The Woman They Kept

by Krause, Andrew

  Daniel was standing at the doorway, listening, when it burst inward, knocking him back into the room.

  A woman strode in, clad in black leather motorcycle armor from her boots to her neck. She moved with a cat-like grace, powerful yet fluid. Her face was beautiful but sharp, set into a scowl that hardened every part of her. In her arms she cradled a large automatic rifle with a whiff of smoke trailing from the barrel.

  “Hello Daniel,” she said, leaping over the dead girl's body just as he was picking himself up. She drove her boot into his chest hard, keeping him on the ground. “Do you remember me?” She placed her boot on the man's groin, grinding down hard with her heel.

  Daniel gasped in pain. “No! Why the fuck should I remember you?”

  The woman slung the rifle onto her back and pulled out a knife, pointing the blade to a jagged scar across her eye. “You gave me this, you and that little pig sticker you keep under the couch for when the girls get out of hand. Do you remember me now?”

  Daniel shook his head again. “Did I own you? There's been so many...”

  The woman's mouth twisted in a snarl. “Not me. Her name was Jenny, and I tried to buy her off you. You left me with this,” she pointed to her eye again, “and then sold her to someone else. I swore I'd come back for you, do you remember me now?”

  Again, Daniel shook his head, though clearly it was the wrong answer. The woman grabbed him by the hair and cut a long line across his face to match her own. “You fucking little pig, you grunt and squeal in your own filthy little pleasures and imagine yourself king of this shit heap. Well there aren't any kings when it's just you and me.” She slashed the man across the throat and his blood came spurting out of him in waves. Kneeling on his chest, she brought his face close, spitting in his eye as he died.

  The house was silent after that, the woman standing as still as a statue, breathing slowly, her eyes half closed. The knife that had killed Daniel still sat in her hand, blood dripping from the end of it, providing the only audible sound for a few moments. All the guests from the party had left.

  Finally the woman turned to Gideon. “Were you buying or selling?” she asked, her voice sharp as the blade in her hand.

  Gideon was in the corner, down on his knees, all the blood drained from his face. His legs shook and his heart pounded. “It wasn't like that, I swear.”

  She came and kneeled over him, breathing hot in his face. Her short black hair fell across her brow as she looked down on him. “This way of making money, this buying and selling of people, it's a cancer.” She stroked the side of Gideon's face with the knife, leaving Daniel's blood in streaks. “And with cancer, the first thing you have to do is cut it off, then the healing can begin.”

  “I'm trying to find the woman I love!” he shouted. Sweat was beginning to pour in his eyes. “Please, I'm just trying to find the woman I love.”

  Her eyebrow raised. “Bullshit, you're trying to save your skin. I've heard it before.”

  “We were engaged to be married. She got taken one night while I was there, a whole group of them came, they killed her parents and buried me alive, please, you have to believe me.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Rolanda,” Gideon said. Slowly, he reached for the photograph and handed it to her. She unfolded it and it showed both Rolanda and Gideon, arm in arm, smiling like they knew all the secrets of the world.

  “This could be any woman. Tell me a story about her,” she said, though the conviction in her voice was wavering.

  Gideon thought for a moment. “The day I proposed to her we went beyond the glass bubble for a ride. It was one of those rare clear days and I knew a small secret spot that wasn't stuffed with garbage or leaking poisons into the air. It was up a rocky hill, there was an outlook there where you could see for miles around. All of Cormac looked like a little drop of water on a leaf, and in the distance we could even see other bubbles. It was breathtaking. We had a picnic lunch and some champagne, I didn't have much money for a ring but I had made one out of an old log I found, polishing it to the size of her finger. I got down on one knee and she said yes before I could even get a word out.”

  “A storm started gathering suddenly. It was a fierce one, too, and growing fast in the distance. We didn't have much time to get back to the bubble.”

  “We got on my bike and before we put our helmets on she kissed me and it was like time stopped. In that moment there was no thunder and no lightning, just the soft comforting feel and taste of her lips on mine. Then she smiled and we were off.”

  “I had five miles to cover before we would be safe and the storm was coming quick. I had to dodge all the trash and scattered metal on the way back, and do it at three times the speed I had going out there. The storm was coming fast, but all I could feel was her arm around my waist. Nothing in the world can compare to that complete trust she gave to me that day.”

  The woman stood for a moment above Gideon, her features shadowed by the light behind her. Her profile looked hard, cut from steel, sharp as the knife she held. Finally, she fell into a chair and pulled out a cigarette, blowing her smoke up towards the light. “It's a good story. So you're here trying to get her back?”

  Gideon nodded and sat up. His heart was still beating mercilessly against his ribcage, every thump echoing in his ears. “And you? Just settling a vendetta?”

  “You caught me in the middle of my story. That man,” she pointed to the corpse of Daniel, “is an ellipses, a 'to be continued.'” She took another drag of her cigarette.

  “So what now? Are you still looking for your Jenny?” Gideon asked.

  Brushing her short dark hair out of her eyes she frowned. “No, not any more,” she said quietly. “What about you? Did you find out what you needed to from him before I eviscerated Daniel?” She offered a cigarette over to Gideon and he reached for it.

