by Phil Hurst
Jules moved into the suite and pressed a little button on a small kettle. The water started boiling as he moved to a window. He motioned for Lana to stand next to him as a small man appeared from nowhere. He had a wound in his side.
“Artur will take your weapons.”
The little man frisked her. He pulled the gun from her waistband and found the small knife she kept by her ankle. He placed them a small table underneath the display, next to a pile of brochures advertising local tourist attractions. It looked like an advertisement for a hitman’s holiday.
Lana stood next to Jules at the window. He was inspecting a line of trees in the distance. Lana could see the long row of shops that made up the High Street, the railway station and, in the distance, one of the roads that led into town.
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then Jules shook his head: “All of the rebellion, all of the fighting, all of the death. It’s pointless. The reckoning will come; the town will become another footnote. I just have to give the word, and those trees will shake with the number of reckoners that will descend upon this town.”
“Where are my people?” Lana asked.
“What do you think happens if I kill them?” Jules responded.
“I don’t know.”
“I tell you what will happen. They’ll be happy. They fly into the sky and join the little procession of souls heading towards God knows what. Fuck, for all we know, we’re powering a giant power station in the sky. But they won’t care. But you will. Because whatever happens today, Lana, Great Solider of the Unjudged, whatever happens, I give you my word that I won’t kill you. You’re going to have to live with what happens. For eternity.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. She felt a small sting in her neck. She swung her hand up to her neck, astonished. Her eyes started to water as she felt the small implanter, no bigger than a credit card, that had just injected her. Artur stepped back from her, grinning.
“Pretty soon, the reckoners are going to come down that street and through that railway station, and this whole town will once again be a place of tranquillity.”
Lana couldn’t answer. She scratched at her neck, but it was too late.
“You see, I was going to save it for Grimwood, or her daughter, but Grimwood isn’t going anywhere,” Jules said. “And her daughter has already got one. So I thought, who is likely to fuck up my little plan the most?”
Lana screamed and charged at him. But her attack was undisciplined and manic, and he easily parried it. He twisted and moved his elbow upwards quickly, catching her underneath the chin. Lana felt a deep vibration through her jaw, and she stumbled backward. She began to claw at her neck, trying to dig into the skin to remove the implant. As she struggled, she fell and landed against the wall underneath the window.
“I trust you’ll think carefully before trying that again,” he said. “I only have to tell the reckoners arriving what you’ve done, and they would tag you before you could say ‘please.’” He mimed aiming a soul staff at her. “Would you like that? Would you like to end the day tagged and doomed to The Store?” He crouched next to her. “Or maybe they’ll make you work off the debt—somewhere not as pleasant as London. In Russia, do you know what they let officers do to tagged girls?”
Lana couldn’t concentrate on his words. She had scratched her neck until it bled, and she was staring in shock at the blood underneath her fingernails. Slowly, she raised her eyes until she was staring at Jules. She knew she just needed one chance to kill him. One chance. And she wouldn’t hesitate.
“But there is a complication,” he said. “Your cause is lost. Your leader is under arrest, and your weapon is in our control. So you’d think I would be happy. But no. Everywhere I hear ‘Oliver will save us.’ ‘Oliver knows the truth.’ ‘Oliver this.’ ‘Oliver that.’ So I have to wonder who this Oliver person is.”
Lana frowned: “You don’t have control.”
“Do you mean your little suicide pills?” He picked one out of his pocket. “See, when it came to it, not one of the Unjudged in this hotel took their pills. Even though they can’t wait to meet the big whatever the fuck in the sky, they all kept them in their pockets.”
Jules tiled his head. He moved towards Lana’s face, close enough to kiss her.
“I thought it was strange, but then I realised, they need an order. And I have the order-givers.”
“If you hurt anyone, then I’ll…” Lana tried a threat but knew she was powerless in that moment.
Jules moved back a little: “Just tell me about Oliver.”
Lana shook her head and smiled as sweetly as she could manage. Jules grabbed her arm. Lana shook him off, and he screamed at her as he lost his patience.
“You need to be fucking careful,” he said, standing and kicking her in the leg. “And you need to answer my questions.”
“Jules,” said a voice from behind him.
“Artur,” Jules screamed. “This bitch is annoying me.”
Jules closed his eyes and paused for a full 30 seconds as he regained his composure. The silence hung over the room. Eventually, he began to speak again: “She’s being playful. That’s good. That means I get to play.”
Jules moved away from Lana and went to the suite’s bedroom. He pushed the door open and held it for Lana. Inside, she could see four Unjudged kneeling on the bed. Helpless. They had been stripped to their underwear, tied up and gagged with their clothes. Their eyes widened when they saw Lana, and they tried to shout. Lana recognised Bob, who looked terrible.
“Meet my bargaining chips.”
Jules pointed to a small chair. Lana, unsure of what else to do, sat in it. Artur moved to stand next to her. Jules continued: “Artur has been keeping them busy, though. Haven’t you?”
Artur nodded. He threw a small, empty bottle of hotel shampoo at the Unjudged. It hit one of them on the back of the neck. The target of his little game barely reacted and stared at Lana, willing her to do something.
