by C. J. Sutton
“This is Walter Perch,” he said, speaking into the static, “is anyone there?”
“Yes,” said Bad Cop, without a second between voices, “are they dead? All of them?”
Walter tried to break the stare, to turn to Lonie and find that hatred which may ignite rebellion, or to look up at Magnus and discover a change in heart. But he could not move his head, a cat transfixed to the oncoming headlights while planted firmly on hot road.
“All nine are down. I repeat, all nine are down.”
“Tell me where each body is.”
Magnus listened, trying to pinpoint where each fallen inmate now rested. He walked to Walter and grabbed the radio, removing the burden from the guard.
“This is Dr Magnus Paul. Walter has sustained serious injury. The bodies can be found in the following locations: inside the anaconda at the zoo, inside my hotel room, on the street outside the hotel unless moved, at your boundary, inside the pub amongst other bodies, and four at Dortmund Asylum.”
A moment of silence, unease.
“You…can show me these bodies?”
Bad Cop was hesitant, never having trusted Magnus, so the doctor handed the phone back to Walter.
“All can be seen except the four at Dortmund,” he said, with a throat of sandpaper, “one was killed inside, another trampled, and the final two engulfed by the flames that are dying down. They’re all dead.”
“Jasper,” breathed Bad Cop, the hatred echoing in static.
“One of those burned. He took a guard and Officer Clip with him.”
Rage evaporated from the other end of Dortmund, not seen but heard as the cop now in command didn’t let go of the radio button, wanting Walter and Magnus to know that they were no allies of his.
“I’m reluctant to leave my post,” he said. “The sun rises but it doesn’t feel like it should. The streets don’t feel safe, Walter. Why don’t they feel safe?”
“Because bodies are everywhere, and they need to be removed before the town wakes up and discovers the cemetery.”
Jasper held up an approving thumb to the last comment, as Bad Cop made no further remark and set about the clean-up. Lonie instinctively snatched the radio and smashed it in with his boot, kicking away the bits and pieces.
“Now that we’ve settled that issue, on to the next: the life of Mr Perch,” said Jasper, all confidence, knowing the world’s secrets, “only this time, you have a choice. There are three men here who will be escaping Dortmund before the sun reaches its highest point. The fourth will not. I’m sorry, but this is the way it must be.”
Walter tried to hide his panic, but failed. His body shook, his eyes darted and every part of his psyche pleaded silently with Magnus Paul.
“The choice is, who would you like to pull the trigger: Jasper James the escaped inmate, Old Man Lonie the infiltrator, or Magnus Paul the rescuer.”
For the first time since escaping the burning building, Walter was sure of something. Smoke surrounded the men like a fog afraid of revealing what really rested behind its haze. As blood leaked and limbs ached, as head throbbed and hands felt raw, Walter cracked his neck and looked to the man he considered a comrade during the night, a man he fought alongside and would have saved from certain death. His decision was as reassuring as a morning coffee in paradise.
“Magnus,” he said through gritted teeth, “you’ll break your rule today, you lying bastard.”
Dirty Deeds
People are no longer unified. Everyone is in it for themselves, Magnus. We are all selfish beasts, and that is why we are human.
The gun connected with gravel. Heat from the flames was cooled by morning light, with nothing left to incinerate atop the hill at Dortmund.
“He doesn’t have it in him,” said Lonie, mocking Magnus. “The doctor may be many things, but a killer he is not. I’m happy to shoot this prick, Jasper, just say the word. You stopped me from hurting him for so long, all the shit he made me do; clean toilets, tend to Chaos, feed that decaying fuck Carter like a baby…here comes the aeroplane!”
“Enough,” said Jasper, raising a hand. “Mr. Perch made his decision. We owe him that at the very least.”
Magnus’ head moved from side to side as he distanced himself from the firearm. He knew Lonie wanted it; the feeling pulsated as his shadow danced across its metallic glaze. The smouldering remains of the Asylum was an audience of stone, frozen by what was to come.
