Bax cuts in, parting the shadows so he is visible, ‘Speaking of burning fingers. Janelle, can I trouble you for just a moment?’ And out comes his phone. Bax ignores the challenge from Fritzy for a round of Candy Crush, flicks furiously on the screen like an angry toddler and shows Janelle a photo.
‘Heads up – it’s not pretty.’
It’s not pretty. Janelle covers her mouth and tries not to scream.
There’s a corpse on the other end of that photo. A grizzly sight to be certain, for this particular man has been beheaded and split in half. Entrails all over the sidewalk. The head sits just a little apart from the neck like a Lego-man diagram, resting at the base of the streetlight. Bax pinches an area of the photo and the right hand comes into view. Janelle shies away but can’t unsee it – there’s a hole, a gaping stigmata in the palm. Fingers burnt down to the bone. As if this particular gentleman with the goofy thug cap and gangster shirt had just picked up a steaming handful of rubies that had subsequently burned holes through his skin.
Dani reaches over and bats the photo away, ‘Fuck, for God’s sake, Bax, was that necessary?’
‘Just curious. Know anything about this, Janelle?’
Janelle shakes her head, lips pursed.
Bax looks straight through her, cuts deep with his words: ‘Didn’t think so. Maybe if he wasn’t so disfigured, you would have recognized him. Ross Alps; client here. You had him a few times. See, he’s not alone. A series of people have been murdered over the past day. Let’s see…’ Bax lists them on his fingers, ‘A pharmacist, that thug, a school teacher just a few hours ago, couple of public servants too. All killed in the same way. Split, beheaded. A store downtown was burnt to the ground as well. My shadows detected something sinister about each case, but I can’t link them up. I was hoping you might be the missing link, but if you say you don’t know a thing, then I believe you. But then again, who is the you sitting here and now in front of me? You may not know a thing; you may know everything.’
Bax knows. Oh does he know. Without even mentioning Mirror to him, he knows. Slow, the occultist continues, ‘I said before that you are the Counterfeiter’s fake. This may go a way to explaining not only what I see here on my phone, but why both you and Dani have different recollections of your weekend.’
Janelle never told Bax about their timeline problem, did she? Did Dani? Don’t think so. Not in this timeline, anyway. The man continues, ‘If, for instance, the Counterfeiter made two copies of Janelle Broadchurch and let them loose on the world…then I’d wager that reality would have a difficult time reconciling two creatures occupying the same space. It’s not like the mixing of paints where two colors become one; you and this hypothetical other are like stones and water. However, it is important to remember that one fake is not responsible for the actions of the other fake. Know that, young thing. You did not kill this man, Ross Alps. In fact, these events may have never happened at all. Perhaps there is a way to reverse them, to undo the reality where people are killed and mothers are forced into addiction once more on account of their murdered daughters. Wouldn’t that be nice?’
‘Can I –’
Beep beep
‘–Hold up,’ and Baxter raises a finger to silence the girl, uses that same finger to answer the message on his phone. Taps once, lets the audio play out into the room.
Screaming. Two sets of voices. Male voices, gurgling, spluttering, shrieking…to a mad kind of silence. Jan feels the waters in her tummy lurch and sway. And then, in the aftermath, a voice trickles forth. Honey-sweet. ‘Lez peak under the hood and see what these men are made of…’
Baxter stops the video, murmurs, ‘Well, well…’
Janelle stammers, ‘Can I go home now?’
Bax doesn’t answer but waves over a shadow. The dark specter comes, bearing a silver plate with something steaming nicely in the low light, wafting. Like a trained waiter, the shadow presents the gift not to Bax, but to Janelle. On the silver tray lays a single piece of peachy paper with a purple glyph scrawled all messy and intricate. A Shaman’s token. The paper breathes out; it is not steam but perfume. Bax instructs the girl, ‘Take the paper and place it on your tongue. The other Janelle shouldn’t trouble you no more.’
Janelle looks to Dani; go on, take it, don’t be rude, this is a gift! The paper feels tickly in her fingers like a vibrating bug trying to wriggle free. She closes her eyes and pops the magic on her tongue. Instantly, the paper dissolves and she tastes lemons. Bleh. So strong! She washes the thing around her mouth to dilute the taste and after a few awkward seconds with her mouth open like a dog licking peanut butter from the roof of its mouth, the charm is gone.
