Forced Betrayal by Robert T. Jeschonek

about is dead ! And I want answers !"
    Gazing up at her, I wonder how far she'll take this. Would she end the world to avenge her lover? Then I think of Jimmy and the kids. I think of how I felt seven years ago, and I know.
    Yes, she will take it all the way.
    Another moment passes. Finally, Mogul walks forward with his hands in the air. "All right already. Sheesh." He walks down past CEO's unconscious form, then sits on the arm of a chair and shrugs. "Since you ask so nicely ."
    " Tell me! " howls Hericane.
    "What the fuck? Why not?" Mogul pulls out a doobie and lights it. "Not like it'll change anything. Not like you can do anything about it."
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    *****
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    Mogul takes a drag on the doobie and holds the smoke in his lungs. Then slowly exhales. "What if the world was ending, and somebody gave you a machine that could save it? Only the machine required...special fuel. Like...gasoline with lots of lead in it. Or..." He takes another drag, holds it, exhales. "Or people."
    Everyone in the auditorium hangs on his every word. Especially Hericane, who's still hovering overhead, glowing with power--and Stalwart, whose eyes are as big as hubcaps all of a sudden. The muscles of his jaw work under the skin as he grinds his teeth; the list of victims is crumpled in his fist.
    "What would you do?" Mogul holds both hands out with palms facing up, like the trays of a scale. "Give the machine the people it needs? Or let the world end, in which case all those people and everyone else dies anyway?" He lowers his right hand, dropping it down to his knee. "Couple billion lives?" He lifts up his right and lowers his left just a little. "Or a couple dozen? Which do you choose?"
    "I don't understand." Hericane looks down at Stalwart. "Are you telling me he uses human lives as fuel?"
    "Not fuel, so much," says Mogul, talking through his latest lungful of smoke. "More like fun . Addicted type fun." He laughs and taps some ash off the tip of his doobie. "Is there a word for that? Like nymphomania, except with tearing people apart in cold blood and devouring their organs?"
    I look at Stalwart, and he's staring into space. So much for the favorite uncle routine.
    "I wasn't always like this," he says quietly. "That thing ..." He points at the movie screen, and his voice suddenly jumps. "The Manifestation . It corrupts you. You've felt it, haven't you?" He shoots a wide-eyes gaze in my direction. "You know what I mean."
    I have to admit, that monstrosity played some games with my head--and that, after just a minimal exposure. But I don't answer him.
    "Every time I fight it, that thing burrows a little deeper inside me," says Stalwart. "Every day, it makes me a little...a little sicker ." His voice fades, and he stares at the floor. He mutters something to himself that I don't hear.
    Mogul rolls his eyes. "So back to the story." He gets up from the arm of the chair and moseys toward us. "You've got this machine, and it's the only way to save the world, but it needs its special fuel. So what do you do?" He puffs on the doobie and smirks. " Think about this. We're talking about the whole world here."
    "So the 57 people on that list," I say to him. "They're all dead. Sacrificed to keep Stalwart happy so he'll keep fighting off the Manifestation."
    "Did you say 57?" Mogul shrugs. "Not sure where you're getting your info from. I thought it was more like 2 57 ."
    Holy shit.
    I look at Stalwart, and chills race through my body. That man, that hero standing there--did he really slaughter 257 people and devour their organs?
    "Our information?" Hericane's voice is cold, as in absolute zero. "It came from Mardi Gras, whom I'm guessing you murdered."
    "So what if we did?" Mogul's doobie is down to a roach now. He huffs it once, holding it gingerly between his fingertips, then drops it and grinds it into the carpet. "She was taking it public. Can you imagine? There'd be mass riots . The end of Western civilization. Either that, or everyone would be just fine with