“I don’t kill,” said Magnus to himself, and he turned to his older brother. “Don’t make me do this, Jasper. I saved you. Enough blood has splattered because of my intervention; don’t make me kill.”
“I’m sorry, brother, but this man made your attempt possible. What would this night have looked like without his leadership? Pick up the gun, Magnus. You’ve come this far. Let’s end it, and be out of this town forever.”
Magnus winced so hard his head became dizzy. The stress and anarchy of the night caught up from behind. He wanted to curl up on the dirt road and wait until time passed, long enough to remove all he had seen. For releasing his brother was meant to be cheerful, a reunion dreamed about for nearly a decade. He didn’t want to disappoint Jasper…so he reached down to cracking knees and picked up the bringer of death once more.
“C’mon,” said Lonie, growing nervous, “I can see movement in town. It’s probably the cops, and soon enough they’ll come up here. Get it done, doc.”
Magnus raised the gun. Walter stood, solemn. The doctor wished he hadn’t found the guard in the Asylum as it burned, a certain death that would’ve avoided this situation. But he couldn’t see at the time. He thought it might have been Jasper.
“You’re weak,” said Walter, finding a stronger voice, “you base your life on saving people, and you’ve managed to kill more men and women than Lonie and Jasper combined. Because when they’re back in the big city, what happens next? Who will save the innocent people, if not those who are trained?”
Walter’s face was flushed, wrinkles forming on his forehead that creased black canvas, fists balled and an incessant gaze to the gunman. And he ran at Magnus, eyes wide, hands outstretched. Jasper did not interfere. When guard collided with doctor, they tumbled onto the gravel and kicked up dirt, scrambling for top position in a fit. Magnus did not shoot, despite having multiple openings available. With more strength than his tired opponent, Magnus smashed Walter across the top of the head with the butt of the gun, knocking him out cold as his head shed more blood and his face grazed against ground, cutting more skin.
“Finish it,” said Jasper, making his way to the four-wheel drive and no longer caring for the display. Lonie watched, too excited to look away. Magnus turned Walter over onto his back, trying to avoid his eyes. There was little left other than fresh blood, soot and dirt. Nothing moved. With his brother walking away, Magnus felt nothing left to prove. He inserted the gun into Walter’s mouth, the piece shaking against teeth and causing a chatter.
“I’m sorry, my friend. Forgive me,” he said, pointing the nozzle at the desired angle. “Be silent, my brother.”
The bang lingered like the end of time. A signal for everyone to stop their lives and move on to the next phase. Magnus withdrew the gun, fighting back tears and ignoring Lonie’s outstretched hand. Before the old man could assess the damage, Magnus covered the face with a tattered and singed piece of black uniform.
“Fuck off,” he said, slapping the hand away. “I’m holding on to this gun.”
“Quick,” yelled Jasper from the passenger seat in the car, “get the body into the back with the rotting Officer Clip. We can’t leave this evidence.”
Lonie leaned down to grab the legs, but Magnus shoved him away.
“I’ve got this. Start the car.”
Magnus placed a hand under each armpit and dragged Walter’s body awkwardly, the guard’s shoes leaving a trail in the gravel in a sign of rebellion. Lonie opened the boot to reveal Officer Clip’s dead body, a circle the size of a fifty cent piece present on his forehead and l
eaking dark substance. Magnus first placed the upper half of Walter’s body alongside Clip’s legs, and then followed up with the lower half; the two men rested top-to-tail like children at a crowded slumber party. The four-wheel drive’s rear was such a size that another two fully grown bodies were capable of piling atop the silent duo.
“Best you get in the back,” said Lonie, talking to Jasper, “even though you’re dead, those cops will be on the lookout.”
Jasper agreed, lying down and humming a tune.
“We need to go to your hotel room,” said Lonie, turning to Magnus as he ignited the car. “All of your belongings need to be removed. If the cops are to believe your work is done and you’re leaving for the big city, it can’t look like a hurried getaway. And if they’re to believe I’m your ride, I need to sit in this car outside your hotel while you pack. I also need to divert their attention from your room while the pair of you are inside, so let’s get going.”
