by Adam Matlow
“You,” the big guy grunted, as he struggled to catch his breath, “Where’s the girl?” He wrapped the pipe in his hands.
“How did you manage to keep up with me?” he said to the larger man. “I mean, carrying all that extra weight around?”
Antagonising a large man wielding a pipe was not the smartest thing he could have done, but he was angry. Angry for getting himself into this situation, and angry at being so careless as to be cornered.
“You’re gonna regret that,” he said, “We know who you are, and we know you were with her. Davon wants the girl and he’s happy to kill all of us to get her. He’s already burned down half the town. So, I’ll make it real easy for you. Tell us where she is, and nobody else needs to get hurt.”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble. You’ve obviously mixed me up with someone else. So, I’ll be on my way now.”
“Oh, there’s no mix-up.”
The pipe wielder pulled a crumpled photograph of Marcus and Vana from his back pocket, apparently taken during the escape from the Elite soldier.
How had they gotten a picture of him? Was there someone else there, watching them the whole time? These were questions for another time, as Marcus’s attention snapped back to the larger man. He was advancing upon him the pipe scraping on the ground as he dragged it behind him.
The smaller man, wearing a soot-covered shirt pocked with burn marks spoke in a thick broad accent. “The Legion was ‘anding those pictures out, right before they set fire to everything. Now we don’t ‘specially like them much around ‘ere, but we ain’t gonna sit around doing nothin’ while our homes burn.”
Marcus’s back hit the wall behind him with a jolt. There was nowhere left to go. The big guy swung the pipe between his hands, a menacing glint in his eye and the faint curl of a smile on his lips.
Even if Marcus told him what he wanted to know, he’d probably still get a crack around the head from that pipe. The guy was angry, his home was under siege and he wanted to take it out on someone. Marcus could understand that much at least. Still, he didn’t fancy being on the receiving end of it.
“Last chance. Where’s the girl?”
“Guys, guys! Can’t we just—” The pipe struck Marcus and he was hit by an explosion of pain. His vision blurred and he fell backwards into the wall, crumpling to his knees. The pipe was hoisted into the air again before a hand came out to stop it.
“That’s enough, he won’t be any good to us if you splatter his brains all up this wall now will he?” The pipe rattled to the floor and Marcus felt himself being dragged into a standing position and pulled face to face with his assailant.
“He’ll be fine, just givin’ him something to think about,” grinned the big guy.
“Bring him,” said the small one.
Marcus tried to resist, but the blow to the head left him woozy. The world span and the voices of his attackers became distant and unimportant. His gaze drifted up - the smaller man’s face filled his vision.
“Sorry about this.”
The last thing Marcus saw was a fist heading towards him.
◆◆◆
Marcus looks around. His arms and legs are in chains, he’s in a dark room, but he’s not alone. He can hear soft sobbing noises in the darkness. Suddenly, light bursts into the room. The silhouette of a figure stands in the doorway, before yanking Marcus to his feet, dragging him outside.
He is not in Jericho anymore, he’s in the Forge. People scurry around and bump into him as they pass. He can smell burning, but there’s no fire.
The man who he is walking with is ahead of him now, he’s leading him to a building. His body won’t listen to his cries to run, he continues to walk until he reaches the door. The room inside is dark, save for a surgical bed in the middle of the room, lit from above with a spotlight. A woman stands next to the bed, dressed all in white, wearing rubber gloves. She is carrying a tray with needles and scalpels, some covered in dried blood. Marcus suddenly finds himself on the table, he’s terrified but he can’t move or call out. The woman places a mask over his face, blurring out her features. There is a noise of escaping gas.
As suddenly as it began it is over. He is stood in the operating room, all his doubts and fears gone. Replaced by certainty, confidence of purpose. The door opened again, someone else is brought into the room. Marcus looks down, and now he has a surgical tray in his hands. A woman is brought over and placed on the table, Marcus knows her from somewhere, but doesn’t dwell on it. Soon she will come to understand. She struggles as he places the mask over her face and switches on the gas. She tries to cry out, but the anaesthetic takes hold. Marcus reaches for one of the scalpels on the tray, selects the biggest one and raises it to her face.
A sudden feeling of cold comes across him, he feels wet. There are voices coming from somewhere. From the darkness.
◆◆◆
“Wakey, wakey.”
Marcus’s vision started to clear. He rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth and spat out a mouthful of blood. The side of this head pounded from where he had been struck. Another bucket of icy water hit him in the face, getting in his eyes and nose. He spluttered as he strained for breath. He tried to move but found himself immobilized, his arms and legs bound by a thick rope cutting deeply into his exposed skin.
“That’s enough,” came a voice.
Someone grabbed Marcus by the hair and yanked him up.
“I hope Clifton here didn’t hit you too hard because we have a few questions we’d like you to answer.”
The voice came from an older man, perhaps around sixty, he had a short scruffy grey beard and a fat face which gave him a ‘Jolly old man’ look, although there was nothing jolly about him now. The hand released him and his head flopped down.
“Clean him up, and bring him to my office,” the man said as he headed for the doorway. “And make it quick. I want to get this dealt with before word gets out.”
