The Enoch Pill

by Matthew William

The homeless man nodded, pointing to the alley with a crazy arm.

  The cop walked to his car and turned on the siren.

  “We’ll go get her,” the officer said. “Don’t wander off, we might need to bring you in as a witness.”

  The homeless man waved a thanks and wandered off into a nearby liquor store. The cops watched him go and laughed to themselves. They got into the car and drove off in another direction.

  Diego looked back down the alley. The girl was nowhere to be seen. He sprinted in the direction she had been heading and nearly ran into her as she sat beside a fruit stand. Was she crying? He backed up and hid behind a dumpster. Her face was in her hands. Why was she stopping now? She was on the right street, the hall was only a few blocks away.

  Suddenly she stood and bolted across the street, down another alleyway. Diego groaned, the concert hall was the other way. He followed. This was the perfect route to take, if she wanted to meet more homeless men.

  Another strange turn brought her to the loading deck behind the concert hall. Maybe she was smarter than she seemed. She only needed to find her way around front to the ticket office.... Or just sneak inside.

  Diego tip-toed to the bay door. A supply train pulled up and a large group of large men emerged from the concert hall to unload the equipment. Diego joined the ranks of them, to bring something inside.

  “Nice try buddy,” a stage hand said. He pushed Diego out of line. “Beat it.”

  “Hey, I’m trying to work here,” Diego said and got back into line.

  “No, you’ve got to buy a ticket just like everybody else,” the stagehand said. He grabbed Diego by the shirt and shoved him to the pavement.

  Diego pulled himself up and tried to laugh as he brushed the dirt from his pants. He could feel the redness on his face. In shame he walked around to the front of the building to the ticket office. No one was behind the window.

  “Hey,” Diego said, banging on the glass. “Is anyone in there?”

  A man in a shiny bow-tie came to the window. “Sold out,” was all he said and he walked away.

  “Come on,” Diego said. “I’ve got a friend in there.”

  “So does everybody else,” shiny bow-tie said.

  “But this friend needs some help,” Diego said trying to look in the man’s eyes. The reflection of the glass made it impossible.

  “Does your friend need me to call security for them?”

  “No. That would just make things worse, I think.”

  “They must not need too much help then.”

  “I’ll pay you double,” said Diego leaning into the glass.

  Diego passed through the sweaty crowd of people inside the hall. Cigarette smoke, alcohol fumes and club music filled the air. He pushed towards the stage until he came upon group of guys that wouldn’t let him through.

  “You should have gotten here earlier,” they said.

  Diego shimmied to the side of the room and then against the far wall to the front row. Soon, he came upon a metal fence that separated the fans from the stage. Seven stagehands stood guard, watching the crowd.

  Diego needed some sort of distraction. A couple of half empty drinks sat on a nearby table. He glanced around. No one was watching. He grabbed a tall glass and flung it back over his shoulder into the center of the crowd. He didn’t turn to see where it went, he just watched the stagehand nearest him, waiting for the inevitable moment when he would have to react to the chaos. All Diego needed was a second.

  The fight broke out behind him and the stagehands rushed to the crowd. Diego hopped the fence and slid under the curtain in a split second. He was now backstage.

  ∞

  “I’ll need to untie my shoes to get my pants off,” Kizzy announced.

  “Do whatever you got to do,” Banshee said. He looked crazed.

  Kizzy knelt down and felt for the handle of her knife. She undid the laces on her boots, and carefully kept the blade concealed behind her leg as she stood up.

  Banshee walked to the record player and put on another album. The disk crackled to life and one of his older songs began to play. She recognized the song, but couldn’t place which one it was. Strange trumpet riffs flourished over a heavy bass line.

  “Feeling shy?” he asked. He set the gun down on the desk and approached her with the cigarette hanging from his mouth. He slowly undid the top button of her red flannel shirt.

  “What are you gonna do?” Kizzy asked, clenching the knife behind her back.

  “You’ll see.”

  “Whatever it is, you don’t have to do it,” she said. His spicy cinnamon cologne blended with the cigarette smoke.

  Banshee looked at her with a tilted head, his wild emerald eyes seemed to sparkle. “I know.”

  “I’m begging you not to,” Kizzy said. She felt her grip on the knife tightening.

  “I’m begging you to be quiet,” he said. He began to sing to himself as he leaned in and kissed her neck. It felt like a snail sucking on her neck. Kizzy finally recognized the song. It was “Evelyn Where Are You?”.

  “Stop,” she said.

  “Never,” he answered, taking a drag from his cigarette. He blew the smoke in Kizzy’s face.

  “I said stop.” She lifted the knife from behind her back and up to his neck.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said.

  “You’ve got something seriously wrong with you.”

  There was a knock at the door. For half a second Kizzy was distracted and that was all that Banshee needed. In an instant he grabbed the hand that held the knife and bent it down. With his other hand he covered her mouth and shoved her back into the wall.

  “You’re on in four minutes Banshee,” came a voice from the other side.

