by C. J. Sutton
Carter heaved Magnus’ notebook and pen off the coffee table and scribbled: OPEN DOOR THEN SHOOT HIM?
Walter accepted the pen wearily: THAT’S WHAT HE EXPECTS.
Magnus pondered, reading the text. He glared at the guns and the tranquilisers. How powerful were the darts? Could they knock the man out quickly?
“There’s a town down the hill, where most are probably sleeping or drinking or fucking. Men like Brutus and Chaos and Reaper are heading there as we…well, I…speak. I believe I have a choice right now, seeing as though Walter will have called the cops to block the exits. Option one is to join them, reap the spoils of destruction, enjoy my time in fresh air. Option two is to…”
He trailed off. A new voice joined Jasper on the other side of the door.
“You’re free, Mr. Christ. Just leave.”
With Jasper’s focus wavered, Magnus dashed to the door and put his ear against it. All could be heard, as if he stood between the two men and their conversation. The proud voice of Greyson Christ spoke, a purpose in his tone.
“Jasper James, I’ve been told to kill you.”
“You’re not the first,” he chuckled. “What did I do to you? Let me guess; a fallen brother?”
“Close,” said Greyson, sounding as though he was closing distance. “I’ve been sent here on a mission to end your life, to send you to the underworld to receive your punishment for all the sins you’ve committed.”
“Fuck, and they say I’m crazy.”
Shirley joined Magnus by the door, eager to listen, her head slightly beneath his chest; she no longer feared him, he sensed. Had she just discovered fear when the sirens rang?
“Put that down, old man. Go do what priests do; preach bullshit, suck off a child, steal money from the hard-working middle class. I’m busy talking to those who have kept us behind barriers. Let the intellectuals speak.”
A shuffle of hurried footsteps approached the door, as Magnus constructed the scene in his mind from the noises filtering in to the social room. The bang of something weighty crashed against the door, causing it to shake on its strong hinges and for Shirley to use herself as a weighty barricade. The grumbles and murmurs of two men wrestling for dominance were next, nails on skin tearing shreds, muffled punches and kicks…and then, as Greyson Christ let out a painful wail, the clear snap of bone, the neck twisted too far for the body to handle. The crumple of a lifeless body first hit against the door, then slumped downward.
“Silly old bastard.”
BANG.
Jasper was using the heavy piece of whatever Greyson thought was a weapon on the door.
BANG.
BANG.
Magnus feared it would buckle. It didn’t.
“That was fun, I might go do another.”
Nobody heard the retreat, no steps away. But they knew Jasper James no longer stood on the other side of the door. He was making his way to Dortmund.
“One down,” said Shirley, to herself. A mental tick in an empty box.
In the Arm
The funny thing about the truth, Magnus, is that it is always the truth.
“We have a couple of guns and a load of tranqs, let’s go shoot him while his back is turned!”
Carter had found his courage: a spare flask that was hidden under the sink was full of bourbon. He offered it to the others, but they declined. Walter stood against the door listening intently, one of the handguns tucked into his belt. The other sat in the bucket, much to the nervousness of Carter; he couldn’t take his eyes off the piece.
“Walt’s right, he’ll expect it. We need a plan.”
Despite Magnus siding with the other guard, Carter wasn’t provoked. They turned to their leader, their captain, the man with the knowledge now that the place had gone to shit. Eight people, each cooped up in a dank cell for years, would be closing in on an innocent town within minutes. Some were there already.
“Okay, there’s eight of them but they’re as much a threat to themselves as anyone else. The cops will handle the exits, but it’s up to us to handle the town. Doc,” he said, turning to Magnus, basically passing him the microphone, “you know them, their stories, their triggers, their passions. You’ve listened to them, we don’t. How do we find them?”
Magnus thought, and thought…and finally spoke, realising he could already pinpoint where one would be.
“Simmonds will be at the zoo, guaranteed. I’d almost say Chaos is a certainty to be causing a scene somewhere public, perhaps with cops at the exit. Reaper may go to the pub to throttle some youths. The rest I’m not sure, but Dortmund isn’t a city. If they’re not out in the open making a fuss, we can take them down one by one.”
