by Angela White
Sylvia waved her off. “Just coming in here will help me. That pays for a syringe.”
“Thanks.” Kendle spent another minute admiring the stock in the woman’s kiosk so that the people subtly watching her would also shop here. The crowd following her was only about ten, but it reminded her strongly of the old world when fighters and singers had had groupies. She didn’t know what to do with them.
Kendle moved out into the warm hall, where the audience was steadily growing despite it not being noon yet. Kendle was glad, but the lackluster radio voice didn’t seem to understand how valuable new arrivals were. There was no excitement, no draw to the festivities, which meant no eager spenders. Her tab wasn’t going to be paid unless she got citizens shopping.
Kendle detoured toward the master apartment on the first floor, thinking the radio booth would be there. She discovered the cords leading into a small kiosk next to Renda’s apartment.
Kendle tapped on the glass, motioning to the tired-looking man inside. “Trade a break for an hour.”
The dusky-skinned man, Kazan, stared at her. “What?”
“I’m supposed to eat and take a walk now. Trade me.”
“On whose orders?” he inquired, happy at the idea of getting out of his cubicle.
“Mine.”
“You aren’t a master,” he argued, starting to pull the door shut.
Kendle slid a hand in, where her remaining nails gleamed in warning. “I will be.”
Kazan studied her for a long moment, understanding the threat. If he refused now, when Kendle took Renda’s place, she would make him pay for it.
“An hour?” he asked.
“Maybe less,” Kendle admitted, joining him in the small, dusty booth. “She’ll get mad when she finds me here.”
“What’ll keep her from taking that anger out on me?” Kazan inquired in confusion.
“You can say that I kicked you out,” Kendle answered, gently taking his arm.
“Without marks?” Kazan snorted. “She won’t believe that.”
“Yeah,” Kendle agreed. “Sorry about this. It isn’t personal.”
She slammed the man’s face into the glass before he knew what was coming.
Kendle jerked the door open wide as he fell, shouting. She dragged him out by his arm, muttering, “I won’t forget this. Keep your mouth shut.”
Kendle dumped him outside and went in, flipping the latch.
The radioman slowly got up and limped off, glaring through the bloody hand cupping his face.
Kendle sank down in the folding chair, reaching for the mic. “Let’s breathe some life into this place.”
4
“Good morning, Market Town! This is the Black Widow, coming to you from the first floor, where you’ll find shops full of products that I know you need. Like what? How about medical supplies from that kiosk in the gym! Why not stop by and browse?”
Renda pushed Tommy away from the kiss she’d been about to allow. “That woman!”
Tommy hid a snicker, knowing it wasn’t smart to poke the bear. “Should I go to my cell?”
Renda shoved him toward the door. “Like I’d let you go alone!”
Tommy frowned. “It’s two rooms down. Where could I go?”
Renda growled her anger, but the tirade was cut off by Kendle’s cheerful voice on the radio again.
“I wanted to let everyone know about my fight tonight. If you haven’t seen me in action, you don’t want to miss this. I believe we’re using battle-axes!”
Tommy paused at those words, concerned. “Battle-axes?”
Renda grabbed his arm, furious. “Get in your cell.”
For one instant, Tommy’s arms stiffened to grab her, but Renda was too alert. Her eyes flashed death for his men and Tommy backed down.
“Go right now.”
Tommy went quickly, not detouring. He was certain Renda was watching to be positive that he went into the correct room.
As Tommy closed the door, the rest of the team still here glanced up with snicker and smirks.
Tommy shook his head, telling his team it hadn’t happened. They’d agreed to try to get Renda alone to kill her. He’d only had her in her apartment for a full minute before Kendle had come on the radio.
Tommy scanned the room. The new slaves hadn’t volunteered any information or asked for any help getting through their captivity so far and Ben obviously hadn’t offered any from the sounds of puking and waking. Tommy also didn’t think it wise, considering that each night their numbers were now dropping by two. The new people might be just as dangerous they were.