The four-wheel drive cracked thunder across the gravel beneath it, thick tyres adding a new path as Lonie took the opportunity to veer slightly off-road for a quicker exit. Magnus looked to the side-mirror, taken by the rising smoke set against an orange-grey backdrop promising an end to the horrors of the night. A sudden urge to vomit vibrated within his stomach and throat, the chatter of the metal clinking against Walter’s teeth enough to repeat the gunshot over and over and over. The words of the guard, a friend, an ally, were uppercuts to the ribs, encouraging the vomit to evacuate and add to the onslaught of gore. And then it did, spraying across the dashboard and seat, a vile brown colour laced with soot, stomach lining and memory.
“Disgusting,” said Lonie under his breath, but he did not make a scene.
“You okay, little brother,” said Jasper from beneath his blanket.
“I just need some water, I’ll be fine.”
Dortmund, the town of overlapping grey, sharpened in tone with the growing light. No longer did it seem depressed, but weary; a soldier returning home from war with the vivid tales of mass genocide, fallen friends and a depreciation of self-worth. No bodies lined the streets. No woman cried for her husband, or child for their parent. Magnus read of war, but the town ushered all that occurred behind its aged walls and protected the citizens. Soon families would notice a missing member not sleeping in bed, or the smouldering hill where an Asylum once stood. A morning jogger would see a broken body in an alley, a head once mistaken for a pumpkin. A zoo attendee would notice a large bulge in Annie’s anaconda torso, and wonder what had been dinner. But not before the three men in the four-wheel drive escaped.
“I don’t need to tell you to make this faster than a fresh cum shot,” said Lonie, the open light revealing new lines in his leathery skin, “because if you want to remain a free man, time is of the essence.”
Rubbish blew through the streets, tumbleweed of the town from an upturned bin on the corner performing its own vomit. As the vehicle passed the pub, Magnus felt a sickness once again; more than a dozen slaughtered innocent victims, likely caused by the hand of the man to his right.
“Here we are, out you get before someone sees you.”
“Why Lonie? Why can’t we get a car and leave that bastard rotting in Dortmund? Do you know how much trouble he caused me?”
Magnus and Jasper were heaving clothes into a suitcase, with the latter commenting on the amount of belongings his younger brother had carted in for the trip. Magnus toyed with a simple explanation: my contract was for six weeks, I needed to make it look like I intended to see that out until the end.
“I’m a man of my word. When I was seeking assistance, I didn’t have men like Walter offering to help me. Lonie was the only option, and he served me for years.”
“Are you going to tell me what you promised him to receive such loyalty?”
“In good time, bud.”
The doctor carefully checked his folders and notebooks, not wanting to lose jottings compiled while at the Asylum; he planned to keep the writings from Dortmund, a record of his sanity to ensure the events didn’t alter as time played with his mind. Astrid’s dead body was placed on the bed. Often Magnus would turn and see her looking at him, judging him, provoking him: you’re as sick as us, doctor. Jasper vanished into the bathroom for five minutes, and when he returned it was as though a person from the past found a way into the future; gone was the beard, no greying hair left on his unscarred face other than a thick moustache, that youthful glaze remaining despite spending so many years confined to a box. The smile…it knew secrets, and Magnus couldn’t look away.
“That’s everything,” said Jasper, slapping his hands together and surveying the room.
“I’m not touching her again, let’s go.”
Magnus lifted his bags and assessed the hotel room for one last time, hating every inch of its layout.
“Not just yet. I need you to help me with something.”
Anger rose like the vomit ten minutes prior.
“Have I not done enough, Jasper? I dedicate my life to rescuing you, I put a bullet in a friend, I cause a town to lose a large percentage of its citizens?”
“Keep that anger, you’ll need it.”
Jasper dropped to his knees, and it reminded Magnus of the cells…of Astrid offering her services.
