by Schow, Ryan
When it was quiet again, she fished the keys out of the dead guy’s pockets and headed inside. The slight goth girl operated in a fog of rage, working silently and swiftly to exact her revenge.
Inside, it was so dark it was disorienting. The pitch black house seemed to have a pressing weight to it, almost like the walls were closing in on her. She took a moment to breathe, to steady herself, then she began moving slowly throughout the house, feeling her way down a hallway.
She counted four rooms.
Back in what she felt was the living room, she listened to two different men sleeping. One was snoring, the other breathing heavy.
She lowered herself to her knees, kneeled forward and felt the floor in front of her. No sense in trying to sneak up on them only to trip on a shoe, or knock in to a table. Moving on hands and knees slowly, angry but forcing patience, she worked her way across the floor until she was right in front of the quieter of the two men.
Making no noise, she stood up and lowered her open palm to the sound of his breathing. She felt the warmth of his exhale on her hand.
His mouth was inches away.
In her mind, she had a vision of his head, the position of it. Slowly, she moved the sharp end of the rod in place. The instant steel touched the flesh of his neck, she drove it in with force. It bumped off bone then buried into the fabric on the other side. Leaning on the rod, she freed up a hand to cup the man’s gasping mouth.
He didn’t make much noise, but the other guy stirred, concerning her.
Ruby listened quietly, daring not to breathe as the snoring stopped. The strain in the man beneath her settled, his will breaking, the last breath leaving his mouth before his body sagged and he died right there. She was relieved and mortified at the same time.
Ruby never killed anyone before tonight.
When she was sure he was dead, she eased the rod out of his throat, wiped it on the man’s shirt, then got down on her hands and knees and felt her way across the floor to the other man.
By now she could see the outline of shadows. Still, they were so faint she couldn’t truly rely on them. And the smell…God, it smelled so old and musty, and it stunk of sweat and mildewed socks.
When she touched his foot, she waited, holding her breath. His stinky foot twitched and his snoring slowed, but then he went back to sawing logs.
She got to her feet in silence, barely able to make out the outline of his head. Getting in to position, she then wound up the rod and swung it with all her might.
It crunched down square on his head.
Spinning the rod around, she drove the sharp end into his neck. She caught his cheek instead. The rod skipped off the man’s skull and she fell forward onto him, making a ruckus. Dazed but not unconscious, he was moving beneath her, his hands on her, trying to push her off.
Down the hall, she heard a door open. Leaning her full body into him, praying to God she’d knocked enough of the fight out of him, she covered his mouth and pinched his nose shut.
“Stephen?” the voice called out. “What’s going on?”
Dammit!
Changing tact, she managed to get off the wounded guy, lance him again with the rod, then scoot around the back of the recliner that dead guy number one was occupying. She wiped her hands on her pants, the blood of strangers grossing her out.
The mystery man made his way to what she imagined was the kitchen. She got up and moved quickly, using his noise for cover.
By now he was in one of the drawers, mumbling to himself, trying to find something. She got close, pulled back the rod, ready to stab him. That’s when he turned on the flashlight and saw her.
He startled and she hesitated, blinded by the light. She was already soaring on adrenaline and wide awake, so she recovered first.
Before he could so much as scream, she was burying the rod in his throat. It was a horrible way to kill a person, but she couldn’t risk him screaming. The rod split his Adam’s apple, kept him quiet, save for some sick gurgling sounds.
Before yanking it out, she caught him and lowered his body to the floor. He was gulping hard, choking on his own blood.
She put the flashlight on him and said, “You didn’t kill everyone, you sorry prick.”
And with that, she moved over the top of him, straddling him, knees on either side of his torso. Covering his nose and mouth, she leaned her full weight on him.
“Rot in hell,” she growled in his face, making sure she was the last thing he saw before dying.
When he was dead, she rolled off him, extinguished the dim yellow flashlight.
Careful not to step in his blood, she used the flashlight to sneak a couple of very quick glances around the house. When she had the lay of the land, she made her way to the first bedroom. It was empty, the bed unmade.
She crept to the next room, quietly opened the door and found two more twin sized beds, both with men asleep in them. If this was a snoring contest, there would be no clear victor. For the cover of noise, she was thankful.
Opting for speed over stealth, she turned on the flashlight and set it on the floor so she could see them. She moved to the first man, stabbing him in the same place she’d gotten his buddies. Jerking the rod out, she hurried to the other, caught him as his eyes were bobbing open. Wasting no time, she yanked out the rod, turned and swung it down on the first man, braining him. It was rinse and repeat on the next guy.
Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself for the next room. There was no steadying herself, though. She was shaking right down to the bone. Was this from the adrenaline or her body revolting from causing so much death?
She honestly didn’t know.
That’s when she saw movement in the hallway and ducked. The sound of the gunshot was deafening in the house. The round missed her, but only barely.