Jules walked to a large patio door that opened out on to a small balcony. The room, intended for romantic mornings, looked out on the sea. The sun was starting to go down by now, and the blue water was taking on a dull sheen. Although there was a hint of burning wood, a pleasant sea breeze filled the room. Jules reached the edge of the balcony and leaned over. He whistled.
“I was going to keep them alive until the reckoning happened. Get them tagged and to The Store for the rest of eternity. But then I kept hearing about this Oliver person. And I do love a good mystery.”
He walked back into the room and grabbed Bob under the arms. With some difficulty he dragged him towards the balcony. Lana jumped from her seat. Immediately, she felt the cold metal of Artur’s gun against her temple. Artur was wounded and only had one hand free, but one was all he would need to blow her head to pieces.
“Wait, wait, wait,” said Jules. He dropped Bob, who landed painfully on his face. He groaned, but the gag created only a dull rumble. Jules counted on his fingers. “One bloke downstairs. One in the linen basket. That’s a lot of dead men. I think we need to even the gender balance.”
Artur pointed to one of the women on the bed: “That one?”
Jules picked up the woman and threw her over his shoulder with ease. Like Bob, she screamed into the gag. She kicked his chest, but he didn’t seem to notice. He carried her to the edge of the balcony. The Unjudged woman looked up at Lana, pleading to her.
Lana screamed: “I don’t know where he is.”
“Artur, she should really see this,” he said. “Move her to the balcony.”
Artur pressed the gun into her head a little firmer. The Unjudged on the bed were screaming and trying to free their bonds. But they were stuck. When Lana reached the balcony, Artur continued to push her until she was bent over the railings. He grabbed her neck to hold her in place. He was stood against her, and Lana could feel the heat of his crotch against her leg.
“Tell me, Lana,” Jules said, a nervous, scary energy in his vo
ice. “Who is this Oliver lad? Did he create the weapon? How did he do it?”
Lana could see a number of other Unjudged on the paved area below. They hadn’t noticed what was going on above them. Lana made eye contact with the Unjudged woman. The hostage stopped screaming and looked deep into Lana’s eyes. Then she closed her eyes and slowly nodded.
Lana took a deep breath: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fine,” Jules said.
The Unjudged woman’s foot caught Lana on the head as she passed her. She tumbled head over heels, flipping in the air twice on the way to the ground. With her arms tied behind her back she could do nothing about the coming impact or anything to control her fall. The speed of her flip turned her into a blur of pale flesh and dark hair. Then she hit the ground with a sickening thud.
A red V appeared from by the Unjudged’s head. Her blood started to stain the brickwork. The impact caused her left leg to contort under impact. It pointed out at ninety degrees to the rest of her body, an unnatural angle that made her look like a broken mannequin. The Unjudged at ground level ran to her and tried to administer first aid. Lana could tell it was a lost cause.
“Looks like a V,” Jules said. Artur tried to get a better view, and his excitement to see the woman’s body loosened his grip on Lana’s neck slightly. When she tried to move, he twisted his hand, keeping her in place.
“Let’s see whether we can get them to spell a word.”
Paige
W ix pushed his gun into the small of her back as she walked down the stairs out of the apartment.
“If I fall down the stairs, I’ll be no use to you as a packhorse,” she said.
“Keep walking,” he replied.
“Did you kill them?” she asked. He had ordered her out of the apartment and then returned to Ed and Takhir. She had not seen them again. However, there were no gunshots, so there was a chance they were still alive. Wix was making her hold the backpack containing the head and its box in front of her. Paige’s hands were taped around the front of it.
“Keep walking,” Wix said.
“It would help if I knew where we were going,” she snapped.
“Hotel de Paris.”
Paige sighed: “Of course.”
They left the apartment block and turned right down the hill, with the cliff on their left-hand side and below that the beach. The tiredness Paige felt was being blown away by the sea breeze. She felt more alert.
Monty wasn’t at his stand. Paige didn’t blame him. It was first thing in the morning, and there were few commuters or tourists walking down the road. Paige saw curtains twitching as her and Wix walked towards the town centre. She wondered how many recognised her, saw the gun in her back and decided to do nothing.
The town had changed overnight. The posters supporting the Unjudged had vanished, all replaced by new ones pledging allegiance to the reckoners and Tumi. More curtains moved as they walked past the taller buildings of the town centre. One of the amusement arcade owners was sat on his porch, smoking. He didn’t acknowledge their presence, just threw his cigarette on to the path in front of them and went back inside.
They entered a narrow street that was bordered by tall Victorian shops. Their wooden facades and large windows signposted a mix of local businesses and chain coffee shops. All the shops were dark, some with metal shutters to keep out vandals. Above the shops, elegant brickwork supported three-storey buildings that blocked out the morning sun and covered the entire street in shadow. There were alleyways leading to storage areas and yards at regular intervals.
From exploring as a child, Paige knew those alleyways. She knew which ones led to the seafront, which ones led to dead ends and which ones led to other streets. If things hadn’t changed since she left town, she would be able to get away from Wix if she got into any of them. If she were going to escape, this was as good a place as any to do it.