“There are some announcements this morning,” Kendle informed them all. “The café upstairs got a fresh load of fish yesterday! Better get it while it’s there.”
Tommy lay down on his cot, placing his big arms above his head. “Been quiet?”
“You were only gone for fifteen minutes, dude,” Ben joked.
Tommy chuckled. “Felt like longer. She’s wild.”
“As in sex?” Josh asked, not taking the hint.
“As in death,” Tommy declared. “You should see her apartment. Very morbid.”
“Can Kendle handle her?” Ryan inquired lowly, concerned.
Tommy didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure. The few minutes he’d had with Renda said no.
“I’ve been informed that there are also new slaves!” Kendle called. “Master Renda, who is in a lovely mood this morning, says she needs the money really bad, so stop by now for a quick first examination of the stock!”
Ben burst out laughing as they listened to someone beating on something. Presumably, Renda was outside the booth. “Yeah, I think she’s got us covered.”
5
“Get out of there!” Renda screamed, slamming her hand against the glass. “I will break it!”
“No, you won’t.” Xavier’s harsh denial rang through the crowded hall, causing Renda to spin around.
“What?!”
Xavier gestured to the line of people gathering at her apartment. “She has increased your profit.” He nodded to Kendle, but didn’t smile. “All first floor shops are full.”
Cutts slid between them to flash a paper at Kendle. She announced it quickly. “The upstairs café is out of fish now, folks, but he still has beef! Get two-for-one on hamburgers for the next hour!”
Xavier watched another shopkeeper come forward to give the scarred woman a message to read. “See to your patrons, Renda.”
Renda slammed her hand against the glass again, but did as she was told.
Kendle didn’t look at Xavier, afraid that he would witness too much. She wasn’t certain about his motives. When he left the hall, she was relieved. That one was dangerous. Renda thought she was. Kendle certainly wasn’t anticipating the battle, but Xavier almost scared her. He had the same type of eyes that haunted her dreams–hungry.
Kendle spent the next two hours in the booth, reading messages and reminding customers that deals were expiring or over.
Renda was pacing the hall outside the booth. She’d handled her line of patrons, too fast in Kendle’s opinion, but Kendle hadn’t liked sending strangers in to bid on captive humans anyway, so she wasn’t going to mention it. While her team was safe for the moment, she felt deep empathy for the rest of the chattel here.
When there hadn’t been any messages for a half an hour, Kendle keyed the mic. “Well, this part of the fun is about over for the day, folks. I’ll be here for another ten minutes if anyone has any last deals to offer. See ya tonight at my fight. You won’t want to miss it. Will the Black Widow survive? Come find out!”
Renda was reminded that she couldn’t fight with Kendle yet. Xavier wasn’t going to side with her on this. She stomped out of the market, leaving relief in her wake as two more shopkeepers delivered deals for Kendle to read.
6
“The betting booths are about to close,” the boring voice told everyone. “Five minutes left to bet.”
Tiring of the careless introductions, Kendl
e strode to the announcer and held out her hand. “Take a break or I’ll give you one.”
Kazan, not yet recovered from his earlier abuse, shoved the mike at her and vanished into the crowd.
Kendle climbed up onto the nearest chair. “Good evening, folks! Welcome to the Market Matches!”
People in the basement began shifting her way, but it was hard to hear over the games and chattering. Kendle got louder, pretending she was the announcer for someone else’s coming death or survival.
“Tonight, we have a feature match between the Black Widow and some poor sucker chosen to die by her claws. Or will it be by her blade? Gather around and try to pick a winner.”
Kendle twisted to include all areas of the wide room in the short time that she had to pull in more profit for the house. “We’ve got a lot of cubbies upstairs and a café that has promised to stay open and serve beer until the masters shut it down, so don’t go away after the match. Celebrate the life or death of the Black Widow!”
