The People's Alpha ✔

Bonus Chapter: Respect

The next day was cloudy and overcast. A uniform grey sheet hung over the mountains. It was the day before full moon. The Special Industrial Zone was an empty wasteland. All the shops were chained up behind heavy steel rollers and the factories were shuttered.

All the roads leading out to the pack territories were clogged with traffic as people tried to get back home in time. All Interpack bus routes were running extra services. I had workers handing out road safety pamphlets at the main entrance of the bus station.

Traffic was heavy on the main road out of the western end of the Zone. Mopeds and bicycles buzzed and whizzed through gaps in the congestion. We were inching along.

We had stopped behind a the sheer rear end of a Toyota Alphard minivan with Stone River plates. The first five letters on the badge had been rather crudely ripped off, leaving only an R and a D.

Brian was at the wheel of the Moon Goddess.

"Careful on the brakes, Brian. Just a gentle touch. Gentle."

The brake lights of the Alphard - or the RD as I now thought of it - came on again.

The car jerked noticeably as we came to a standstill, bobbing on its cushion of hydraulic fluid.

"Brian. I said careful."

"I was careful."

"Remember, it's not a normal brake pedal. It's just like an on/off switch. You only need the lightest touch."

"Jim, I know that. You've told me about ten times since we set off."

"Alright. Don't pull a Mitt Romney, that's all I ask of you."

I relaxed back into my seat.

We were very slowly inching past a plot of barren land, an old rogue shanty town that had recently been demolished with the intention for redevelopment. Shiny posters with slick graphics of towering apartment blocks poked out of the bare earth at regular intervals.

Brian looked in the side mirror at a black Mercedes several car lengths behind us. "At least there's someone else with good taste in cars in this jam."

There was a huge marble statue of Monagh sprouted out of the ground like some obscene mushroom. The message LET HER INTO YOUR HEART was engraved in gold letters on the base of the statue,

Brian rolled his eyes.

"Give her a break, Brian. Have some decency. Look at the state of things. She's probably working flat out up there."

"She doesn't exist!"

"I imagine her office is like a facsimile of Tony Montana's. Except the whole desk is made of cocaine."