Had she died? How could she not know she'd died? She tried to remember everything that had happened last night. Some things were as clear to her as if they'd happened yesterday, but the actual events of last night were hazy... like a dream she could almost remember, but not quite.
She remembered her best friend from high school, her only friend really, with startling clarity. Riley had been everything she wasn't. She was blonde, pretty, popular... all the things Jade had longed for and never been able to pull off. Yet, despite their polar opposite personalities, or at least the opposite images, they had been true friends. While Jade's father had been an abusive drunk, Riley's dad had simply been abusive. Jade had completely shut everyone out as a kid, keeping everything inside, building emotional barriers to keep people out. Riley had gone the opposite route... if you talk enough no one will be able to see that you're not really saying much. Both were highly effective defense mechanisms, and Riley's kept the school counselors off your back. Whether in spite of their differences or maybe because of them, they had both recognized something in each other: something broken beyond repair. They'd been drawn to each other, finally finding someone they could confide in.
When Riley had gone off to college, they had stayed friends. At least at first. After a few years away from her father, Riley had started to open up, to change and grow. To find a real confidence... the kind that had helped her to start developing real relationships. Relationships that Jade had envied. It hadn't taken long before they had drifted apart. Riley finished school and Jade hadn't heard from her again.
Instead, she had stayed at home, caring for her father, dealing with his abuse, still too unsure of herself to actually leave. She'd simply lost herself in world that existed only in the dark. At first, it had been a way to make sure she wasn't home when her father was; he worked days, she worked nights. He hit her less when he couldn't see her. So she started working as a waitress in a seedy dive bar that didn't bother checking her age. After awhile, she discovered that she loved it. Loved the night, the music, the whole vibe of being able to hide in plain sight.
She had started trying some of the techniques she had learned from Riley, flirting and laughing, teasing and acting as if she hadn't a care in the world. It worked. Her tips improved, people quit asking what was wrong with her. She had finally found somewhere she belonged. As soon as she turned twenty-one, she looked for a job in a better club, eventually working as a bartender so she made a little more money.
The day after her father's funeral she had bolted out of town with not much more than the clothes on her back and the money she'd stashed away. She had picked Detroit off a map. All she had wanted was somewhere big enough she wouldn't be noticed. And it had worked for a month or so. Until Derek.
She remembered every moment with him. Every single detail. Right up to their dancing last night. After that it was all a blur.
She sat there for a while, lost in her memories, completely losing track of time until she heard footsteps thudding down the stairs next to her. A quick glance told her it was already dark and Scott, the bouncer, was coming to open up the bar.
Scrambling to her feet, Jade burst forth, "Hey, Scott. How are you today? I was just hanging out here..."
He walked through her. Not around... through. She felt a weird pulsing sensation as he walked completely through the right half of her body, leaving her with a strange urge to vomit. Fighting back a gag reflex, she stopped talking, realizing he couldn't hear her.
With the less than subtle reminder of her current circumstances, Jade fell back onto the step. Her head was woozy, spinning around, leaving her uncertain as to whether she was going to hurl, pass out, or maybe cry. Could a ghost, or whatever the hell she was, vomit? Could she even cry? Did she sleep?
Omigod... She had to figure out what was going on, what she was. Clearly people couldn't see her. She couldn't touch anything. But, she had, hadn't she? She had opened the door to get into her apartment. Hadn't she?
Once again Jade strained to remember the details of last night.
As she tried to rack her brain, to force the memories to return, a random thought popped into her head. Holy fuck! Was she going to be stuck in this dress forever?
Chapter Eleven
Though it had taken the better part of two hours, Gunny had just barely made the four miles to the park, or rather the overpass near the park. Limping and pushing a shopping cart made the process all the slower, but Gunny was not one to easily give up. Ever.
Climbing the last rise, he peered down beyond the edges of the road where the overpass sloped down to again meet the ground on each side. Here, huddled in the shadows, were those he sought. At least, he hoped they were.
Though most avoided this area, for Gunny it was an invaluable network of surveillance that did not even know that it existed itself. Those who gathered here in the day mumbled or rambled, each smelling of bodily fluids and old sweat. Some could make full sentences, but most barely spoke fragmented pieces of what they witnessed.
Some days were better than others, and occasionally one of them found a few moments of clarity through which to share that what they had seen. Gunny understood how to decipher their inconsistencies. He knew that they alone dared to travel the darkest depths of the city. They alone witnessed what happened where others feared to go. They were those refused by the populace and cast out to fend within a filthy city that was decaying like a corpse.
He knew what it took to unlock their secrets, and he knew the ones who would be worth the value of his serum. It was not a cheap thing, nor was it easy to safely obtain, but he could get it.
Sagging his shoulders Gunny donned his disguise, partially derived but wholly believable, as he entered the camp. Currently two separate groups had formed beneath the canopy of concrete and steel above. The first clung to the deepest shadows, laying about, luxuriating in whatever transpired behind their flickering eyes. Occasionally one would reach out and touch another, eliciting a response that was widely incoherent. They lay for the most part unmoving, except for the darting of their eyes beneath their lids.
