“Not bad, boy,” said Scarlet. She displayed no sign of disconcert or shock, nor grief over the life that had just left this world.
Emilio ‘The Sicilian’ entered the room, followed by three of his men. He was a veteran member of the clan, serving Scarlet Lancaster since she attained power, and was known for his bald head and inability to smile. He waited silently as the boss spoke again to Adam.
“Didn’t think you had it in you.” Her subordinates promptly moved to carry the body away while one dealt with the mess it left behind. Adam, still shaken, unconsciously started undoing the top buttons of his shirt, then redoing them.
“How the hell did he get so close to me?”
“Not sure, ma’am,” Emilio answered.
Adam saw the spilled water on the desk, then absentmindedly rushed to find a towel to clean it with. Scarlet watched him while responding to Emilio: “Never heard that before. You’re always sure, unless you fuck up.” She glared at the others present, enforcers and bodyguards alike. “How did no one see him?” she screamed.
“He might have taken a house,” said Emilio. “Or he hid in one, camping out until the right moment to strike. We found tools outside from where he climbed up.”
Adam could still see the body there – now the second life he had taken. There was no growing accustomed to being a killer. Never any justification. Murder and guilt; that was the price of his commitment to the clan, and the drive to become a valued member. Or, just a member. No doubt, he would get his wish now. He would become one of them. Finally, the family he always wanted. He earned it. But part of him died with the man whose life he ended. At minimum, he had earned the respect of the other members, even the veterans.
Scarlet commanded him to clean the blood, which reminded him of his place, whether he made his bones or not. He was a butler, a steward, a secretary, a lowly servant, and nothing more. In a shrill, satisfied voice, the boss asked him, “You want to be part of my family, don’t you?”
Don’t abandon hope just yet, he told himself.
Adam finally mustered enough attentiveness to turn and face her. Merely seeing the drooping skin in her cheeks and neck made him feel nauseous. “Yes, ma’am. Absolutely.”
Upon completing his task, Scarlet extended a palm, pointing him to the chair before her desk. “My apologies for not remembering this, but… How long have you been with us?”
“Only a few months.” She’ll want a precise answer, thought Adam. As he sat in the chair, he corrected himself. “Uh… Four months, I think.”
“Emilio took you in, didn’t he?”
Adam nodded.
“You were laying in the middle of the street, like roadkill.”
Adam wasn’t sure if Scarlet meant that as a statement or question. “I was in my car, ma’am, not on the road. I was… Uh…” Damn it, she doesn’t care for useless details!
“What were you doing? Why were you out there, waiting to die like that?”
His eyes found the others present, all watching him like they were in an interrogation room. He hoped Emilio, a far more confident man than himself, would speak on his behalf. The questions made him abhorrently nervous, causing him to sweat. “I…” His words escaped him. “My father.”
“What about him?” Emilio interjected.
“I attacked my father, because he killed my mother with a ten-pound dumbbell. It killed her instantly.” How can I say this in a tough-guy way? he thought heavily for a second or two. “So, I crushed his skull with the same object like it was nothing.”
“Like it was nothing?” asked Scarlet, not fazed by his loss in the slightest. “You didn’t regret it or feel shame?”
“Well… There were… There were about twelve of us total. My parents… Um… One of my aunts… The rest were just friends of ours. Hiding for so long, we kind of had a lot of drama going on. You know how it is… You know, backstabbing and gossip. I was just tired of it.” He looked at the others again. “So, when my drunk piece-of-shit father killed my mother…” At that moment, Adam realized, I didn’t answer her question…
“You wanted a better family? A family that would have your back.”
He nodded. “You could say that.”
“Would you do it again?”
“Do what?” Is she asking if I’d kill my own father again? How sick!
“Would you take a life for me, of course?”
“Well, I just did, didn’t I?” he nervously laughed. The others chuckled as well. “Uh…, yes, ma’am.” He viciously scratched his thigh.
