The Venue

by T J Payne

  She stomped down hard on Lilith’s foot, but Lilith just absorbed the pain.

  The headlock grew tighter.

  As Mariko’s vision blurred, she could see the DJ, dancing in his booth.

  “We got people on the dance floor!” he announced. “Let’s check out their moves.”

  Somehow, Mariko’s ears were able to register that the DJ had turned on some 90’s dance mix, the kind of song that called out the dancer’s moves. Step to the left… step to the right… kick… slide…

  She could swear that Lilith was actually following the directions, yanking Mariko’s neck side to side with the beat. She dipped Mariko once… twice… three times to the song.

  It had been several seconds now since Mariko had gotten a good gulp of air. Her arms felt rubbery. Her head seemed to float above her body, caught in some gray smoggy layer above the ballroom.

  She felt herself being carried forward.

  The breeze, which a few moments ago she had only faintly registered, suddenly blew cold wind against her skin.

  Instinctively, her arm shot out in front of her. Her palm connected with something hard. She was bracing herself against a wooden frame. The cold breeze blew the foggy film away from her eyes and cleared the world just enough for her to see what was in front of her.

  A jagged shard of window glass.

  It was the window that Lilith’s dad had thrown a chair through in his attempt to escape. The gaping, angry, toothy remains of the window smiled at Mariko.

  Lilith put pressure on Mariko’s head. She forced Mariko’s face to angle forward, pushing Mariko’s eye toward one of the pieces of glass that jutted out of the window frame.

  Mariko tried to push back, but she could feel her arms buckling. The pointed edge of glass filled her vision, blurring as it got closer. The pressure from Lilith stayed firm and even. Slow. Intentionally slow. At this pace, the glass would enter Mariko’s eye one millimeter at a time, slowly deflating it as the shard made its way back into her skull.

  “No… no-no-no,” Mariko said. It was all she could think to say. Or do.

  “Shhh. It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay,” Lilith responded, as though she were rocking a baby to sleep.

  “Please… please…”

  Mariko was helpless.

  The glass tickled her eyelash.

  In a moment, it would slice through her cornea.

  Mariko suddenly stopped pushing against the window and instead leaned toward it. The sudden change in momentum sent her body careening to the side, just past the shard of glass. Her shoulder hit the window frame.

  The shifting position did little to loosen Lilith’s grip.

  Lilith’s arm constricted even tighter around Mariko’s neck.

  Mariko threw her left arm out the window.

  The light on her bracelet flashed red.

  It vibrated.

  Mariko reached her arm back behind her. She pressed the flashing bracelet against Lilith’s face. Then, Mariko closed her eyes, clenched her body, and waited for—

  BOOM!

  The blast knocked Lilith backwards.

  Air filled Mariko’s lungs again. It surprised her that her arm didn’t hurt. She didn’t feel anything. In fact, she couldn’t see or hear anything either.

  It was as though the blast had knocked all sense from her body. Her eyes and ears swam in a thick black ocean. Her consciousness detached from her physical self. She sank deeper into the blackness as it swirled around her and prepared to carry her away.

  One thought managed to penetrate the numbness of her mind.

  The tourniquet.

  She had to tighten the tourniquet.

  She had to do it now.

  Mariko reached her right hand toward her left. She couldn’t see. She could barely even feel. Everything felt as though she were touching the world through a thick glove.

  Her hand touched something hard and cold. She realized she was on the floor. How long had it been since the blast? Perhaps moments. Perhaps longer. Perhaps she was already dead.

  Where was Lilith? Had she left? Had Mariko killed her? Was she standing over Mariko, preparing to finish the job?

  It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was tightening the tourniquet.

  Mariko’s fingers glided through some sort of slippery residue that covered a tough, wire-like material. The first thought that came to her mind was that she had found Lilith’s bow-string, greased up with too much oil. But she soon realized that she was actually fingering her own flesh and tendons.

  Right then, she wanted to vomit. The darkness crept closer and she was momentarily glad for it.

