by J. Kowallis
“Where the hell have you been?” Estevan growled, his breath fogging in the cold night air.
“Caspar and his damn Jimmies made me stay another round. We have to hurry,” the young man said with a lazy American accent.
“Where’s the dump site?”
“The edge of town. All the bodies get thrown over into the sea.”
“You’re lying. The ocean’s edge is miles away.”
Roydon’s head cocked. “The coast line’s a lot closer than it used to be.” He grabbed at Estevan’s jacket, pulling him to follow, and spun on his heel.
Even with the piercing adrenaline coursing through Estevan’s body, Roydon’s steps were difficult to keep up with. He wondered if Roydon was more anxious to get to Ransley than he was.
“Don’t think you’re going to hide it.”
“Hide what?” Roydon harshly replied, looking down over his shoulder.
“Who you are,” Estevan grumbled. “Do you really think no one saw what you did back there? I’m not drunk and though I might look stupid, I know bullshit when I see it.”
Roydon dropped his head lower and his broad chest expanded. “If I hadn’t done what I did, your precious daughter would have killed me.” He spun on his heel, walking backwards. “By the way, you think I didn’t notice her little trick?” He turned around again and kept pacing forward.
“We’re not talking about what Ransley did or didn’t do. I’m asking about you!”
“Yeah, well, I’m not talking about me.”
Estevan seethed. Had he not seen Roydon split into two identical bodies? Had it happened during the pre-Ransley years, while he was living his drugged-up existence, the sight wouldn’t have turned his head. Now he was more than sober, and the man that could have murdered his daughter wouldn’t say a word about it.
“You’d better talk about you, boy! Am I supposed to believe I hallucinated? You better explain who and what you are before I . . . .”
As if looped around the neck by a crook, Roydon pulled himself back and planted his feet in front of Estevan. His eyebrows pointed sharply down, and the muscles around the base of his nose curled. “Do you think you’re the only one shocked by what happened? A woman touches my skin and tries to boil me from the inside out and I’m the one being interrogated? You out me, I out her.”
Estevan grabbed Roydon’s shirt neckline.
“You gonna hit me? Waste time while Ransley’s unconscious body’s tossed into the ocean? Go ahead.”
He wanted to hit him. So much. “Get moving then.” He shoved Roydon back.
Roydon cussed and he picked up the pace, leaving Estevan behind. A million and one questions poured through Estevan’s mind. Questions he felt needed to be answered. He loathed admitting it, but Roydon was right. They didn’t even know if Ransley was safe. Setting aside his own demanding curiosity, he followed Roydon through the crumbling streets. The homes diminished in size, disappearing into the belly of the city and the coast line came nearer. Ahead was a large run-down tow truck. Its motor rumbled loudly, cutting through the dense night. Resting on its tail were a handful of bodies from the first round of fights.
Estevan stayed closer to the shadows, away from the glaring eye of the moon stretching out above them. The door of the tow truck clanged shut and a hefty man climbed out and walked around to the back. From where they stood, Estevan could see what looked like Ransley’s unconscious body resting limply in the middle of the others.
The man grabbed at a set of ankles, dragged the figure of a muscled, but stocky man closer to him and let the top half plummet to the ground. It raked across the rocks and dirt while the man dragged it closer to the coast’s edge. Estevan watched the man look out over the edge, gauge the distance, and then grip the ankles more firmly. He grunted and yelled out, swinging the body around like an oversize hammer-throw. The body toppled over the cliff.
At the backside of the tow truck, a dark figure moved around and Estevan looked to his left where Roydon should have been. He was gone. Roydon had slinked to the side, watching over the top of the flat truck bed. Estevan moved out of his spot in the shadows and headed for the pickup. Roydon sat hunched, waiting for him.
“She’s still out,” Roydon whispered to him.
“What are you waiting for?”
Roydon held up his hand and listened to the jostling of another body being pulled off the truck. The body thudded to the ground and Estevan stole a look beneath the truck to see the corpse dragged over the ground.
“Since your daughter has an affinity for ripping shoulders out of sockets, mine is still giving me problems. I’ll keep an eye on him while you pull her off.”