Scarlet laughed. My hesitation is amusing, apparently, he figured. “Well, young man,” she began. “Give it time and you might have a new family to call your own. I’m sure you don’t want to just wait on me forever. I’ll give you a glimpse of what my people do around here. And … as for now, I have some records to examine. Bring me everything I have on the Solomon family.”
False promises, and then back in his place, like always. His moment of glory quickly extinguished. It was hardly as phenomenal as he dreamed. Only guilt, without a silver lining. Could a reward diminish his shame, anyway? He wondered.
Adam swiftly paced to one of several bookshelves; he knew which one. The boss had spoken of that name before: Solomon. The unfamiliarity had him assume it was a smaller family in the area, or somewhere outside the city limits. He tried to recall the names of the four strongest underworld families of the Portland area. Scarlet, boss of the Lancasters… Then, the Marsdens, the Verbecks, and… The final name slipped his mind. The fourth family isn’t the Solomons. Well, it might be… Who are the Solomons if not the fourth family? He recounted the three names in his mind again. Finally, the name returned to him when he noticed someone approaching. A tall, sturdy man entered the room, wearing his usual black leather coat that extended past his knees. The Krohns…
Ethan Krohn – Scarlet’s favorite pet. Adam saw him as an enviable example of what it means to command respect. His face was a bit boyish, which seemed unusual for someone with such notoriety. Despite that, his face was in a constant solemn state; utterly intimidating. He would have been a handsome man had he chosen a different lifestyle. He carried a heavy build, far more than anyone who served Scarlet, like a human tank, but still maintained a slim figure that allowed him to be swift and agile. He had seen Ethan deal with Scarlet’s enemies before. The man was built to kill.
Not once had Adam seen Ethan without that coat, or the serrated hunting knife concealed at his hip. He was now wearing black Kevlar gloves and steel-toed boots, which could only mean he was preparing to leave on a mission. No gun, though. As far as he knew, Ethan never carried a gun.
But even stranger was that Ethan wasn’t even a member of the clan. Not officially. The boss trusted him completely, though. Ethan had been with them since before Adam arrived. Why he resided with a different clan than his own, Adam never figured out. He couldn’t even guess. All four of the stronger, larger clans in the city were headed by women, widely called the Matriarchs, among some other, less flattering titles. A civil war erupted between them only a few months previous. Whatever caused the war, Adam thought… If Ethan can live with Scarlet, it must mean their clans are on good terms.
Adam respected Ethan the most, above all others under Scarlet’s command. He admired Ethan primarily for his fighting ability. Adam always had flimsy arms, since birth. He had studied martial arts at some point in life, but was never serious enough to excel at it. Protecting the boss was Ethan’s primary job, and he was the best at his occupation. Scarlet was too careful to allow non-members in her presence to be armed, except him. Ethan had somehow made himself an exception, which only made Adam admire the man more.
“Where have you been?” scorned Scarlet at the Krohn.
“The roof,” he replied. “Someone outside had a message for you.” Ethan’s disregard for conversation always amused Adam.
“Is it necessary?” the boss asked. “I just sat down.” Because you nearly got shot, thought Adam.
�
�No need to stand; your guys told her to get lost. She reported suspicious activity, though.”
“Who is? And what does ‘suspicious’ mean?”
Emilio spoke up. Adam had nearly forgotten he was there. Apart from never smiling, the man rarely made a sound. He stood like a statue. “I heard of that too,” said the Sicilian. “Someone’s causing trouble a few blocks down. They’re gaining a sizeable following, growing larger every day. Seems serious.”
“Who’s reporting this to us?” asked the boss.
“Don’t know about Ethan, but I heard it from some douche bag who lives on his turf,” answered Emilio. “Never caught his name.”
Scarlet sighed. She slumped her weight back in her chair, burying her face into her palm. “Well,” she said after a pause, “if you think it’s important… Bring him to me.” Both Ethan and Emilio turned to leave, but Scarlet stopped them, adding, “Emilio, you stay. Ethan, you take Adam.” She pulled her gun and set it on the desk. It took a moment before Adam realized it was meant for him.
