Ilsa lit up another cigarette on the butt of the first. The glow at the tip shook slightly in her hand. “You don't even know how fast the fight will go out of you, and here I thought he loved me. I wasn't nothing but a horse in his stable. Jeff sold me to one of his friends, I never saw him again, and the new guy had me out on the street telling me that if I didn't make him his money he would get his friends over and they would season me again. I learned pretty fast. That's seasoning, it's breaking someone down so they do whatever you want.”
They sat together in silence for a moment as Ilsa smoked her cigarette. The smoke drifted lazily out the open window.
“How did you get out?” Gideon asked.
“Sammy's daddy got me out. He was one of my regulars but a nice guy, always gentle, asking permission and not forcing nothing I didn't want done.”
“What was his name?”
Ilsa smiled then, not a small and quiet smile like when she was remembering her first night with Jeff but large and toothy, the kind that can't be hidden. Her eyes crinkled at the edges and rimmed with tears at the thought of him. “His name was Angel, and he really was one.”
She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin before continuing. “It was terrifying when the realization came that I hadn't had my period in a few months. I was so disoriented in those days, but when I realized that I was going to have a child I knew I would have to get help. I had seen what the managers did to girls that got pregnant.”
“I told Angel he was the father. I don't know whether he was or not, but I hope so. Sammy is certainly kind enough to be his son. Angel helped me get out and get set up in a new life, but he paid for it dearly.”
“Is he dead?” Gideon asked.
Ilsa nodded. “Sammy don't know that though. He thinks he's out in Kitswitch working.”
“Why go back to hooking if you got out?”
Ilsa shrugged. “Having a child isn't cheap, and I've got nothing else I know how to do.”
The door opened and Sammy hobbled in carrying a bag strapped to one of his crutches. The smell of hot food filled the small apartment.
“Hey baby, what'd you get for dinner?” Ilsa said and she stood.
Sammy set down the bag and looked for a long time at his mother before turning to Gideon. "Why is my mom crying?" He asked, pulling up one of his crutches and holding it like a club.
"Oh, it ain't his fault," Ilsa said, hushing her son. "It's just one of those women things."
Gideon stood, the throbbing throughout his body had localized into several smaller points, painful but manageable. He handed the ice pack back to Ilsa. “Thank you for letting me recuperate here, I should really keep moving on.”
Ilsa grabbed a pen and jotted something down on a piece of paper. “There's a guy I know in Darien. He always seems to stick himself between things, if your girl passed through there he might know something. Be careful with him though, he's a 'fine print' kind of guy.”
Gideon thanked her and left, rustling Sammy's hair as he went.
...
The road to Darien was much the same as any other that Gideon had been down; dark, littered with rocks and trash, and perilous. He tried to take it slow, concentrating on the road, but every time his thoughts drifted to Rolanda his wrist would turn seemingly of its own accord and he would be racing down the path again. He used to think that the worst possible scenario would be that he never found Rolanda. Now he had so much more to fear. It was months since she had been taken, he didn't like the chances that she had of not going through what Ilsa had described. He reminded himself that it didn't matter, the important thing was getting her free.
The path twisted and wound under him and he banked smoothly along the curves. His ears popped as he climbed in elevation, he left the low flat hills and wove in between a little mountain pass. Hard shrubs clung to the side of the road and the air turned thin and cold. The shrubs were some of the few plants that lived out between the bubbles, pathetic things that clung stubbornly into the dirt.
He stopped for the night on the backside of the mountain. Despite everything on his mind he had to admit that the view was breathtaking. The mountain sloped down, the distance spotted with high peaks, the brown of the road winding through them.
Gideon could see his breath as he set up camp. He built a low fire, he wasn't concerned about the Thirteen up here, they would camp in lower elevations down where it was warmer. Still, after his last run in with the rogue krok user, he avoided his little flask. The night passed slowly but uneventfully, Gideon couldn't sleep much but he felt rested after having lain next to a warm fire for a few hours.
The sun rose in the morning and Gideon stayed for a few moments to watch. Filtered through the smog and the toxins that filled the atmosphere it shone a mute green, no red sun this morning. In one of his school books when he was real young he remembered reading that there was a time when the sun never looked green, but he wasn't sure if he believed that. It was hard to imagine the world without the smog covering everything.
He packed his tent and rode towards Darien. The road was hard packed, the cold keeping it dense. Aside from his fingers getting cold it was relatively uneventful, he rode up the pass of the next mountain and down again. There was less trash up there, the bubble of Darien was far enough off in the distance that there was no one to dump it.
In a few hours he arrived at Darien, stored his motorcycle, and changed his money over. He tried not to look too long at the little pile of coins his money had bought, nor at the percentage that the bank took. He tried to smile at the teller before walking out the door.
It was a small bubble, no large skyscrapers here, just homes and one room shops along the street, but it was warmer than outside in the mountain passes. A passerby pointed the way towards the address that Ilsa had given him.
