by Casey, Ryan
Life didn’t always reward those with the most fight in them.
He felt his eyes start to drift again when he heard another bang on the door.
And then it happened.
Suddenly, the door slammed open.
Light and heat filled the container, flooded his eyes.
He squinted for a few seconds. Tried to make out who was coming in here. He always had to be ready. Always had to be on guard. Always had to be prepared for the worst. For anything. Even though they’d been… relatively good to him in that regard so far. Weird to admit. But it was true. They hadn’t tortured him beyond being locked up in here. Not physically, anyway.
But there was always a sense that day might come.
Before he could get a grip on his vision, he felt hands grab him under his shoulder and yank him to his feet.
“Come on,” a voice said. “Somebody wants to see you.”
He felt himself being dragged along. He tried to shout out, but his throat was raw. He tried to kick and fight, but it was pointless. He was weak. Far, far weaker than he’d even thought to begin with.
He tried to shuffle around as this person dragged him towards the light, and he became suddenly aware of just how small his body was; of how slight his frame was. Of how bony he was.
He was a shadow of his former self. And he’d been weakened in the first place.
“Come on,” the man said, nudging him further along. “Don’t have a thing to worry about, fella. In fact, you should be pretty damned delighted right now. Shit’s really working out for you. In a way.”
Noah didn’t understand. But he stood there at the doorway, stared into the blinding light. He saw people moving around. Figures drifting between the shipping containers, holding rifles. Most of them men. No, all of them men.
It felt blistering. And he fast became aware, exposed to the light now, of just how grubby he was. Just how much of a tramp he looked.
A smack on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you moving, fella.”
Noah complied, but out of a weird, childlike state of entrancement more than anything. Like he was at a theme park and was seeing the roller-coasters for the first time.
He drifted between the shipping containers, tall and overpowering, all of them ominously sealed shut. He could hear footsteps, laughter. Shouting and crying behind those container doors. The air felt dry and suffocating. His lips and tongue were dry, both like sandpaper. The stones felt rough against his skin, as the breeze kicked up clouds of dust. He smelled cigarette smoke and the suffocating stench of cannabis.
And all Noah could do was walk. Walk with this surprisingly gentle hand on the nape of his neck. Walk like he was being guided somewhere. Walk like he was the servant, like he was the slave.
He wanted to try something. To fight. To stand up for his goddamned self. He’d fought before. He’d proven he was a fighter. This wasn’t him. This weak fucker who accepted his own fate just wasn’t him.
But…
At the same time, he felt like this was him.
Like he had no choice here but to go along.
To walk.
Because even if he was fully there mentally, he was far from there physically now.
He edged further down this road when he saw something up ahead that made his toes curl.
He didn’t know what it was initially. A bloody heap, that’s all he could tell. At first, he thought it might be some kind of animal.
But when he looked closer, his stomach turned.
It was a man.
He’d been beaten. Badly. His head had burst open, and his brains spilled all over the dusty ground like dog meat, which the crows were picking at. Flies buzzed around it, circled it. An eyeball dangled down one of the cheeks of the man, which one of the crows gnawed at indulgently. The rest of his body was hidden, buried in the ground.
Noah shuddered. He didn’t like to think about what’d happened to that guy. But it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. He’d been beaten to death. Probably someone like him. Or a defector. A traitor. Mob law.
He felt a sudden wave of fear. Dying of starvation and dehydration in that cell… that didn’t seem too unappealing as a way to go.
But this.
The fact that this fate might await him.
That was different entirely.
“Come on,” the man pushing him said. “You don’t need to worry yourself with that.”
He nudged Noah along, and Noah kept on walking. This place felt far bigger and more populated than he remembered. It’d probably grown in the time he was away.
He realised then the man was pushing him directly towards another container. This one looked nicer. Bigger than the other containers. More like a cabin. There were plants outside. A “Welcome” sign hung from the door. Windows had been cut into the metal, and glass wedged in the spaces. It looked freshly painted. Bright blue.
