by Kolin Wood
Tanner turned his face. “Anybody know who did this?” he asked.
One of the gate guards, a hard-looking South African man called Jan the Fez because of his battered Fedora hat complete with feather, looked up from where he kneeled, disgust painted all over his face.
“It was the woman,” he said angrily. “The one Barrett carried in here earlier.”
After one final look down at the corpse, Tanner turned and stepped back into the alleyway, desperate to get away from the unbearable stench in the tight room.
“What woman?” he asked as Jan followed him out.
Outside, the air fared only slightly better, the alley acting as one of the city’s unofficial latrines.
“Some older bit,” Jan said as he pulled a crumpled deck of smokes from his pocket and lit one. His brow remained dipped and his stance aggressive. “Kept banging on about wanting to report a crime. Jumped the queue.” Jan blew a long plume of smoke at the sky. “Barrett brought her inside to teach her a lesson. Probably saved her life too; them out there would have torn her to pieces. Ungrateful cunt.”
Tanner frowned. He had been around the block enough times to know what was what. The world was a tough, shitty place, and the Capital was no exception. Bribery was an everyday occurrence here, seen as one of the perks of the job and—provided that it was kept low key and out of sight of the public,—tolerated to ensure the smooth running of things.
“She wanted help and he dragged her in here to rape her? Sounds like he deserved everything he got,” Tanner said, staring at Jan, unfazed by his demeanour.
An angry frown darkened the face of the smaller man, who tipped his hat and shook his head.
“Barrett was my friend,” he said.
Tanner maintained the stare.
“And?”
Jan’s nostrils flared as he struggled for composure. He took another long drag on the cigarette then flicked it against the wall where it exploded into a thousand tiny red embers and landed with a sizzling hiss in a puddle. When he turned back to square up to Tanner, his hands were twitching.
“Well,” he said in his thick brogue. “The boss ain’t gonna be too pleased about it. Let’s see what Mr. Braydon has to say about it, huh?”
This time Tanner did look away. Even though it pained him to admit it, the death of a Gate Guard was going to lead to problems for him if the matter was not dealt with swiftly.
“Probably not,” Tanner said. “But when the bridge opens in the morning, somebody will have to take over as lead guard… The Capital needs business as usual, and I thought that maybe you might be the man for the job.”
The smallest hint of a smile crept into the corners of Jan’s mouth. Loss of a friend or not—he was clearly happy enough with the promotion to allow things lie, for now.
“Let me tell you this though, just the once… If anyone on this team pulls a stunt like this again, they will be thrown into the Pit and I will deal with them personally. And when I say anyone, I mean first them and then you follow. The Capital needs women here, and they deserve the right to protection from us… Do we understand each other?”
Jan said nothing but tipped his hat half-heartedly and smirked.
“Don’t fuck with me on this.”
The two men turned away from each other.
The power of Jan’s new position should soften the anger for the loss of his friend. Tanner hoped that it would keep things in check for a while at least. After all, he only had one more fight; after that, for all he cared, the city could burn to the ground. He turned to leave.
“Oh, one last thing,” Tanner called back over his shoulder. “What crime was this woman trying to report?”
The seriousness fell away and this time Jan looked bemused.
“Some prison,” he called out. “She said she’d been held captive there with a load of other bitches. Sounds like a party to me. As if that was something that anybody would give a fuck about.”
Tanner nodded and, without further need to converse, headed for home. The man and all of his ilk made Tanner’s skin crawl.
It was late, and the city seemed quieter than usual as he pushed his way through the mud towards the street where his lodgings were located. Since his promotion to Gate Keeper for the city, his living standards had risen considerably. Tarp and pallets had been replaced by bricks and mortar; there was even a proper bed to sleep on. But the cost of his rising standards still weighed on his gut like a lead balloon. Teddy Braydon was playing the strings above his head like a puppeteer, and Tanner could taste the hatred in his mouth as surely as he could taste the continual unsavoury malaise on his tongue.
Ahead of him, the road forked and Tanner decided to take the longer route home to avoid the temptation of the bars that peppered the sides of the shorter roadway. He had neither the need nor the desire for a drink tonight.
Underfoot, the mud of the quieter street became slightly more turgid and assisted his speed.
As he walked, thought about the woman. She must have been a tough one. The world had sure taken a backwards turn since the outbreak, and anybody able to survive in it was certainly to be wary of. Law and order were a token gesture at best and localised to those towns and villages with the inclination and resources to close off to the rest of the country and keep the mobs out. The rule of the New Capital, represented in lurid green high visibility, only served to protect the interests of those in power; a calm population being a more easily governed population. It had been the same since civilisation began. Outside the walls, however, the streets had become a toxic wasteland. The story of a woman incarcerated was neither surprising to him nor news. But one that was able to not only escape her incarceration, but break into the most defended garrison in the South of England and take out one of the biggest guards on the bridge in the process? Well that was certainly somebody to take notice of. She already intrigued him.
Tanner stopped and banged his fist on the metal panelling strapped to the fence guarding one end of his street.
Somebody rounded the corner and a voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.