The house was nice, but innocuous. It stood in a row of houses exactly like it, they were clones of one another. Each one was a white two story house with a slanted roof and a circular window above the door. A small patch of grass separated each house. There were minute differences between them, a birdhouse here, a patch of flowers there, but that was it. Gideon checked the house number twice before ringing the doorbell.
A small man dressed in a grey business suit opened the door. His face was open, and honest, his smile large, showing off perfectly white and straight teeth. “Can I help you?”
“Is this the residence of Mr. Manah?” Gideon asked.
The man's smile grew. “It is and I am. Akem Manah,” he said, reaching a hand out to shake Gideon's.
“Ilsa sent me, my name's Charles. I was wondering if I could ask a quick question of you?”
Gideon had the curious sensation of feeling that Akem's face changed, only for a split second, before the smile was back. He looked outside around Gideon. “Why don't you come inside?”
He followed Akem through the living room, the house was comfortably furnished with deeply colored oak furniture, a small but luxurious space. They went into a back room where he had a large desk and a few leather chairs, Akem motioned for Gideon to sit in one. Before they spoke Akem pulled out a black pipe and filled it with sweet smelling tobacco.
Gideon pulled out his photo and handed it to Akem. “I'm trying to find this girl, Ilsa mentioned that you may have information regarding where she might have gone.”
Akem lit his pipe, not looking at the photograph sitting on the desk before him. A blue smoke rose from his lips in thick curls wafting to the ceiling.
“Do you know her, have you seen her?” Gideon pressed.
Akem took another drag on his pipe, the bowl lighting up the lower half of his face, his eyes looking small and beady, reflecting the orange ember as it burned. He whistled sharply past Gideon, startling him.
There was a sudd
en low growl to his left, and then his right. Coming from behind him streamed three large dogs, thick and muscular looking black and brown dogs with broad and sharp looking teeth. They were all growling fiercely at Gideon, hovering inches away from him. He began to stand, his legs suddenly cold with fear.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” said Akem. “One word from me and they'll tear your intestines out. You play a very dangerous game, Mr. Gideon Goodman.”
Gideon swallowed the rising bile in his throat. “How do you know my name?”
Akem took another long drag on his pipe, leaning back in his leather chair. “It's my business to know things. Can I give you a piece of advice? You won't get very far in your search for this girl unless you learn to get a little smarter about it. Now, who is the whore to you?”
Gideon flushed an ugly red and bared his teeth, causing the dogs to inch closer and growl louder.
Akem laughed, a low belly chuckle that was reflected in his eyes. He seemed to be genuinely amused. “Yes, yes. I can feel your hatred from here.” He licked his lips. “It tastes bitter. You're going to have to control that temper of yours if I am going to help you.” The smoke billowed and curled around Akem in such a cloud it seemed to be coming from his every pore. His grin shone through while the smoke almost obscured the rest of him. “How much is the girl worth to you? Take your time, it's a big question.”
He didn't need more than a moment. “I'll give you whatever amount you need to help me find her.”
Akem studied Gideon, seemed to look straight through him. “Money doesn't mean anything to a man like me. It's just paper and metal.”
“What would be worth it to you? My life? Take it, I'll forfeit my life in servitude.”
He cocked an eyebrow and puffed on his pipe. His eyes had taken on a quiet intensity, almost a hunger as he looked at Gideon. “That's good, that's good. Now offer me your soul, too.”
Gideon didn't quite know what to say. The dogs had stopped menacing him, simply sitting and watching him. The room was quiet enough that he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. “Are you kidding me?”
Akem shrugged. “Maybe I am. I'll help you out, but you have to learn that people like me, and there are very few people like me, will never do anything for you for free. I have a job that needs to be done. If you do it, then I'll tell you what I know about your precious little Rolanda.”
Gideon's heart skipped a beat at the name and his arm tingled for a moment. “You know her? Where is she? My god, let's go right now!”
“Not so fast, young buck," Akem said with a smile as he held up a hand. "I told you, it's my business to know things, and business is good. Now, will you do my favor?”
“Anything. What can I do?” Gideon was seated at the edge of his chair. He felt closer to finding Rolanda now than he had in months.
“It's very simple. There's a bar on the other side of town called Trinity. I want you to go there and wait for a man with red hair. He'll probably be wearing a suit and some cheap, gaudy jewelry.”
“Do you want me to tell him something, or give him something?”
Akem shook his head with the smoke billowing out of his nostrils. “I don't want him to know that you are there, I just want to know the particulars. When he comes, when he goes. Who he talks to.”
“What if I can't catch names? It's not like I know any of these people.”
Akem smiled, his teeth long and sharp. “Describe them to me, remember their faces, distinguishing characteristics, things like that. I should know who they are.”
