by Brian Parker
The near silence was deafening—her rasping breaths loud in the small space. Letting go of the nail file, she stared down and could only see an inch of it protruding from his vacant eye socket. She was drenched in blood almost to her elbows. Her chest was painted in the still warm liquid, while her legs were coated with it from kneeling on the floor.
“Oh, fuck… Fuck! What did I do?” she murmured in shock. Even in Easytown, where murder was commonplace, shit like this didn’t happen. It was nothing to find the body of a hooker in a dumpster or alley, but it was rare to find a dead john—not killed by a whore anyway. Rushing to the sink, she twisted the faucet handle and thrust her hands under the water. It immediately turned several shades of pink and red, filling the porcelain and staining the white bowl with the man’s body fluids. Reaching for the soap, she scrubbed, desperate to get clean. Wetting a towel, she washed her skin, getting as much water out of the sink as in it. Bright red streaks covered her breasts like a macabre brassiere. The more she looked the more blood she found, saturating every pore of her body. Pink-tinted water puddled at her feet and still she wasn’t clean.
“Damn you, Bobby!” she screeched. His girls had to earn the right to use both the shower and toilets; it was a privilege and another piece of leverage he used against the women to keep them in line. The sink was all that was available to her in the room. Her mind was in shambles as she panicked. She needed to get out of there before Bobby came looking for her.
Searching the man’s pants, she found a pocketknife, an ID card, and a key fob. His name had been Gerald Wentworth—she needed to remember that to activate his car. Bobby controlled every credit she earned, and she wouldn’t get very far on the small amount of credits she had access to.
Picking up the limp and lifeless right arm of the john, she felt around his forearm with her thumb until she found his credit implant. Pushing down hard until it clicked, she held his arm against hers, transferring all his credits onto her own implant which vibrated slightly to confirm the successful transmission. That extra step of clicking the implant kept people from accidently transferring credits when shaking hands or the like. It wouldn’t last forever; once the body was discovered and the police froze his accounts, the credits would be useless. She was hoping to be long gone by then.
Flinging open her dresser drawers, she pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, shoving what normal clothes she had into a bag and leaving behind her ‘business’ attire. Stepping into her one pair of sneakers, she tapped her heels against the floor, activating the self-lacing mechanism. After pulling her hair up and under a vintage baseball cap, she eased the door open a scant inch. Rose looked both ways down the hallway, relieved no one was in sight. She pulled the door closed—locking it was pointless since Bobby’s biometrics were the only ones the system would accept anyway. The sound of the other girls in their rooms filled the hallway. Rose only had minutes until he would be up to check on her.
Running as quietly and quickly as she could down the hallway, she took the back stairs which exited into the alley. It had started to rain while she was inside. Gripping her bag tightly, she ran as fast as she could, intending to put a couple blocks behind her, and then catch a cab to the bus station.
Seeing a figure cloaked in the shadows and standing at the end of the alley, right where she needed to cross, Rose slowed to a walk. She’d come too far to go back the other way. The rain was cold on the back of her neck, the droplets running down her shirt to slide frigidly down her skin. The hairs on her arms stood at attention, sudden awareness creeping over her. There was something strange about the figure. As she neared, she was certain it was a man. His shoulders were broad, and he was much too tall to be a woman. Was he human or a droid?
Unable to go back, and too terrified to move forward, she was trapped in the dark and narrow alley. It was like something out of a horror movie. How had she gotten here? A few recreational drugs had developed into a habit, debts had added up, and soon she had been out of options. Her dreams had dissolved as quickly as the rocks she smoked. She’d sold herself to pay for the drugs, only to be sold again by her dealer to settle a different debt. Forced clean of the expensive drugs by her pimp and stuck as a slave, the past two years had been a cycle of men and beatings. Now, finally, she could see freedom at the end of this ally and just on the other side of the man who stood in her way.
“Fuck this,” Rose mumbled. Securing her bag tighter over her shoulder, she marched forward with determination in her stride. She was going to get past this bastard and get on with her life. Once she was out of here, she could be herself again—the college student with a bright future. She was leaving her past behind, covered in Gerald’s cooling blood. Only a few feet to go and she could slide past the stranger in the alley.