  Kizzy tried to bang on the wall but it hardly made a sound.

  “Now are you going to cooperate?” he asked.

  Kizzy nodded and as he removed his hand from her mouth she brought her head back and smashed her forehead into his nose. She pushed off the wall and drove her shoulder into his chest. They both fell to the floor.

  Banshee shrieked. His eyes went big and red. He pushed himself away. The knife was sticking into his chest. A trickle of blood came from his mouth and his denim vest around his ribs slowly turned purple. Kizzy stared at him completely numb. She wasn’t in her body anymore, but rather floating above, watching all this happen.

  Shakily she stood up. She tried to open the door, but her hands were trembling. She looked to the mirror. She didn’t recognize herself. Her face was completely pale. She struggled to breath as she put the red sweatshirt back on. The map sat on the desk and she stuffed it into her pocket. She lifted the hood to cover her face. She tried to compose herself, to concentrate on breathing. Banshee made gurgling noises from the floor. She steadied her hand, opened the door and walked out, closing it behind her.

  There were footsteps approaching from the right. She held her breath and closed her eyes.

  “What are you doing back here?” Kizzy opened her eyes. It was Diego.

  “I’ve got to get out of here,” she said.

  “Are you ok?” he asked. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”

  “I don’t know.”

  They heard footsteps from the end of the hall. A man’s shadow approached on the wall. He was barking orders to the stagehands. “One last run through on that sound check.”

  “Quick,” said Diego. He pulled her by the hand and opened the door she had come from.

  “No,” Kizzy said as she tried to pull him back. But he was too fast.

  Diego stood there in the dressing room completely motionless with a look of horror on his face.

  Kizzy stepped in and closed the door.

  “Lord, what have you done?” he muttered.

/>   Banshee laid lifeless on the rug in a pool of blood.

  “He attacked me,” she said.

  A knock came at the door. Kizzy looked to Diego. The knock came again. Kizzy quickly locked the door.

  “One minute till showtime,” the voice said.

  “Ok,” Diego answered, in a deep Banshee-like voice.

  “What should we do?” Kizzy whispered. “Can we get a doctor in here to stitch him up?”

  “Are you crazy?” he gasped. “Is he even alive?”

  Kizzy knelt down next to Banshee and put her two fingers on his neck the same way her mother had done to Laura. He didn’t move.

  “Feel anything?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “I can’t tell.”

  “You don’t think so or you can’t tell?”

  “I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” she said, moving her fingers around to different spots.

  “Damn it,” Diego said as he scurried around the room with his face in his hands. He stopped and shook his head frantically. “We’ve got to get him help and you’ve got to turn yourself in.”

  “This wasn’t my fault.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said as he walked to the door.

  “Please,” said Kizzy. She felt her eyes fill with tears. “I’m trying to find Dr. Enoch. He can fix this.”

  “What?” Diego asked.

  “Banshee knew where he was,” she said holding up the map.

  Diego seemed to think for a moment. “No, I can’t risk that.”

  How could she convince him? What did he want?

  “I could help you when you’re on the outside,” Kizzy said. “Give you a place to stay, food when you need it.”

  The words stopped him in his tracks. “You mean it?”

  “Of course,” Kizzy said.

  “Whatever I need?”

  “Anything.”

  The man outside knocked again. “It’s showtime Banshee.”

  Kizzy’s heart stopped.

  The knock came again. “Come on, time to go.”

  “Ok, I’m coming,” Diego said. He looked Kizzy in the eyes. “Do I have your word?”

  “Yes,” she said. If she survived all this.

  “Hey, what’s going on in there?” the man outside said.

  “Ok, I’m coming just wait,” Diego said. Searching around the room for an exit. There was none. He lowered his voice to Kizzy. “We’re stuck in here.”

  Kizzy noticed the cigarette lazily smoking on the floor next to Banshee. Above her was a fire sprinkler. She grabbed the cig, climbed onto a chair and held the burning end up to the sensor. In an instant, water spurted all over the room and the fire alarm began to ring. Kizzy was sprayed in the eyes, knocking her off of the chair onto the desk.

  The man outside pounded on the door. “Forget it, I’ll try to save some of the equipment.”

  Diego pulled the leopard print gun from Banshee’s hand and stuffed it in the back of his pants.

  “Are you ready?” he asked. The water was running down his face.

  Kizzy stuffed her hair into the hood. “What’s our plan?”

  “We need to get to the train station,” he said.

  He waited a moment then calmly opened the door. Kizzy followed closely behind him It was pandemonium as everyone was running to protect the sound equipment. The cold water formed large puddles on the floor.

  “Who are you two?” asked a stage director as they walked past. “What are you even doing back here?”

  It looked as if Diego was searching for what to say. Suddenly he just bolted. Kizzy was shocked but followed. As she ran past the stagehands through the garage doors she could hear the man yell, “Stop them! They killed Banshee! They’ve killed him!”

  But nobody heard. They were all too busy just running for their own lives.

