by David Haynes
He touched the hilt on his hip. Maybe she needed a little more encouragement.
“Now, you’re just being rude,” he hissed. “I don’t like rude girls.” He pulled out the knife and tapped the blade on the shelf by her head.
She flinched. That was better. They all came around in the end.
“Now why don’t you turn around and let me get a good look at you.”
She turned slowly, shuffling around to face him. Her head was bowed.
“What you holding onto there? Let me take a look.”
He could see her hair. Long and black. It made his heart beat faster. She might even be Asian. He didn’t care where the girls were from but he loved Asian girls; Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai and the rare Japanese girls, they were his favorites.
Sota touched the blanket again, almost recoiling a second time. Was it getting colder? He gave an involuntary shiver and grunted. No way was he going to do anything with her back here. It was too cold but he wanted to see her.
“Hand it over,” he said. “Give it to me.”
She folded back the blanket, her hands and fingers still covered. She pushed the bundle toward him. She had a baby. That could be problematic. Nobody wanted a baby in the room while they were fucking a hooker.
“My baby,” she said. “Help us.”
He didn’t want to take it but he accepted it anyway. The child gave off the same chill as the woman. He eased back the blanket and felt a wave of repulsion hit him. It was so strong he thought he might vomit.
“What the fuck?” he spluttered. “What the hell is this?” He lifted his eyes from the misshapen corpse, shivering again, almost convulsing with the chill.
“My baby,” she said again and touched his cheek. His eyes widened until he felt ice crystals form on his pupils. He tried to blink, but the ice had frozen his eyelids in place.
She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her eyes were dark, so dark and so deep he felt as if he could fall into them, immerse himself in her gaze. She eased the baby back to her breast and muttered some soothing words in the language Sota’s father had used at home.
He felt the cold crawling through his body. His organs were freezing inside him. Her fingers reached beneath his skin, sinking through the flesh, the sinew and muscle. He felt his skin crackle as he tried to pull away, to stand up. Skin peeled from his skull. He heard it rip, pulling away from the bone. The pain was unendurable but he was trapped. He couldn’t look away from her. She held him captive.
Sota opened his mouth to call for help, to shout for Kenta or Ookami, but his tongue wouldn’t move. It was nothing more than a frozen strip of leather in his mouth.
His vision started to fail, crowding in from the sides. His guts hurt and his heart felt as if it were fighting back, trying to pump blood into his organs.
Her eyes flashed blue as they bored into his. He staggered away from her, more flesh flaying from his face, from his lips. His legs felt as if they might snap under his weight, he could barely move them. He half-fell, half-lurched up the stairs and then tumbled against the punch bag, collapsing to the floor. His whole body convulsed, shook. He was so cold. He’d never felt cold like it.
Sota’s last breath entered his lungs like thousands of tiny daggers; ripping through tissue, tearing apart his glacial viscera, reducing his soul to a barren wasteland. The lamp fell from his frozen hand and rolled across the floor.
7
“Nice place!” Kenta’s eyes were everywhere. He walked over to the table by the window and picked up a photograph frame. “This you?”
It was a photograph of Leo at his old gym with the rest of the crew. Sparring partners, trainers, the cut-man and even the cleaner, they were all there. The picture was imprinted on Leo’s brain. A simpler time; their whole life ahead of them. Three of the seven pictured were dead, and of the others he knew where only one currently was. The state penitentiary, serving a life sentence for murder.
“You any good?” Kenta asked, still staring at the photo.
“Okay,” Leo replied. He turned to Ookami and gestured to the bed.
Alison’s eyes narrowed. “I recognize you,” she said. “You come in the store and talk to Michael.”
Ookami gave a quick nod of the head. “Mrs. Abe, I’m sorry to see your husband like this.”
She gave him a hesitant smile. “What’s he saying?”
Ookami moved closer to the bed. Michael was still propped up, staring straight ahead. There was no sign anything had changed. Ookami looked him over and then tilted his head.