These were the ones who had scored either the night before, or earlier this morning. Sadly they were already too far gone to be of any use. Gunny watched as one, a man with few teeth rolled atop one of the women. She responded with a coo of sorts, obviously unaware of him. He in turn pulled out his cock and began to stroke himself over her face. Gunny turned his gaze away. It was not his place to judge them; he had other matters to attend to.
Deciding upon the second group, those with edgier looks, he altered his course slightly for those who gathered around a car rim where they had built a small fire. They spoke to one another a bit, their eyes darting cautiously towards him as he neared. He recognized a few of them, though he could not recall their names. One shouted a garbled mess and then looked down ashamed.
Luck would be the key here and unfortunately he was limited on both his resources and time. Eyeing the group, he picked his first informant. The woman was younger than the rest, making her appealing to him. If she had not been living this way long, her mind might be sharper than the rest, less conflicted. She could have been attractive once, as her proportions were fair, and the bone structure of her face hinted at youthful beauty.
As she appeared now, however, most with any morality would avoid her. It was obvious she sold herself to finance her habit. Though the stains of men’s seed lay upon her skirt and shirt, she tried her best to appear desirable to them, wearing naught but a short plaid skirt with a white button top in a Catholic school fashion. To complete the charade she had pulled her hair into a pair of pigtails on either side of her head. Though her face showed scaring from acne and her hair was black and greasy, even now she held the attention of two men.
The first looked deeply between her upturned knees from across the fire, his eyes slightly glazed, apparently lost in a daydream fantasy that starred her bare anatomy. The second approached her, leaving his shopping cart behind a moment and, leani
ng over precariously, he whispered into her ear.
“Need a fix?” Gunny asked.
Without even a word she turned to look up into his face, a business-like smile appearing on her lips. Already he could see her wondering if she would have to suck him off, give him a hand job, or open her legs in payment for his gift. Gunny felt sorry for the girl. For that is really more or less what she was. He imagined she was barely over twenty, though the drugs and lack of nourishment had stripped much of her womanly curves from her.
Grasping her wrist he hauled her to her feet, and playing her part she reached up as she rose and grabbed his cock.
“How you wanna do this?” she asked, her voice more musical than he had imagined.
“I don’t,” Gunny began. “Let’s just chat a spell and I’ll give you what you want while we see if you know what it is that I am hoping you do.”
She nodded happily, obviously thinking him a fool, yet probably not even understanding what it was he had said. Likely she would have done anything to him in return for his payment. Once, years before he had met death, he might have taken her up on the offer.
Pulling her off to the side a distance, they settled beside an old oak. Reaching into his deep coat pockets the disabled veteran removed a small case and a bottle of water from them. Opening the case he revealed to the girl a small baggie tied tight with a rubber band, an elastic band, a spoon that was oddly yet familiarly bent, a lighter, and a medical syringe. Gunny began to prepare her reward.
* * * * *
The room was simple, cool, and calm. Derek liked it. Though it was little more than a cinder block room painted white with a steel door and a pair of chairs and table made of the same, it was nearly ideal. Simple was good. Derek liked simple. Especially now. Sitting in the small chamber he knew it for what it was. The singular wall length mirror certainly was a giveaway.
He knew they had questions, but didn’t know why. He knew Jade was here, and wondered why he had not seen her yet, but just knowing she was safe was good enough. For long moments he sat in silence, but uncharacteristically nothing happened. No pressure began to build, the room did not grow dark, squeezing in upon him. He just waited. He wondered if he was too tired to worry anymore. The last time he slept, though only a day and a half prior, felt like it had been ages ago. So much had transpired since then.
Just as he began to count the cinderblocks of the wall, the door swung open slightly, the hinges protesting softly with a squeak. Beyond, a man in a suit held a folder with a stern expression upon his face. The man that opened the door to enter simply nodded to the other, showing he understood, and stepping within, he closed the door behind him. Derek mulled over the short exchange in his mind, playing Gunny’s game.
He knew the man with him was the detective he had spoken to on the phone. His demeanor showed he was careless, reckless, a shoot-now-ask-later type of cop. He didn’t walk so much as strut into the room. Overconfident. Leaning over the desk before taking a seat, he invaded Derek’s personal space, looking him in the eyes; an attempt to show his dominance. Derek grinned on the inside.
“Mr. Montoya, it appears we may have a problem,” the cocky Detective Rodgers stated. He paused expecting a response. Obviously he didn’t know Derek.
“Where were you last night? A party? Did you have a ball?”
Derek did not reply, instead he looked up to watch the detective’s facial expressions.
“Did you and Jade have a fight?”
Was Jade hurt? Why would he ask that if they had Jade? Was she in the hospital? Had something happened to her?
“Where is Jade?” Derek grunted.
“I’m asking the questions Mr. Montoya. You would be wise to answer them.”
“Where is Jade?” Derek repeated.
“Listen here schitzo freak, tell me what happened last night!”
