Dortmund Hibernate

by C. J. Sutton

  It was the old guard, Carter, who entered the room.

  “Step towards the bars, Jasper.”

  Jasper rose, shuffling in shackles towards the guard, smiling.

  Carter wailed as his eyes were pierced with a pin. He struggled as his tongue was sliced with a blunt utensil, choking on blood. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t talk. The voices swarmed in his head, and he knew no more light, and no more hope.

  Magnus woke with a start, breaking from nightmare into a deeper shade of black. How long had he slept? Dusk was beginning to surrender to the moon, and in the front seat was a new driver. Jasper’s face, puffed to the point of bakery, no longer bled into the four-wheel drive. Cuts finally clotted, but Jasper’s breathing wheezed like a smoker nearing the end of a cancer battle.

  “You okay?” said Magnus through a coarse throat, the smoke in the Asylum having caused a range of issues with his senses that had time to settle and take reign. His eyes still seared with heat. His nose still sensed the burning of bodies, fresh graves.

  “Lonie was veering off the road, tired old man. I missed driving. I can’t wait to start up a bike, to roar across a city at a speed that blurs everyone around me. It’s true freedom, Mag, and it’s exciting.”

  The scenery hadn’t changed, with short trees and dank fields of dust the only sights a postcard could utilise. No prestige in these old lands.

  “We stopped for a bit, got some food, but we’ll need to fill up the tank at the next petrol station. We’ll need to pay cash.”

  Magnus nodded, wondering how driving in the same direction for so long resulted in a mirrored landscape.

  “What did you promise him, Jasper?”

  They spoke softly, aware that if Lonie was awake he would hear every word. Jasper seemed to care little, sipping from bottled water and swishing it around as if to spit. Magnus felt a pang of guilt for brutalising his brother, but it was a sincere request with obvious ramifications. Taking advantage of the sick was something the doctor never wanted to do; and yet, he knew he had, and in moments it felt rejuvenating.

  “I knew you would come, in time. I trusted that. But I needed something more to focus on, I needed to have some control of the outside world. The place was poorly run and I took my opportunity. I promised him–”

  “That the sick would rise to make the healthy regret hiding us away.”

  Lonie blinked, and turned to face Magnus.

  “Your brother promised vengeance; vengeance against those who lock away the sick to rot in a cell rather than find a way to help them. Nothing against you, doc, you’ve dedicated your life to cure us from the sickness. But I saw the papers. They sent you here not to save us, but to have us removed completely. Whether your intention was always to rescue your brother or not, you didn’t care about the eight souls in Dortmund’s cage other than to make sure the ninth wasn’t hanged. Prisoners get yard time; they get three meals and socialisation. What did the people of Dortmund Asylum have? 24 hours a day in the same cold square, left to fester in their own shit. From the moment they put me in there, I swore to make a statement if ever I found a way out. To show the world what happens if you try to sweep a problem under the rug. The big city awaits…people will die.”

  Jasper focused on the road ahead. No landmark warranted attention.

  “You can’t,” said Magnus, more to himself.

  “What did you think would happen when you released us into the wild? We’d revert to sane citizens and hold hands into the sunset? Find jobs and scan groceries? I did that for so long, I’ve waited patiently.”

  “I never meant to save you,” spat Magnus, with venom, “if it were up to me, you would’ve been poor Carter; trampled into the dirt.”

  “Well, I hold the gun,” said Lonie, pointing it at Magnus’ head, “and you’ve killed. The truth is in the boot. I don’t think you’re in a position to decide anything from here on in.”

  Jasper continued to grind his teeth. His eyes met with his brother’s in the rear view mirror. Patience, bud.

  “Jasper wouldn’t let you harm me.”

  “Jasper owes me,” he growled, moving the gun to the driver’s head. “All that time being his lap dog, and you think he’s going to smack me in the mouth because his little brother demands it? Jasper has the means to make our worldwide statement. And I say our, because he believes in this cause. He believes in making it known that you can’t lock us away, grade us a ten and hope we’re eaten by rats. We’re people, not animals!”