  Once outside Diego grabbed Kizzy by the hand and pulled her down an alleyway. The man came out screaming into the evening, “Stop them! They’re murderers!”

  They turned the corner as a police car roared into the back lot. Diego swiftly changed direction like a gazelle running from a lion.

  “We need to catch a train to the stock yards,” Diego said. “The only way out of the city is through the canal door and it’s too far to run.”

  They ran down alleyways dodging garbage. Diego was fast but Kizzy kept right behind him, stride for stride. The sun was beginning to set and it cast long tree-like shadows over the streets. Soon Kizzy began to hear a symphony of sirens from every corner of the city.

  They approached a square brick building with the words “Central Station” in white letters on its tower. Diego ran to a large screen with tiny writing.

  “The next train leaves for the canals in five minutes,” Diego said.

  Kizzy could see him speaking, but it was all beginning to feel unreal. Her head was becoming light. The image of Banshee in the pool of blood flashed before her eyes. Another person lay dead because of her. She deserved to die twice.

  “I’ll buy you a ticket,” he said.

  The speaker system for the train station turned on. “All train service out of Yanloo Central Station has been canceled.”

  “Ok, well, change of plans then,” said Diego. He rubbed his forehead nervously. “I’m not sure how I can help you. The only way out is through the canal and we can’t make on foot. Not with the cops looking for us.”

  Kizzy nodded. She was feeling more and more nauseous. Another. Person. Dead. Her breathing was hollow, as if the air was too thin. She was struggling to stay conscious.

  “Don’t the mail trucks go out into the country?

  “That’s actually... a really good idea,” Diego said snapping his fingers. “Maybe we could break in and you could drive a truck out of here.”

  “Can’t I go out in a crate?”

  “I need my key card to send one and it’s at home. A truck’s the only option.”

  In front of them the screen went black and a picture of Banshee in a pool of blood became illuminated. The words “Banshee 2003-2048” appeared on screen.

  “He’s dead,” whispered Diego.

  Kizzy did the math in her head. He was 27 when the plague had happened. At least she was right about that.

  About twelve people stood around them now staring at the screen. They all gasped and began muttering.

  “Yanloo City has been infiltrated by a mutant,” the voice from the screen said. “She and an accomplice have murdered the musician Banshee. Be on high alert.”

  “Accomplice? Accomplice?” whispered Diego. “That’s not true.”

  The graveness of what she had done finally sank in for real. She had to stop herself now. She noticed the leopard print gun sticking out from the back of Diego’s pants.

  “I wasn’t an accomplice,” Diego whispered. His face was completely pale.

  Digitally enhanced security cam footage of Kizzy and Diego running from the concert hall flashed onto the screen. “The suspect has been identified as Diego Morales. He is accompanied by a mutant standing approximately five foot, six inches. They are wanted dead by the authorities. The public is asked to kill on sight.”

  I’ll take care of it for them Kizzy thought. She snatched the gun from Diego’s pants and held it to her head. The barrel was hard and cold against her skin. “I’m sorry,” she said to Diego as she pulled the trigger.

  11

  The pistol clicked but no bullet came from the chamber. Kizzy stood there frozen in time, stunned by the realization that she had almost killed herself. Her chest felt hollow as her heart began to beat again.

  Diego quickly grabbed the gun and took her hand, pulling her away from the crowd of people.

  “Is that them?” someone asked.

>   Diego started to run, dragging Kizzy along with him.

  As they went down the front stairs a police car pulled up to the station, slamming its breaks. Diego hopped off the stairs and ducked behind some bushes, Kizzy followed. Two police officers jumped from the car, guns drawn and ran into the station.

  “Come on,” said Diego pulling her up. “The church is only a couple blocks away.”

  “What’s at the church?”

  “That’s where the crates get shipped out.”

  “Won’t there be people there?” Kizzy asked.

  “Hopefully not,” Diego said.

  The sirens swirled from all over the city. The night had fallen and the street lights were flickering to life.

  They sprinted the two blocks and came to the church. Around back was a small shipping office. Diego stood still before entering. “The guy that runs this place has been kind of a douche bag lately. I just hope he’s not here.”

  “Wait,” said Kizzy.

  A police officer walked out of a nearby alleyway and into the church. His hands were in his pockets.

  “I know that guy,” said Diego. “He’s here to see Morrigan. That means the shipping office should be clear. Come on.”

  The glass door to the office had greasy hand prints all over it.

  Inside the light was white and artificial. There seemed to be no one around. Diego entered and Kizzy cautiously followed. The left side of the room was lined the wooden crates and on the right side were mechanical receptacles with touch screens next to them. At the end of the room was a door with a code box above the handle. The radio played a jazzy pop tune.

  “The trucks should be down in the garage,” Diego said. “We have to figure out a way to get down there.” He ran to the door and jiggled the handle. It was locked. “That would’ve been too easy I guess.”

  Kizzy began pushing the buttons on a crate receptacle touch screen.

  “I told you, that won’t work without my card,” Diego said. He turned back to the pin code lock and exhaled deeply onto the buttons.