“Where do you think you’re going, missy?” A gravelly voice stopped her in her tracks. Straightening her shoulders, she tried to walk around him, but he grabbed her arm, jerking her to a stop. “I said, where do you think you’re going?”
“Out of Easytown.” Pulling her arm free from his grasp, she stepped away.
“No one ever leaves Easytown, you know. Even if you could leave, part of you will always be here.” He cackled and laughed, before sputtering into a coughing fit.
“Fuck off, you old bastard!” Stomping past him, she could see the street ahead. Cabs whizzed by, along with cars and trucks of every type. Police drones patrolled the sky, as people wandered the streets, talking to their AIs. Doormen outside the clubs did their best to lure pedestrians into their establishments with promises of happiness on tap, even if it lasted no longer than the time you could afford. The future was right there, within her grasp.
A blow to the back of her head knocked off her hat and searing pain shot through her scalp as her hair was pulled backward. She shrieked in pain and rage, long and loud, as fast as she could draw breath.
Something hard smacked against her face, the blow shutting off her scream like a thrown switch. Falling, she landed on the wet pavement, the cold rain pelting her aching face. Flat on her back in the dark and narrow alley, the sky above her was an empty void, not a star in sight—just blinking lights from the drones and flashes of lightening.
The old man’s face filled her blurry vision, his insane cackle reaching her ears, sending chills of terror through her body. His raised a knife over his head, the blade huge and black in the heavy darkness of the ally. She lifted her hands in useless defense as he brought the knife slashing down.
“I’m going to rip you apart, you whore. You must pay for your sins!” he cackled like a maniac as the blade hit home, cutting deep into her stomach. She gasped and coughed, tasting the blood that rose in her throat. The pain didn’t quite register; it was distant and out of reach.
Unable to scream or speak, a grunt escaped her lips while she reached uselessly with a bloody hand as the next blow fell, each stab wound draining her life. She watched her arm fall to the pavement, splashing into a dark puddle of bloody water. She stared at her fingers, half submerged in the filthy water, trying desperately to retreat into her mind like so many times before, but her thoughts were scattered and out of reach. There was no relief from the reality of her impending death. Her body jerked violently as he sliced her stomach open, her eviscerated organs a heavy and wet weight against her thighs, she moaned in defeat. Struggling for air, she focused all of her attention on her empty hand. She clawed at the ground helplessly, a futile reaction and her brain’s last-ditch effort of escape. Her other arm was jerked upward, and there was a flash of pain as her implant was skillfully excised from her arm, shining with her blood.
Body numb and mind blank, the last of her strength leaked away with the remainder of her blood. With a final, desperate quest for air, her fingers went still.
ABOUT J.B. HAVENS
J. B. Havens is the author of the military thriller book Core of Steel, the first book in a series that follows the main character, Staff Sergeant Bea “Mic” Michaels, as she leads her elite force on bl
ack-ops missions that don’t exist to the public’s knowledge.
Born in Colorado, J.B. moved with her family when she was young and grew up in central Pennsylvania. Her love of books started when she was young, reading the Little House on the Prairie books and Goodsebumps, and graduated into Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake series. Her favored books span the spectrum of genres, everything from Stephen King’s The Stand to Mark Tufo’s Zombie Fallout series and all the way to the romance genre.
J.B. has always been fascinated with the military and wanted to explore how a strong female lead would affect a Special Forces operation. This birthed the idea for J.B.’s first book, Core of Steel, which hosts a strong female lead character, Bea Michaels. The series continues to its conclusion with the fourth and final book, Bound by Steel. Also under her belt are one anthology; Beyond the Night, a short story; Ashes & Madness, and two co-authored novellas, No Way In Hell, parts One and Two. She is currently working on the beginning of a zombie horror series featuring the character first introduced in Molly: Survivor which is in the anthology, Beyond the Night. Molly Everett has many more stories to tell and J.B. is anxious to hear them.
LINKS
Facebook: www.facebook.com/jbhavens
Amazon author page: www.amazon.com/J.-B.-Havens/e/B0165PGWBE
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