  He was shouting now, taking no blame for the crimes committed, believing it was society’s fault and the fault of innocent people that he was incarcerated in such a foul setting. Up ahead, an illuminated billboard flashed OPEN in neon green; a service station, and other cars were parked in and around its premises.

  “What exactly does my brother have that will make this possible?” asked Magnus, trying to limit Lonie’s anger before the arrival at a place with people. Grains of humanity he may try to destroy on the path to widespread terrorism.

  “Explosives,” he smiled, “stored for something he never had the chance to achieve. He can reignite the Chill Squad, and I can be known not as a blinded mute, but as an example to be understood. Perhaps you should’ve just killed me, doc. I waited because it was necessary. Why run out into the world and blow your load when you can master your craft and make a city orgasm so hard it crumbles to the ground? I learned patience in Dortmund…but now I remember the joys of murder.”

  No Laws But Our Laws

  Nothing you ever do will bring you peace, Magnus.

  Magnus squeezed his sister’s face tight to his chest as her final breaths gargled with bubbles of blood. The four gunshots metres behind the siblings were faintly heard, chaos cracking whips in another suburb. Magnus sobbed, the lessening sign of life in Stacy’s eyes fading as the wound on her throat caused from a broken glass bottle leaked freely, cascading down his arms and front, too wet to be a dream. Flashing blue and red lights from outside burned the small apartment, but the police who operated the vehicles were lying freshly dead on the floorboards, bullet holes like cursors on a screen. Jasper rose, tucking the firearm into the back of his pants.

  “Mag, we need to go.”

  Magnus used two fingers to leave his sister’s eyes open, slapping her cheek softly to wake her before an eternal slumber. Jasper had already killed five people in this room, his younger brother the only person left as a witness. Incoming sirens signalled more targets for his CV. He did not see it happen, but Magnus knew this was only the beginning. Jasper had danced on the fine line between vigilante and crazed biker for too long. The drugs weren’t his target; he claimed lives, and he was good at it.

  “Mag, more are coming, I can’t take out another room full. Once they see their comrades—”

  “You killed our sister, you bastard! Our sister is dead! Fuck you, leave me the fuck alone! I hope they come in here and lock you up.”

  Jasper put an arm around his brother and supported his sister’s head so Magnus could openly cry on his shoulder.

  “I loved Stacy, but she stopped you from leaving, from becoming something that can make a difference in this sick world. She dragged you down to the scum of the city. She was spending most of her days in that sick suburb I drove you through, as helpless as that woman who reached out and would’ve serviced you in any way for a ten dollar bill. Did you want that for her?”

  Stacy’s head lolled, tongue out and covered in crimson.

  “Fuck off…”

  More attention was approaching, the sound of squad cars screeching around the corner, the radios of the fallen police asking constant questions and pleading for a response.

  “You need to go, Mag. Leave Stacy with me. Get out of this town, enrol in a course and stick it out. You can be something. Do it for your sister. Do it for me.”

  Magnus winced in pain, a shard of glass protruding from his wrist. He ripped it away and watched the gushing waterfall, nothing compared to his sister’s still-flowing n
eck.

  “What…what do I do? Mum is gone. Stacy is gone. You’re about to face certain capture.”

  On cue, the police announced their arrival with a megaphone. The booming voice requested everyone to come out with their hands up.

  “I won’t have you in jail because of me, Mag. One day you can save me from all that I am. I believe you’ll set us free. But in the meantime…I have an army to lead. I’ve never used the Paul name. That is yours, to mould how you will.”

  He rose, gun in one hand, face shrouded by shadow, Ned Kelly about to face his comeuppance.

  “Take the back; Stacy’s secret escape. I’ll deal with this pack of pigs.”

  “What about her?”

  She rested on the floorboards, now at peace from the sickness grappling her mind, a face without the request for a pill, a substance, a needle.

