“Leanin, why are you helping me?” Gideon said to her back.
She willed the vision of that lively town back, but the buildings never changed from the broken down heaps they were. “There's nothing else for me. Do you know what I've been doing since Jenny killed herself? Going around to everyone who had anything to do with her trafficking and killing them. I've got nothing else to do but bloody my hands. There's no substance to a life like that.”
The rain came then, little drops at first sizzling on their necks, and they ran back to the library and ducked into the tent. Little red blisters raised on their skin where the rain had hit them.
“Take off your shirt,” Gideon said. After a moment's hesitation Leanin turned away and pulled her shirt off, leaving her bra on. “I have some salve that should help these.”
He was very gentle with her, applying the salve with his fingertips in little circles around the rising blisters. She gasped when he touched her, the salve bitterly cold. Goosebumps raised and caused her to shiver as he finished with the last of the sores.
“Will you do me?” he asked, holding out a small metal tin of salve. She nodded and rubbed the ointment into his skin, her hands sliding along his back and shoulders, feeling the hard muscles underneath. The rain bounced harmlessly off of the treated tent fabric. “Do you think we'll be able to ride tomorrow?” Gideon asked.
They lay down in the tent while the light pitter patter of rain fell outside. “The storm will probably clear up tonight, I would think,” Leanin said. "Though if it pools were fucked."
There was not much else for the two of them to do, so they fell asleep on opposite sides of the tent. When they woke they discovered that in the night they had cradled against each other, holding one another. They got dressed without saying a word.
Chapter Eight
Algernia was a coastal city, pushed as far to the edge of land as possible without falling into the ocean. Its buildings were weather-stripped white before the bubble was built over it, afterwords all the architects had simply followed form, giving the whole bubble a milky, cloud-like appearance. Beyond Algernia's bubble the ocean raged green and black, foaming where it crashed against the coastline. They parked their motorcycles and changed their money in silence before walking into the city.
“Doesn't it seem like we've done this before?” Gideon said suddenly. They were in a residential area, the houses small one and two bedroom buildings with open windows. “We find the red light district, find our guy, he's already sold her to someone else, so we move on to the next stop on the track.”
Leanin put a hand on Gideon's shoulder and he shrugged her off. “When I tracked Jenny it was like that. It got to the point where I wondered if I should just give up.”
“I'm not there, Leanin. Don't suggest it.” He walked away from her down the street.
She caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder. “I didn't mean to offend, Gideon, I was just trying to relate.”
Gideon wiped his face with the palm of his hand and he clenched his jaw. “I don't need to relate to you," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Rolanda isn't Jenny, okay? They're not the same person, stop trying to make them be.” Her eyes closed quickly and Gideon sighed, his anger had been quick to rise and quick to fade. “I'm sorry.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger along the ridge of his nose. “I shouldn't get mad at you.” Across the street a child ran giggling away from them, kicking a ball far out in front of him and chasing after it. “Sometimes I think that I really did die in that grave and that all of this is some sort of punishment for me.”
“What grave?” Leanin asked.
Gideon sighed. His face was drawn taught, the corners of his eyes and mouth pursed together. “When they first grabbed Rolanda I was there. We were right outside her parents house, sneaking off to be together.” Gideon's eyes were far away. "I was helping her out of the window and then they were right behind us, dressed in black. When they said that they were taking her I thought they were kidding, but one of them reached out and snatched her. I tried to fight them but they overpowered me, taking her and beating me unconscious. I woke up wrapped in a sheet and buried six feet underground. I had to claw my way back to the surface. I still dream of it some nights.”
“What about her parents?”
“When I got out of the grave I went back to the house. It was burned to the ground. The peace officers said that they found two skeletons in the wreckage, most likely it was her mother and father.” Tears sprang to his eyes. He had tried not to think of that night in anything but a clinical, this-is-what-happened way.
Leanin placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't shrug it off this time. "We'll get her back, Gideon."
...
The red light district was on the far edge of the city close to the seashore. It was right on the inside of the edge of the glass, the bubble ended where the ocean began. Greasy green waves lapped up against the glass, leaving a scummy film. The ocean expanded out from there, a great blue-green desert. Massive islands of discolored trash floated out on the horizon. “I've never seen the ocean before,” Gideon said. “It's beautiful.”
The red light district was an outdoor market, the women leaning up against the sides of buildings as a few men strutted with their hands in their pockets, feeling here and there as though testing the ripeness of a fruit. People haggled prices openly. Many of the women had deep wrinkles and sores that they covered with heavy amounts of makeup. Some were missing teeth. All had a faraway and disinterested look, bored almost.
Gideon approached a woman wearing a large trench coat that was propped open, she was naked underneath it, one arm tucked behind her. Her breasts sagged and her stomach bulged out in a pouch of wrinkled skin, her pubic hair untrimmed, her legs translucent pale, showing the blue purple network of veins running through them. “It's twenty and I'll give you all I got,” she said to him. "I work hard."
“What's your name?” Gideon asked.
