Fatal

by Arno Joubert

  She was sobbing now, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Then I won’t. But at least look me in the face before you kill me,” she said between her pathetic sobs.

  Rigo shrugged. He glanced at Danny. “Turn her around.”

  Danny flipped her around and allowed her to lie on her back. She moved her shoulders and wriggled into a more comfortable position.

  She opened her legs to Rigo invitingly. He pulled her pants all the way off. She took a deep breath and nodded at him, whimpering softly.

  He fumbled with his belt excitedly.

  “Here, let me,” she said.

  He looked up at Danny. Looked down at the girl. Tears were streaming down her face. She had accepted her fate. He had seen this a thousand times before. You pressurize them, they break. They were all the same.

  He nodded to Danny and he released her arms. She came up and loosened his belt with trembling fingers and undid his zip. She lay back down on the bed.

  Rigo pulled his pants down and bent over her. The girl moved towards him and straddled her legs around his waist.

  And then she squeezed. Rigo groaned as her legs tightened around his waist. The blood pushed up into his face, and his mouth gaped like a fish out of water.

  He bucked and wriggled. Her legs were tightening around his waist, blocking the air flow to his lungs. That was bad. But worst was the fact that the bitch had her hand around his balls, squeezing the living daylights out of them.

  His legs went numb. He stood and stumbled backward; the bitch was squeezing tighter. He slammed with his back into the wall, tripping over his pants, then he turned around and tried to push her into the wall. But she held on. The pressure around his waist kept increasing, and a jolt of pain seared through his central nervous system and exploded into his brain as she tightened her grip around his testicles. He looked over her shoulder. Danny was standing there, smiling. The only sound that he could make was a garbled moan.

  Why doesn’t he shoot her, does he think I’m enjoying this shit?

  The girl slammed her head into the bridge of his nose. His vision blurred. She slipped off him and gripped his throat between her forefinger and thumb, the other hand slipped to his balls, again.

  Oh, dear God, is this pain ever going to stop?

  Danny finally drew his gun and pointed it at her, a sheepish look on his face, but now she was behind him, using his body as cover. She herded Rigo towards the door.

  “Get out! Move!” she shouted to Danny, who was standing in front of them, blocking the entrance to the steps that led to the loading bay.

  Rigo gasped and nodded. Danny took couple of steps back, his gun still pointing at them.

  Why didn’t he shoot her in the leg? At that moment, he wouldn’t mind if he shot the bitch through his shoulder, nothing could be worse than this pain.

  A shot rang out and Danny looked back. Three shots barked in quick succession and slammed into Danny’s chest. He tumbled down the stairs, out of sight. The bitch loosened her grip on him momentarily to see what had happened. That was all that he needed. He pulled her hand from his balls and kicked her away from him as two men’s heads appeared above the stairwell.

  He pulled up his pants and dashed to the closet, punched in the code. He ran out and slammed the door behind him as bullets smacked into the door.

  Neil and Voelkner jogged into the room. Voelkner averted his eyes when he saw Alexa. She picked up her pants and pulled them on.

  “I had things under control, you know?” she said to Neil, looking at him sternly.

  “Yes, you did. It looked like you were enjoying yourself as well.”

  Alexa glared at Neil. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He looked her up and down. “You naked, gripping onto that guy like a clam in labor.”

  “Screw you, Neil. Look around you. What the hell do you think is going on here?”

  Neil scanned the room. Realization dawned on his face. “Shit. Shit, I’m sorry, Alexa. Where are the other girls?”

  Alexa shook her head. Looked at him despairingly. “We should have moved sooner.”

  “I—I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know,” he said helplessly.

  “It’s not your fault. We are all to blame here.” Alexa put her hand to her mouth, dashed to the basin and threw up.

  Neil stood beside her and pushed her hair to the side. He looked around at the room, a helpless expression on his face. “Shit.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The closet door flew open and three men appeared, guns blazing. Neil spun around and shot two, and Voelkner finished off the final one with a bullet to the head.