Clifton grabbed a machete from a nearby table and turned it over in his hands. He shot Marcus a sinister grin and swung the blade through the air. Marcus flinched as the edge streaked past his face and sliced clean through one of the ropes binding him.
Clifton laughed. “Now you didn’t think I was gonna hurt you did ya?”
He cut the second rope and Marcus crashed to the floor. Clifton grabbed his arm and pulled him up.
“Walk,” he grunted, “If I have to drag your sorry ass through here you’ll come to regret it.”
Marcus tried to summon the strength to break free of Clifton, but he was in no condition to put up a fight.
“You’re lucky,” said Clifton as they walked through a damp smelling corridor. “If it were up to me you’d already be on your way to Davon.”
At the end of the corridor was another room, more brightly lit with the door half ajar. A heated argument was taking place inside. Clifton shoved Marcus through the doorway and into a chair. In front of him was a desk cluttered with paperwork and ashtrays full of cigar stubs.
The pressure on Marcus’s arm slackened, and Clifton took a few steps back.
The bearded man sat on the other side of the desk, a cigar wedged between his fingers. A woman, hands splayed on the desk stood nose to nose with him. Her face was flushed and her clothes and hair stained with ash and soot. She pushed a fleck of blonde hair from in front of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear.
“Ah, speak of the devil,” the man said. “I don’t think we have been properly introduced, my name is Hudson and of course we already know who you are. Clifton would you mind waiting outside for me whilst we have a discussion with Marcus?”
Clifton opened his mouth to argue but appeared to change his mind, and simply turned and left. The door slammed behind him.
“Now, perhaps we can conduct a more civilised conversation. I’m sorry for how you were treated earlier, Clifton can be a bit… overzealous. He has his uses but lacks subtlety,” he pointed his cigar at the bump on Marcus’s head. “If you get my meaning.”<
br />
“May I introduce you to Kali? We were discussing our current situation.”
“Discussing my arse,” snorted Kali. “You’re only interested in turning a profit.”
She pushed some papers from Hudson’s desk onto the floor and looked at him in disgust. “I saw those two clowns drag you down here,” she said to Marcus. “I know Hudson. He intends to turn you over to the Legion, for a price.”
“Everything… everyone has a price my dear. Even you,” said Hudson calmly.
“Pfft, you can’t afford me.” Kali stood back from the table and leaned against the back wall with one foot.
Had he met her before? She looked familiar. His head throbbed from the earlier beating, he had trouble keeping his thoughts straight.
Hudson laughed. Cigar smoke billowed from his mouth and hung in the air above him.
Marcus wafted the smoke from his face and coughed theatrically.
“So, what is it you do around here Mister Hudson?”
Hudson grinned, took a long drag on his cigar and exhaled, before stubbing it out.
“You really can’t beat a good cigar you know,” he said. “Very hard to come by these days as well. Proper ones anyway, not the rubbish they peddle around here. Can I offer you one?”
He took a cigar from its container and wafted it under Marcus’s nose.
“No thanks,” said Marcus. “I’m not planning on staying long.”
“Hah!” Hudson clapped his hands together in amusement. “I think I’m going to like you.” Well in answer to your previous question, I acquire things. Things that are hard to get. Then I deliver them. For a reasonable price of course.”
“You’re a glorified thug Hudson,” interjected Kali. “You act like you’re some big mob boss or something, but you’re just a two-bit player. You’ve proven yourself useful in the past, but remember, should things ever change you will find the nature of our relationship changes, quickly.”
Hudson didn’t rise to Kali’s comments and instead waved his hand at her. He pushed his chair back and put his feet on the desk in front of him.
“Well, to business,” he said. “Let me tell you about the situation you have found yourself in. Last night we had a visit from the Legion. They were looking for you and a girl who was travelling with you. They said you interfered with an operation - killed one of their men and kidnapped the girl.”
Marcus slammed his hands on the desk, his face flushed red.
“First of all, I didn’t kill anyone,” he yelled. “And secondly, I didn’t kidnap her, it was a rescue.” Kali’s eyes were burning into him. “You’ve heard about the disappearances? People vanishing never to be seen again?” A flicker of recognition flashed across Kali’s face. She knows. “Vana, the girl,” he clarified, “When I saw her tied up, thrown in the back of the Humvee I had to do something, I couldn’t leave her like that.”
“I understand,” said Hudson, “I really do. You saw someone in trouble and you helped them out. You have a conscience, I can understand that.”
Kali scoffed, “Yeah right. Like you were ever burdened with one.”
“You wound me,” said Hudson, placing his hand over his heart, “You really do, but this isn’t about me now is it. It’s about you, and how you can get yourself out of this situation.”
“How was I supposed to know they knew where to find me?” Marcus protested. “I was out in the middle of nowhere. I could have been anybody.”
Hudson leaned forward, jabbing the cigar at Marcus as he spoke. “Well, they did know who you were and where you were from. They came here and when they couldn’t find you they started rounding people up for questioning. When they didn’t get the answers they were looking for… well, you’ve seen their handiwork for yourself. The fires were brought under control last night, but they were only a warning.”