Ethan left without waiting. Adam had forgotten about the file on the Solomons right there in his hands. He flopped the folder on Scarlet’s desk, almost in a panic, swept up the gun, then ran to follow Ethan before he was out of sight. He remained further than arm’s reach from Ethan, feeling both unsafe and unworthy to stand so close to the man.
As they proceeded to the south end of the first floor, Adam was reminded of the man he had killed. It was the smell; the hallway was easier to breathe in. He had already adjusted to the smell of decanting blood from a warm corpse. No one cared, he thought. That’s almost inhuman. He began to justify it: The man was attempting to commit murder…
Ethan opened the door which lead into the playground area behind the building. A couple dozen feet to their left was the baseball field. Straight ahead lay the neighborhood, their destination. Ethan stopped and turned toward the watchers on the roof. “Who’s available?” he asked, gaining their immediate attention.
Adam couldn’t help but think that at that moment, any one of them could shoot him. Their rifles made them as frightening as bears, though most of them had weak stature. They could shoot Ethan too, he thought. Ethan commanded more fear and respect, inexplicably. His presence invoked more fear than all the roof guards combined. They feared him, despite the fact he didn’t even carry a gun.
“How many do you need?” asked a sentry.
“Five.” Ethan’s reply sounded like an apathetic guess.
“All right,” said the guard, who waved a signal to the others up there. “Coming down.”
Ethan idly waited, staring far off into the distance. The way he stood, Adam could have mistaken him to be a machine. When the five had joined them at ground level, Ethan turned and walked toward the neighborhood.
“What are we doing?” asked one.
Quick to answer, Adam said, “Someone’s trying to compete with Scarlet’s power. We’re gonna find him.” He felt more confident already, having rushed to reply to feel more valuable to the group.
“Then what?”
“We deliver him, preferably alive,” Ethan said, sounding annoyed.
Daylight waned. If Adam had kept track of time like he had in life before the Collapse, he would guess it was 5 o’clock. For his sake, he prayed the light would last them the mission. Who would care if I die out here? he thought. His life was of little importance to anyone. The others knew the area well, and were seasoned in nocturnal conflicts, whereas he had no experience. Even at the school, when night fell, he was cautious of Scarlet’s soldiers and bodyguards. Sharing quarters did not imply friendship. Scarlet was the sole woman in the clan, and nobody would attempt to take advantage of the boss. With all that fat and her old age, who would want to? He, however, was small and had never been in a fistfight. If the guys wanted some fun, or felt inclined to assert their alpha male status, he couldn’t defend himself. When he slept, he slept as lightly as possible, but out there, being fully alert provided him little comfort. He half-expected to be shot for being a potential liability.
Ethan led them three streets down. Rather than following the road, they passed through yards. The others held their weapons high. Adam had no firearm. He was reminded of Ethan’s lack of one as well. Does Ethan even own a gun? he wondered. Adam observed Ethan more than his surroundings, even adjusting his posture to walk like him.
They stopped at the third street. Ethan inexplicably knew where to bring them; but Adam didn’t dare question how. Shattered bottles covered the road, side to side, end to end. Hollow bullet shells were dispersed among them. The houses all bore evidence of raids. No one in sight, though. “I recognize this,” said one among them. “The glass keeps cars out. It used to be meant for cops, though. What are the bullets for?”
“Warning,” said Ethan.
“Or, they mean something happened here, like a battle,” said another clansman.
“Quiet, all of you,” Ethan ordered. “We’ll find the woman near here.”
Adam, trying to keep up with Ethan, asked, “Did the woman say anything else, like what part of –”
“Quiet!” Ethan’s scorn silenced Adam utterly. “We’re splitting up. Find her.”
How am I gonna know when I found her? Adam prayed someone would ask that for him. But, everyone was already proceeding in different directions. I’m the only guy that didn’t see this woman. Maybe if I just ask… No, they won’t bother.
