by Kolin Wood
Her eyes flicked up to his and for a moment they held each other’s gaze.
She took a deep breath.
Her hair fell back over her face and with a still-trembling hand, she wiped it clear from her eyes. The story had clearly shaken her and, not surprisingly, brought some horrendous memories flooding to the surface.
“Can I have another one of those cigarettes?” she said softly, after a pause.
Tanner reached inside his pocket and tapped one out on the table. Juliana put it in her mouth and leaned forward, lighting it on the candle. The end glowed red, but this time she did not cough. She took a few calming lung-fulls, and eventually her breathing slowed.
“I’ve not done this since I was a kid,” she said nodding at the cigarette which protruded from the fingers of one of her shaking hands.
Tanner nodded, lighting another for himself. He rarely smoked himself these days, more because they were worth so much in trade rather than any real health concerns.
After lifting the bottle and tipping it to the side to check its quantity, Tanner proceeded to fill both of their glasses again.
The hooch was potent and even though each of them had only consumed four or five of the small tumblers, the effect on them both was clear. The constant stiffness that resided in his neck and shoulders had faded, and his face felt loose and warm.
The woman, Clara, had sunk farther down in the dining chair, and her eyes had hooded over slightly.
“So… Tanner,” she said after a deep lung full of smoke. “What are you going to do with me now you know the truth?”
Her face was subtly lit by warm candlelight as her eyes focused on his. Thick, amber smoke floated between them above the table, highlighting the intensity with its comfortable fugue. The night was quiet and buzzed around their ears, only occasionally broken by a shout or scream from somewhere deep within the maze outside. Tanner blew a plume of smoke at the ceiling.
“Tomorrow I’ll go and see them,” he said. “See if we can get it sorted out.”
Juliana raised her eyebrows. Her eyes glistened in the candlelight and there was a tint of hope to her voice.
“You think they’ll believe me?”
Tanner frowned and looked down at the table, not wanting to believe the true depth of his doubts. If the Capital got its way then there would be no mercy; Braydon was going to kill her, regardless of story or her pleas for pity.
“Ultimately—it doesn’t matter what I think. There is no other choice,” he said.
Clara tilted her head slightly as though picking up on something.
“There is something that you aren’t telling me,” she said.
Tanner frowned. The woman was smart; devilishly astute. But telling her would do no good; it would only make her panic, and rightly so. Right now, the thought of turning her over to the mob left an uneasy feeling deep in his gut.
“As I said, there are no other options here.”
Juliana leaned forward, her deep brown eyes suddenly wide and vulnerable.
“Couldn’t you just let me go?” she said.
Tanner looked deeply into her eyes before slowly shaking his head.
“It’s not that easy,” he said, snapping himself away. “Unless you fancy another trip down to the sewer, there’s no way out of here. There are guards posted on every wall; guns at every fence. The buildings with no use that flank the city around us have had their doorways bricked up. The Capital is locked up tight.”
He watched as she pondered what he was saying for a second. Was it possible that she was seriously considering the suggestion that she go back under the bus? Back into the sewer?
“Besides, it’s late. There’s no way we’d make it back across the city unseen. Even if you did get out; what would you do?”
He stubbed out his cigarette, leaving it with the other butts on the chipped ceramic plate and slid the plate across the table to allow her to do the same.
“The country has been plundered—stripped to the bone—there’s nothing left to find. Trust me, I’ve seen it. There’s nothing out there except more of the same; more of this.”
Clara slumped back in the chair, looking down at her fingers.
“So that’s it, huh?” she said, dazed. “My fate rests in the hands of some self-appointed, fucked up, male dictator… once again.” The cigarette in her hand sizzled as she stubbed it out. “I must have really pissed somebody off in a former life.”
She looked at him again. “So this is your lot then, is it? Sending abused women to their deaths.”
Tanner opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again as he failed to find a response that didn’t sound weak to him. He had plans; he hated this Godforsaken piss bucket as much as she did, but the simple fact remained—she was not his problem.
“Just leave it with me for now. In the morning I’ll go and see what’s what in the Capital.”
He reached forward and refilled their glasses for what might be the last time.
“One last tot for the ditch?” he asked.
Try as he might not to care, something inside of him hoped that he was wrong.
15
Three loud bangs on the door woke the General from his sleep. The tumour bit immediately with its morning greeting, and he groaned. Behind the initial sharpness of the pain, the same dull ache throbbed deep in the base of his skull. He tried to piece together where he was. Pointed shards of light shone in through the boarded windows and danced with the dust, hinting at a pleasant day outside.
The bangs came again—three more, loud and serious.
“Okay, okay!” he shouted. “I’m coming!” His voice was cracked and dehydrated with thirst.
