Haven

by Justin Kemppainen

  Kaylee tucked herself into this corner while eating a can of cold soup. Chicken noodle. It was delicious.

  She was reluctant to move forward because she knew that luxuries like decent, regular meals would disappear. She made a disgusted face. As would rest, dignity, self-respect, virtue, and anything else Miguel felt like taking. Assuming she made it that far. They’ll probably just shoot me for trespassing.

  She tossed the empty can aside and stood up, shouldering her pack and grabbing her little .22 from the ground. She placed it snugly back in the waistband of her jeans. With a forlorn look at the comfortable, safe corner, she took a deep breath and rounded the edge of the broken wall. Nothing besides the usual desolation and decay greeted her, and no one in the gloom could be seen as she walked down the cracked and worn sidewalk.

  Every instinct she had screamed for her to duck into alleyways, stay in the shadows, and only skirt the streets when necessary, but she constantly reminded herself that she wasn’t trying to hide. She needed to pass as a semi-ordinary traveler trying to find food and shelter. Such people were less common these days, as it ended up being safer to be affiliated and stay with a group of people, even one with a reputation as bad as Miguel’s.

  For a few hours she continued her anxious stroll, still without seeing a single soul. She had actually passed into the red light district after going through more businesses, office buildings, and eventually cheap slum-style housing. She found herself surrounded by bars, liquor stores, clubs, and even brothels. The most extreme of these kinds of ‘unsophisticated’ places had been outlawed by the Citizenship government years earlier, before the Separation. Of course, part of the hedonistic approach of the higher-ranking Citizenship allowed for almost any sort of pleasure, so business in the red-light survived several of the previous transitions.

  Kaylee shuddered as she looked around at the various locations, containing all manner of pleasures from garden variety to bizarre and twisted, all advertised without a hint of shame. The community here hadn’t exactly been booming or thriving, but it had been, at the very least, tenacious.

  It shouldn’t be long now, she thought, trying to keep the tension out of her body and appear mostly oblivious. Not that anyone was likely to notice any of her behavior, strange or otherwise. I’m just being paranoid.

  “Screw it,” she said, hiking her pack up. She abandoned timidity and walked forward with purpose. If I’m going to get caught, I might as well get it over with. The thought of turning tail and hiding somewhere for however long had its appeal, but Kaylee was not going to back down.

  Her chances to do so ended. “Well, hello there, miss.” She froze, hearing a masculine voice. “What’s this we’ve found? Hey Trip! Red!” He shouted. A medium-height but well-built bald man stepped out from behind a corner. He wore an open thin leather jacket revealing a mesh tank-top. Over his shoulder he casually slung a dirty AK-47 assault rifle, gritty to the point where Kaylee wondered if it actually worked. With his other hand he rubbed his goatee as he sauntered over towards Kaylee, sporting a grin. His muscled arms sported tribal tattoos.

  Kaylee stood perfectly still, wincing as two other men came jogging up, each carrying their own assault rifles, wearing similar casual attire and tattoos. They spotted Kaylee standing there, looking frightened, and smiled wickedly. They slowly advanced on her, with something like hunger in her eyes.

  She shuddered involuntarily as they approached. She backed away, and they made no sudden move to stop her; they just continued advancing. She thought about using her pistol, but decided that it would probably just get her killed.

  One of the men, probably Trip, who was black, with short stringy hair, said, “Very nice find. Mr. Miguel is gonna like this one.”

  The other man sported a long scar along the side of his face. He had long tangled red hair, likely the source of his name, and a month’s growth of facial hair. He grinned, revealing several missing teeth. “That’s right, he is, and we’re going to get the credit for it.”

  The bald one stepped in front of them, huddling together. “Hold on a sec, boys.” He put his hand on Red’s shoulder. “We’re way out here. No one’s around.” He spoke in a low, hushed voice. “What if we don’t bring her back?” Kaylee felt a shiver down her spine. Oh, this can’t be good, she thought, reconsidering the gun.

  Red and Trip exchanged nervous glances, and Trip spoke, “But Miguel always have very specific directions. All girls go to him. No exceptions.”