“We’ll need to split up,” said Carter, picking up the handgun and inserting it in the back of his pants.
Walter shrugged. “He’s right. Carter and Shirley, Magnus and I. One gun on each team, and a tranquiliser for everyone. Leave the usual tranquiliser guns here; these rifles are for a situation such as this. If you’re in danger, or if anyone else can be saved, use the gun. For all other circumstances use the tranq; don’t invite more danger to yourself. Some of them will be looking for a weapon.”
Magnus began to ask a question. Walter blocked the words.
“Dortmund Asylum does not have cars outside. It also does not permit handguns or weaponry. The small tranquilisers were always enough. If ever we lost control of a piece, an inmate would receive a dart in the neck from the back-fire trigger. Imagine we kept an arsenal of rifles, snipers, automatics and smoke grenades? The end of Dortmund in minutes, from inmates well trained in war. This may sound strange, but I always felt more at ease knowing I could run down a hallway and leave without ducking and weaving from stray bullets.”
Without realising, Walter had raised a finger to Carter, unable to stop it from quivering.
“No more alcohol. You’ll get yourself killed, and then Shirley killed, and many more killed. We’re the only chance these people have.”
Carter didn’t budge, taking another swig. He glared at Magnus.
“Go home, doc. Go back to the city. This isn’t your fight. We live here, this is our life and our job. Your job is in lights. I doubt you can even shoot.”
Magnus knew they expected him to leave. The pay wasn’t enough to risk his life with inmates in the open air.
“You need me,” he said softly, only to Carter. Each member grabbed a tranquiliser, assessing it as though a foreign object responsible for their lives. Shirley tied her shoes, pulling the black strings tight. Carter finished his second flask and wiped his sweaty face with a tea towel. Walter and Magnus stood side by side in silence, waiting for the other two to be ready. Walter placed a hand on the door knob.
“Ready?” he asked, withdrawing his handgun and squinting. Shirley turned on the torch, shaking it in affirmative, shoulders high. Magnus took a deep breath, remembering why he chose the life, the subject, the chance to save others. Here, he could make a difference.
The creak of the door opening made the situation real. At any moment there was the possibility of one of the sickest people alive jumping on their backs and sinking in teeth. They all leaped back as Greyson’s limp body fell inside the social room, his head twisted at a grotesque angle that made the back of his head the front. Long, grey hair was caked with blood, one eye gouged out from the socket, an arm bent behind his back. Vomit threatened to evacuate, but Magnus held it down. The smell had Shirley covering her mouth with her stretched black shirt; he’d soiled himself at death. A smell no guard can acclimatise to. Carter seemed unfazed, stepping over the man and into the corridor, handgun pointed outward. The others followed.
The darkened hallway felt tighter, the walls too close, a change in the structure. The walk started slow, cautious, guns constantly moving to threaten a new black corner of the Asylum. Cell doors were wide open. Walter stopped, leaning down to see his former comrade in a heap. He patted Brian, whispering something the others couldn’t hear, and in the failing light Magnus w
as sure he saw a tear shed.
Carter went to speak but Magnus pressed on his foot, allowing Walter to take all the time he needed despite the risks at the bottom of the hill. He recalled the story the big guard told about Walter saving his life when Jasper had escaped.
“Let’s go,” said Walter, standing and leading the group forward. Nobody remained in their confinements; not one. The escape had been total, even though none of the nine were affiliated in any way. How could they manage such an exit? With the immediate danger lowered, questions formed in Magnus’ mind. Were there more master keys? Did any of the guards have one? Was this an outside job? Every step may have been taken with an enemy.
“Ah fuck,” yelled Carter as he tripped over something, metres from the exit of the Asylum. He hit the ground with a thud, the echo repeating the fall four times over. Walter aimed his gun at a dark mass on the floor, as Magnus crouched to assess the outlier.