He took a deep breath which pulled his lungs tight and stood, holding one side of his head with his hand. His legs felt heavy. He was sure that he was still well inebriated. While they waited on news about his information about the prison, Teddy had temporarily put him up in a room in one of the huge, shared townhouses by the park. The place was busy with undesirables and stunk of stale booze, mud, and sex, but it allowed him to keep some distance from the mire that everybody else wallowed in. Since then, he had remained locked in his small, dirty room; his only visitors had been the deliveries of free hooch and the odd offering of food, a fact his throbbing head was now paying testament too.
Not wanting to face the banging again, he moved to the door as quickly as he could, unsteady in bare feet. The boards were cold and rough. He turned the key and opened the paint-flecked door, revealing the darkness that perpetuated into the hallway outside. Shouting sounded in a room farther down greeted him.
Before him stood a young, scruffily dressed man with a lop-sided grin and patchy beard on his cheeks. The young man’s face changed, the silly grin frozen in shock as the door opened and caught sight of the festering lump on the side of the General’s face. His eyes dropped and he addressed the floor as he spoke.
“Um, good morning, sir. I was sent by… um, Mr. Braydon to come and ask you to join him at the main gate.”
Still in a state of drunken confusion, the General looked first one way down the corridor and then the other.
“What time is it?” he asked.
The young man looked confused. “It’s, um, daytime, sir,” he said, still no closer to making eye contact.
The thumping in the General’s head worsened and he leaned against the door frame. “Water,” he said. “First, I need water.”
The young man swung a battered rucksack off his shoulder and delved inside, fumbling as he pulled out a bent, plastic water bottle—three quarters full with a slightly brown-tinged liquid.
“Here,” said the man.
At first glance through his blurry eye, the liquid looked like hooch and just the thought of it made his guts churn again. The young man continued to hold out the bottle and eventually the General reached for it, twisted off the cap, and sniffed. A sharp whiff of stale spit greeted him, but as far as he could tell, it was indeed water. He put the bottle to his
lips and swallowed it down in two, long gulps. The punch was warm and abrasive, gritty on his teeth, but it helped to soothe his aching throat and freshen his mouth just a bit.
“Where?” he croaked as he handed back the bottle and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.
The young man looked up, consciously trying to keep his eyes fixed on the side of the General’s face that didn’t look as though it had been latched onto by an alien.
“The main gate,” he said. “As soon as you’re ready. I’m here to escort you there.”
The General simply nodded, waved his hand, and disappeared back into the room with a slam of the door.
Ten minutes later, dressed but still feeling rough, he followed the young man out through the door of the block. The sun—still low in the sky—shone with a brilliance that warmed the bones and creased the eyes. Summer had finally arrived, and its presence could be felt, even in a place of such filth as this.
With a squelch, the General stepped off the bottom step back into the dirge. The mud stood ankle deep at all but the highest points of the new city. The sheer number of people provided a constant churning to the muddy soup. It would need weeks of sun to dry out, if all the people were to up and vanish, and that was not going to happen any time soon.
The Capital was already alive and kicking. People scurried around, laden with the tasks of their day; some cooked over barrels while others washed their clothes in buckets and heated up dirty water to wash themselves. The scene was truly medieval to behold.
The young man led the way at a steady pace, sticking to the road at the edge of the capital where the mud flowed with an extra slurry-like consistency. Somebody stumbled out from a gap between two buildings and the General realised that this periphery basically acted as one huge toilet. On closer inspection, he could see guttering attached to the wall at various points, all tilted away from seething mass of the centre. The odour here was strong, but the congestion less as a result, and the General pushed on without complaint.
Eventually, after walking for about twenty minutes in the mud, they arrived at the main gate.
“Wait here,” the young man said as he disappeared down one of the dark alleyways.
The General said nothing but nodded, looking around. It suddenly dawned on him that the meeting at the entrance could be the sign of a bad thing. Perhaps his men had turned up empty-handed and now he was about to be cast out, or worse. It was too late now though; he was unarmed and outnumbered.
A short time later, the guard reappeared, smoking a cigarette with a smile on his face. Behind him, the imposing frame of Teddy Braydon still dressed in his impeccable suit, but wearing a large pair of black wellington boots in place of his loafers.
Teddy walked over and stood before him; he too was smiling. The General felt his tension relieved a bit.
“Glad I’m not the only one feeling the effects of last night!” he said with a heavy slap to the General’s shoulder.
With a slight grit of his teeth that went unseen, the General nodded but refrained from commenting. He obviously looked as bad as he felt.
Teddy’s eyes flicked over to the bandage covering one side of the General’s face and he winced with an over-dramatic turn.
“Bout time somebody looked at that, don’t you think?” he said as he turned away from the gate.
You think? the General thought sarcastically, but said nothing.
“In time, we’ll see to it” Teddy continued. “But first, I have something I’d like to show you.”