“That guy you call Bad Cop? He was a rookie when I was transferred here, beat me up on the way in. Nobody stopped him. He was transferred from the city, he knew who I was and what I’d done. Those boots were busted after they smashed in my ribs. He said to me: ‘I will never forget your face. If you ever find a way out of Dortmund Asylum, I’ll put a bullet in it.’ We are going to see how true to his word the copper is.”
Magnus listened, unable to find a way to dent the aggression, to keep it from crashing against the rocks of his conscience and spilling onto land.
“Why…why…I mean all we’ve done, all we’ve fucking sacrificed to set you free, and you want to test a man who knows your face! Fuck Jasper, why are you doing this to me? If they lock you up again…”
“Mag, this isn’t a test or anything, you’re my little brother and I’d do anything for you… anything…but I’ve been locked away for so long, I needed to focus my mind on things other than the rats trying to nibble at my feet. I made these promises…and they allowed me to keep on track, to keep the fear in Walter, to keep Lonie in line. Now, that anger; this is your chance to use it before we leave. Punch me.”
Jasper didn’t even brace. Magnus stared at his brother, incredulous.
“Punch you? The fuck…”
There were other words, but they receded back down his throat and searched for cover.
“Just hit me, Mag. Mangle my face. I’m going to pass as Walter Perch, I’m going to look that copper in the eye from the seat of our ride and he’s going to forget the face he thought would stay with him forever. And if my name pops up once more, he’ll know I slipped through the cracks and his arrogance caused more chaos than he could ever imagine.”
Astrid watched silently from the bed, the only audience to the brothers Paul. Magnus muttered to himself, questioning everything; his study, his motives, his actions. But he did not question his brother again, spinning around and smashing him in the temple with a clumsy fist. Jasper hit the deck, more brittle than expected. He giggled.
“If you’re trying to mangle a man, bust his lips and dislodge his teeth, bruise his cheeks, break his nose and cut the skin above his eyebrows. A red forehead won’t fool anybody.”
“Well excuse me, I’m the brother who learned how to save the sick, not make them bleed.”
Jasper rose again, in not an ounce of pain, back in his cell as the shackles fell away. Magnus used a straight left jab to Jasper’s nose, snapping it cleanly to the right. This was followed up with a right hook to the mouth, knocking out two teeth as a third lodged into Magnus’ hand and caused both men to bleed. The thin lip split down the middle, spilling blood in a thick stream defying its size. But Magnus wanted to go again, and again, and again
. Another left jab, splitting skin on the cheekbone. An uppercut to the eye causing rapid swelling. With each connection Jasper’s laugh increased, the only sound in the room which mocked their relationship. As Magnus drew back for another right hook, the volume of Jasper’s voice alerted him like an alarm on a Monday morning.
“That’s enough,” he said, more to himself, panting to catch air in a stifling room. Jasper stood…and gone again were the boyish looks, this time hidden by oozing wounds worsening by the second. He walked to the mirror in the bathroom, judged his new look and returned with the most deranged grin Magnus had seen in all his time with the sick.
“How do I look, little brother?”
“Like a mad man.”
Leaving Dortmund
Children’s tales have us sprouting from a mould of clay into a magnificent and colourful being. But our innocence dies with puberty, Magnus. Curiosity becomes determination.
They weaved through the towers that reached to the sky, pillars of the business world guarding their dominion from the constant threat of nature. Cars honked their horns, pedestrians shook their fists, but Jasper Paul ruled those streets as though they were his own at a time when he was free from the cage. Magnus gripped onto his brother like the child he once was, and realised that whenever he was in the presence of his oldest sibling that this was the way he felt; a kid being shown the world from a deeper, darker angle. The pair hadn’t spoken in the three years since their sister threatened Jasper, but time had no leverage over brothers.
“What will you do now?” asked Jasper, ignoring the red light as his motorbike caused traffic mayhem behind them.
“I…just don’t know. I want to help people. But in what way is anyone’s guess.”
“You do well in school?” he asked, as though he knew the answer. As though he’d seen every test result. As though he’d graded the papers himself.
“Tests have never been an issue.”