“Tanner! Wait!”
Burgess, one of the younger and more aggressive gate guards, pushed through the scarce crowd behind, knocking an elderly woman over in the process.
“One of the clean-up team found a woman hiding in the sewer! It must be her… the one that killed Barrett.”
Tanner processed what he was being told. The sewer was a place of untold filth; on a warm day you could smell it all the way over the other side of the capital. Only somebody as desperate as they could be would even consider entering that place, and the storeroom where Barrett was found was situated on an alley that fed straight down into the centre of it. The woman probably hadn’t known where she was heading until it was too late.
Tanner nodded. “Let’s go,” he said.
12
The hand gripping her arm was strong. It pulled her with ease and she popped like a cork from under the bus. Now untangled, Juliana flew through the air, crashing into the person before her and sending them both over into the mud behind. Panicked, Juliana rolled sideways and scrambled away using the very last of her energy. She did not see the boot, loaded with mud, as it swung in under her midriff and connected squarely with her solar plexus, instantly knocking any remaining air from her lungs.
“It’s her!” a voice from above her bellowed as another blow came in to the side this time.
Juliana rolled over onto her back and brought her hands up over her head in an attempt to protect herself from the attack. Pain registered sharp in her side and she feared that maybe the last blow might have broken a rib.
“Hold her,” another voice said as a strong, calloused pair of hands gripped her around the wrists and pulled her to her feet.
The man holding her was younger than she was, stocky and attractive with a chiselled jawline and swollen arms that looked pumped in the torn vest top. But his eyes glistened with the same intent that she had seen so many times before. Ju
liana was sure that she recognised him from the gate the previous evening and her heart rate spiked.
The owner of the second voice—a man dressed all in black and with a smattering of grey hair around his temples—stepped closer and Juliana turned to face him. The man’s eyes were ice blue and his features were pronounced and symmetrical. His look gave nothing away. With a puzzled look on his face, the man looked down at the hole she had just slithered out from under the bus.
“Explain,” he said.
Juliana wriggled in the younger man’s grasp. “Get this imbecile off me and I will!” she said angrily.
The man with the iced eyes smiled and nodded. Immediately the grip on her wrists was removed.
Juliana took one step away and stopped as the man raised his eyebrows.
“Well?” he said, patiently.
Juliana took a breath and winced as pain stabbed her in the side again. She threw a hateful look at the younger man and then cleared her throat. “What exactly does it look like to you?”
The man in black said nothing, maintaining his stare.
With a roll of the eyes she continued.
“I just crawled out of a fucking sewer. The reason I had to crawl out of the fucking sewer is that I was attacked on the gate as I tried to report a crime. Foolishly, I believed that things here would be different than they are on the outside.” Her eyes flashed over again at the younger man and he laughed, uncaring of her accusations.
“What bloody crime?” he spat, “You were queue jumping! I saw it with my own eyes! You were caught queue jumping and when we tried to apprehend you, you killed Barrett and fled!”
Juliana felt her face flush and she clenched her fists.
“Enough!” the man in black interrupted, holding a flat hand out to his companion. “You, back off a minute!”
The young man snarled but did as instructed.
“What’s your name?” the man in black asked her.
With a snort through her nostrils, Juliana tore her eyes out of the deadlock and turned. First impressions led her to believe that perhaps this man—who was clearly in charge—could be trusted, but time and time again she had been suckered into believing the lies of men. She had to remain cautious.
“Clara,” she lied. “And you are?”
“I’m Tanner,” the man in black answered.
The way that his eyes stared into hers confused her. They were clear and bright, hinting at intelligence and understanding but a blank unreadable canvas all the same. She glanced down at herself and for the first time she became aware of the state that she was in. The jacket was wet through with a fowl-smelling brown mud from the collar to the hem. Her legs were slick with more of the muck and the boots were over-sized and looked ridiculous on her skinny ankles. She was unable to assess the true extent of the stench that was coming off her, but she was pretty sure that it was awful.
“Well, Tanner,” she said, trying to maintain a modicum of decency as she flicked a sodden strand of hair off of her face. “You gonna offer me somewhere to clean up?”
Next to her the young man puffed.
“Yeah right, love!” he said “Perhaps a facial too, huh?” He stared at her with hard, vicious eyes and his mouth twitched at the sides as anger made him grind his teeth. “That guy you shanked was a friend of mine,” he said, menacingly.
Tanner stepped closer, effectively blocking the pair, then took a firm but gentle hold of her arm.
“The woman will be tried like anybody else,” he said. “But not here and not tonight.”
Hearing this, the younger man’s face dropped; clearly a fair system of justice was not something that he had been partial to for some time.
“What the…?”
“Now, thanks for your help in apprehending this ‘criminal’,—the way he over pronounced the word was obvious and sarcastic—“but I think that I can handle this from here.”
Sneering eyes flashed at Juliana. The boy was trying to be a man, everything done with an air of swagger and cockiness. He reminded her of nearly every single one of the juveniles that had held her captive for so long, and she hated him all the more for it. Watching him deflate made her want to smile brightly in his face but she held back the urge, not wanting to risk escalating the situation.