  “A guy named Malakir bought her a few weeks ago. He works in...”

  “Fouchbough,” she interrupted. “Yeah, I know him. He's got riders with him, they form the backbone of his little gang.” She stood and belted her knife back onto her waist. "You need help? I can always cut a little larger swath through these animals."

  By the hard set look on her face Gideon knew it was futile to say no, so he just stuck out his hand. “Gideon,” he introduced himself.

  “My name's Leanin,” she said, her handshake painfully strong.

  Chapter Five

  Leanin met Gideon at the entrance to the bubble. When he rode up she was leaning against an old motorcycle, tossing her helmet back and forth. Her bike fit her personality, sleek, sharp, and tough. It was a smaller bike that rode high with studded and reinforced tires for navigating off road. It purred loudly as he strapped on his gear, she seemed to love blipping the throttle and hearing her engine bark in response.

  When Gideon was ready Leanin took off, leading quickly and swerving between the piles of debris with ease. Fouchbough was far off down the mountains, the air got warmer as they went along their path. A few clouds were in the sky, but nothing imminently threatening. Leanin pressed a hard pace, the muscles in Gideon's forearms ached and by the time they stopped his right arm was cramping and spasming painfully. He massaged it gently as Leanin threw a tent.

  They were fully down the mountain in a grove of hard, stubby little trees that had no leaves on them. They pitched the tent off the track, where it could not be seen easily. A creek babbled quietly in the background, running alongside their campsite.

  “I wouldn't drink that,” Leanin said as she was setting up a fire. “It's toxic enough to be flammable. Drink what you brought.”

  The water looked fine to Gideon, but he sipped from his canteen anyway. “Toxic? Probably, everything out here is. But flammable? I can't believe that. It's water.”


  Leanin knelt down beside the creek. “Look at it at an angle. You see that shine on top? It looks pretty, doesn't it? All purple and green as it swirls around.” She filled a cup with the water, pouring it on the logs she had set up in a square formation. When she struck a match and threw it on the logs a thick whoompf came in response as the water caught fire.

  Gideon raised his eyebrows. “Okay,” he said.

  They sat on opposite sides of the fire eating hard strips of beef that Gideon had brought. The lower half of Leanin's face glowed, her lips set in a frown.

  “You look mad,” Gideon said.

  Leanin scowled at him. “Everyone says that. I'm not mad, this is just how I look. Deal with it.”

  “Why did you want to help me?” Gideon asked. “Don't get me wrong, I need all the help I can get. I'm just curious is all.”

  Leanin's teeth looked sharp as she gnawed into a large chunk of dried beef. The fire reflected in her eyes when she answered him. “I knew a girl once who would be happy I was helping you.”

  Gideon let the remark be and stared into the fire. “You know, I've heard if we stay outside of the bubbles for long enough the air will give us cancer.”

  Leanin laughed, and for a moment her face lost all the sharpness in it and was surprisingly beautiful. “I believe it. We're all dead somehow, so I don't think it really matters. That's okay though, not everyone gets a good life.” At that last remark her face fell and the sharpness returned.

  “Who was it that Daniel owned? Who was Jenny to you?” Gideon asked suddenly.

  Leanin's face twisted into a scowl. “That's not a question I'm willing to answer. Daniel was a pig though. They're all pigs.” She tore off another large hunk of beef and chewed for a while before continuing. “I stormed a brothel once, a while back, and killed the riders that ran it. There were only about five or six riders to about thirty girls. If the women had all just stood up and said no they could have easily overpowered the riders, but they were all shit scared. As I was telling them they were free I heard a grunting coming from one of the locked bedrooms. I kicked in the door and saw one of the worst things I've ever seen. You ever been in a zoo?” she asked suddenly.

  Gideon had to think. “Yeah, there was a small one in Cormac when I was a kid. Only a few animals, but yeah.”

  “Do you know what an orangutan is?” Leanin asked. Gideon nodded. “Well, when I kicked in the door they had this orangutan that had one arm chained to the bed. It was completely shaved, it looked like the ugliest woman you've ever seen. I was wondering why in the world they would have an orangutan when it flipped over and prostrated itself on the bed, gyrating and grinding towards me. They had trained it to fuck.”

  "That's terrible," Gideon said.

  "That's humanity," Leanin responded.

  They were quiet for a long time after that, staring into the crackling fire. Gideon stood, a sudden urgency to get traveling again gripped him, though he knew it would be hours before that was possible. “I have to go to bed," he said, "I want to get to Fouchbough as soon as possible.” And with that he bade her goodnight and crawled into the tent, hoping sleep would come and help him pass the time.

  ...

  Gideon woke later in the night, hearing a rustling sound outside his tent. He rolled onto his back and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It was very quiet, just a small rustling sound.

  He walked outside, squinting in the dark. A crescent moon barely illuminated the camp, their fire had burned down to embers. The wind shifted direction and the heavy smell of sweat filled his nose just as something large moved from behind him.