  The bald one held up his hand, “Yeah, yeah, I know how it goes, but it’s like this,” he held his folded hands in front of his mouth before saying, “He doesn’t have to know, right? I mean, it’s not like he doesn’t have enough to keep him occupied.”

  Red spoke, nervously, “I-I don’t know, Griff, you see what happens to people who don’t listen to him.”

  Griff grimaced, and snapped, “Look! I’m tired of getting’ nothing but the used up limp fish that he’s done with.” They avoided meeting his eyes, clearly uncomfortable about the discussion. He looked back and forth between them. “C’mon! Don’t you guys want a piece of something fresh?” He eyed her hungrily.

  Oh, bloody hell dammit, Kaylee thought, continuing to curse in her head as she backed up against the wall, eyes darting around, looking for an escape.

  “Griff, c’mon man, just grab her and we’ll head back. We give her to Miguel like this and we won’t have to come out this far for weeks! We’ll get to eat twice a day.” Red pleaded.

  Trip piped in, “Yeah, yeah; he’s right! We don’t want to be messin’ with Mr. Miguel’s property. What he’ll do to us just for knowing about it-”

  Griff whirled around sharply, “Then get out of here. You don’t have to know anything. I’ll get rid of her when I’m done, and no one will know the difference.”

  Ah the hell with this, she thought. As his sight was turned, Kaylee bolted. At her first sign of movement Griff and the other two started shouting and sprinting after her down the sidewalk. Kaylee cursed her luck as she ran, hearing the heavy footfalls behind her. She was hoping she could run into a few more of Miguel’s people; more witnesses to prevent Griff from doing something unseemly to her. He’ll kill me, and this will have been for nothing.

  She was about to turn a corner when she was tackled from behind. She and her assailant sprawled forward and rolled, banging hard against the cold concrete. She found herself lying on her back, with her arms and legs pinned, with the grinning face of Griff leering inches from her own. He slapped her, stinging her face and blurring her vision. While she was dazed, he stood up dragged her from the middle of the intersection into a nearby building.

  It was the lobby area for some risqué-themed spa whose painted title on the wall had long since been tarnished into unreadability. Griff dragged her behind the secretary’s desk, yelling “Keep watch!” to Red and Trip, who exchanged uncomfortable glances.

  Kaylee kicked at him as he stooped down. He grabbed her legs and dropped down, pinning her to the ground once again. Wave of revulsion crawled over her as his hot, stinking breath washed over her neck. She writhed and struggled. With one hand, he gripped held both of her arms together over her head, the other fumbling to unfasten his pants.

  “Sit still, blast you!” He said, slapping her again. Her vision blurred to darkness for a moment, and her struggles weakened. He took the opportunity, and she felt him lift off her enough to start tugging at her own jeans. In her daze, she tried to push at his rough hands, feeling a white-hot rage boil up. Pulling together some clarity, she screamed, pulled her legs up, and kicked him hard in the face.

  Griff yelled and stumbled backwards. The secretary’s desk had nestled into a rounded corner, with doors going deeper into the building flanking either side. Griff, tripped over his half-removed pants and fell through the right doorway. Kaylee seized the opportunity to spring to her feet. She reached back to grab the pistol in her waistband, intending to shoot the bastard no matter the cost.

  Only it was gone. Kayl
ee swore and spun around, running through door opposite where Griff had fallen. She stumbled through a swinging door into the female locker room, sprinting through the area.

  She plowed through the back door, into a wide open lounge area. There were pillars that supported several tiers of balcony that wrapped the open area in a square-shape. It was dark with no lights running, but from what meager lighting from outside, Kaylee could see there were a few circular whirlpools off to one side, and several small square pits that must have served as mud baths. Numerous lounge chairs were scattered around and the entire tile flooring was grimy and unclean.

  Kaylee stood in the doorway, scanning about as she heard clamoring from the opposite side, where the opposite gender’s locker room laid. Quickly and quietly, she slid around the wall to hide behind the door, sliding the switchblade out of her pocket as she did and snapping it open. Here we go again, she thought.