  But a strange burst of rational thought penetrated the black.

  If this is my wrist, then the nylon tourniquet must be a few inches up my arm.

  She felt around. When her fingers made contact with a piece of cloth, she grabbed it tight. Her fingers brought the fabric to her mouth and she held it within her teeth. Then her hand went back to find the other end of the nylon.

  Perhaps it wasn’t the nylon.

  Perhaps she had put the hem of her own dress into her mouth.

  She didn’t know if she was pulling on the right thing. She only knew that she had to pull on something.

  She felt another end of fabric.

  Between her teeth and her good hand, she pulled the fabric tight. She didn’t feel the tourniquet constrict on her arm, sealing off the blood that must be pooling around her.

  Mariko didn’t feel anything.

  The blackness, which had stayed at bay for all these important seconds, now rushed in. It filled her vision.

  Once her eyes rolled over and the world went dark, for a split second, her ears compensated. She could hear the world very clearly.

  There was music.

  The DJ was making up his own lyrics to some techno dance song.

  “I say, ka-boom went yer hand! Ka-boom went yer hand!”

  And then, that too went away. The blackness faded the music into silence.

  Thank god, Mariko thought.

  CHAPTER 21

  Caleb wasn’t afraid of death.

  Or, at least, he didn’t think he was.

  There was the slight chance that Amy and her father were going to kill him now, but he doubted it. That wasn’t Amy’s style. Her dad was a wild card. But Amy? Nah. A little confrontation and she’d wilt like a little dandelion.

  He glanced around as they carried him into the chapel.

  Unlike the rest of The Venue, the lights in the chapel stayed dark. All the candles in the crystal bowls that outlined the floor — the ones that had lit the wedding ceremony — had long since burned out.

  The design of the room, with its high windows along the front wall, allowed moonlight to stream in, casting a blue glow over the pulpit.

  Caleb liked this room. Maybe tomorrow, as the cleanup commenced, he would take some time to stretch out on one of the pews and stare at the ceiling. It would be nice to be alone with his thoughts.

  Amy and her dad carried Caleb down the aisle.

  “The altar,” she said to her dad, nodding her head toward the ornate wooden table in the front. It was the only spot in the room where the moon provided any useable light.

  He put up no resistance as they lugged him along.

  As they passed the darkened pews, Caleb was sure he heard the sounds of scurrying. Maybe some nervous whispers. People must be hiding in the shadows beneath the benches. Like rats.

  He wondered who among his friends and family was out there, holding their breath, cowering and shaking in fear.

  The purpose of the night had been to reveal the hatefulness of the people who shaped their lives. At least, that was Lilith’s stated purpose. But the night had revealed the opposite, and Caleb was just now coming to peace with that.

  His friends and family weren’t particularly cruel. Or mean.

  They were weak.

  Maybe that was worse.

  Perhaps that was why everyone in Caleb’s
life spent so much time ridiculing him. Stomping on him. Holding him down.

  They were crabs, desperately pulling Caleb back into the boiling pot because it would be better to watch him be cooked with the rest of them than watch him escape. Watch him succeed. Watch him come to the cusp of billionaire status by the age of thirty.

  These people were failures. They were losers. They were rats, willing to eat their own to survive.

  And now they would have to live with their cowardice for the brief candle flicker that remained of their lives.

  As Amy and Roger carried him, no one rose up from their hiding place. No one offered to help ferry the devil to the altar. No one ran forward to kill Caleb and gain their own release. No one set him free in an attempt to curry his favor. They hid in the dark beneath the pews, only shifting to slightly reposition themselves, possibly so they could run if they needed to.

  Pathetic.

  For all intents and purposes, Caleb was alone with Amy and her dad.

  They heaved Caleb onto the altar, dropping him down roughly. It knocked the wind out of him a bit, but he tried not to show it.

  Instead, he smiled.

  Amy stood over him, angling her head so as not to block out the little moonlight she had.

  She glared at him.