Tanner, still holding her arm, took a step backward.
“Shall we?” he said, as if she really had an option.
Juliana nodded and allowed herself to be turned away from the bus.
“I’ll see you on the gate in the morning,” Tanner said over his shoulder to the guard. “Be sure to tell the Fez I have things in hand.”
With nothing left to say, the young guard turned with a grunt and made for a dark alley on the other side of the street. A flaming barrel had been positioned at the opening, and the light it cast hid what was beyond from view.
Juliana watched him go with relief.
“Move it,” Tanner said, flicking his head in the opposite direction.
Before them, the street opened up into the main body of the Capital—a square of parkland between the buildings which now played host to thousands of pre-fab shelters and tents. Smoke from the numerous fires tainted the night sky above. In the distance, a group of men bayed loudly as one. The feeling in the air was aggressive and unnerving.
The jacket and smock that Juliana was wearing clung to her body; their dampness causing the cold night air to bite hard against every part of her. She began to shiver violently.
“Don’t worry,” Tanner said from behind, obviously noticing her discomfort. “It’s not far.”
Juliana turned to look at him as she walked, her neck stiff and her feet aching in the wet boots.
“Where are we going?”
Tanner looked straight ahead.
“My place, for now,” he replied after a pause. “Tomorrow there will be questions asked, but looking at you now, I think that maybe you have had enough for one night.”
Juliana nodded and clutched her arms tightly around her shoulders to try to grasp the last of her body heat as it escaped.
The voice startled her, crackling like a gun shot from behind. “That’s the bitch!”
Juliana turned in the direction of the sound in time to see somebody burst from the darkness. The man—wearing a hat cocked to one side of his head—stopped just a few feet from them. Again, Juliana thought that perhaps she recognised him from the gate, but could not be sure. The man’s face was pulled tight in an angry grimace and Juliana cowered as she watched his arm pull back at the elbow and his hand close into a fist.
“My girl, you are gonna pay for what you did to Barrett!” he hissed, spit flying.
A yank on the top of her arm sent her stumbling backward as Tanner squared up to the aggressive man, blocking the attack.
“Step off, Jan!” he said, thrusting a hand roughly into the man’s chest. “She’s coming back with me so I can hear what she has got to say for herself.”
Jan, clearly incensed, tore his eyes away from her to look fiercely at Tanner.
“That’s her! I’m telling you! I saw the bitch with my own eyes! That’s the slag that killed Barrett… What more do you need to know?”
Tanner’s hand remained outstretched holding Jan—whose face had turned a deep purple—back at a safe distance. Tanner himself remained calm, but she noticed an assertion of authority with a slight raise in his voice.
“The woman will stand trial. But neither you, nor anyone else will touch her until I have at least heard what she has to say! Do you understand me, Jan?”
With his nostrils now flared, Jan the Fez looked back at her, his eyes showing the true depth of their hatred. It was clear that he was not going to risk going against Tanner, not alone anyhow, but given his apparent temper, that could change at any minute.
“What do you think the boss is gonna say about this? Huh?” Jan said, maintaining the menacing look. “When he finds out that you denied Barrett his justice.”
Tanner pushed roughly with both hand
s into Jan’s chest sending him stumbling a few paces back. “I’m not denying anybody justice! I’m ensuring that justice is carried out… Now back OFF!”
This time Jan did not approach again. He spat in the mud and cocked his hat back on his head with a nervous laugh.
“You’re funeral,” he said to Tanner before turning his attentions to her for the last time. “And you, I’ll be seeing you real soon sweet thing.”
Sludge from his boot flicked in their direction as he kicked at nothing and turned on his heal, heading back the way he had come.
“I think he likes me,” Juliana said, watching him go.
From the corner of her eye she saw Tanner shake his head and heard a small chuckle.
“You got some big balls, lady, I’ll give you that,” he said, “Come on.”
The two of them circumnavigated the city; sticking to a mud-heavy ring road flanked on one side by buildings and side streets. Many of the buildings themselves were boarded up and derelict, cold and unlit, with only a few showing vague signs of life. The side streets that she managed to steal a look down were also largely quiet and empty, with the same steel shuttering topped with razor wire that she had seen at the entrance and in the sewer, blocking their ends. Occasionally, somebody would stumble across their path, pulling down skirts or hitching up trousers, probably having relieved themselves in a darkened doorway. The smell in the air was so rank that it confirmed her suspicions.
Soon they arrived at a street which had been gated by steel panelling. A crude door had been cut into its side. Tanner tapped her on the shoulder, motioning for her to stop. Then he walked to the gate and banged hard against it with his fist.
“It’s Tanner,” he said, loudly.
A minute passed before the gate was awkwardly opened inward and Juliana was ushered inside. This street had more regular barrels of flame lighting a few of the houses, but was devoid of people. A guard in a green tabard holding what looked like a rifle of some description, closed the gate behind them and sat back heavily in an old arm chair.
“Home, sweet home,” Tanner said, pointing up a set of stairs, a few houses down to her left.