sHe: THE RISE OF THE NEW BREEDS [Book 1]

Chapter 10

A FORKLIFT hauled the wreaked dud missile onto a long truck. A platoon of the presidential palace guards, the bomb-squad and army soldiers surrounded the operation. President Emmanuel Garcia stood watching as a defeatist from the balcony—and he gazed beyond the horizon where there were bellowing clustered clouds of black smoke, followed with low echoes of explosions. The Americans' prolonging bombarding at the border was a painful sight to bear for the leader.

The voice of a female Mexican colonel interrupted him in Spanish. "Signor President, the van will arrive any time now."

"Prepare the table for my guests."

Emmanuel Garcia nodded while his fingers feeling the smooth skin of his androgyny chin.

He wished he had a Vandyke hirsute like the photos of his late father, Sexso Garcia, the millionaire entrepreneur and politician—a candidate who did not make the presidency like his own son. His father was also a figure he modelled his life on even though he has not known him; Sesco was succumbed by the cursed Medusa virus a month after his mother had conceived him.

The Intersexual President of Mexico saw the truck rolling away from the palace ground with the burnt green metallic dud missile carcass on top, that bore the US Army emblem...

It was a reminder from his intimidating neighbour that he has less than ten hours to deliver the Preacher in his given cognizant deadline—or else there will be the consequences of massive airstrikes and followed by a military invasion into his country by President Cory.

The cleanup crew worked laboriously to restore the damaged ground in the approaching sunset. He distinguished from the balcony of the view of a black van driving in through an alternate palace entrance. President Garcia then proceeded to the banquet hall.

**

Armed palace guards and soldiers surrounded the black van. The door was slide open—three men were with black hoods and hands bound in heavy-duty flexi-cuffs were retrieved out by the Federalists. The Mexican General Miranda instructed the soldiers to cut them loose; the hoods were removed off the clammy Ramirez, Li Chi and Sanchez. They stood looking disorientated and squinting to the bright evening sun.

Doran the fourth prisoner, and was the last to be carried out from the black van. He looked weary and haggard in an unbuttoned shirt with bandages strapped on his belly. He was gently placed on the wheelchair. The four members of One God's Army beheld the sight of the magnificent palace front.

The banquet door opened moments later—and the three able prisoners walked in. The wheelchaired Doran was trundled in by General Miranda herself to a long table with lots of succulent dishes, deserts and fruits. The President was seated at the head of the table. Three Mariachi violinists were playing some light melodies in the background. Emmanuel Garcia invited, "Welcome my American friends!"

Ramirez and Sanchez then bowed to the President in respect despite being American nationals. Doran was the personage who was wheeled forward and they all heard the Mexican leader who was in good spirits, calling out again. "Come join the banquet—I would be honoured if the Preacher sat on my right and dine with me." He raised an open hand, "yes, the rest of you too, please join me—we have lots to discuss."

A chair was removed by one of the butlers, and the Preacher's wheelchair was moved close to the table on the President's right, Li Chi sat beside Doran. Across the table, Ramirez and Sanchez were on the President's left. Several female butlers begin to serve food on to their plates while their host carried on speaking—as he broached...

"Gentlemen and Padre Doran—you all know why you are here?" Everyone stared speechless before Ramirez predicated with a response in humour but in a slight piqued tone...