“It’s Old Man Lonie,” he said, as Shirley hovered over the inmate with the torch. Sure enough, the longest serving prisoner of Dortmund Asylum lay trampled on the surface, succumbing to a stampede of feet he never could see. Carter appeared most astonished, rolling what was left of the man over with his boot. The face sunk in, concave, the skull crushed inward with what would likely be a chorus of panicked and excited people desperate to breathe in fresh air for the first time in years. With no sight there would have been no visual satisfaction for Lonie; but mere metres from the door, he had the chance to feel crisp night air on his face, smell hope with his nose, feel the earth within his fingertips.
“He was rated a ten,” said Walter, moving forward. “No eyes, no tongue, but a past of torture it’s fair to conclude.”
But as Magnus looked at the man, he doubted it. Even adding eyes, this old version of what was coined as a devil gave no sense of danger at any point in Magnus’ stay. Even the devil, worn and decayed without sight, knows how to continue his reign. Is this what his driver now looked like, slain and hopeless, his only crime a honeyed beak?
“Carter, help…” started Magnus, but realised the others had moved to the door, the exit. He grabbed the collar of Lonie and dragged him towards the trio, a slosh apparent as blood smeared the Asylum floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” asked Carter, but he continued.
“He’s dead, he served a decade in hell. Let him rot on the outside.”
Walter nodded, joining Magnus and pulling the opposite end of the collar. Shirley opened the door, moonlight pouring into the rectangular gap and bathing them in light. The pair rested Lonie against the outside wall of the Asylum, alongside the door. When Shirley closed it effortlessly, never had Magnus felt so exposed; a baby born naked into Eden.
“Carter, Shirley, head into town down the most obvious route. Use your walkies to contact us. Scout the main street, follow any leads. If people are unaware of the danger, don’t alert them of the escape. We’ve seen two bodies, which leaves seven in Dortmund. They’re not in here. If there’s nothing in the main street, check the pub, the church and any other public places.”
“Where are you off to?” asked Carter, scratching the stubble of his face with the handle of the gun. He took to the piece well, like Clint Eastwood after hiatus.
“The zoo, it’s the most obvious lead. Magnus is right; Slippery…I mean Simmonds,” he said, correcting himself beneath the doctor’s gaze, “wants his snake. It’s a numbers game.”
They stood on the dirt road, hesitant to leave, knowing the ‘split up’ manoeuvre wasn’t generally the smartest idea…but here it was necessary.
“See you soon,” said Carter, walking away to begin the steep descent down the hill. Walter answered a question he knew was forming on Magnus’ lips.
“There’s a quicker way to the zoo. We have to trek through some rough terrain, but it will save half an hour.”
“Time is lives, hey,” he replied, tucking his pants into his shoes with snakes on the mind. Shirley gave Walter a brief pat on the chest, and smiled at Magnus with a genuine nod. They hoped to see her again. As the two shadows slowly left their view, Walter and Magnus headed for the thick trees that contained no path between them.
“What a week, huh,” he said, trying to break any tension left between the two, any blame once had, any fingers once pointed. “Is it really worth it, being here?”
Magnus pondered, then answered with a memory as they waded through high bush up to their groins.