  Neil removed a Glock and a clip from his backpack and handed it to Alexa. His eyes widened. Blood was seeping from a wound in her leg, dripping onto the carpet. “Alexa, you’ve been hit.”

  She grimaced. “Let’s get to safety first, OK? We’re exposed up here.”

  Neil walked to the staircase and peeked around the corner. A barrage of bullets struck the wall, dislodging fragments of concrete.

  “I guess at least five guys down there. I don’t know how many out there,” he said, nodding towards the closet.

  “Which way, do you think?” Alexa asked as she smacked the clip into the magazine.

  Neil looked at the closet. “Maybe that way? Everyone’s outside.“

  Voelkner shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. They’re herding us in here. We go down. We know the area, I’d rather take my chances down there.”

  Alexa nodded. “Let’s stick with what we know.”

  “OK, you ready?” Neil asked.

  "Wait,” Alexa said and hobbled to the PC. She fumbled in her pocket and removed her GLD, inserted it into the USB slot, and booted it up. “Becky22 has some work to do.”

  The PC booted, and hundreds of lines of code scrolled down the screen. The word “COMPLETED” blinked twice, and the PC shut down.

  “OK, let's go.”

  Neil nodded, took a hand grenade from his backpack, and lobbed it down the stairs. Someone shouted and a commotion broke out. People jumped for cover.

  Neil glanced at Alexa. “It’s a diversion, I didn’t pull the arming pin.”

  He grabbed Alexa and held her by her waistband for support as they scampered down the stairs. The grenade lay next to the vending machine. He grabbed it and handed it to Alexa, who shoved it into her pocket.

  Neil pushed Alexa aside as Voelkner shot a thug who was hiding behind the sofa, hands over his head, waiting for the explosion. Neil took two more grenades from his backpack. He peered into the loading bay, pulled the arming pins out with his teeth, and lobbed one towards the panel van and the other one to the right.

  “Hail Mary,” he whispered and shoved Alexa behind the wall.

  The first grenade exploded beneath the van. A yellow fireball lifted the van a foot off the ground and sent molten scraps of metal and shrapnel ricocheting off the walls. A man was screaming his lungs out before another blast ripped through the loading area.

  Neil peeked around the doorway. Three bloodied bodies were scattered throughout the room, another guy was crawling away, his legs missing.

  Neil squeezed Alexa’s hand and pulled her along behind him. Voelkner followed, covering the rear. Neil crouched on the rolling bay and fired to his right. Alexa took out a thug in the corner to their left. She followed Neil towards the basement door, guns blazing.

  Neil ripped the door open and motioned to Alexa and Voelkner to enter. He noticed a movement from the corner of his eye and saw the cop take aim.

  Alexa is never going to make it, she’s too slow.

  He bolted to her and pulled her into his arms, turning his back on the shooter. A bullet slammed into his shoulder, sending them sprawling onto the floor. Voelkner returned fire and dragged Neil and Alexa into the room by their collars as a salvo of bullets exploded into the wall above them.

  Alexa slammed the door shut and bolted it. She pulled Neil down the runway and rested him against the w
all at the bottom. He held his hand to his shoulder. Blood was oozing from the wound, gathering in a puddle beneath his feet. Neil grimaced, his face contorted in pain.

  Alexa called to Voelkner. “See if you can find an exit.”

  Voelkner nodded and ran down the runway. He entered the fridge through heavy, transparent plastic strips that covered the entrance to the unit. Seconds ticked away, becoming minutes. He was taking too long, making Alexa edgy.

  She whispered urgently, “Voelkner, what’s keeping you?”

  A moment before she decided to go look for him, Voelkner emerged and trudged back up to the landing. He stood for a moment with his back to the wall and then slouched to the ground.

  “Voelkner, what’s wrong?”

  Voelkner wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He seemed rattled.

  “What? What was down there?”

  Alexa turned to go see for herself, but Voelkner grabbed her hand. “Captain, don’t. It’s . . . it’s not . . . nice.”