“Twenty,” she repeated and held out her hand. Gideon put a bill in it and she slipped it in her coat.
“Well, Twenty, I need to find a man,” Gideon said.
“There should be some walking around here. Felipe's a friend, he'll treat you right.” She coughed into her sleeve, a wet and rasping sound that went on too long. When the spasm was over she wiped red from her lips.
“I don't mean like that. Do you know Shelton Wainswick? I need to talk to one of his girls.”
She sniffed and wiped at her nose. “He's got a place down on Broadway, Behind the Veil, but I don't think they keep the girls there.” One of her scabs peeled up and she picked at it, flicking bits of skin away from her. A little trickle of blood came from the now open sore. Gideon fought down his revulsion.
“What do you mean?” Leanin asked.
She brought her other hand out from behind her jacket, and they saw why she kept it hidden. Her hand had flesh that was rotted off it, exposing bone and brown dying muscle underneath, she clutched at a little metal pipe and poured a brown powder into it. It didn't seem like the hand would be able to let go of the pipe, none of the muscles looked like they moved. “It's a stroke joint. They got a shooting gallery there too, but they're in two separate rooms.”
“So they don't prostitute there?” Gideon asked, tearing his eyes from the necrotic arm before him.
Twenty lit the pipe and blew a sweet smelling smoke up into the air before smiling at him. “You're kind of stupid, aren't you? That's sweet, in a way.” Her dead hand never shifted position on the pipe, she moved her mouth to it, not the other way around. “It's a live show, the girls get fucked on camera and it's projected into the place on Broadway. The peeps get to watch and yank themselves off.” She laughed a little. “I used to do that. It's a hell of a lot better gig than being out here, that's for s
ure.” She lit the pipe again.
“What is that you're taking?” Leanin asked.
Twenty's eyelids were beginning to drift down and some of the lines on her face relaxed. “Krok. It's easy to make, I can show you if you want some. You just need some cold pills and cleaners.” Giggling like a schoolgirl she pulled the jacket on her pipe hand up past the elbow. The bone was completely exposed, dirty white, the muscles dry and brown where they were falling away from it. “It makes you feel great, but there are a few side effects. I have to hide it if I want any clients. You can touch it if you want, it doesn't hurt.”
Twenty slid down the wall, a little smile on her face, her eyelids almost completely closed.
“We can't leave her here like this,” Gideon said.
“I'll be fine, I'm flying now,” Twenty said.
“You're not worried about being mugged?” Leanin asked.
“What do I have for them to take?” She laughed and coughed again, more red coming up wet on her lips. "They've got it all already."
There was nothing else to do, so they left her there, lightly sleeping, after Gideon tucked a few more credits into her jacket.
Behind the Veil was one of the very few non-white buildings in Algernia. It was a light grey, hang dog, lump of a building with no windows. There were two doors with a sign above each. On one, a woman winking in bold neon lit up the front, on the other a neon red cross shone like a gravestone. Outside the door groups of men stood around smoking cigarettes under the unblinking eye of a security camera. A man in a suit stood between the doors, though he barely looked at them as they passed by into the door under the woman.
There was a very particular smell that greeted them when they entered, a combination of sweat and beer and semen. Little tables littered the floor and a single man sat at each one, only one couple shared a table. Waitresses walked around and served drinks, though they stood with quite some distance from the patrons. On each little table a small computer screen glowed blue.
On one side of the room a fifty foot tall projector screen displayed a red headed woman naked on all fours as a middle aged man thrust himself into her from behind. He was sweating profusely, the liquid dripping through his salt and pepper goatee down onto the woman's back. The camera zoomed in on her face and she turned away, only to have the old man grab her head and force her back toward the camera. She tried to smile.
Gideon and Leanin took a table together and ordered a few drinks. The table next to them had an elderly man with a white head of hair grabbing furtively at his crotch.
“I think Twenty was right,” Leanin said. “They don't keep any of the women here. We'll have to talk to a waitress, see if any of them know where they stay.”
The man on the projector screen stopped as he was handed a note from off camera. “Alright gentlemen,” he said, ducking down into the frame, “it looks like the votes are in and you want to see me finish on this pretty little peach's face. We aim to please at the Veil.”
The man grabbed her red hair and pulled her up and around on the bed, standing over her, forcing her face up and her mouth open. Gideon turned away until the screen faded to black.
Leanin stood. “I'm going to go see if I can't find a waitress to talk to, I don't really want to watch this."
Gideon studied the crowd. It seemed as though there were only patrons and waitresses here, no one dressed in the finery that would convey an owner.
“Hello,” a voice called out. His heart leaped in his chest and he snapped his head around, he recognized the sweet and melodious tremor of that voice. Standing, he looked around the place. She was here. “My name is Venus," the voice continued, "and I am here to fulfill all your desires.”
Gideon's mouth dropped in horror as he realized where the voice was coming from. Rolanda was projected on the screen wearing a thin red pair of panties and a bra that lifted her breasts and pressed them together. Her hair was tinted purple at the tips, her face made up heavily in a way she never would have back in Cormac, her eyelashes tinged a light green and her lips ruby red. Still, it was her. Gideon placed a hand on the table to keep from falling over.