She heard Wix stop walking. She turned around and saw him shuffling in his pocket. His display was ringing, and he was trying to reach into his pocket while keeping the gun trained on Paige. She began to walk slowly backwards, hoping she would be able to shuffle into one of the alleyways before he realised she was moving. Eventually, he looked away to find the right pocket. She ran.
A gunshot echoed down the road.
Paige stumbled. She wasn’t hit. It must have been a warning shot. But why no order from Wix? Why no smart comment? She tried to put her hands up in surrender and glanced over her shoulder.
Wix had an arrow sticking through his left eye. His right eye was looking at it, confused. His gun had fired into the floor, a reaction following the arrow’s penetration. His remaining eye looked to Paige, as if it were asking her what was happening. Then, without getting his answer, he collapsed, spiralling to the ground.
As Wix fell, a young Unjudged woman behind him walked forward. She relaxed her bow and removed the second arrow she had loaded as a contingency. The girl was one of those Paige had seen Lana talking to earlier in the day. She approached without a word. Paige stayed perfectly still.
“I’m Marie,” she said as she cut through Paige’s restraints with a small knife. “You’re Paige.”
Paige rubbed her wrists, where the tape had taken off some of her arm hair.
“You’re with the Unjudged, I take it?”
“I am.”
“Thank you for saving me.”
“I need your help.”
“Lana?”
“Lana and your mother have both been captured.”
“I knew about mum.”
Marie pointed to the Hotel de Paris: “Lana’s on the top floor. I think it is the man who killed Sam.”
Dark, powerful feelings coursed through Paige. She saw Sam, helpless in the water, and the patch of blood appearing as he sunk beneath the waves. She felt the emptiness from the day before, the pain of not being able to help when it mattered. Her stomach churned.
- We should kill him.
The voice appeared in her head, although she could not understand where it had come from. It echoed around: a dozen voices and the same one in one moment. She felt faint but powerful at the same time. Within her, a scream began to form at the back of her throat, although she didn’t understand why.
Paige realised she could use the Unjudged. She didn’t like them. She didn’t like what they had done to the reckoners at the bridge or what her mother had become. But if she were to get revenge for Sam’s death, she had to work with them. It was time, she admitted, to join them. At least temporarily.
Marie put a hand on her shoulder: “Are you OK?”
“Can you save my mother?” Paige asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Save her.”
Paige shuffled the bag around on to her back. She walked over to Wix and, careful not to step in the small stream of blood that was trickling into the gutter, picked up his gun.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Marie said.
“Do you have a better idea?”
“We go after Lana first. Together.”
Paige shook her head: “My mother is the most important. She needs a soldier to save her.” She put her hand on Marie’s shoulder. “You are that soldier.”
Paige was surprised at how easily the manipulation came to her. Maybe, deep down, she was her mother’s daughter.
Marie’s eyes filled with tears and she slowly nodded: “And what about you?”
Paige could see the staff entrance to the Hotel de Paris. She felt like a bloodhound, smelling her target from the street. All she could think about was revenge.
“I’m going to make sure the fucker who killed my brother is dead.”
Paige pushed past Marie.
“You can’t go alone,” Marie said. “Let me get some Unjudged to go with you.”
“He’ll escape,” Paige started to walk towards the door. “It has to be now.”
Paige struggled to understand where the words came from. She walked quickly towards the rear ent
rance of the hotel. The door was unlocked and opened without resistance. Marie was still behind her. She put her hand on Paige’s shoulder, stopping her for a moment.
“I’d do anything for Lana you know,” she said.
“Look,” Paige pulled Marie into the hotel and closed the door behind her. “If we can stop the boss, then the other reckoners will fall away. It’s like cutting off the head of a snake. And my mother—well, she can take care of herself.”
Marie shook her head. She lowered her hand and stepped backwards: “Do you know what I’m going to be? I’m going to be the hero who gave up the woman she loves for the good of the cause. And you?” She poked Paige in the chest. “You will be the woman who condemned her mother to seek revenge on a man she doesn’t even know.” Marie left, slamming the door closed.
- You’re doing the right thing.
- You are.
- You are.
Her vision momentarily blurred. Paige shook the voice away and climbed the stairs in silence, apart from the occasional squeak of her shoes on the concrete floors. She reached the top floor and crept along the corridor, stepping over the blood that was soaking into the carpet underneath the linen trolley. The dead man in the linen basket barely registered with her. She noticed it but didn’t pay it any attention. Her focus had narrowed, and everything around her was just background noise.
The door to the honeymoon suite was open. Paige entered, holding Wix’s gun close to her body. The room was a mess, with furniture all over the place, but it was empty. She could hear movement in the next room—a scuffle and struggling. A scream echoed through the door, but it faded quickly, as if moving away. Paige lowered the gun, leaned into the room and tried to work out the best way to attack. She could see Lana and two reckoners at the far end, looking over the balcony.
Lana was being forced to watch whatever was going on below. None of them noticed as she entered the room, gun held out in front of her and ready to shoot.