Derek looked past the words, barely registered them. Something about the man’s demeanor was a front. An act. He was pushing the macho bullshit in hopes to scare Derek, but why? Then suddenly his answer came. In a fraction of a second the detective let his guard down in between sentences. Fear showed clearly upon his face. He was afraid of Derek. Why?
“Where is Jade?”
“Listen you sick fuck, you think because you can rape and beat your girlfriend that you call the shots here?”
The room imploded in a fraction of a second. The lights didn’t dim, they extinguished. Jade had been raped and beaten? It was his fault. Had he not left her alone… He needed to get to her. She needed him. Without thought Derek rose from his chair causing the detective to do the same. He leaned over the table, scratching and clawing to keep control of his emotions.
“Where is Jade?”
“I’ll be sure you never see her again, you freak,” the detective said, sneering at Derek.
Something snapped and stepping around the table Derek sent it skidding sideways as he closed the distance between himself and the detective. Reacting out of fear, the detective punched Derek, a solid blow to the gut. Air rushed from his lungs, his vision blurred, he needed to get out of the tiny suffocating room and find Jade. She needed him. Only one thing stood between them.
Grabbing the detective by his shoulders, Derek slammed him back against the steel door. Though the smaller man flailed and rained blows upon Derek’s face and neck, he felt nothing. Again and again he slammed the detective into the steel before bashing the smaller man in the face with his own head.
With an audible snap, blood sprayed from the broken nose on impact. Enraged Derek tossed the man against the wall to his left and picking up one of the steel chairs he began to beat the man without thought or worry.
Blow after furious blow landed, each bringing a scream of pain, each bringing the sounds of snapping bones. A man turned to crumpled mush beneath him. Mere seconds passed and before Derek could reel in his emotions again the detective lie upon the floor in a puddle of fluid, bubbles forming upon his lips as he gurgled out sobs.
The door burst open and a snap sounded as tiny wires attached themselves to Derek’s side. He felt the spasms, the jolts, and smiled. Though it was difficult, he reached down and pulled the barbs from his skin. Raising his gaze he met the eyes of his newest attacker. The cop’s leg darkened as yellow fluid pooled around his polished shoe before he turned to flee.
Two more snaps sounded and the lights went out again, only this time it was not Derek’s emotions that drowned out the light.
Unknown hours later Derek’s eyes opened and immediately his head began pounding. Not in a good way either. His whole body ached, and any movement was brutal.
“Derek,” an unknown voice called.
He shifted to find the voice and, lifting himself, located its source beyond a door made of steel bars.
“Derek, I’m getting you out of here,” said a man dressed in a cheap, ill fitting suit that appeared a few decades out of style.
“How?” Derek knew already he had probably killed the cop, making his chances of getting to jade unlikely. He only hoped she would forgive him and come visit him in jail.
“It seems the D.A. is reluctant to prosecute you for anything at this time. Lucky for you, there is no real evidence against you in the investigation dealing with miss Jade, yet, and the camera was rolling in the interrogation room. Had the detective not struck you first you would be living here permanently. As it stands, a simple self-defense claim is letting you walk straight out the door.”
“Who are you?”
“Public defender Liam Rawlings. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Where is Jade?” Derek asked, rising from the floor of his cell where he had undoubtedly been violently dumped.
The barred door slid open with a rumble and a clang. Liam handed him a scrap of paper. Reading the paper, Derek saw it contained an address that he was unfamiliar with. He looked pleadingly to the public whatever the fuck he was, hoping for an explanation.
“Out the doors and take a right, it’s two blocks down t
he road.”
Derek nodded.
“Thanks, chief,” was all he said as he stumbled past the poorly dressed attorney, seeking an exit.
Less than five minutes later and Derek stepped through the glass front doors of the police station. The sun was rising over the buildings to the east. He had lost an entire fucking day. Jade was still alone after having been beaten and raped. He turned and sprinted down the road.
* * * * *
Jade sat on the steps, trying desperately to sort through what was happening to her. When no answers appeared to be immediately forthcoming, she decided she would have to simply go and find some. And she would start with the most obvious question...
She could sit, but she couldn't touch a shirt. Why the hell not? Someone could walk all the way through her... she couldn't slam a door, yet here she was sitting on a step.
Since the obvious solution was also the most farfetched, she didn't figure that was what was going on. Somehow, she doubted that she had been turned into a ghost and yet her ass remained corporeal. Therefore, there had to be another reason.
Hopping to her feet, she smiled a little when she realized that she could walk just fine too. Her feet were on the ground, or at least, they seemed to be on the ground.
Awesome, now she had a visual of purple satin shoes and her ass covered in a purple bustle walking around the street all by themselves.
Focus, Jade...
A deep breath to control her giggles and she decided to try to touch something again. She stood by the door to The Beyond, grabbing repeatedly at the handle. Nothing. Her hand went through it every time.
Damn! Okay, so then why could she sit, stand, and walk?
If her hand went through the door handle, could her hand go through the door?
She remembered running into and out of the apartment this morning. Was it something to do with moving quickly?
She backed up a couple steps and then moving at a brisk walk, she grabbed again at the door handle.
Beyond The Mask (The Beyond Book 1) Page 10