  But seeing anger on her cute little face didn’t strike fear into Caleb’s heart. It made him want to giggle. Laughing felt mean, though. He should give Amy this moment. Let her have this power over him. This should be fun.

  But the more he tried to swallow his mirth, the more the giggle bubbled to the surface, escaping from his pursed lips in little whiffs of laughter. It was like the time when Amy’s dad installed a new washing machine and Caleb and Amy crept into the discarded box and hid together, waiting for Roger to finish so they could jump out and scare him.

  They were probably five at the time. Maybe six. They sat in that box for what felt like hours but had probably only been two minutes. They stared at each other, excited by their plan.

  But, bit by bit, Caleb had begun to crack. Little smiles had curled over his lips. His breathing quickened. Amy had to put her hand over his mouth to keep him from laughing, but that only made it worse. Soon, she also got a case of the giggles.

  Little did they know that Amy’s mom had been filming the whole thing. The big cardboard box shook with each of their attempts to restrain their joy.

  Caleb’s chest hurt from suppressing so much laughter. By the time Roger returned to the box, Amy and Caleb were laughing too hard to even say “Boo.” They jumped out and then immediately flopped onto the floor, crying as they laughed.

  In all his years since, Caleb never laughed so hard. He never experienced so much joy. It was an alchemy of happiness that can only blossom between two soulmates.

  He wondered if Amy ever felt that joy again either.

  Perhaps today would end that streak of joyless days.

  For Caleb, at least.

  Amy was fucked.

  Seemingly in response to that thought, Amy’s hands wrapped around Caleb’s throat, squeezing down on his windpipe. Her grip was firm, which surprised Caleb. His lungs strained to push air in and out of his body. He felt his face burn hot as a panic settled into his muscles. He didn’t even have the air to fight back.

  His vision blurred as he realized that it wasn’t just his windpipe that Amy was constricting but the actual blood flow to his head. A blackness seeped in along the fringes of his vision.

  “Not yet, Amy,” Roger said, his voice cutting through the darkness.

  Amy’s grip immediately loosened and Caleb felt a rush of life pump its way up from his chest through his head and extremities. It took concentration for his lungs to not frantically gulp in the needed air. He tried to project calm. Indifference.

  “We still need him,” Roger continued. “For now.” His voice sounded stern. The intonation was unmistakable. He had no problem with her eventually killing Caleb. Just not until they got what they needed.

  Amy pulled out a knife and pressed its tip into Caleb’s temple.

  “Order the staff to deactivate the bracelets,” she said.

  “Oh, Amy. Amy, Amy, Amy,” Caleb said, purposefully trying to make his voice sound as patronizing as possible.

  “Do it,” Amy commanded.

  “You know the rules. Kill someone and you’re free to go.”

  Roger leaned toward Caleb. “Why should we trust you?”

  It was a good question; one that Caleb assumed all his guests would ask eventually. But Caleb had rehearsed his answer. “Where’s the fun in killing people if they’re going to die anyway?” he said. “Why go through with so much hassle? If I simply wanted you dead, I could’ve hired a bunch of hitmen. It would’ve been cheaper than this. And if I wanted you to suffer some physical or emotional pain, I could have paid a little extra to have them torture you. What would be the point in that? And, more importantly, what would be the lesson? I want as many of you to survive as possible. I want you to have blood on your hands. I want you to carry that with you for the rest of your life.”

  He tried to gauge from their faces whether they believed him or not. He could always read people’s intentions from their eyes; it was one of the gifts that made him a success at business. But he couldn’t read theirs. The darkness of the chapel kept their eyes shrouded in shadow.

  “You said they’d erase the memories,” Roger responded.

  “Yes. They have the technology. It’s more of a blunt force amnesia. Just clearing out the last forty-eight hours or so. It’s mostly for The Venue’s protection. They don’t like to create a fuss.”

  “So you said.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Roger glared down at him. “If no one remembers, then what’s the point in teaching us a lesson?”