  The world flipped on its side as he was thrown bodily to the ground, a great weight landing on his chest, and the air squeezing out of his lungs in one great gasp. The smell of sweat surrounded him, a man was grasping in the dark at his neck. Someone was kneeling on him, crushing his ribs and squeezing the life from him. Gideon tried to turn, but the man was too heavy. He drove his knee as hard as he could upward, feeling something give and hearing a grunt of pain. Finally Gideon was able to roll out from underneath the man.

  A brilliantly blinding light cut a swath across the camp, coming from Leanin's motorcycle. Gideon raised a hand to block the sudden illumination, there were several shadows moving in the encampment with him. From out of the darkness Leanin sprang, flying through the air and kicking the nearest shadow into the river. She moved like lightning, branching in multiple directions as she attacked the two other shadows. For the moment Gideon stood helpless and confused, wondering whether this was just a dream. One of the shadows stumbled and fell back into the river with his compatriot, the third struggled to remove some kind of goggles he was wearing.

  Gideon gathered his wits and rushed forward to help, but before he could get there Leanin reached her bare hand into the fire and grabbed a hot ember. It flared up with the sudden movement and she hurled it into the river. The water lit up in thick greasy flames, engulfing the two who stood waist high in it. They flailed wildly as the fire consumed them, the thick smell of fat sizzling wafted over Gideon in a nauseating fume. The third man had finally gotten his goggles off and was staring dumbly at his friends as they burned alive. He turned slowly after a moment and raised his arms.

  “Hey man, I give up,” he said in a voice long since sacrificed to alcohol and cigarettes. He eyed Leanin warily, his back to the still burning men in the water. The fire was spreading in a line following the river, lighting up the entire forest.

  Leanin pointed her hand, still smoking from where she had grabbed the ember, murderously at the man. “Who sent you and why?” she asked.

  Gideon could now see the man fully in the light of the fire. He wore the leather armor of a rider, a vest that he was undoing and great leather boots that reached up to his knees. Pulling open his vest he revealed a large tattoo of the grim reaper and the number thirteen on his forearms.

  With a sigh, only barely audible to Gideon, Leanin ran at the man and delivered a mighty kick to his chest, sending him flying bodily back into the fiery river behind him. He shrieked in pain, a high pitched wail that echoed in Gideon's ears. Mercifully, the sounds of the three men dying only lasted for a few moments longer.

  “Do you think that they knew what we're after?” Gideon asked.

  “Your girl? I doubt it. Even if they did, the thirteen has hundreds of girls in their stables. More than likely these guys were just on the same road as us and decided to have some fun. We should find a new area to camp, I'm not terribly desperate to find out if there are more of them.”

  “Let me look at your hand before we go,” Gideon said and he caught her by the wrist. She tried to pull away but he held her firmly.

  “It's nothing, don't worry about it,” Leanin protested as he looked at her palm. Big pustules were forming in a ring on her hand, the few that were popped already weeping pus and blood. Gideon took a cloth from his bag and a little bottle of iodine and began to clean it. She hissed as the cloth touched her skin.

  Her hands were rough and calloused but Gideon cleaned them gently, delicately touching the burned areas. Their eyes met, her hand in his, and he saw her features soften. Her eyes were a brilliant green, flecked with spots of gold, and her pupils dilated as he dabbed at her wound. After a moment he quickly turned away and grabbed a roll of gauze.

  “What was Rolanda like?” Leanin asked.

  Gideon blushed, unable to meet her gaze. “She is kind, Cormac is a very poor bubble, kids beg in the streets, and she never had any money to give them but she would take them food when she could. The kids loved her.”

  “Was she beautiful?” Leanin asked.

  As he finished taping gauze around the wound he held her hand for a few moments. Her face was dark and smooth, like deeply polished wood, the hard angles about her moment
arily softened.

  “She is very beautiful,” Gideon said and he gingerly let go of her hand. He turned his back on her, taking down the tent. They weren't safe to stay there any longer.

  ...

  “Do you know anything about Fouchbough?” Leanin asked the next day. They had been riding since dawn and finally stopped to take a lunch. The bubble of Fouchbough was only a little way off in the distance, nestled in a brown little valley.

  Gideon shook his head and she handed him a necklace with a large wooden 'A' on it. “What's this?” Gideon asked.

  “The 'A' stands for Abrahamic. It's a theocracy in Fouchbough, a pretty strict one too. We'll have to blend in. Try not to talk too much.”

  Gideon placed the necklace over his head. “You'd think there wouldn't be a market for people if this place was that religious.”

  Looking at Gideon with a quiet intensity Leanin sighed deeply. “You'd be surprised how hand in hand they actually go,” she said.

  ...

  Gideon's first impression of Fouchbough was that it was a somber and dark place. The people dressed in black and grey, the only ornaments they wore were the wooden 'A's around their necks. They stooped and dragged their feet as they walked, their backs curved, hard lines etched in their faces. A woman on the corner was covered in sores and scratching herself fiercely. There seemed to be only two age groups, young children and people worn and wrinkled. Gideon smiled at a passerby but did not receive a smile in return, and as he looked around he saw that there was no joy on anyone's face in the street. Some of the women swathed themselves entirely in a black cloth, keeping their eyes to the ground.