The locals were mostly on one side of the ring, gathered together for protection from the rowdy, drinking spectators who had just arrived. Their manicured nails and shiny new haircuts marked them different, dangerous in their own sad way. They watched her with sly smiles and ticket stubs held tight. They’d already placed their bets.
People moved toward the ring and Kendle skimmed them, hoping to spot her opponent. She saw only hungry profiles waiting for death to hit anyone except them.
I will free you, she promised silently. Angela will let me. She’ll send a force and we’ll destroy this place with liberty and justice.
Kendle saw the man in the betting kiosk waving and announced, “The booths are closing soon. We’re gonna hold this match for exactly three minutes more so you can have a chance. Better hurry!”
Now, there was a rush to the booth.
Kendle set the mike on the chair and took her place in the empty ring. Under a sleeve, her fingers went over the tape and stiff plastic, hoping she had chosen the right chemical. The janitorial closet had been full of colorful liquids in cloudy jugs that she hadn’t had time to decipher.
“The fight starts in one minute!” Kazan shouted, sporting a split lip. Someone had obviously clipped him for letting her take the mike and change the rules.
Not sure what to do, the clerk in the betting kiosk slammed the window shut.
Kendle leaned against the ropes, lightly, trying to appear unconcerned as her opponent finally made an appearance.
He had to duck to get through the door! her mind screamed.
Kendle kept her calm posture, controlling the terror that threatened to overwhelm her.
“Take your weapon,” the announcer ordered.
Kendle quickly grabbed the smaller battle axe, still finding it heavy and awkward.
Maybe it will be for him as well, that voice guided. Stick to the plan. Show no fear. Throw him off. Kendle obliged, blowing a kiss. “Well, aren’t you a cutie!”
The big man, Griff, paused. Most people ran from him without a single word needed. He didn’t know how to respond to the scarred woman.
Kendle waved at the axe in the ring. “Come get it, sweetheart. You’re gonna need it.”
Griff paused again, eyes going to Renda.
Kendle laughed. “She sent you in here to die. Don’t expect her to save you.”
The bell dinged before Griff was fully in the ring. Kendle wanted to take advantage of it, but she held sympathy for the mind-fuck that she’d just given him. She waited until his hand was on the handle of the axe before rushing forward.
The tall man was fast. He snatched his weapon and rolled, catching her swing with the thick handle, but he had to grip it with two hands to do so. Kendle used her strategically free hand to slam the syringe into his chest and push the plunger.
She lunged back as he swung, shouting, but it wasn’t far enough to avoid the blade that swiped down her thigh, taking a wide swatch of jeans and skin. Blood began to spread down her leg.
Kendle waited for the next swing, but the syringe contents took effect, bringing a wave of vomiting and bleeding from the nose that sent the crowd into fearful watchfulness. It looked like a disease.
Kendle waited until Griff fell to the mat before moving. She slowly held up her arm to show where she’d hid the syringe. “Drain-O still clears those clogs!”
“We have a winner,” Kazan announced sullenly over the radio. “Booths are open.”
Kendle ignored the painful heat in her leg to scan the crowd and masters, hoping things were calming down. Instead, she saw Renda gesturing wildly at the other three rulers.
Kendle sighed. “I’m starting to believe I was brought here to kill her.”
“So am I,” Stan stated, appearing at her elbow. “Let me tend your injury at my shop. The citizens who come will pay for your service. Sylvia can bring you a new syringe.”
Kendle allowed it gratefully. The pain was quickly becoming intolerable.
7
“He’s coming here?” Xavier questioned worriedly of the rider who had come in through the rear entrance to warn him. “Here? When?”
“Two days,” the drenched messenger answered tiredly. “He’ll be here for the final fight.”
Xavier waved a curt hand, dismissing the man. “Get cleaned up and back to your normal duties.”
“He said to tell you she’d better still be here when he arrives,” the rider repeated. “He also wants to talk to Renda before you execute her.”