“Stop pretending like you care,” said Kali. “You see this as a business opportunity and nothing more.”
“You’re wrong Kali. I’m doing this to protect the town and my family. What Davon and the Legion are doing here is nothing compared to what they’ll do if they don’t get what they want. And we can make it all go away. My conscience is clear.”
Hudson picked up a framed photograph from his desk and showed it to Marcus. It was old and yellowing at the edges.
“My wife, and daughter,” he said, pointing to the picture. “This was taken a few years ago now.”
In the centre of the image was a young woman, with dark hair and wearing a long flowing dress. In the background, a small girl played with wooden toys, a look of glee on her face.
Marcus let out a sigh and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to his next question, but he asked it anyway.
“So why exactly am I still here, and not being turned over to Davon?”
“He seems to want you pretty bad,” said Hudson. “But he wants the girl more. Kali has persuaded me to let you go. All you need to do in return is to tell me where she is.”
Kali walked over and placed a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. Her grip was firm and she stared into his eyes.
“I suggest you cooperate with us, things will go a lot more smoothly if you do,” she said as she released her grip and returned to the other side of the room.
“Wise words. I think we can all agree the first thing we need to do is to find this girl,” said Hudson. “Once we have her, we will be in a much better position to negotiate with Davon for the safety of the town.” He looked over at Marcus, “So, are you going to tell us where she is or not?”
Marcus weighed his options. They weren't numerous. If he refused to talk he was sure Hudson would have someone beat it out of him, and he was unsure if Kali would intervene to stop it. At some point she would have to make a choice, him and Vana over the rest of the town. He knew which he would choose if the roles were reversed. He knew, in the end, they would get him to talk.
But there was also something else. A deep-seated fear of Davon on an almost instinctive level. He wasn’t willing to turn her over though, not to him. He needed to buy himself some time; string them along until he could figure out a way out of this.
“Okay, okay,” he said, “I can see you mean business, so I’ll tell you, on one condition.”
“And that is?” Hudson asked as he leaned forward in his chair.
“You can have the girl, but not me. It’s her he wants anyway, and I really don’t enjoy the thought of what he may have in store for me. You can tell them I died in the fire or something, then I’ll leave town and you will never hear from me again.”
If Vana had any sense, she’d be miles away from here by now anyway.
Before anyone could answer, the door to the office burst open and Clifton barged into the cramped space, he was red-faced and short of breath.
“He’s here,” he gasped.
Hudson sighed. “Looks like we’re out of time Marcus.”
Chapter Three
A muffled conversation leaked through the office door. Marcus strained, but the voices were too distant for him to tell what was being said. One of the voices was clearly Hudson’s; the other belonged to Davon.
Kali left as soon as she heard Davon had arrived, and with her went the only person he thought may be on his side. Marcus guessed she didn't want to be anywhere near him, a feeling he understood completely.
When the door finally opened he found himself face to face with Davon. He stood at least six feet tall. His thin face and sharp eyes gave him the look of a predator. He strode across the room, flanked by two big, tough-looking men. Behind him came the sword woman, stoic and silent as ever.
Marcus squirmed in his seat. The ropes used to bind him to the chair itched his skin.
“Mr Davon,” clamoured Hudson, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I understand that you don’t usually make personal visits, it’s an honour to finally make your acquaintance. I have a business proposition if you’re interes-”
Davon waved his hand at Hudson without ever t
aking his eyes off Marcus. Hudson backed away and remained silent. The bodyguards took positions near the door, while the sword woman stayed behind Davon at all times, her eyes darting across everyone in the room. Davon stared Marcus in the eye.
“Where’s the girl?” he asked in a blunt tone of voice.
He was not in the mood to be messed around. Marcus wracked his brains for any way he could get himself out of this situation but his options were limited.
Yep, you’re screwed.
Marcus dug his nails into the armrests of the chair he was tied to. The odds of him getting out of this alive were slim, and if he was going down, he wasn’t going to lead them to Vana.
“Your Amazon warrior queen over there had her chance,” spat Marcus, indicating the sword-wielding woman. “And I managed to outrun her in a glorified milk float,” Marcus smirked.
He was going to die, but he didn’t care anymore. Perhaps if he made them mad it would be over quickly.
Davon beckoned with two fingers to the sword-wielding woman, who grabbed Marcus’s right hand, pinning it to the arm of the wooden chair he was tied to.
“Hey, come on!” yelled Marcus. He struggled to get free, but it was futile; the ropes gave no leeway. He felt a sharp pain in his jaw as an elbow smashed into him. He tasted blood and spat it out onto the floor.
“You haven’t been properly introduced to Amara have you?” said Davon indicating the sword woman. “She’s here to - encourage you to be honest with me.” At this, Amara unsheathed her sword, brought it down, and pressed it against Marcus’s wrist. He winced as a thin line of blood appeared where the blade contacted his skin.
“Do you like the sword?” Davon asked. “Guns are clumsy weapons. Efficient in some ways, but they lack a certain something don’t you think? Too easy to use. A blade on the other hand, takes skill, and I find that people are a lot more cooperative when faced with one. After all, you can’t see the bullet that will kill you. A blade on the other hand…”