  The door burst open, and Griff paused as she had done, jerking his head back and forth, looking for some sign of movement. Kaylee leapt forward at his flank, and, with a battle cry, jammed the knife into his chest, just under his right collar-bone.

  Griff shrieked as the knife sunk deep in to the hilt, blood spilling down his midsection. He took a swing at Kaylee, with his opposite arm. She anticipated it and ducked under, running deeper into the room. At that moment, the sound of glass breaking snatched her attention, a window breaking in the far right corner. In her distraction she tripped over some unseen object on the ground, stumbling forward into a pillar. Before she could collect herself, he was on her.

  “You’re dead, bitch.” He growled, pinning her against the column, blood oozing out of the wound which still carried the knife.

  He put his powerful grip on her throat, choking the air from her. She gasped and pounded at his arms. She grabbed the knife hilt protruding from his chest and twisted. He bellowed in rage and agony, but it only served to tighten his grip. Stars danced before her eyes and the world took on a hazy blur; her hand slipped off the blade. Reality dimmed and fell towards darkness.

  Just before she blacked out, he released her. She fell to the ground, coughing hard and her vision too blurry to make anything out.

  Her ears brought to her the sounds of struggle, scuffling and exertion noises as Griff fought with some other assailant. The sounds of shuffling feet reached a flurry and crescendo, then with loud thump and a quickly stifled cry from Griff, they ceased. These were replaced by the horrific noises of gagging and choking. Kaylee opened her eyes and lifted her head, which felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

  Her vision swam lazily in front of her, but she could see Griff on his knees, with some figure standing behind him, arm wrapped around his throat. Griff, eyes and veins bulging, flailed his arms backwards, trying to save himself to no avail. The figure twisted its body, snapping Griff’s neck with an effortless crack. He fell to the ground face first, eyes wide and mouth still hanging open.

  In slow motion, she pulled herself into a sitting position, finally seeing the figure who wore a long brown trench coat and wide brimmed hat, sitting atop a mass of cloth which hid its face.

  “Malcolm,” she whispered.

  Automatic weapons fire roared through the air, and Malcolm was propelled sideways as several bullets tore into his body. Kaylee opened her mouth and screamed as she watched the form tumble through the air towards the shadows in the room.

  Red and Trip were yelling expletives as they continued firing wildly into the darkness. After a moment, the two ceased firing and ran forward, still sweeping their weapons back and forth.

  “Do you get it? Do you get it!” Trip shouted, frantically watching the shadows.

  “Yeah, but it ain’t dead!” Red cried, kneeling over Griff. “Did you see where it went?”

  “No, I didn’t! Did you-”

  “Shit, oh shit, man. He’s dead!” Red jumping to his feet.

  Trip grabbed Kaylee’s arm pulling her to her feet, eyes wide and scanning the room. “What the hell was that thing?”

  “I don’t know, man. I don’t know!”

  “We shot it! It should be dead. W-we both shot it!”

  “I know, man. I know! Let’s just get outta here before it comes back!” Red scooped up Kaylee as she started to topple over. He threw her over his shoulder and started running towards the exit, tossing Griff’s assault rifle, which he’d taken earlier, down behind him. Kaylee’s vision swam again, and she might have gone briefly unconscious in spite of the frantic running and cursing of her captors. Outside the building in the street, her eyes opened long enough to light upon her small .22, knocked free of her waistband when Griff tackled her. With a small effort, she shoved herself free of the man’s grasp and tumbled onto the ground, rolling over the weapon and grasping it in her hands. The two men, still yelling, hauled her up again. With their fear and distraction, neither man saw her return the weapon to the back of her jeans, concealed under her thick sweatshirt.

  Several blocks later they stopped, too exhausted to keep going. Red dropped Kaylee who fell unceremoniously onto the ground. Her throat and head hurt, and her vision remained slightly hazy, but she felt a little more in control of her motor functions.

  “You!” A gun barrel wavered in front of her face. “What the hell was that thing?!”

  She coughed, rubbing her throat. In a weak voice she said, “I…I don’t know.”

  Red was watching all sides, jerkily sweeping his gun back and forth. “What do you mean you don’t know?! You were right there, you saw it!” he yelled.