Bax nods. ‘Very good, very good.’ And he waves the waiter away.
‘Can I please go home now?’ Janelle asks for a third time. Bax waves, sure, sure, and Dani grabs the girl by the arm. In no time, they’re at the door and out of the circle of light. Bye-bye shadows. Janelle turns and says over her shoulder, ‘Thank you, Mr. Baxter, for everything you’ve done for me!’
‘Not a problem, young thang.’
Click. And the room is sealed shut. Dani bends down and says to Janelle slow and sisterly, ‘You ok? That was rough.’ Her face is coated in the lusty hall light but the look in her eye touches Janelle’s weary heart.
‘I’m not worried about any of that.’
‘Right, right. It’s been a big day for you. Why don’t I take you home?’
Jan smiles with a little feeling returning to her heart. ‘I’d like that.’
The Law of Twins
With arms monkey-locked around Dani’s waist once again, the two speed along the grid streets, wind catching them in all places, leather and school uniform in a dance like mating creatures. Sounds come all muffled and dark inside Dani’s spare helmet. Jan sees the world with mismatched audio, trying to balance what should be loud and what should be quiet. Those sirens, that construction, this dark world at night. It’s like she’s driving through an old movie with an out of sync soundtrack playing through the helmet speakers. She must look bizarre – a little girl in a school uniform wearing a skull and crossbone blood dragon decal over her head. Appearances can be deceiving, but sometimes they can be painfully accurate.
They don’t stop at the red lights – too dangerous – so Dani maneuvers to the sidewalk and cuts across the block, continuing on up the road that leads to utopia suburbia. They clip a fire hydrant, the sound ringing through Jan’s bones.
‘You ok?’ comes Dani’s voice through the helmet coms.
‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘Bax was really impressed with how you handled yourself today. He’s a man of tests and tricks – always sizing people up by how they respond. You passed the test, I suppose.’
Janelle murmurs, ‘But I’ll miss dancing on the stage.’
‘What? Why? I thought you’d be happier this way.’
Jan hugs her friend tighter and buries her helmet into her back. Says slow to nobody, ‘It gave me a thrill. To be up there on stage and have everyone look at me, like I was important. Even when I danced for that monster I felt…’
Powerful.
‘What about the room work? They go hand in hand.’
Even quieter. ‘I didn’t mind the room work. I think I even liked it.’
Dani shakes her head and takes a corner slow, replying over the cycle noise, ‘It’s not unusual to enjoy some of the work. If the conditions are good and the men are not beasts. Mostly they are. But it’s no job that a child should actively seek out.’
‘But I had a job that wasn’t the A-lines. That’s the best thing I could have hoped for. It’s a privilege.’
Dani is silent for a moment. Jan waits for the reply…
‘We can’t turn you away for being young. That’s why people like me exist – to keep you safe and make sure you don’t get fucked up. All sorts of extra rules for you guys: no drugs in the rooms, no phones. That’s only for adults. We run checks on every customer, make sure they haven’t f
ucked up someone else’s life before they come into our club.’
For all the good those checks and balances do, right? And coke isn’t the only thing that’s been lined up and snorted off Janelle’s young, tight belly.
‘They don’t do those sorts of checks for you, though, Dani.’
‘No, but adults have different types of screens, and the girls have different thresholds of what they’re willing to do. For me, I won’t let a guy touch me if he’s wearing sandals and socks. No drugs, either. Remember Rose? Uh…Jessie Warner. Two months ago, Jessie OD’d because she couldn’t handle someone’s request to do coke with her. Her fault. Bax was furious. But he protects his girls like they’re sisters…even if we don’t see it that way sometimes.’
Silence for a little. Jan sees the sprawl, the unfriendly houses she’s so used to passing by. Inside every home there is something living and trying to live. This one. This one. This one. They are all the same stories, really, because everyone here is the same. Uniformly poor, uniformly uneducated, uniformly fifth tier. She is uniform. Straighten out that uniform, girl. Dani continues, ‘When Mom was growing up, kids used to be protected like little Gods and Goddesses. Then the world split in half and suddenly, everyone got poor. It used to be the Philippines and Cambodia, you know? People would come from all over the world to have sex with kids and film it and send it out to people waiting for entertainment. And it was illegal then, too. Now, it’s here. It’s our turn. And I wish it wasn’t. I wish we could live in a place where nobody abused each other and nobody even wanted to go and visit a club for any reason.’