  Alexa swallowed hard. She had never seen Voelkner so shaken up. She pulled her arm free and grabbed the flashlight in Voelkner’s hand. She hobbled down to the fridge and pushed the plastic strips aside. Condiments of all kinds were neatly stacked in boxes on the floor or on shelves, gallons of milk, tomatoes, cheese, eggs, and vacuum-packed fillet steaks. There was another door deeper into the unit.

  It had a red sticker on the front. “Caution. Freezer Unit. Avoid Prolonged Exposure.”

  She flicked on the wide-beam LED flashlight then grabbed the handle and pulled at it, the door sucking against the rubber seals. Alexa gave it a tug and it swung open. She panned left and right, up and down with the flashlight, a disjointed garble of images her which her brain refused to comprehend. Slowly she pieced it together, like a jigsaw puzzle from hell.

  On the floor lay the severed head of a young woman. The last moments of her life were etched on her face: her eyes were rolled back in their sockets, and her mouth was open in a silent scream. A hacked off leg lay next to the head. Seven more bodies were sprawled in a jumbled tangle, heaped one on top of the other. Some had amputated arms or legs, but all had died by a gunshot to the head from a close distance, execution style. Alexa recognized the girls that they had picked up at the harbor.

  They were all naked. Six were Asian, one was European, and another African. She knelt next to the head; she couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Lesions were visible on their wrists and ankles; they must have been bound before they were killed.

  She stood up and slowly walked out of the frozen morgue, closed the door, and walked to where Neil and Voelkner were waiting for her. Voelkner had his arms wrapped around his legs and was resting his chin on his knees. Neil stared at her. Voelkner glanced at Alexa but said nothing.

  Alexa blinked and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Let’s finish what we’re here to do.”

  Voelkner nodded and hoisted himself up. He looked tired.

  “What is it?” Neil asked.

  “The girls, all dead,” Alexa said as she unbuttoned Neil’s jacket and slit his T-shirt open.

  The bullet had gone straight through his shoulder. Voelkner handed her his backpack, and she ripped off the first aid kit that had been velcroed to the side. She opened a bottle of water and splashed the wound clean, then she took out a can and sprayed the wound with an anti-inflammatory second skin.

  Neil grimaced in pain. She patted the wound dry with Neil’s T-shirt and sprayed on another layer of second skin. Finally, she put a sheet of transparent, sticky plaster over his shoulder, covering the wound.

  “OK, the bones in your shoulder are shattered, so keep your arm still. The spray has a coagulating agent which will stop the bleeding. Pop these in your mouth and suck on them. Don’t chew or swallow, it’ll knock you out. It’s a combination of ketamine and antibiotics. This is the best we can do until we get you to a hospital.” Alexa handed Neil two pink pills.

  “Thanks.” He studied her face, trying to read her emotions.

  Alexa tore her pants open where the bullet had penetrated her leg and inspected the damage. The blood had already clotted. She felt for an exit wound at the back of her leg, but there was none. The slug was still inside her leg. She bandaged the wound and popped a pill into her mouth. She stood up, put some weight on her leg, and grimaced.

  She glanced at Voelkner, who was sitting with his back to the wall, eyes closed, breathing deeply. “C’mon, we have to get out of here.”

  Alexa led them up the runway and opened the door an inch. A flurry of bullets exploded against the metal door. She shut it quickly.

  “Shit, now what?” she asked Neil.

  A security camera above them whirred into life, and a metallic voice sounded over the intercom system.

  “Guerra and Allen. What a nice couple you two make. Are you in pain, Mr. Allen? I sincerely hope so. It’s going to hurt much more once I am done with the three of you. I’ll squash you like sewer rats. And Alexa, my dear child, do I have a surprise waiting for you. You’re going to be the star in my new movie. I think I’ll call it Grinding Miss Guerra. You’ll be famous.”

  Alexa shot the camera to smithereens. “Ha, screw you, Metcalfe. You come get us if you dare. Typical politician, getting others to do his dirty work.”

  All the lights went out and they were engulfed in darkness, then the metal door locked with a clank.

  Voelkner tried to force it open. “He locked it remotely.”