Estevan narrowed his eyes and his raspy vocal chords grated. “Am I supposed to trust you?”
“Let’s put it this way. If you don’t, you have no chance of getting your daughter back.”
It pissed Estevan off, but he knew it was true. He had to trust him. There was no other choice. In a matter of seconds, Ransley’s limp unconscious body would be tossed over the side.
Estevan nodded. He still didn’t trust Roydon, but if he didn’t at least give him something, he’d lose Ransley.
He waited for Roydon to sneak underneath the tow truck and lay flat on his stomach and Estevan squatted down to watch. The thud of another body being dragged off the bed and landing on the ground caused dirt to fly into Roydon’s direction. Without a flinch, he turned back around to give a thumbs-up.
Estevan slowly stood and looked over the truck. The driver slowly dragged the large body of Yaco over the jagged rocks, the body’s fingers rippling over each clump of dead grass or rock.
Estevan reached for Ransley’s arms, tucking his fingers into the hollow of her armpits and pulled. The weight of another bald man with an all-seeing eye tattooed on his head rested on top of her. Pulling her off wasn’t easy. He reached forward to try to roll the other body away when he felt a hard yank on his leg. When he looked up, he saw the driver brushing his hands against his pants and heading back. He sprung to the ground, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Roydon placed a finger to his lips and Estevan couldn’t help but glare at him. He knew the importance of being quiet—he wasn’t born yesterday.
They watched underneath the truck while the driver pulled on the legs of another body. The head of the bald corpse that had been on Ransley bashed against the ground. In a flash, Estevan stood up and reached for Ransley. With two large pulls, he cradled her long body in his arms and tried to stifle the sound of movement.
Their theft of Ransley’s body hadn’t been stealthy as they’d hoped. The man had heard them and had dropped the legs of the body he had to run for them.
“Son of a bitch!” Roy exploded.
Roydon grabbed a ridge on the underbelly of the truck and slid over the grating rocks to the other side. The garbage man bent down to grab Roydon and the kid planted a foot in his jaw. The fight continued, both men hammering into the other. The deep clang of someone running into the truck bed made Estevan jump. The driver’s hands were so large he nearly had Roydon pinned to the ground. Apparently, deciding the garbage man would die anyway, Roydon projected himself into two.
Stupid kid. Who knew who else was watching? The second Roydon craned the man’s neck back, causing him to release himself on the ground.
Estevan turned his attention back to Ransley. “Come on, Perdida. Wake up. Wake up, girl. You can’t stay out.” He gently slapped her cheeks, attempting to bring her back. Her head lolled back and forth with the force. He pressed an ear to her chest, trying to hear breathing or a heartbeat. It was there—dangerously slow and low, but they were both there.
He cursed Roydon’s name, gently trying to bring her back.
“Come on, Ransley!” He slapped her again. Harder.
“Ransley!” One more hit—his hand stung.
A small involuntary tear fell from his eye and splashed on her cheek. In a matter of seconds, it evaporated and Estevan felt his skin heat up underneath her weight. S
weat poured from her skin, and the shade of her face altered from pale white to flaming red. When holding her became too much, he lowered her to the ground, still hovering over her. He’d only ever seen this happen once before.
He stepped back, terrified of what would happen when she woke up.
He looked under the truck to see Roydon and Roydon laying into the driver’s face. Slimy strings of saliva and deep red blood flowed from the man’s mouth, and he kept swearing at the two identical forms.
Estevan fell over when a chest-rattling gasp exploded from Ransley’s throat. She bolted up, looking like she’d spent ten hours in a sauna from hell. A burst of fire exploded.
The corpses. They were all burning.
Ransley’s eyes flew to Estevan, looking wild and scared. Her pupils were dilated and drowned out the dark brown color of her retinas. The whites were completely crimson, every blood vessel popped.
“Papá?” her voice shook.
Just then, Roydon’s first body was thrown to the ground, unconscious, leaving the second Roydon on his own. Without exhaustion, without thought, Ransley jumped to her feet, hoisted herself over the burning bodies on the truck, cutting through the flames, and leapt with full force onto the garbage man .