Dani pulls up. They’re home. Nobody moves for a little, then Dani finishes, ‘But I guess we don’t live in that world, do we.’
‘No. Can I ask you another question?’
The engine dies down, quiet. Dogs bark but nothing else dares make a sound. Jan removes her helmet and folds the panels down into a sheet. All practiced muscle memory. Dani takes off her own but holds it in her lap, still on the cycle. Jan pops off and says, calm in the dark night, ‘If there is another Janelle, and she murdered all those people, does that mean that…does it mean that I wanted them dead too?’
Dani reaches out for the girl and soothes her cheek – there, there. Her big sister replies, ‘I don’t think you could even dream of hurting a fly, kid.’
‘Maybe me. But her…’
An uncomfortable thought.
‘Dani, am I different?’
‘How so?’
Jan points to her throat but then adjusts down to her heart and murmurs, ‘Am I the same as I was before?’
‘I’d be lying if I said you were.’
Jan whispers, ‘I feel the same. But I don’t look the same. Or sound the same. I look white. I act white. And I like it better this way…’
Dani sniffs, tries to think of the right words to say. ‘I don’t know what to say, Jan. Soft girl or Bossy girl, but I love you all the same.’
‘You saying I was bossy because I was black?’
‘No, but you were a bit of a bitch.’
The girl narrows her eyes but smiles. And Jan moves forward, peeps up on tippy-toes and kisses the woman on the cheek. Dani touches the spot and Janelle sees the surprise on her face. Kindness. Dani flicks Jan on the nose, saying warm, ‘You’re a good soul. You always were.’
In the home behind them, Candlelight appears in the front room and Jan sees her mother glow bright behind the glass. Time to leave. Jan stuffs her helmet sheet in the back compartment and throws a final wave to Dani before she rides on up the street. Inside now.
‘I’m home,’ Jan says to the quiet house.
Her mother appears in the hall and shelves the candle, bends down so the two are level-eyed.
‘How was work, Mom?’
‘Good, hun. How was work?’
‘I’ve got a new job. I’m not going to be a room girl anymore. I’ll be on something special with Bax. No more sex.’
Her mother python wraps the young thing and squeezes. Jan ignores the fact that she’s crying.
Inside the dark little kitchen by the light of slow-body candles, the two share a cup of cold cocoa. Plucked fresh from the solar icebox out back, this is fine powder mixed with real milk – another real treat. Janelle feels like she’s being spoiled rotten today!
‘It’ll be the same pay as before. And I don’t have to interact with any of the club guests.’
‘What kind of work is it?’
Janelle asks for the cup with her fingers. ‘Jewelry counterfeiting.’
Her mother hands over the cold cocoa with a look on her face, but Janelle can’t really see it clearly in such low light. Corrina murmurs, ‘It’s a leap from prostitution. I hate to think what’d happen if you got caught.’
‘Without sounding cocky, I’m pretty confident we won’t get caught.’
‘Oh? Why’s that?’
Janelle takes a sip of the liquid treasure and clears her throat. ‘We’ve got magic on our side.’
Because magic is really the only way she can describe it. The two clear up and say goodnight with another snake-quality hug. Janelle tiptoes into her room and closes the door. It’s very dark – Power Down dark, actually. Look on out over the rolling hills. Not a peep of light until you reach the slope. There’s a line – a brazen division – between where people can afford to run power, and where people can not. Exception to the rule: Hugo’s light spills over from the next home. A feeble, gray light. Pallor and pale. Janelle turns away. Her bedroom mirror catches the dark of night and shows her off. Hi there. Janelle starts to change, taking off her school tie and popping the top button. Free! Oh, she’d better close the blinds for Hugo’s stream. There. She drops the tie to the floor like a snaky ribbon. Her reflection pines.