“I was about eleven or twelve, and my brother came home beaming. He’d got this job, the first of his life, and was waving around a bundle of colourful notes. I’d never seen so much money. He ran straight up to me, unable to contain his excitement. ‘We are going to celebrate. Pizza, video games, whatever you want, kid.’ Mum watched, and she was so proud. He handed her fifty dollars, and whispered in her ear. I’d never seen her so happy. ‘Quick,’ he said, punching my shoulder, ‘grab your sister and let’s go.’ I didn’t want to get her; her new boyfriend was over – Mitch, a real slick cocksucker of a guy, arms like metal beams and a haircut that every prick had at the time. I tried to tell him that it should just be us, two brothers spending cash, but he insisted she join us. ‘Go get your sister, c’mon!’ I had no choice. Her room was at the other end of the house, down a long hallway. I creeped, not wanting to bust in there while they were going at it. But there was silence, so I continue. The door wasn’t completely closed, just enough for me to peek through. I could only see her bare legs hanging off the bed, so I pushed…and I wish I hadn’t; she was slumped against the headboard of the bed, a needle sticking out of her arm, a dazed look about her, chest rising ever so slightly. Mitch came out of her en suite bathroom, turned to me and told me to get the fuck out. I’d never seen my sister use before. She was always the good girl, telling my brother off when he smoked and slapping my mum on the arm if she had too many champagnes. Mitch came at me…and pushed me so hard I put a hole in her dry wall. I ran out of there, but my brother…he saw the fear on my face, and he reflected it with anger. I followed him back down the hall, and he kicked the door open so hard I expected it to fly off its hinges. Now, Mitch was a fair few sizes bigger than my brother, but here it didn’t matter. He grabbed Mitch by the throat, pinned him against the wall and kneed him in the groin. The bigger lad went down like a sack of shit. My brother was standing over him, grinning; not a happy, satisfied or content grin, but a grin that wasn’t him. I knew nothing of drugs, but I pulled out that needle carefully and tried to slap her into consciousness. My brother twisted Mitch’s arm and led him out of the house, past my mum who swore repeatedly at him. He was gone for hours, and I never did hear what happened to Mitch. All I can say is that nobody saw him again. My brother never spoke of it, and he returned still beaming. We went out to see a movie and eat at a fancy restaurant that didn’t suit the pair of us, and my sister spent the day recovering. They had their faults, bro and sis, but they would’ve protected me against anyone, anything. This is my way, Walt. There’s still a chance to do some good, for them.”
They cut through a mile of bushland, dodged falling branches in the harsh winds roaring against their ears and pulling skin back on their faces. And Walt had taken a trip back to Magnus’ childhood, aware of the pressures and difficulties faced by someone who remained young, in awe of a brother and in protection of a sister. Values that had not diminished over time. The guard could not compare his own childhood; only child, two supporting parents, very little to remember in terms of conflict, fear, hate, anger. As they continued in silence, breaking through a final line of crusted bush leaves and crunching over fallen leaf, high metal bars greeted them in the same manner as the outside of a cell.
“Here’s the zoo,” he said to Magnus, as they began scouring the barrier for an easy opening.
Hunted
Magnus, have you ever seen a lion feel sorry for a man?
The two men stalked the outside of the zoo like tigers behind bars. The smell of dung wafted over, a scent that didn’t cause disc
omfort due to the ever-present flavours of death and danger.
“Up here,” called Walter, climbing up a wooden structure and assessing the grounds from atop. “It’s the wild pig enclosure, shouldn’t be too dangerous.”
Magnus followed, the muscles in his arms and legs already aching from the prior tension. When he reached the summit two metres high he saw Walter already dashing through the habitat and hurdling over a fence. Magnus rushed to join him, keeping an eye out for anything ready to gouge his eyes out. Around people he felt comfortable enough to talk, to reason, to use education to keep him secure. Brutus had been like an animal, seeking only the satisfaction of crushed bones.
“C’mon,” said Walter, waving Magnus over, eager to press on. Just as Magnus leaped over the fence and crossed the moat, the static of Walter’s radio caused them to pause and reach for weapons.
“Walter…Walter,” came Shirley’s voice, “Carter has found someone, we need assistance. Come in, Walter.”
“I’m here,” he said, hushed, turning down the volume. Thousands of ears perked up to the intrusion. “Who is it?”
“Brutus and Chaos, both are running towards the pub. Carter went off after them, but we need assistance. He asked for you.”
Walter stared at Magnus, a question passed by eyes and circumstance.
“I’ll be fine,” said Magnus, feeling watched from behind cages. “If you can secure those two before they hurt anyone, that’s a victory. I’ll take Simmonds; his attention won’t be on me.”
Walter placed a palm on Magnus’ shirt, the sweat from each party making it slightly uncomfortable.
“You keep surprising me, doc. I’m sorry,” he said, putting his head down, “I’m sorry for blaming you, and belittling you in front of a patient. I respect all you have done here. I know you didn’t kill the driver, or open the cells. Take this,” he said, holding out the handgun, “we have Carter’s.”