The small Chinese man rushed her so fast she couldn’t get the rod up quick enough. He hit her with force, his body tumbling over hers, both of them slamming into the side of the bed. Her shoulder blade drilled the frame, sending a sharp, reverberating pain through her.
Recovering quickly, but scared and without her earlier advantage, she went for his eyes. He was already on her though, hammering her with shot after shot. Her ribs rattled, and her body jarred with an ungodly amount of pain.
When he started punching her in the face, she only took two shots before it was lights out. When she came to, he was sitting on top of her.
“There you are,” he said, shining the flashlight in her eyes. “I wanted you to be awake for this.”
And with that, he took the hoop ring that hung between her nostrils and gripped it with both fingers. “Take a breath,” he said.
“No, please,” she cried. “No, no, no!”
He yanked it so hard it ripped right through the flesh, lighting her entire nose on fire with pain. That’s when he saw the piercing in her tongue—the bolt.
“Well looky here,” he said, forcing her mouth open. Blood drained into her throat, but it also ran down her chin and onto his hand.
The second he got ahold of the stud with thumb and forefinger, she clamped down, sinking her front teeth into both appendages. He tried to jerk them out, screaming, but she wasn’t letting go, even if it meant losing her front teeth.
He tried yanking on his hand, but with every unpleasant attempt to free himself, she sunk her teeth deeper into his flesh. When he started cussing and punching her in the face, she closed her eyes, prayed to God and rode it out.
Her fortitude paid off.
She didn’t black out, but she didn’t let go either. He tried one last time to jerk his fingers out, and this time it worked. He got his thumb free. This only gave her a better grip on his forefinger. It came off easy after that. He fell backwards on his butt, then scooted away from her, cradling his injured hand and screaming.
She saw him in that moment—Jaw-Long—and for obvious reasons, she drained the last of her energy on him. Spitting out the finger, holding his terrified gaze, she knew she was looking in
the eyes of the man who orchestrated the deaths of her people.
Through the pain, the swollen eyes and the blistering tight skin, she scrambled to her feet and went after him. It wasn’t hard. He was so startled by his missing finger, he was going into shock.
When she drove two thumbs in to his eyes, the shell of each of them popping, she just sat back and let him scream. Her cheeks shaking, her gaze dark and ferocious, she felt her lips curl into a grin, even though there was nothing at all worth smiling over.
When Jaw-Long wore himself out and there was nothing left but the sobbing, Ruby found her steel rod. She put it to his throat, waited a moment for him to realize what was happening, then said, “Take a breath. I want you to be awake for this.”
Perfectly still, he realized she was repeating his words back to him. He stole a breath, but it was already too late.
She leaned on the rod, slowly, painfully driving it through his neck. It didn’t take long for him to die. She was almost disappointed that it happened so quickly.
Ruby wiped the goop off her thumbs, then picked up the flashlight and checked the last two rooms. In Jaw-Long’s room, she found his sword. She also found two girls she recognized from her now deceased group. She didn’t know the girls personally, nor did she care about them after everything she’d just gone through.
They were awake and scared, though, and she was going to get them out.
“Hang on,” she said.
On the nightstand was the key to their handcuffs. She released the girls then quietly said, “Go out the back door, run from here and don’t stop.”
“What about you?” the younger of the two asked.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t go back home, though. Everyone’s dead and you’re on your own.”
Both girls started to cry. She didn’t have time for this. Ruby slapped the closest one into awareness and said, “Don’t do that. Just get up and go and be thankful you still have your life and all your limbs.”
When the girls left, she grabbed Jaw-Long’s sword and returned to the room he died in. Putting the flashlight on his face, she saw a horrifying sight. Without a moment’s hesitation, she drove the sword into his heart, looking for a reaction.
He gave no physical reaction.
This was a corpse.
In the kitchen, she found a backpack and some food in the pantry. She filled the backpack with canned and packaged foods, filled a water bladder from a one liter bottle on the counter, then slung it over her back and walked out front. That’s when she saw the shape of a woman standing in the darkness.
She shined the light on her, found the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen in her life.
“Who are you?” Ruby asked.
“Whether you believe it or not,” she said, looking at her, “I’m a friend.”
Ruby charged her with the rod, but the mystery woman parried off the girl’s line and said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Trust me, you won’t,” she growled through loose teeth.
The cool air of the night felt good on her battered face. She was out of breath, though, the adrenaline dump having sucked entirely too much of the earlier fire from her.
“I can if I want,” the woman said, “but I don’t want that.”
She attacked again, but Maria deflected her, ripped the rod from her hands and threw it down.
“You’re hurt,” she told Ruby. “I can help. We have medical supplies. Antibacterial ointments.”
“Are you with them?” she asked, scared and uncertain. The woman was a much prettier version of Ruby’s first girlfriend.
“No,” she said. “In fact, I was here to do what you just did. You killed them, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Well that’s good.”
“Where are you staying?” Ruby asked.
“Up the street, around the corner and a few blocks up,” Maria said. “Is there any food or water in there?”