He went on his way as well, knowing this will get over with if he moves faster. Never had he wished for a gun more than this moment. You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, he told himself.
After he passed through a yard and onto the next street, he saw a face in the house directly ahead, peering out from a window, its attention fixed on him. It was the face of a child. A little boy. Adam’s eyes met the boy’s, which scared it away. Orders are orders. He hesitated. Ethan’s orders had nothing to do with finding children, but Adam couldn’t resist the compulsion to check on the boy. It was the least he could do. After checking his surroundings, he adjusted his hair and clothes to be more presentable, then walked toward the house with his hands up.
He knocked once, then a few seconds later, again. For several minutes, there was no answer. Nearly leaving, he heard activity inside, and stayed his feet. A gentle voice came from the other side. “Who is it?”
Adam wanted to answer, but failed to think of something to say. Gently, he knocked again. After hearing a chain lock being placed the front door slowly opened. A woman, with a hunched back and wheezy breathing, stood before him, pointing a shotgun at his head. Three young ones, with fear covering their faces, watched from a few feet back.
“I won’t hurt you,” said Adam calmly, though shaking.
The woman seemed to struggle standing. She was leaning her shoulder on the door post. “What do you want?” Her arms couldn’t hold the weapon steady. She must have been half-starved; her children were like skeletons.
“I just need information. My name’s Adam.” Words escaped him for a moment. The woman’s frailty started to affect him. “Where’s their father?”
She gasped, turning frantically toward her kids. “Go downstairs! I told you not to let him see you!”
“You don’t need to be alarmed, miss. I won’t hurt you. Is the father here?”
“Why? You think I can’t defend myself or my kids because I’m a woman?”
“No, miss. I ask because you don’t look healthy. I’m concerned, is all.” He looked down the barrel of the 12-gauge. “To be completely honest, I'm also concerned for myself.”
The woman lowered her weapon. “I'm sorry.” She opened the door, gesturing him permission to enter. He politely stepped inside. “Joann,” she greeted, extending a hand to shake. Adam gently shook it. “We've been here since everything went to hell... Are you a cop? Or, a former cop?” She closed the door tightly and locked the knob and bolt.
“Never was, I'm afraid.”
She stumbled toward the living room, dropping ont
o the couch. “Then, why are you here? Who are you?” Adam heard the scratch in her throat with every word she spoke, pitying her.
His attire was more friendly and comfortable than his colleagues', at least. It was fortunate they weren't present. The last thing he could bring himself to do, though, was admit who he belonged to, but he didn't want to lie either. His fingers started readjusting the buttons on his shirt again, almost on their own. 'I belong to the mob,' he imagined himself saying. He wanted to appear as if he were there to protect her family. Ethan did not venture out there to protect the woman who reported to the clan; if anything, he intended to use her as bait. She might be that woman, he thought. “Miss, has anything … happened lately?”
“To me?”
Adam didn't respond. Too many thoughts rushed through his mind, until he had ultimately lost track of the present and froze.
“You always do that?”
Adam realized he was exercising his compulsive habit, and stopped at once. “Sorry.” He shook his head, piecing together how to speak of the matter. “I meant … to any of you.”
“We've been robbed. A couple times, actually. I was... Well, they never saw my kids. My husband tried to stop them, but...”
“I understand,” he said before she finished. “The people who break in... Is it always same people?” She nodded slowly, staring at the floor. “I... I heard there's a gang causing trouble around here. Were you the lady that reported this to us?”
“Did I what, to who?”
Clearly not, then. “Never mind. I was mistaken.” He leaned forward as he spoke more candidly. “Well, my, uh, boss, wants this gang dealt with.”
The mother looked up at him. “So, you belong to your own gang? I should have known. You look clean for being in a gang. You belong to that woman who took over the school, don't you? I don't want to tell you anything if it's going to start some kind of war. My family has nowhere else to hide.”
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