The man patted Noah on the back as they reached the steps. Everyone he passed glanced down when they saw him. Avoided eye contact with him.
“Come on,” the man said. “You okay climbing there?”
Noah looked around at this guy. Short, but bulky. Wore these thin-rimmed circular glasses with thick lenses that aged him no end. He didn’t look like the kind of bad guy Noah saw elsewhere in this place. A bit creepy, but a bit of a loser at first glance.
“I’m okay,” Noah said.
“You sure? ’Cause if you want, I can—”
Noah started climbing the steps. “I’m okay. Really.”
But it was harder than he wanted to admit. Every single step took some effort. Fuck. He wasn’t ever going to get out of this place, ever going to escape.
He reached the door and stood there a few seconds. The man stepped around him. Knocked three times.
Silence, at first.
Then footsteps.
Footsteps coming across the floor.
Towards the door.
Noah held his breath. Heart racing.
“Don’t worry,” the man said. “Believe me. If he had something bad planned for you, he’d’ve shown it in another way. I’ve been here long enough to know…”
He stopped speaking.
The door creaked open.
And right there in front of Noah, Curtis stood.
His smile beamed. His eyes looked wide, jovial.
In his hand, he held two glasses of water. A slice of lemon in each.
“Noah, my man!” he said. “Why don’t you get yerself in here, hmm? Make yerself at home. We’ll be okay from here, Michael. Me and Noah here have a lot to chat about.”
Noah stepped inside Curtis’ place. He saw paintings on the walls of naked women and men tangled in various positions. He saw a quaint little teapot, steam rising above it, and a collection of teabags to rival any supermarket warehouse. In the middle of the floor, a Lego set, loose bricks all over the place.
And then he saw the man on the opposite side of the room.
Wide-eyed.
Thinner than he remembered.
Long-haired.
But him.
Undoubtedly him.
Eddie.
Chapter Twelve
Eddie watched the sun rise in the distance as he sat in Curtis’ shipping container and felt an overwhelming sense of nervousness.
Especially because of who was on his way.
He felt a hand on his back, suddenly jerking him into the moment. Looked around. Saw Curtis standing there. That grin on his face. He’d woken him early. Sent Marky to wake him, of course. Curtis didn’t leave this place unless he absolutely had to. Added to that aura of mystery around him. That feeling that he was separate from the rest of the people here, somehow. Above them.
Which gave him something of an air of invincibility.
But right now, Curtis looked down to earth. He looked personable. He looked welcoming. That side to him that he liked people to see. That friendly, respectable leader front.
But hiding beneath it all was violence.
“Don’t worry about all this, Eddie. Seriously, dude. I just want you to see Noah. I want you to see I ain’t got bad plans for him. None of us do. And I want you to know somethin’, too. I want you to know and see for yerself, understand? I want you to know we’ll look after him better. And when you get back here, when you get back here with information on that place, with what we need… we’ll loosen the chains even more. How’s that seem, hmm?”
Eddie nodded. He looked across the table at Marky this time, with his wide eyes staring over at him. That constant look of dis-ease, of distrust. He understood what Curtis was saying. But at the same time, it wasn’t losing Noah he was worried about. Of course he wanted Noah to be okay. He wanted that more than he wanted a hell of a lot of things.
But at the same time, it was Noah’s judgement he feared.
He hadn’t seen Noah since he’d killed Jane. He hadn’t seen him once since he’d looked him in the eye with such desperation. With such despair.
And it had been so long before that, too. They were stretched apart. Forced adrift. Left stranded, sailing into the unknown.
And Eddie wasn’t sure what to expect from his latest reunion with Noah.
He wasn’t sure what kind of state he was in.
Or how he’d react to Eddie.
He wasn’t sure about anything.