“Some, I think. I was going to check back tomorrow, after I lie down. I don’t feel so well.”
“Let me help you,” she said. “My name is Maria.”
“Ruby.”
“Do you want me to take the backpack?” she asked.
“I got it,” Ruby said. The last thing she wanted was this woman stealing her stuff, thank you very much.
She started to walk away and Ruby followed her. They eventually got to a tall apartment tower, climbed a few flights of stairs in the dark, then went in to what felt like a studio apartment.
Ruby thumbed on the stolen flashlight, got a quick look, then shut if off.
“Let me see your face,” Maria said. Ruby shined the light on her own face, long enough for the woman to get a good look. “You’re very pretty. You’ll need your nose looked at, though.”
“He ripped my hoop out,” she said.
She slipped the backpack and water bladder off and sat down on the bed. It wasn’t hers, but it was halfway comfortable, so it would do.
“Shut the door on the way out?” she said.
“As soon as you say ‘thank you,’” Maria replied in a maternal tone. “We believe in manners here. It’s the foundation of civility, don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. And just like that, Ruby went from being alone, scared and homeless to having a friend (maybe) and a place to stay.
Shaking her head, she thought, I’ve seen stranger things, then closed her eyes and tried to sleep through the nightmares.
Kalfu slipped through the darkness, focused on where he walked and how heavy his footfalls were. His senses were attuned to his surroundings. There were people out, some up to no good, others just passing through under the shroud of night. They didn’t see him. They didn’t matter either. He was on his way to the Sacramento River to fill up two five gallon buckets. That’s when he heard the single gunshot.
He stopped, froze, listened.
Tracing the sound back to its source, it sounded as though it had come from their house. It sounded like Jaw-Long’s weapon.
“No,” he whispered to himself.
Turning around, he headed back, picking up his pace. Halfway there, he heard a crashing noise and voices—girls’ voices.
He tucked himself into the deeper shadows and waited.
The two girls Jaw-Long had tied up ran by him, talking between themselves, one of them scared and crying, the other telling her to be quiet and keep moving.
When they were gone, he hurried back to the house, set the buckets on the back porch, and followed the shadows around the house to where he heard more voices.
He saw two women talking.
The first was an interesting girl, slight in figure, maybe five foot six and thin. She was speaking to an attractive woman who was a touch taller. This was the same woman who startled him not twenty-four hours ago. The devil woman.
He felt his heart rate quicken.
Listening to their exchange, he heard enough to know that everyone inside was dead, and that the woman, Maria, had come there on purpose.
When they left, he followed them. They made their way to the building where he first encountered her. He did not follow them inside right away.
Kalfu waited a few moments, then scaled up the side of the wall to a first floor balcony. He hooked an arm over the metal railing and hauled himself over. He landed in an enclosed balcony with a busted-out slider. Moving through the slider, he snuck inside, careful not to make too much noise walking over the broken glass.
Part of him knew he should turn back, collect his water stores and leave the city, but the other part of him was held captive by his curiosities.
After setting Ruby up with a room, Maria walked upstairs where Carver was sleeping on the floor in the same place she’d left him.
“How long are you going to choose the floor over sleeping in this big bed with me?” she asked, no regard for his and One’s slumber.
Startled awake, Carv
er said, “The floor is better.”
“Is my company so bad?” she asked, sitting down on the bed and removing her shoes.
“Where were you?” he asked.
“Picked up another stray.”
“It’s going to be a regular sausage fest around here,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, well this one’s got tits,” she said taking off her clothes and laying down. “Plus, I think you’ll like her.”
“Oh, and why’s that?” he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
“I know your body hurts from laying down there,” she said, switching her voice from aggressive to nurturing. “I know it can’t be comfortable. Why don’t you come up here, sleep in bed with me. I promise we don’t have to do anything. We can just sleep.”
“Why do you say I’ll like this woman?”
“More like a girl.”
“Yeah?
“She looks like the kind of girl a California guy like you would like. Colored hair, although it’s fading, lithe body, tattoos, attitude. Plus she can fight, and I know how much you love girls who can fight.”
Getting up, he crawled in to bed next to her and said, “What’s her name?”
“Ruby.”
“She sounds nice.”
“She’s got a ferocious streak to her,” she said.
And with that, he scooted against her, wrapped his arms around her and then kissed the nape of her neck.
“You’re a menace,” he said gently.
Rolling over, her hand caressing his face, she leaned in, kissed him back and said, “This I know.”
Kalfu crept through the apartment tower, working his way through the hallways, moving from room to room as he took an inventory of the occupants.
He was most interested in the devil woman. He didn’t find her first. Instead, he found three guys. He entered their first floor apartment, moved toward the sounds of them, then stood over them, quietly listening to them sleep. All three were healthy, even if they stunk and sounded thin.
Upstairs, he found the girl with faded red hair, Ruby. She smelled of blood and sweat, her breath stale but not offensive, her breathing irregular.