“An old Japanese saying,” Ookami smiled. “That’s all it is.”
“What does it mean?” Kim asked.
Kim was standing next to Ookami while Leo did his best to keep his eyes on Kenta. The man was everywhere.
“Hey, you want to stay out of my stuff!” he shouted. “I didn’t bring you up here as a sightseer, you’re supposed to be helping.”
Kenta shrugged and walked over.
Where was the other one? Sota. “Where’s your buddy?”
Kenta gave another childish shrug of his shoulders. “How the hell would I know?” He looked down at Michael, sucking in air through his teeth. “He’s in a bad way.”
Alison looked up, teeth gritted. It was the first time Leo had seen anything but grief in her eyes. “He’ll be fine,” she snapped.
“He’s just repeating the same thing,” Ookami said. “Translated…evil cause, evil effect. You reap what you sow. Something like that. Like…like bad karma, I guess. What goes around, comes around.”
“Why’s he saying that?” Alison asked. “What does it mean?” She didn’t wait for an answer but touched Michael’s cheek. “What does it mean, baby?”
Michael moved, or at least his head did. He turned it slowly and looked directly at Ookami. He repeated the same words at him. Evil cause, evil effect. The two men locked eyes for a second.
Ookami was the first to look away. He turned to Leo. “That’s it,” he said. “That’s all he said.”
Michael was staring at Ookami’s back, almost chanting the phrase.
“Maybe he’s got some twisted, dark secret?” Kenta laughed. “You know, something he’s been hiding from everyone.” He stepped closer to Alison on the other side of the bed. In the candlelight, his grin looked menacing. “You know anything about that, Mrs. Abe?”
She turned slowly and then slapped him across the face. “You shut your mouth!” she shouted. “I know you too. Wherever he is…” she pointed at Ookami, “you are, like a little weasel, sniffing around in everyone’s business.” She lifted her hand to strike him again but he saw it coming and grabbed her wrist.
“Hey!” Kim was already moving around the other side of the bed. “Why don’t we calm down a moment. You can see she’s upset about Michael, so why don’t you just move away and leave her alone?”
Kenta kept hold of her wrist, his face about six inches from Alison’s. He was sneering. Kim grabbed his other arm and tried to pull him away. He resisted until Ookami shouted something in Japanese. Kenta glanced up and threw Alison’s hand back in her face. Kim pulled him away from the bed and for a split-second it looked like she was reaching for her badge. Or her gun. Kenta’s lips were pulled back, his teeth showing. He looked angry.
This is where it all goes to hell, thought Leo.
Kenta licked his lips and slowly relaxed his grimace. He gave a short, quick laugh and dropped his hand. Kim released him.
“Decent right hook you’ve got there, Alison,” said Kim.
Kenta grunted, walking to the window. “Maybe we should just jump out,” he said. “Got to be better than being stuck in here.”
Huge flakes of snow peppered the window, sliding down the glass onto the ground below. The grim, dark shadow of the Asian market looked over the other side of the street. Beside it, a row of derelict, or soon-to-be derelict, buildings stretched into the darkness.
“You want to jump forty feet, be my guest,” Leo told him. “Eve
n with the snow, you’d break both your legs and freeze to death in minutes.”
“Don’t let us stop you,” Kim grinned.
He gave her a sarcastic grimace. “Power’s still out.” He looked left and right. “In all directions.” He stomped off down the stairs.
“He’s young,” Ookami offered.
A second later Kenta was shouting, calling out for Ookami. His voice was panicked. Ookami led the way, using the wall on either side of the stairs to propel himself to the foot in one leap. Leo and Kim trailed behind.
The first thing Leo noticed was the temperature. It had dropped another notch. Ookami and Kenta were crouching on the floor, leaning over something.
“What is it?” he shouted. His immediate thought was that it was the woman, that maybe she’d collapsed. He dropped down beside Ookami and felt his heart bounce in his chest. It was Sota. Or what was left of the guy.