  “Lilith and I will remember,” Caleb said with a smile. “We’ll always know. We’ll see some of you around, I’m sure. A game night here or meeting up for drinks there. Whatever you people do. We’ll see you, out and about in your normal lives. And we’ll know. We’ll remember. The memory will have burned itself into our minds. We’ll have seen you turning into animals. Gutting each other to survive.

  “And I believe that deep down, there’ll be a tiny itch in your soul. You won’t be able to place it. Maybe there will be some dream fragment. Maybe your forehead will inexplicably sweat when you hold a kitchen knife. However it manifests itself, somewhere deep inside, you’ll know what you are. You’ll know what you did. And what a joy that will be for Lilith and me.”

  Amy and Roger simply looked down at him.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Amy said. It wasn’t uttered as an insult. She seemed genuinely confused.

  “I’m the only honest one here.”

  “Let us go,” she said, her voice turning cold.

  “I wish I could help you, Ames. But if you want the bracelets off, you just have to kill someone.”

  “Won’t be hard.” She twisted the knife slightly into his temple, almost like a corkscrew.

  He kept his grin, but he felt his muscles strain.

  “I’m gonna bore this hole straight through your head. Slowly.”

  With a bit of added pressure, the knife dug in. It rotated around, scooping out little slivers of his scalp. He tightened his body. He and Lilith had practiced meditation from a pain expert precisely for a moment like this. With calm focus, areas of his brain and their responses to stimuli shut down, exactly as he had been trained.

  His smile returned. His gaze again fell upon Amy. She was trying to scare him. Trying to torture him. His eyes rolled over in disgust and he looked away.

  “Oh, Amy,” he said. “I wish I could believe you had it in you. I wanted you to be one of the few who lived.”

  “What did I ever to do you? I was your friend.”

  “My best friend. We were so good together. We could have been so happy.”

  “Is this about high school?”

  “It’s about more t
han high school. More than middle school. It’s about loyalty. You were my only friend in the world, but the moment we got off that bus in ninth grade and stepped through those doors, what did you do? You were embarrassed by me. You started hanging out with Liza Schwartz and Brandi Halderman. Suddenly, you couldn’t bear to be seen with Caleb Hunt. I was alone. Some friend.”

  There was silence.

  He still couldn’t make out her eyes, couldn’t see the realization that must be flashing across her face at the way she rejected him. Abandoned him. Hurt him.

  “That’s it?” she finally said.

  Caleb turned toward Roger. “And you.”

  “I barely knew you, kid,” Roger said.

  “I had one chance to reconnect with Amy. I invited her on a road trip to help me move into college. I had it meticulously planned. Cross-country. Stopping at national parks and big cities. I saved for a year to pay for food and hotels. An epic two week adventure. But you and your wife said no.”

  Roger’s face was blank. “What are you talking about? I don’t remember any of this.”

  “Before I left, I came by your house one last time. One last time to say goodbye to Amy. To my best friend. But she was gone. Out camping. With Ryan Parker!”

  “That name sounds familiar,” Roger said.

  “You wouldn’t let your daughter go on a road trip with me, a perfect gentleman. You and your wife never liked me. You never trusted me. You never wanted Amy to be with me.”

  “You and I have said maybe five sentences to each other in your whole life.”

  “But I never thought you would feel so threatened by my intellect that you would steer your daughter toward the Neanderthals. The boys who wouldn’t make you look like the simple, little man you are. Boys like Ryan Parker. Instead of allowing your daughter to expand her world and realize true love and protection, you opted to let her go off into the woods with some jock. Some walking STD. Because he didn’t make you feel inadequate, like I did.”

  A look flashed between Amy and her dad.

  Caleb wished the lighting was better. He wanted to see the realization scroll across their faces. The epiphany. The moment of clarity where they saw their own insecurities laid out before them: Roger and his feelings of stupidity in the face of Caleb’s intellect. And Amy and her superficial attraction toward looks and brawn over kindness and love.