Xavier blanched, turning so the rider didn’t witness it. When the door shut, he dropped down at his plush table to contemplate the proper course of action. If Dirce Resi was coming here to talk to Renda, that implied she was the one who’d been telling market secrets. None of the masters wanted the UN boss around, except for Renda. She had been Dirce’s private bodyguard before Malia’s murder.
“We’ll have something waiting for you,” Xavier muttered, thinking of the way tonight’s match had ended. A syringe of poison was simple and quick, and in a thick, shoving crowd, might not even be noticed until it was too late.
Xavier stayed at the table, brooding over his options. When someone knocked, he ignored it. If he wasn’t careful, he would end up being a UN lackey, but that wasn’t what the former tycoon had planned out for his future.
8
“I need to be oiled again.”
Yuri paused in the doorway of his room, not asking how she’d gotten the sentry to let her in. “Open or closed?”
“Open,” she answered, rolling onto her stomach. “I need them to pick a weapon for tomorrow instead of hand-to-hand. If they think I’m ready to slip out of their grasp, they’ll go for something easier to deal with.”
“Aren’t you worried that I will tell Xavier?”
“Won’t matter,” she confided as he approached the bed. “The people you send to fight won’t take the chance. They’re scared of me. Did you see how my groupies have already disappeared?”
“Yes, along with customers as you walk by. It is odd that they will follow you, but not too closely.”
“They know a killer when she’s in the same hall with them,” Kendle stated pointlessly. She didn’t know what else to say.
Yuri took the top position, rubbing, but he didn’t enjoy it as much this time.
Kendle sensed his tension and asked, “Are you okay?”
“My boss is coming.”
Kendle frowned. “Xavier?”
Yuri snorted bitterly. “No, our leader is the one we all came here with as his protection. Dirce Resi is coming to observe your final fight.”
Kendle tried not to tense further. She’d thought this was all of the UN people. “Are there a lot of troops around?”
Yuri didn’t answer orally. His hardness along her thigh begged for him.
Mentally, Kendle didn’t want to make the trade, but her body responded immediately.
Kendle sighed. “If you’ve got your red wings, I’ll meet your price.”
9
“Tasers?!” Kendle repeated the next morning. “They chose tasers?”
Yuri brought the tray to the bed where she was lounging. “Fun, right? The odds are on you now.”
Kendle sat up, not bothering to cover herself. He’d seen more than that last night.
Yuri patted her shoulder lovingly. “I must handle business. Sleep in, rest up. I have much money on you.”
Kendle waited until he left and flipped the tray across the room, splattering oatmeal and eggs across the wall and chair. The familiar cramping came. “Not good timing.”
She spent an hour in the bathroom, cleaning, dressing, preparing, but the rear of her mind kept repeating the word ‘taser’.
“The market is now open! Come browse our fully stocked shops and watch the feature match. You can even stay overnight!”
Kendle snickered at the flustered radioman. Apparently, the masters had decreed that her way was more profitable.
Kendle pulled her boots on, hearing the crowds outside the building and outside the door. The noises gave her hope that her profit totals from today would start clearing some of her debts. No one had provided a statement after closing each night, so she had no idea where she was on it.
Kendle braced as she exited the apartment. It might be a rough day. After her workout and a visit with her team, she didn’t have anything to do. That was dangerous when PMS was here. Those hormones would need an outlet that might not wait until a scheduled time. Even now, Kendle could feel the pressure behind her sockets, the uncontrollable rage barely being held in check by polite society.
“Except, society doesn’t exist anymore,” she growled, causing citizens to retreat to safer distance. “and I’ve never been polite.”
Kendle ignored the confusion around her. If she were lucky, no one would spark the rage.
Using threatening body language, Kendle began her workout of running around the building until she was too tired to keep going.
No one interrupted her.
Chapter Sixteen
The Human Condition