Chapter Four
Gideon was wasting time. He felt it like grains of sand sliding through his fingers, feeling small and futile knowing that this was the only way he would advance in his search. He had gone straight to the bar Akem had asked him to be at, nursing drink after drink, trying to tip as much as possible into a potted plant he sat near. It was a simple establishment, just some tables and a jukebox, dimly lit and with a smoky haze of someone's cigarette floating a few feet over his head. The bartender had an ugly flap of scar tissue over one eye, but he held his body sidewise so you would only see it briefly. The clientele were mostly older patrons, they had the sad stink of life's little rejections written all over them. One played with a wedding band he set on the table opposite him, another tried to engage Gideon by saying how he was too old to do anything but drink.
It was late in the afternoon by the time a slender man with red hair walked in to the bar. A gold chain was around his neck and a large diamond ring glinted off his finger. Gideon felt his body wake up, a tingle of excitement electrifying the nerves down his spine. He forced himself not to stare too hard. The man was followed closely by a woman of a very particular beauty. Her beauty was all in her hips and her breasts, they were round and firm enough to make up for the rest of her. She walked like the whole room was watching her, her hips jutting to one side and then another, her blonde hair falling into her eyes. The man held on to her with one hand, as though if he were to let her go for one instant she would fall away from him. He stood tall, his chest thrust out, his eyes moving swiftly from face to face around the room.
The pair spoke in whispers but smiled and touched each other constantly. She rubbed her legs together whenever they held hands. He paid for everything they had, her hand only dipped into her purse for a compact mirror when the man went to the bathroom. When the man sat back down he wiped at his nose frequently, his eyes a little more excited than they were before. He leaned over the table and whispered something in her ear that caused her to blush and, after a moment, nod. They looked around, drained their drinks, and then walked off into the street.
...
When Akem heard the description of the woman that the red haired man was with he never even batted an eye, simply sitting and absorbing the information. Afterward he immediately told Gideon what he needed to know.
“Rolanda's original owner has already sold her. I cannot say as to her treatment as, frankly, I don't care. The transaction was the result of a poor bet on a bad hand of cards.”
They were in Akem's office again, the dogs sitting by his desk rather than growling in Gideon's lap this time. Akem was wearing a bathrobe that showed a pale and hairy chest peaking out from between the flaps. “Has she been violated?” Gideon asked. His entire body was trembling.
Akem looked him in the eye. “I told you, I don't care, so I don't know. The current owner is a trader who moved on to Silver Springs more than a week ago. I will tell you that her price has probably not been met.”
“What do you mean?”
“First rights tend to fetch quite a high price. The smart trader would not season a girl immediately unless she became a problem, most likely punishing the other girls in the stable if he had a problem with your Rolanda. I'm guessing she remains a virgin.”
Akem wrote down the pertinent information on the man that she had been sold to and gave it to Gideon. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small silver ring with a dragon inscribed in it. “You'll need a few things that I can provide for you. Clothes, money, all that. Will you accept my help?” Gideon nodded without even thinking about it. He needed all the help he could get. “Good, then wear this ring, if you get into a spot of trouble it may be useful in getting you out, it will tell people that you are in my debt.”
...
Gideon walked away from Akem's house with a surreal cocktail of emotions inside of him. He was afraid, sure, with a healthy dash of the anger that had been fueling him for months, but there was something new there. An inkling of hope was mixed in.
...
Though he left for Silver Springs immediately, he was unable to get more than a few miles before he had to park for the night. The idea of stopping grated on him, but he knew that if he had an accident out here Rol
anda would be doomed, there was no one else alive to go after her. The valley around him had mountains that rose up like giants all around him, and he felt very small as he pitched his tent under a grey and leafless tree.
Sleep didn't come to him that night, for the first time in months he allowed himself the slimmest daydream of finding Rolanda whole. It kept his eyes open and for once, he didn't mind.
When the sun began to rise Gideon stood. He was exhausted but ready to ride, throwing aside the flaps of the tent and stepping outside. When he did his blood froze like ice in his veins and a shiver ran through him.
In the night, without him ever hearing, someone had strung up two dead bodies outside his tent. Their faces were bloated and purple, the color of a rotting strawberry, but Gideon knew who they were. One had red hair, and one had blonde, and someone had tied their hands together so their corpses looked like young lovers, even in death.
Gideon packed quietly and quickly, trying to understand why Akem would place them there. Was it a show of strength? A warning? He didn't know, but he did know that it would be good to get to Silver Springs as quickly as possible.
...
The bubble over Silver Springs was expansively large, coming into view suddenly as Gideon peaked over a mountain pass. Even before parking his bike and exchanging his money Gideon had to stop and marvel at the tremendous nature of the bubble. It was exponentially larger in every sense than all the others that he had been to. The glass dwarfed him, and as he entered he felt a sense of solitude and isolation, a curious sort of freedom, and he knew that there was no way he could be noticed in a place like this.
The Woman They Kept Page 4