“Just be yourself, brother,” Curtis said. “You’re one of us now. One of the big guys. I just want you to see him. I just want you to know. Then you can get on your way and do what you gotta do, hmm?”
Eddie swallowed a lump in his dry throat again. Nodded. If he was supposed to be hiding how he felt, he wasn’t doing a very good job.
“Anyway,” Curtis said, standing. “Sooner we get this done with, sooner we can get that breakfast down you and send you on your—”
A knock on the door.
Curtis’ eyes lit up.
“Aw, hell. That must be him right now. Let me go get the fella.”
He jumped up. Walked across the room. Eddie’s heart raced so fast he felt like he might collapse and die. Those pains in his chest. Those voices in his head. All returning in the darkest, most terrifying moments. All circling around his consciousness like vultures.
Curtis put a hand on the door handle.
Looked over at Eddie, big gaping smile across his face.
“Don’t you worry, chappy. It’s gonna be a spellbindin’ reunion!”
And then he opened the door up, and it all happened so fast.
Noah stepped inside.
At first, Eddie didn’t even recognise him. He figured it must be someone else. Or a trick. Because this man wasn’t Noah. This frail, emaciated, bearded man… it couldn’t be Noah.
And yet it was.
That look.
That way he looked into Eddie’s eyes.
It was undoubtedly Noah.
“Come on, fella,” Curtis said, slapping Noah on his bare back, making him wince. His body was covered in sores. His cheekbones protruded right out. His hair on top was thinning and greying. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the space of two months.
And he was thin.
So thin and frail he could barely walk.
“Come on,” Curtis said. “Let’s get you a seat. Marky? Come on, lazy boy. Get on yer feet! Make way for our special guest here. Jeez, what did your mother ever teach you about hospitality?”
Marky rolled his eyes, sighed, and stood. Made way for Curtis, for Noah.
Noah just kept his gaze on Eddie at all times.
Kept his eyes steady. Focused.
And it was this that Eddie found difficult. He couldn’t make sense of that gaze. Couldn’t figure it out. It was hard to read. Impossible, almost.
He couldn’t tell if Noah was angry. Sad. Forgiving.
He couldn’t tell if Noah was even there at all.
“So,” Curtis said, walking around the side of the table, a couple of glasses of water in hand. He planted one down in front of Noah. Handed the next to Eddie. “I’m sure you boys would love to have a royally good catch-up here, hmm? But we ain’t got that luxury. Truth is, we’re just running past each other on the road to somethin’ better. Somethin’ greater. For all of us.”
Eddie kept his focus on Noah. He felt a whole combination of emotions. He wanted to ask him how he was. He wanted to know he was okay. He wanted to apologise. He wanted to open his heart and put it all on the table.
But then Curtis slammed his hands onto Eddie’s back and wrapped them around his shoulder.
“Noah, first. I want you to know one thing. Eddie here. He’s goin’ on a lil journey. He’s a damned loyal guy; I’ll give him that. But this journey. It ain’t gonna be easy. It’s gonna be full of all sorts of danger. But I made him a promise. And you know damn well I’m a man of my word by now. He finishes this journey; he gets back here… and you’ll be able to walk a free man. Served your sentence. Paid the price. Maybe you can start puttin’ a bit of meat on those poor bones of yours and helping out around here, huh? What d’you say?”
Noah just kept on gazing at Eddie. Kept on staring.
“I know it ain’t been easy for you,” Curtis said. “But Eddie here… he’s your biggest damned fan if ever I met one. Full of praise for you. And you know what? I like Eddie. I like him a lot. So I listen to people like Eddie. I trust their instincts. Good heart, that’s what he’s got. A good big heart. And forget what happened to old Janey, or whatever she was called. That was just Eddie here protectin’ his best mate. He thought outside the box. And I like that kind of loyalty. I like it a lot. We can all change, Noah. That means you, too.”
Eddie stayed still and silent. Noah stayed silent. Staring. Staring so hard, Eddie could barely hold his gaze.