Estevan stepped back away from the truck, watching with shock. Somehow, she’d not only been healed of any injuries, but she was stronger. Her face twisted with rage, her eyes still burning.
In an instant, it all ended. The driver lay on the ground, still oozing blood. Roydon, coughed, trying to get control of his breathing after it had been knocked clear from his lungs. He spit on the ground and tried to stand up fully. It was only then that Estevan noticed only one Roydon again.
“Damaged shoulder, huh?” Estevan breathed.
Roydon glared over his shoulder and coughed again. His eyes moved from the dead garbage man to Estevan’s daughter, standing silhouetted in front of the bonfire, glistening sweat as if she’d climbed out of hell.
“Yeah.”
―RANSLEY―
I feel like my eyes are going to shrivel inside my head. They’re burning. I blink repeatedly to keep them focused. I’m grateful it’s past midnight and it’s black as pitch out here. The darkness has a cooling effect on my sight. The longer we walk, the cooler I feel. Estevan keeps wrapping his jacket tighter around himself, looking at me as if to ask if I need it. I keep shaking my head. I’m so hot it feels like mid-February with high sun. It’s even difficult to breathe.
No one has said a word since we left the cliff behind—since my body temperature exploded and brought me back from the dead. Mostly, I’m trying to process what’s happened.
Roydon, this guy who can do some pretty freaky things, nearly killed me, and I’m pretty sure my body healed itself. I’ve never been unconscious that long before. Plenty of black outs and concussions, but nothing to cause my body to react this way. Any soreness or pain I might feel from my fights with Yaco and Roydon should make it hard to move, but aside from the intense heat, I feel better than normal.
I sneak a glimpse at Roydon, but he hasn’t looked at me since I woke up—or, if he has, I haven’t noticed. He looks so aloof. It’s kind of irritating.
I keep reviewing questions, wanting to get some answers from him; answers I’ve been asking myself my whole life.
Who are my parents? Are there more of us out there? What is his power, exactly? How long has he known about it? Did he just learn? Did he ever use his abilities before? Where is he from? Why does he seem so familiar? Have we met before without realizing it? How long has he been fighting, and has he ever used his abilities in a fight? Who trained him? Why do we both have these powers? Where did they come from? Was he born with his? Does he remember anything from his childhood?
The thoughts spin through my head like a twister, gathering more questions and spitting out more confusion.
The only thing I finally say is, “Thank you.” It comes out harsher than I’d intended, so it feels like glass shattering in the silent night.
Roydon’s head whips around and his rough weather-worn face looks at me with the same frozen look that’s been plastered there for the past fifteen minutes. The tension melts from his lifted eyebrow and he sighs. “You’re welcome, I guess.”
I turn my head back to the dark streets, widening my eyes a little to let the cool night blow against them. I must look like hell for him to gape at me like that.
My tank top clings to me like I’ve climbed out of a swimming pool. My pants hang on my hips and the remaining blood staining my shirt makes me feel like a horror tale zombie. I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead and flick off the blanket of sweat that’s rubbed off on my hand. I can’t see my eyes, but from the look in Estevan’s, and judging by what they’ve both told me, I look a little demonic.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“What more do you want me to say?”
“You don’t want to apologize for anything?”
Roy chortles. “Apologize for what?”
“I don’t know . . . choking me ‘til I passed out and nearly killing me. That kind of rings a bell.”
“I saved your life. I’m not going to apologize for that.”
“How gentlemanly of you.”
He frowns at me. “Are you always this irritating?”
“I don’t know, are you always this boorish?”
Behind me, I hear Estevan snigger in a low grunt.
“Fine,” Roy responds, “You know what? I am sorry. Sorry, I saved your ass. I should have killed you.”
“Save it. You wouldn’t have been able to kill me, and you know it.”
Roy spins around and walks backward, keeping his eyes locked on me. “You regretting that? Wanna finish it?”
“Maybe. Just answer me this. Let’s say you could have killed me. You could have saved yourself and left like any other fight. But you didn’t. You came after me again.” I shake my head. “I don’t understand what made you come with Estevan for me, but you did. Why didn’t you leave? I would have.”