  “I love you Stace. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…” he said, turning to his gun-wielding brother, “maybe I can still save him.”

  And off he went, through the trapdoor and out into an alley, not to see his brother again for more than a decade.

  Jasper flicked on the indicator as they pulled to a halt alongside the petrol pump. The rundown Shell service station was in need of new lighting, of an elaborate clean and an update of promotional material, but it mattered not to the men in the car. Jasper’s eyes scanned aimlessly, no method to their movement.

  “No funny business,” said Lonie, pointing at Magnus, “but how much money do you have on you, doc?”

  Magnus checked his wallet: two hundred dollars and a selection of gold coins.

  “Why? You going to rob me, Carter?”

  “Don’t call me that. No, I’m just wondering whether I need to rob this service station or not.”

  “That’ll draw too much attention. We slipped away free, we have no heat. If you really want to make it to the city, best we keep our heads down.”

  Jasper’s cautious approach was new to Magnus, his general ‘all guns blazing’ style dwarfed by time away from people. A family parked on the opposite side of the petrol pump; two young boys, an even younger girl and their parents up front, dad in charge of operations and mum listening to a careless tune. Lonie grinned, sticking his tongue out at the children. Jasper analysed the family like a new breed of reptile.

  “Fill up the car,” said Lonie, urging Magnus out of the vehicle. The doctor took any opportunity to be away from the man who solicited his rape. Magnus started to wonder about disease, if Astrid had infected him with something transferred through sexual fluids. But she only bedded juniors, he told himself. Surely she was clean.

  The cool dusk air whipped at clothing, balmier here than in Dortmund. The father stepped out of the Range Rover and nodded at Magnus. He nodded back, praying the man didn’t make conversation. He did.

  “Not much out here, is there?” said the man, thinning atop a pale face and wearing a sweater that screamed conversion to family life. Magnus guessed a high school teacher.

  “Nope.”

  “Where you heading?”

  “City, yourself?”

  “Not sure if you’ve heard of it, but a place called Dortmund. My wife’s parents moved there to retire about a decade ago. Thought we’d take the kids on a road trip, get a bit of country air. I’ve never been myself, but there’s a zoo for the kids and it’s quiet enough for me to finish my books. My wife needs a holiday. Sometimes you need to escape the chaos, you know?”

  Magnus forced a smile, feeling sick in the stomach. The petrol meter clicked to its maximum, but the user didn’t realise. As the man continued to discuss ditching the big city for a town away from mayhem, Magnus wondered what sight would greet the family; funerals, smouldering remains on the hill, a pub no doubt closed to remember the fallen. The pump gun continued to click, signalling completion; but as Magnus’ mind wandered down the main street of Dortmund, no sound broke the spell. A hand on his shoulder awakened reality.

  “You okay?” asked the man, genuine concern in his eyes. Magnus could feel the burn of Lonie watching him behind glass.

  “Yeah, just tired. Long trip.”

  Magnus holstered the pump, and stopped. He listened, sure there was a thump in the trunk. Nothing. As he went to walk into the service station to pay, Lonie snatched the wallet.

  “I don’t trust you. I’ll do the paying.”

  And off he went, one metre behind the husband, the father, the innocent. Magnus could see the bulge of the gun in his pants. In the opposing car, the mother sang to her children, a tune that transcended the complications of the world, the incoming wrath of men not meant for her society. The children clapped, and smiled, and joined in the chorus to bask in the light of their mother’s love. A love Lonie and Jasper would blow to a billion pieces for a cause only the sick could crave. The flashes of happiness painted a silhouette of Lee across the dashboard.

  “Did you kill her, brother?” asked Magnus, aware the passenger-side window was open and Jasper heard the same sounds. He hid from view, aware his shredded and pillowed face would draw unwanted attention.

  “Soon we’ll be in the city, and Dortmund will be a distant dream; everything there will slowly dissolve from your mind, and you’ll focus on your career. I trust The Goat did exactly as requested, pretending to be cured after a few sessions?”