Janelle moves slow for the mirror, little curves and hips bending, arms flowing, attention-seeking, a slight roll of the head as legs come forward. Her body moves. She dances soft, hopping twice on the spot, sliding back and drawing her hands up her body. In this most secret of places, where she can dance without being watched, she indulges in every shape and every place that she wants to be. But when that old song ‘Playing With Fire’ stops inside her head and all the imaginary people clear the tables, she is left alone on a stage nobody will visit. Will she even bother to dance now that nobody is looking?
Jan sighs and continues to undress. Just about to thumb the stockings down, when…what is that? A sound. Out her window. Jan peeps the blinds up. Some wild creature sits on the fence, blocking the view between here and Hugo’s window. Janelle stares. A trick of the light outside resolves and moonlight spills down from the heavens to the garden below. Illuminates the shadow.
Mirror Mirror…
Janelle catches her breath and stumbles back a little. What should she do? Before the answer arrives, she’s already dressed and out the back door and halfway across the weedy grass. Her answer was ‘run away’, but the automatic part of her body took over and simply shifted her into action. Fierce, confrontational.
She wants answers.
So now she stands yards away from where Mirror sits. Hello, Janelle Broadchurch, little brown crop hair and devil eyes. White like Kansas. With your ‘Daddy’s Little Slut’ top and yellow short shorts that ride up so much it’d even make Dani blush. Another trick of the light from the sky: the moon peeps out from behind clouds and bathes the girls in good white light. The reveal. Mirror sits propped up on the fence with her legs spread; between, she wields an enormous pole that touches the ground. It looks like the giant hand of an old, ornate clock, blown up and gemified like crystal red. How it shines, this weapon, this sword. The girl rests hands and chin on the hilt of the weapon, just at the right height.
Janelle finds the collar of her school shirt and clutches it for support. She doesn’t wait for the mirror to speak; she already has her questions.
‘You killed Ross, didn’t you?’
Mirror replies in her voice, ‘Two-Spitter had two holes in his hands when I found him. Ass
umed you started the job, so I finished it. He din’ put up much of a fight but his head came off harder than I expected. Didn’ realize all those little discs in the spine held on so tight.’ The girl leans back, using her sword as a lever, and continues, ‘The pharmacist was more fun. She screamed a lot, more than our teacher even, which is sayin’ somethin’. I think my favorite was thos’ men who raped you, tho’. You see the video I sent to yo’ phone?’
Mirror pauses, smiles, continues wild, ‘Cut their dicks right off and shoved it in they mouths. Ha ha ha! So much fun! Oh but Jan, everyone sounds the same at the end, when they lying there, gurglin’ blood and hissing through they teeth. Hssssssssssssssss. It’s a good sound, cos you know they ain’ gon’ last too long after. So that’s when I start cutting them in halves. Maths was one of our best subjects, you know, taught me all about angles and divisions. See? I can be smart, like you.’
Janelle shakes her head, feeling the sapphires form in her eyes. Mirror continues, ‘Why did I do it? ‘Corse you know why. Two-Spitter near gave us a prolapse in the club once; pharmacist cut her ties with Bax so all the contraception run dry; teacher traded marks for your blow job. Men came last. You might hear about it on the news tomorrah. Left their heads somewhere...appropriate. They all deserved it.’
Mirror pauses, smiles, continues slow, ‘How does that make you feel, gurl? Seein’ the true intentions of yo’ heart.’
Jan shakes her head. ‘Nobody deserves death, no matter what they’ve done. W-What about the store? Why did you burn the store down?’
Mirror splutters back, incredulous, ‘Cos they was out of that dress we wanted. Turns out you bought our last size. My mistake.’ Girl puts a hand over her heart – oops. Then, ‘So. Unpleasant part: you’re next on my list. Permission sort of gives me the rights. Dun worry, there’s more after you. I wanted to save Bax and Dani for last.’
‘D-Dani? Why Dani?’
Mirror narrows her eyes, snarls. ‘Oh, please. She got you into the game in the first place. Recruited you from the factory, didn’ she? Exploited you. Promise you only work as a bar girl but then the allure of that money got hold of you and before you know it, you’re kneelin’ before a man with his dick in yo’ mouth. Drinking cum for cash. Dani’s the devil here, it’s only justice. Oh! Oh, I almos’ forgot!’
After Hope Dies Page 10