A short trek back through the Capital and the two of them were walking under the same arch that the General had passed under on his way into the arena a few nights before. The area, now devoid of the hustle and bustle of the drunks and hooch stalls, felt strangely different. Birds even sat crowing on the surrounding scaffolding.
“This,” Teddy shouted, “is what I brought you here to show you!”
The General squinted against the warm sun and looked out into the open expanse before him. The hole where the fighting pit had been was now fully covered over. In its stead, a large, raised platform, built predominantly from wood and steel. Several men were busy hammering planks and tying various bits of scaffolding together at its base while another team were constructing what looked to be some sort of cage to sit on the top.
“Welcome, to the new Pit!” Teddy shouted, slipping into his practiced role as presenter. “Brought to you, as always, courtesy of Braydon enterprises!”
The General followed Teddy until they were standing directly at the side of the platform.
The cage, although unfinished, was already an evil-looking affair; sharpened spikes intertwined with wire at the top. The steel lattice itself had clearly once been some sort of high-security fencing. A gate, made of a different material, but still metal and imposing, stood at the top of a ladder, allowing for entry. A thick, sliding bar, complete with a heavy chain and padlock, ensured that there was no escape once inside. Along the sides, knife-like blades of differing sizes had been affixed, each one facing inward and tied at random positions. This was a place of death; gory and bloody fights now a guarantee. The General couldn’t help but admire it as an example of superior engineering on behalf of the cockney gangster.
Teddy noticed and beamed, flashing his golden crown.
“I’m glad you approve!” he said. “Things have moved on. The Pit is just the beginning; the seed which becomes the tree. It’s time to grow the empire!” His voice was excited and as he spoke, his hands moving before him with all of the animated passion of a seasoned politician.
The General, by now curious as to his own involvement, asked, “And what exactly does all this have to do with me?”
With an air of gravity, the smile dropped from Teddy’s face.
“The prison,” he said.
The General straightened.
The idea to alert Teddy to the prison had been impulse, one grown in the moment and sold to him through the blurry-edged filter of a few glasses of demon hooch. It had not been a considered proposition. He had not, at any point, indulged the true depth of the depravity that had taken place there, nor the extent of his own involvement. More questions rushed in. What if he had been lured here in order to be brought to justice for his crimes? He looked around, noticing two guards had since appeared behind them and now stood blocking his escape. A sudden thought turned his blood to ice… What if they had found his journal?
“Relax, my friend!” Teddy said, deciphering the look. “I’m certainly in no position to judge what went on there. Hell, I don’t know and I don’t care. We all have reasons why we do things, don’t we? I mean, look at me… hardly the shining beacon of virtue, am I?”
The General said nothing, preferring to find out the full extent of Teddy’s knowledge before confessing to something that might incriminate him further. After all, for all he knew, the man was guessing.
With a smile, Teddy continued.
“You see, this mad man you served up for us… Quite the savage my men tell me, cannibalistic even…” Teddy’s eyes twinkled with excitement.
A face flashed into the General’s mind, evil eyes surrounded by red and black. Surely not One Six Four himself?
“So?” the General warily, still not willing to commit himself.
“So,” Teddy replied. “Now I know that you are a man of your word—somebody to be trusted. Not only that, but somebody with vision, like me. You see, I am very particular about who I let in. I need people around me that I can rely on. I’m a strong advocate of the wisdom that when you swim with the sharks, you have to be one yourself.”
Confused, the General let him continue.
Perhaps noticing the confusion, Teddy said, “There is a position opening up, Cole. I want you to come and work for me.”
A smile crept into the corners of the General’s mouth. A job working for the top man? The risk had paid off. This could not have gone better if he’d planned it.
“In exchange for your services,” Tedd
y continued, “I’ll move you out of that shared hovel you are in now and into the West road alongside myself and, for the moment anyway, Tanner—who needs no introduction. You’ll get your own house, food, drink, women… A far more comfortable existence than you find yourself in now, that’s for sure.” Then he added, “And of course, I will get our doctor to take a look at that eye.”
Relief washed through the General’s entire body and he blew out a deep breath.
“Can I take that as a yes?” Teddy said with a wry smile on his face, as if he was already sure of the answer to follow.
The General pushed back his shoulders and nodded. “Yes,” he said, stoically.
“Good,” Teddy replied, signalling behind him. “Well, as a member of the team now, I have a job for you.”
From the shadows underneath one of the rising stands, stepped four men. Each of them was dressed from head to toe in black and wearing a plastic mask; faceless, apart from the eyes which were covered with some kind of mesh. Black, body armour had been set over their clothing, protecting chests, knees, and elbows as well as their groins. The guns that they carried were also black and looked military-grade, far superior to the shotguns and hunting rifles used by the rest of the Capital’s enforcers.
“This is my new, personal guard detail,” Teddy said with a smile, holding up a hand. “Equipped in the best the military had to offer. They will escort you.”