He frowns at me then twists back around to walk straight. “You know why.” The toe of his boot kicks a large rock and sends it tumbling down the stony road. “Those options disappeared the second you started to boil my guts. And if you’re anything like me, I’m sure you have a lot of the same questions I do.”
“I might,” I answer coldly. “I just . . . I don’t know where to start.”
Roydon sticks his hands in his pockets and nods, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “Yeah. You and me both.”
I keep thinking the perfect question will pop into my head. One that will sum-up all the others. It never comes. We walk in silence with Estevan close behind.
The city is silent except for the occasional mass cheer or groan of voices from the ring where the fighting has resumed. I shouldn’t be surprised it’s still running. It’s still early at one a.m. Every so often, I hear a can being kicked down an ally or muffled voices from nearby chipped concrete apartments. I’d expect a stray animal is making some of the noises, but Estevan told me once that stray cats or dogs are eaten if they’re ever found. Food is valuable, and meat doubly so. If an animal makes its way into the city, there’s a ninety-five percent chance its head has been bashed in by someone before it even makes it five hundred feet down the sidewalk.
We round another street corner and I can already feel it. There’s warmth in the air making the bristled hairs on my arms slowly relax, even though there’s a heart-pounding chill running down my body. The warmth is unnatural. I understand why it’s so warm the moment I see the flames licking the sky.
Our apartment. Estevan’s childhood home is swallowed in monstrous crackling flames. The heat warms my face from a distance and my blood-shot eyes feel like they’re blistering. The remaining window in the front bursts and glass explodes out onto the street, making me jerk back. A billow of hot air envelopes my body and I take off into a sprint.
“No! Ransley!” Estevan calls behind me.
; I’m not sure what my plan will be when I get there. I know I have to do something. It’s all gone. Everything we have, my entire life . . . it’s disappearing. Being eaten and devoured by the one element I know I can control.
I have to stop it.
The hot breath of the fire permeates my skin, sinking into my bones the closer I get. I hear Estevan calling after me, trying to keep up. I reach my hand out to stop the flames, sensing the warm lick of the flames around my hand. Instinctually, I center my attention on the inferno and envision peace, measured movements, silence. The fire envelopes my hand, yet doesn’t touch my skin. I can feel its excitement—rushing, hastening, and blazing through me. It’s moving so fast. I concentrate harder.
Just as the energy of the fire begins to calm, a force tackles me to the ground. Tiny rocks and dirt grind into my palms and shoulder. Air rushes out of my lungs and I gasp for a breath. The fire blazes hotter than before with fury and exhilaration. A loud BOOM from the inside of the engulfed apartment shocks my system and I scramble away from the house. Roydon glares at me, the fire dancing behind him and making him a shadowed silhouette. He ducks down to avoid the sparks then rushes to his feet, moving from the roar of the fire. He grabs at me once more, pulling me farther away.
“What are you doing!?” I yell.
Roydon lifts me to my feet and yanks at the fabric of my shirt. He holds me so close I can see the flecks of silver in his eyes, reflecting in the glow of the blaze. “Are you kidding me?” he hisses in my ear. “You have no idea who’s watching. You put that fire out, and you’re good as dead!”
“But,” I turn to look at the apartment, noticing Estevan’s face when he catches up to us, “everything . . .”
“It’s gone, Perdida. We need to get out of here, now.” Estevan’s voice rumbles, but he gently tugs on my elbow. “They may be close by.”
“Who?’ I ask, still aware of Roydon’s grasp on my shirt.
Estevan and Roydon exchange knowing glances. “Caspar,” Estevan answers. “We can’t stay.”
The silent invisible pull from the both of them, urging me to leave, finally gets my feet moving and with the fire at our backs, we jog off down the streets and away from any lingering eyes. If Estevan is right, and Caspar is behind the arson, he knows I’m still alive, and he knows Roydon cheated. For a ring owner, I can only imagine what he could do to us. I’ve heard of fighters being found with their intestines hanging from their slashed open stomachs after cheating. I know we’ll have to leave town. With the truck gone, and all our belongings devoured, I feel dark.