“What the fuck is this?” Kenta said, looking at Ookami. He was shaking his head. “What…”
Kim knelt beside Leo. He heard a sharp intake of breath from her.
“Chris!” he shouted. “Bring one of those lamps back here!”
He heard footsteps running toward him before he added, “Sam, Michelle, stay up front please!” It was too late. The three of them stood on the threshold. Michelle screamed. Sam stood there, eyes wide, unmoving.
“Get out of here!” he shouted. “Sam! Take Michelle away!”
Sam wiped his mouth then took Michelle’s arm and pulled her back. But it was too late. What they’d seen could never be unseen.
Chris put the lamp on the floor beside the body. He looked like he might throw up. Leo had no idea what he was seeing. He wouldn’t have known who was lying here if it weren’t for the diamond studs in his ears. The man was unrecognizable.
He was lying on his back, his eyes open. But they weren’t his eyes anymore. They were grayed out. As if someone has taken a marker and simply scribbled over them. There was nothing there at all.
He’d watched documentaries on the TV about the early polar expeditions, about the terrible frostbite, the blackened skin that smelled sweet and rotten at the same time. That’s what they were looking at. A body so badly frostbitten that his skin had become another thing entirely. It almost had a polished look to it. Like jet.
The sickly smell that drifted off the body was nauseating. It turned Leo’s stomach and he was forced to swallow down bile. How could this be? However cold it was in here, and it was almost as cold as the chest freezers in the store, a body couldn’t be reduced to this state in only…what? How long had they been upstairs, ten minutes, fifteen at the most?
His body was withered, clothes baggy and loose. What made his eyes appear worse, more bulbous, was that his face was drawn in on itself. Shrunken. He might have been dead for twenty years and not a few minutes. He was mummified by the ice that sparkled off the exposed parts of his blackened skin.
Nobody wanted to touch him. Not even Ookami wanted to lay a finger on the man. Leo look down. All around Sota’s wrecked body, the floor was covered in a fine layer of frost. Slender, spiky tendrils of white frost stretched outward, reaching toward the others. Instinctively, Leo eased himself away. Cold air caressed his neck, making him shiver. It came up from the basement.
“I don’t understand,” Kenta whispered. He shook his head. “I…what happened?” He was still staring at Ookami, waiting for an answer.
The big man was silent for a few seconds, and then threw his head back and roared. It was unintelligible, animal-like and, in the enclosed space, deafening. He stood up and looked at Chris.
“You!” he said. “What happened here?” His voice was full of menace, of anger.
Chris frowned. “How would I know? I was working up there. I didn’t hear anything until…”
“And those kids?”
Leo stepped between them. “You think they did this to him? Are you crazy?”
Ookami took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Behind him, Kenta jumped to his feet.
“The kids, it was the kids. It had to be.” He pointed at Chris. “And him! They were the only ones down here, they did something to Sota.”
Kenta ran off into the store. Kim didn’t wait, she shot past Leo. A moment later, there were raised voices.
“Whatever this is…” Leo started. “Whatever happened here, has got nothing to do with any of those three. You know that.”
Ookami was a few inches taller than him, and standing ramrod-straight like he was, he appeared even taller. He was posturing, something he probably did a lot to intimidate people.
“Look, we’re in a bad situation here. Let’s not make it any worse. None of us want that. Do we?”
Ookami said nothing. He gave Chris one last stare and then looked down at Sota.
“Someone will answer for this.”
Leo turned away, pushed Chris into the store and then followed himself. He could hear Kenta shooting his mouth off and he could also hear Kim shouting back. This whole situation was getting worse by the second.
“Get your hands off me!” Michelle was shouting.
Kenta had her arm and was trying to drag her away from Sam. He was holding onto her.
“Take your hands off her, Kenta,” Kim said. “I won’t ask you again.”
He turned to her. “Or what? What will you do? She needs to tell us what happened to Sota. Her and her little boyfriend.”
“Fuck you!” Sam said, taking a swing at him.
Kenta laughed, easily moving his head out of the way.
