As students standing at the dawn of a brand new century, we face certain choices. How do we prepare for the future? Melody Powers knew how she was going to prepare, as she checked the fit one more time on her tooled leather shoulder holster. She thought about all the communists she would be taking out tonight.
Melody harbored no illusions about unilaterally stemming the resurging red tide.
“But,” she reflected with a grim smile, “what special agent could resist the opportunity to fill a few Bolshevik cemeteries?”
As Melody sun-bathed on the Rio beach, she looked back upon the past few days with a certain quiet satisfaction: twelve dead Russians, five dead Chinese, three or four dead Cubans.
The world was once again safe for democracy, she reflected while watching Tonio’s exquisite chest rise and fall with his light snoring. Safe for democracy, or almost safe.
Melody brushed some errant grains of sand off her fingers, tied her top back on, and reached into her beach bag. Tonio heard nothing, and that was a pity, because he would never hear anything again.
“So long, Tonio,” she thought as she calmly stood up. “I could have loved you, if you weren’t as red as the blood stain now spreading across the sand.”
Melody walked calmly away toward the hotel. There’d be a message there from HQ, no doubt. She hoped she had time for a shower.