Chapter 18: A New War

Amanda opened her eyes and looked around. She hurt all over, especially in her back where she felt a big lump. Mark sat slumped over in his chair sound asleep. She yawned and tried to stretch. That hurt too much. She raised her right arm high enough to stare at her hand. She never realized how much she had taken her wonderful body for granted all her life. From then on, she vowed to herself, she would treat her body with more respect, much more. Life was too precious to waste.

Mark opened his eyes and looked at Amanda's extended arm. She stared with intense concentration at her hand. "Oh honey, is something wrong? Is your hand hurt?" he asked.

She rolled her head over far enough to look at him. "Nothing is wrong. I just now realized how much I have to be thankful for and how easy it would be to lose it all. If I had died I would have lost you."

He began to cry. "Oh Amanda, I..." he could go no further.

"Oh Christ, don't cry. I hate it when you cry. It's unfair for you to cry. Stop it, I say," she begged in a pleading tone of voice. "Grown men are not supposed to cry except in the middle of an orgasm. It's unfair."

"Well, you better get used to it. When I feel inside me the way I feel right now I shall be a man who cries. I am a man and a man has feelings that have to be expressed with tears sometimes." He wiped his eyes and bawled all the louder, "And right now I am happier than I have ever been in my life!"

"I'll have a nervous break down if you keep this up all the time." When she tried to shake her head a new spasm of pain shot through her.

Sam came bursting into the room, "You look much better and I have a great idea. Let's do two movies at the same time, Mean Streets Two and Three, okay? I'll figure out a story line and we can really do it right."

"Three will be about corruption in the seats of power and the easily bribed politicians who place profit over people. It will be the fight of one person against the system. We'll make it a sort of "Mister Deeds Goes To Washington" with a twist of violence and a taste of with "The Ugly American" at home. Did you ever watch Marlon Brando in that old classic?" Mark finished.

"Hey, that's great," Sam agreed. I told you I had a great idea.

"You're a day late, Sam. Mark told me all about it last night." Amanda sighed and decided life was improving again.

"Well, Mark did not tell you this, Billy has posted a guard outside your room twenty-four seven. The house is an armed camp and he handpicked the people he wanted. Hartman is ecstatic, almost orgasmic over it. He figured out a way to make all costs a part of the various damage suits he has filed."

Reality intruded around Amanda's ears with a crash. "Who authorized this and why?"

"I authorized it," Mark told her. "The reason is so you will live long enough to marry me and I get to make a baby or four in you. Okay?" He stuck his chin out belligerently. "As long as I am a part of your life, I will protect you any and every way I can." He nodded his head as he pursed his lips in a stubborn was that brooked no argument. He looked deep into her eyes and whispered, "I love you.".

"He's right, Amanda. You, no we, still have enemies out there. People are still hatching plots to kill you. Christ, even Mark's mother and that phony preacher have made threats. Reverend Joe Thingamabob now lives openly with her since Josh was thrown into jail on the nut ward, all bail denied. Some cute little sex pot moved in with them."

"I hope he gives her VD," Mark muttered, his face had a bleak expression. Amanda looked at her, surprised at his vindictive anger.

"Mark, go take a shower and change clothing. Mike will interview you and Amanda on camera." Sam grinned and pointed toward the door. "Go."

For once Mark went without argument. "I'll run out to the house and shower and change. See you back here in one hour. Love you." With that he was gone.

His voice came back to them from the hallway, "You take good care of her." Amanda smiled as he heard a startled, "Yes sir."

"Anything I can get you, old pal?" Sam asked after they were alone.

"Yeah, a nurse. I have to take a dump. You want to stay and watch?"

"Ah no," Sam answered as he hurried out the door. "See you later." He hurried out the door and left the building.

Mike and Dirk returned with a camera. Mike sat down by the bedside. He began with an easy question, "How do you feel, Amanda?"

"Like I been shot, that's how I feel." she answered shortly.

"Well, since you brought it up, tell the viewers why you were shot."

"Which time?" Amanda snapped at him.

"Well, let's start with the first time and go on from there. Why were you shot the first time, and by whom?" Mike smiled and waited for an answer.

Amanda smiled a tight-lipped smile, took a deep breath and let it out. She said, "I was shot the first time because I saw a cop point a gun at an idiot reporter who didn't have the brains to get out of the way. Come to think of it, I didn't use my brains and got shot in his place. Then, when the fat gutted refugee from a pastry shop tried to shoot me again, I squeezed his hand hard enough to make his fingers stop working.

"Later when I learned he tried to rape Mark I was sorry I had not killed the bastard. The man was an insane sadistic monster with a badge and a gun."

A cruel expression descended over Amanda's face. "I know you are supposed to speak good of the dead. He's dead, good. Next question." Mike sat back, surprised at the vehemence in Amanda's voice.

When Mike did not speak she continued, "That insane animal was a member of the San Diego Police Department, the best little old police department money can buy. And believe me, all too many of the chiefs of police past and present have been so corrupt they make a sewer smell good in comparison."