Leo walked toward him.
“And what are you going to do, old man? You’re nothing but a…”
Leo didn’t give him time to finish. He just punched him twice, two straight jabs, perfectly timed, in his solar plexus. He didn’t put any power into the blows; they weren’t designed to hurt or injure, just shock and make him let go of Michelle. Kenta crumpled and dropped to the floor, wheezing, trying to get his breath.
“You…you…” he gasped.
It felt satisfying to see him like that. The guy was an ass.
Michelle stepped over him and walked to Kim’s side. Sam looked at Leo and smiled. “You don’t fuck with Mr. Newman, asshole. Everyone knows that.” He was about to kick Kenta, pulling back his foot.
“Sam!” Leo shouted.
“Why?” The kid looked up. “He’s a dick, he deserves it!”
Leo shook his head. “No.”
Sam moved away.
“You shouldn’t have done that!” Kenta hissed. He spat on the floor and then righted himself. There was a flash of silver at his waistband. A knife. He dropped his hand and pulled it clear of the sheath. The blade was small but curved, the handle shaped into a knuckle-duster. It looked deadly.
Leo stepped back, automatically raising his fists, adopting an orthodox stance.
“Put that away,” he said. “There’s no need for this.” Where was Ookami? He was intelligent enough to know this was a bad idea.
Kenta smiled and crouched.
“Drop the knife!” Kim shouted.
Kenta ignored her, swaying from side to side. Leo had no experience of fighting with knives. It was difficult to know if Kenta was proficient or not. He didn’t want to risk it but he would if he had to.
“Drop the fucking knife!” Kim shouted. It was followed by the sound of the Glock’s slide clicking into place.
Leo kept his eyes on the man but Kenta turned in her direction. Only then did Leo turn away.
Kim was standing in a perfect shooting range stance, her Glock pointed directly at Kenta.
“Put the knife down or I’ll shoot,” she said.
Kenta grimaced.
Kim used a free hand to push her jacket away from her waistband. Her badge was clearly visible.
“A cop?” Kenta said, his eyes widening. “A fucking cop! Motherfucker!” He paused but showed no signs of giving up the knife. “Ookami, there’s a fucking pig in here!”
“Put the knife down and kick i
t over to me,” Kim said.
Ookami’s feet clicked across the tiled floor behind him. Leo wanted to turn but he didn’t want to take his eyes off Kenta. He looked ready to do anything.
Ookami strode past Leo’s shoulder.
“Can you believe it?” Kenta started. “A fucking…”
He didn’t get any further. Ookami used the back of his hand to knock him off his feet. The blow made a wet, slapping sound as blood sprayed in the air. Kenta fell back onto the mattress and then rolled off the side. Ookami walked over to him and kicked him twice in the gut. The sound of Kenta’s lungs deflating was a loud hiss, as if someone had punctured the mattress.
He curled into the fetal position and groaned, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry about that,” Ookami said. He grabbed Kenta under the armpits and yanked him upright. He was still bent double, coughing and spitting up blood.
“Apologize,” Ookami said.
Kenta gasped, trying to fill his lungs.
“Apologize!” Ookami snapped. He grabbed a handful of Kenta’s hair and whispered something into his ear. Kenta gave a little nod and opened his eyes. He turned to Kim.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and then turned his eyes to Michelle. “I apologize for my behavior.”
It sounded anything but genuine. Nevertheless, it seemed to satisfy Ookami who released him.
“Pick up the knife and hand it to the officer,” he said. “Officer…?”
Kim slowly relaxed her stance, eyeing both men cautiously. “Knowles,” she replied.
Ookami gave a jerk of his head. “Handle first!” he shouted at Kenta. The man looked completely cowed. The perpetual sneer he’d been wearing had gone. Blood still dripped from the corner of his mouth. A gash had opened up.
Leo watched Ookami twist a ring on his finger. It was silver, a head of some kind; a little like something worn by a rock band’s lead singer. That was what had cut Kenta’s mouth.