  Her strained voice came out, “I didn’t get a good look!” She glared up at the two of them. “I was too busy being strangled!”

  Without another word, she was hauled roughly to her feet again and they set off at a hurried pace. She half-jogged, half-stumbled between them as Trip, behind her, urged her onward with the occasional shove. They kept glancing backwards, startled by every shadow, jumping at every sound as they maintained a hurried pace.

  Finally, they stopped again, outside a chain-link fence with a small opening, guarded by two men. “Shit, Red, you looked like you’ve seen a ghost!” Came the jeering call.

  “Shut it, Griff’s dead!” He snapped back.

  “What?! How?” The other man looked shocked.

  “I don’t know man, some big, creature thing just snapped his neck. Like it was nothing!” He looked at his gun. “We shot it, both of us did, but it didn’t die; it just ran off.” He turned to Trip. “Nothing could have survived that. Nothing!”

  The fence guards looked at Trip with eyes wide, waiting for him to confirm or deny the story. The haunted fear in his eyes was confirmation enough. “Look, just keep an eye out for it, okay?” The guards exchanged anxious glances. They didn’t want anything to do with some freakish monster. Trip shoved Kaylee forward, and said, “We found this girl in the area. We brought her for Mr. Miguel.”

  With tightened grips on their weapons, nervously watching the streets in front of them, they stepped aside. Trip walked through the opening, gripping Kaylee’s arm with one hand, pulling her along behind. Red followed, still nervously twitching his eyes around, looking. They came into another district, laid out in the same grid-fashion as every other area. They walked by several low-income housing apartment buildings, more empty bars and clubs, with various people milling around, chatting in small groups. The two seemed to relax slightly as they came into more familiar territory with more familiar people around; the grips on their rifles seemed less white-knuckled.

  They continued on for a couple of blocks, until they entered a small square, more like a diamond, with entrances to the buildings on each corner. In front of them stretched the massive club, more like a hotel, Heavenly Bodies. All of the large red neon letters of the sign still, surprisingly, glowed in the night, featuring a few silhouetted women laying stretched across or leaning against them.

  Kaylee made a brief struggle to break free, but Trip’s grasp did not loosen. He half-pulled half-dragged her up
the staircase to the door, where a huge, burly man sat, cradling a submachine gun in his lap. He saw the two pulling the unwilling woman behind and opened the door for them without comment, as though it was a common sight. Kaylee frowned. It probably is, she thought.

  Inside was only slightly more illuminated than the constant darkness of outside. Dim, recessed lighting provided an ambiance and a soft glow. They walked through a bar area where dozens of people, mostly men with a few women, sat, chatting, drinking with some rock music playing from a speaker by the counter. Through the bar, they passed through a set of thick, frosted-glass doors into a lounge area with a circular stage, which was empty save for a few poles that extended into the ceiling.

  Kaylee hadn’t been in a place like it before, but she had a pretty good idea of what this room had been used for. Trip dragged her along, past people lounging in huge leather chairs, as some soft music began to play. Kaylee looked over at the stage and, in spite her being right about what it was for, her jaw dropped slightly when she saw a woman, barely dressed, saunter out from behind the back curtain.

  Before she could stare any further, Trip gave her one final shove, and she stumbled and fell to her knees, just outside a large circular booth with a small round table in the center. She looked up staring into the face of a surprisingly handsome, fit man with lightly bronzed skin. He wore clean, white cotton pants, a button-down white shirt, and a crème-colored sport coat. He wore a heavy silver chain around his neck which held a pendant of a fox. He held a long, smoldering cigar in his left hand. His other arm lay around the shoulders of a clearly uncomfortable woman, wearing-

  Kaylee gasped. The woman was dressed in a bikini, and goosebumps stood out on every inch of her thin, exposed skin. She looked extremely cold. Kaylee looked back over at the stage, seeing the woman dancing around the poles. Her face was a stone mask and her eyes were lifeless as she swayed and twisted her body in the dance. There were a couple of people in adjacent booths and around the lounge that had ceased watching the dancer, turning to see the newcomer. Kaylee shuddered and turned back towards the man, who finally looked down at her.