"Sit down, asshole, I can't see the screen," one of the patrons behind him said. Gideon allowed himself to fall back in his chair.
A man entered the screen from the left, completely naked. He had chest hair that was grey and a gut that sagged down and almost covered his small erection. Much of the hair on his head was gone, what little he had was pulled back into a ponytail and his cheeks sagged and were covered with a few days growth of scraggly beard.
“Rolanda, run,” Gideon whispered quietly. He couldn't move, his legs were numb and his arms felt heavy. His breath began coming in quick pants, he felt like he was being buried again. Everything about him was cold.
The old man kissed Rolanda on the neck and shoulders, his sausage finger hands trailing over her delicate body. Her eyes were blank and far away as he kissed her on the mouth. Kneading and kissing her breasts he slipped her panties down to her ankles. After a moment he turned and said to the camera, “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, it's time to vote on what you'd like to see me do to this young starlet.”
The screen on the center of the table lit up with a list of sexual positions. Bile rose in the back of Gideon's throat, he couldn't bring himself to read the choices.
“And the votes are in and it looks like Venus here is going to get a face fucking!” He grabbed at the top of her head and pushed her down onto her knees.
As the wet sound of gagging began to echo through the place Gideon turned away. His stomach soured, he knew that as long as he lived he would never get that sound out of his mind. This was torture, what had he done to deserve this? His fists clenched tightly as the floor swooned under him, he would kill whoever was responsible for this.
An arm tugged at Gideon. “That's her, isn't it?” Leanin said, pulling him up out of the seat. “You look like hell, let's get out of here. I've got the address.”
Gideon couldn't stop himself, he looked one last time on their way to the exit and immediately wished he hadn't. The old man was giving the camera a thumbs up and a smile while Rolanda's mascara ran down her cheeks.
As they exited the bar Gideon lost control of his stomach and began to vomit thick chunks of dried beef. Leanin rubbed his back as he heaved again and again. “They ruined her,” he gasped.
Leanin patted him on the back. “Don't say that. She's still your Rolanda, people don't get ruined. Rugs get ruined. People just need help to deal with the stuff that's happened to them.”
Gideon stood, his legs were shaking. “I won't be able to look at her without seeing that.”
“Let's worry about mending your relationship after we get her out of there. The bartender told me where the girls are kept, it's not too far from here. The important thing is to get her out of there alive.”
They hurried down side streets and up alleys, Gideon barely noticed them passing, he just knew he had to keep moving. Finally Leanin stopped them outside of a wrought iron fence. “This should be it,” Leanin said, breathing heavily. The house spiked out of the ground on a hill above them, caged on all sides by the rusting fence. The corners of the house rose up into the air in great spires, the windows on the ground floor were all boarded up, the entire thing seemed less like a house and more like a lair.
“It looks so empty,” Gideon said.
“Empty? Yes, it does, doesn't it?” A voice came from behind them both. “And desolate. But what else did you expect?”
“Who are you?” Leanin asked, pulling a knife out from behind her waist. She pressed it up against the figure's chest.
The figure was heavily robed in a black hood and cowl, hunched over in the shadows. He reached a skeletal hand up and lowered his hood. “I go by a grea
t many names. I believe you know me as Akem.” The angled and smooth face smiled at Gideon.
“Akem!” Gideon said. “What are you doing here?”
The smile never faltered, in the shadows it gave his face a hollow and skull-like appearance. “I like to look after a good investment,” he said, placing a hand lightly on Gideon's shoulder. He pulled the hood back up over his head, leaving the sharp toothed smile exposed and the beady black eyes glinting from the shadows. “You should tell your friend to lower her knife.”
Leanin was standing rigidly still, the blade naked in her hand. “Is he a friend?” she asked.
Akem frowned and tilted his head toward Gideon. “I don't know. Am I a friend to you?”
Gideon stepped forward and pushed aside Leanin's knife. “He's one of the few who has helped me thus far. You can trust him.”
Leanin lowered the knife, but did not sheath it.
“How goes your quest thus far?” Akem asked, the joy in his eyes mirroring the width of his smile.
The house loomed above them all and a light turned on in a second story window. “Rolanda is here," Gideon said. "We're just trying to figure out a way to get inside and break her out.”
Akem was quiet for a moment. Looking up at the house his eyes danced like he was looking into a living flame. “Are you sure you want to go in there?”
“We need to,” Gideon said, his voice catching before he repeated it more forcefully. “I need to.”
Akem smiled and turned to Leanin. She held her body at an angle toward him, one leg forward, her knife pointed to the ground but gripped tightly. “And you, young lady? What is your stake here?”
Leanin swallowed hard, suddenly reluctant to say anything at all into those small and hard cut eyes. She shook away the fear that had settled along her spine. “I am helping a friend, and if he needs to go in then I will follow.”
The Woman They Kept Page 10