  “Don’t change the damn subject.”

  Lonie wasn’t well cleaned from the events of the night prior, but here nobody questioned the look of a man, only the direction he was heading. Magnus watched as he fidgeted behind the father of the children in the car, as though contemplating whether to put a bullet in the back of his skull or let him continue to the foul town of Dortmund. Which would bring more punishment? Lonie was a bear out of hibernation.

  “I did what I had to do, Mag, and so did you.”

  “Why are we still carting around that old bastard?”

  “Because he is useful for what’s to come. I believed in you for ten years; please, believe in me now.”

  The writer from the city walked out of the service station with an arm-full of chocolate, soft drinks and a coffee for his beautiful wife; as she opened her door and assisted with the goods, the Paul brothers noticed her slim-yet-curvaceous figure, curled brown locks falling past her tanned shoulders on show due to a chest-hugging black strapless top. Her face was cheer, headed to a place in need of such a trait. As Lonie followed closely, Magnus saw the desire in his eyes. The children snatched greedily at the sugary treats and giggled, at one with the trip and the generosity of their parents. The mother moved without craving in her heart, no thought on substance or men or needs fulfilled. Her mind rested with the safety of her children, and soared with the volume of her tune.

  “Stacy and chocolate; mum was sure she’d be diagnosed with diabetes later in life. Remember when she woke up before us and ate all the Easter eggs? Found every last one, as though she could smell the stuff,” said Jasper, eyes on the girl nibbling on a Cadbury crème egg. The goo oozed through her fingers, the delight clear. Magnus too, was reminded of childhood, but a thump in the boot distorted the flashback.

  “C’mon dickheads,” yelled Lonie, “no treats for you two. You’ve been bad.”

  The language caused the wife to shake her head, offering Lonie a disgusted look. He didn’t like that.

  “What’s up your ass, other than your husband’s cock?”

  “Get in,” growled Magnus through gritted teeth. The man, chewing on a meat stick, glanced over Lonie’s shoulder and saw Jasper’s face, choking momentarily and spitting out a chunk of the jerky to remain as evidence of shock. Magnus doubted he heard the rude remark to his wife. Unable to deal with the rising tension, Magnus opened his door and leaped in, clicking the seatbelt and hoping Lonie assumed his inner-Carter and remembered how to deal with civilians. But being unleashed from that personality seemed permanent. His manner changed, his walk, the way he spoke. This old individual suffered from split personalities, and Dortmund allowed the condition to develop
. Under the heated stare of Lonie, the wife resumed her position in the passenger seat. The children, sensing their mother’s concern, no longer smiled as they consumed their gifts. Within seconds, their black Range Rover sped away towards the hours of nothingness between the service station and Dortmund.

  Jasper ignited the four-wheel drive, his face twitching so forcefully that his head moved from side to side.

  “No,” said Lonie, grabbing the wheel and changing the vehicle’s direction despite the indicator, “we’re following that family. The city can wait a little bit, I’m sure.”

  A Lesson

  Men beat their chests and claim the land, but in fact they are the most villainous of villains. A lion does not lie about its quest, nor does a shark. We have much to learn from others, yet we do not seek to change, Magnus.

  “There’s three fucking kids in the car you senile old prick,” screamed Magnus, banging on Lonie’s headrest with open palm…but the man was salivating at the prospect of the chase-down, a cheetah racing after an antelope in open plains. Periphery blurred.

  “That meat-sucking slob saw Jasper’s mangled face. We can’t risk witnesses. What if they called the cops, thinking I’m some torturing kidnapper? And that woman needs a proper lesson. After this, she’ll never look at old jerky boy the same. No more happy hip-hop.”

  The Range Rover kept at the 100km/h limit, but Jasper ticked the four-wheel drive to 120; a speed freak, he opened the window and revelled in the pressing winds, appreciating the coolness on his burning face, the freedom licking at his wounds.

  “But the kids…they’re witnesses too. What are you going to do…knock them off as well?”