  “There, there now. Nice and dark, exactly like sewer rats like it,” the metallic voice boomed.

  Alexa felt for Neil in the gloom. “We have to get out of here.”

  The metallic voice chuckled. “Oh, but my dear girl, there is no way out.”

  Alexa fumbled with her cell phone and looked at the screen. “Shit, I don’t have any reception down here,” she whispered. “Think, dammit, think,” she muttered to herself.

  She flicked on her flashlight and panned around the room. “Voelkner, watch the door. Neil, follow me.”

  She hobbled to the refrigeration unit and shone her light along its edges. She found a service panel at the back.

  She motioned to Neil and whispered, “Do you have a screwdriver in that box of tricks of yours?”

  Neil switched on his flashlight and removed a Swiss army knife from a pocket in his backpack. He slid it across the floor towards Alexa. “Here, use the bottle opener. Works just as well.”

  Alexa caught the knife and opened the tool. She unscrewed the panel from the fridge. She removed it and shone the beam on the inside of the panel. A service schedule was stuck to it. She skimmed the service history.

  “Aha. Eight years ago the compressor motor was refilled,” she whispered.

  Neil knelt next to her. “So what?” he asked softly.

  “It was filled with isobutene.”

  “But isn’t that stuff flammable? Is that legal?”

  “Not anymore. They banned it a couple of years ago, but it was widely used in commercial refrigeration units such as these. And yes, isobutene is highly flammable, enough of the stuff could cause a massive explosion,” she whispered.

  “And I guess you wouldn’t mind a massive explosion? With us in the same room?” Neil asked sarcastically.

  “Since when have you been afraid of a tiny explosion? We’ll hide in the fridge. That thing will withstand a nuclear blast.”

  “I hope you’re right. You know shit about kitchen appliances,” he said. “What about the bodies?”

  “If we don’t get hurt, they should be OK. Let’s move them from the freezer to the fridge. We’ll come fetch them later.”

  She called to Voelkner, and they busied themselves with the gruesome task of moving the bodies from the freezer.

  Alexa hobbled to the back of the fridge and tried to pull the feeding pipe from the compressor motor. It fit tightly. She then tried to loosen the O-ring screw that attached it to the motor, but the blade kept slipping out of the groove.

  “Here, let
me help,” Neil offered.

  “But you’re injured,” she said, pushing his hand away.

  “Let me try. Why do you want to loosen that ring?” he asked, crawling closer.

  “To let the gas escape, I guess,” she said.

  “OK, let me try.”

  Neil opened the cutting blade and proceeded to slash the rubber pipe. After three strokes it was severed, and gas hissed from the pipe.

  Alexa rolled her eyes. “Clever boy.”

  Neil nodded. “OK, what’s next?”

  “Do you have any grenades left?”

  Neil handed Alexa a grenade and she pulled out the arming pin.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  Neil and Voelkner nodded. They didn’t look ready.

  She placed the grenade on top of the compressor, and they ran into the front of the refrigerator unit.

  “Shit, I hope this works,” she said.

  “And you tell me this now, because—” Neil said before a deafening explosion ripped through the room.

  The blast sent them crashing into the shelves at the side of the unit. Eggs and milk were dripping from the ceiling. The refrigerator door was ripped clean off its hinges, and smoke filled the room. Metcalfe’s neat lawn, now strewn with rubble, was visible through a hole in the fridge and the wall.

  She hobbled out and looked behind the destroyed compressor unit of the fridge. Chunks of concrete had been dislodged, but the gap was still too narrow to fit through. She kicked at the edges of the hole with her heel, managing to open it up. Neil and Voelkner helped, and they widened it more. Alexa crouched and managed to squeeze her way through. Voelkner followed, squirming and wiggling his way to freedom.

  She gestured for Neil to follow.

  “There’s no way that I’ll fit through that,” Neil said.

  “C’mon Neil, try; put your good arm through first.”

  Neil put his arm through and wiggled into the hole. He tried to move his shoulder, but it was too painful. The more he squirmed, the more jammed-in he got. Sweat dripped from his forehead.