look exactly human with a stench of werewolf blood flowing in them. They are part cyborg too because their bionic arms can strength about sixty miles. One of them said sternly.
"How did you get here, Andrea?"
He looked puzzled but said, "I just got down from your helicopter, mate. The chief invited me here."
They giggled and another one said, "don't mind F122. He's only teasing you. Is your sense of humor dry?"
They laughed again. He looked at them, puzzled for another minute, knowing he was thinking about something greater than humor and that he never really thought they'd be good at joking.
"Follow me," F122 said. "You're three minutes late. Your meeting was scheduled for 2:15 PM."
"Oh, it was hard getting out of the protest."
"Yeah. Our pilots confirmed that. Come this way."
***
John Dikkop Jr has been working with the central intelligence unit he co-founded with his wife and brother Maddie since Alex's father figured out how to create reworkable genomes out of germ clouds. He proved his theory by bringing back an amputated leg of a volunteer. Quietly, the governing body washed him down the drain and stole his work. His partner then was John Dikkop himself and he saw to his death. Now they've mastered and advanced the procedures and can bring back anybody to life by using the germ cloud technology.
He was on a phone call with Maddie when Andrea came in.
"We need to have principals before we bring them back to life…"
He ended the call and said turning to Andrea, "Hey, have a seat. How was your sojourn down here?"
"The coolest of it, sir."
"Great. I have additional work for you and you have to bring Elvira along too. I heard she's doing well controlling some of the pack's affairs."
"Yes, sir. She's one of a kind. I'll worship a woman like her."
"Good. Women are the world if you know. You'll need to bring me Alex's clothes. Hope he's dead?"
"Yes, sir. I killed him myself. Shot him in the head."
"Good. Now that's all. Also, make sure the protest continues. It's a statement. A camouflage."
"Alright, sir."
"Thank you. I need to talk to the press now. Those came from Smallsvile."
***
In the News.
Reporter: Sir what do you think the people need?
John Dikkop: The people need a lot of things. There have been rages and agonizing protests. We have not only sought goods and other forms of assistance, impartially and by every means available to protesters, we see their affectionate protest as a need to reach out to us and we'll do the needful.