“So whaddya say?” Curtis asked. “Good behaviour? Trust Eddie here’s gonna deliver what I’m asking of him? And then you fall in line, hmm? Whaddya—”
Then something remarkable happened.
Noah spoke.
“I don’t give a fuck what happens to Eddie. And I don’t give a fuck what happens to myself. I’d rather starve to death in that container than serve you. And I’d… I thought better of you, Eddie. My whole life. Clearly, I was wrong. Live together, die together? Fuck that. And fuck you.”
He spat a thick green blob of phlegm onto the floor before him and then looked at Marky.
“Get me back to my cell,” he said.
Curtis chuckled. “But—”
“I don’t want to be a part of your bullshit game. Back to my cell. Or kill me right here. Either way, I don’t give a fuck. And I don’t give a fuck about you either, Eddie. I let you down. I’m sorry for that. But you’re a fucking bootlicker and a fucking cowardly failure of a man and a father, and I don’t give a fuck what happens to you. Look at you, standing there like that, cowardly as shit. It disgusts me. You disgust me. Get me out of here. Now.”
Curtis rubbed a hand through his hair, somewhat theatrically, then let out a sigh. “Well, if that’s what you really want, Noah. Jeez, Eddie. I’m sorry about this. It’s real rough. Let’s… Come on. Let’s get you outta here, old boy. Maybe you’ll see sense in time. When you settle down.”
Eddie watched Noah get dragged out of the room by Marky, and he felt his shoulders sink.
He wanted to fade away.
He wanted to disappear.
He wanted to turn back the clock and put the bullet in his own head.
Because he didn’t have to save Noah’s life.
He was already dead to Noah.
Noah stood there.
All the time, staring at Eddie.
Staring right into his eyes.
Only his emotion was clear to read now.
Hate.
Total hate.
Marky pulled Noah outside and slammed the door behind him.
Curtis looked at Eddie. Shook his head. Sighed.
“I’m sorry for that. He’ll see sense. He’d better do, anyway. ’Cause when you deliver for me… he’ll be a free man. An
d ain’t no bullshit words from him gonna make me renege on my promise, no sir.”
He planted a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.
Looked deep into his eyes.
Smiled.
“Now come on,” he said. “It’s time we got you ready for your lil journey.”
Chapter Thirteen
Zelda waited until she was absolutely sure nobody was creeping around outside before breaking the lock.
It wasn’t as difficult as she expected. Of course, it was dark. Picking the lock made for a frustrating, fumbling experience. Wasn’t the first time she’d had to pick a lock, though. She spent a stint of two weeks homeless in her early twenties, right after her degree finished. She was so determined not to return to that toxic childhood home of hers that she’d resorted to a park bench for a good couple of weeks. Fallen in with a guy called Baz, who ended up being a fucking nutcase. He taught her how to burgle a house. Gave her a crash course of sorts.
And those skills, they were skills that stayed with you for life. Skills you didn’t forget.
You just needed the right tools.
And this knife Michael gave her was a more than decent enough tool.
She waited for the whistle Michael told her about before getting started. She squeezed her eyes shut as she fumbled around with the lock. Helped if she just visualised it rather than actually tried to look; better if she abandoned the faculties of her visual field entirely when it came to this.
She focused intently. Pretended she was breaking into a house. Kept her movements cool, kept herself as composed as she could.
But she couldn’t deny the excitement she felt. She was getting out of here. Escaping this place.
Or…
She felt that rival force tugging at her. The one that told her she might not get out of here at all. But maybe she didn’t have to. Maybe revenge on the people who had done this to her was enough.
Curtis. He was her number one target.
And then there was Eddie. That double-standard, weak, backstabbing cunt, he was well in her crosshairs.
And then there was Finn.
Her hand shook a little when she thought of Finn. Mixed emotions. On the one hand, anger. He’d made her open up. Made her vulnerable. For that, he’d pay.
