“Then let's just walk inside. I can take you, I know the owner of the place. Leave your guns here, if they see you with them they'll know you are a threat.” Akem took them both by the hands with surprising strength and pulled them forward through the gate and up the walkway to the house.
Gideon's jaw dropped as he hid his weapon down at the base of the gate. “You do? Can you help us get her free?”
Akem turned and held his hand softly. They were smooth hands, pampered and lotioned to a point where the lines across the palm were imperceptible, and they burned with a strange heat. “That I can. I am sure that I can get you a good deal, too.”
A rush of euphoria gripped Gideon; the weight of the miles they had traveled, the horrible things he had seen, the pain he had endured, it all evaporated in this single, angelic moment of relief. He finally was getting close to Rolanda. His breath quickened and his heart raced. “Akem, I mean it. If you can help me get Rolanda back, I don't care what it takes, I'll owe you whatever you want. Don't forget that.”
Akem laughed, a low and soft sound, like silk across stone. “Oh, don't worry. What's that old saying? 'The devil is nothing if not a good bookkeeper.' Follow me.”
He pushed open the wrought iron gate and pulled them up the front steps, his feet moving nimbly across the rocky path. At the front door he didn't knock, he just pulled the heavy oak doors open and stood aside for the two of them to enter.
The house was comfortably furnished with overstuffed couches and chairs, dirty dishes left on tables and half drunk glasses of wine scattered about on coasters, but no one was there. They passed through a hallway with painted portraits on one side and a dining room with places set but no food out, eventually turning a corner and walking up a creaking staircase. Gideon thought he could hear a low moan behind one of the doors they passed, but Akem pulled him by the arm forward. At the end of the second floor hallway they stopped at a door and Akem stood beside it, folding his hands into his sleeves.
“I think you'll find what you're looking for through here.”
Gideon jumped forward but found himself pulled back and away by Leanin. “This doesn't seem right,” she hissed into his ear, her eyes wide with concern, “It's been too easy getting in here, and where is everyone? I don't know that I trust this friend of yours.”
Gideon pushed her away. “I trust Akem. He's helped me before, he's the reason we got this far. Because of him I've never been closer to finishing this.”
He threw open the wooden door. The room was sparse inside, just an unmade mattress and a few flood lights in the corners illuminating it, a camera to one side with a little computer screen that displayed the suggestions the patrons chose down at the bar. Rolanda lay on the mattress like some tossed away used tissue, her body pale and naked, her ribs showing through her skin and running streaks of mascara under her eyes. Little wet spots dotted the mattress beside her.
“Rolanda,” Gideon whispered. For a moment he wondered whether she were dead, her eyes were very flat and very far away, but then she stirred.
“Gideon?” she asked, sitting up. Her hair was sticking together in clumps, but she sprang up and ran into his arms when she saw him. Her embrace was skeletal and hard as she gripped at him fiercely before stepping back and glancing at Akem. “What are you doing with Shelton?”
There was a sound of doors clicking open and boots rushing into the hall. Soldiers wearing black masks and carrying long truncheons marched inside, surrounding them. At the forefront Akem stood smiling. “I did tell you I was a man known by many names.”
Chapter Nine
Rolanda moved behind Gideon, clutching at him, as he stood wide eyed trying to get a handle on the situation. Leanin was pushed over to them by one of the soldiers, she stuck her chin out defiantly at them when she regained her balance. “I told you I didn't trust him.”
“Gideon, by the look on your face I have to assume that you are holding a sizable amount of hatred toward me," Akem said, spreading his arms wide. "I have to tell you, it's mostly unwarranted. I have helped you along this little quest of yours the entire way." He took a step towards them. The soldiers around him followed suit. "Moreover," he continued, "I'm willing to give you exactly what you want. Rolanda can go home with you right now, and all I want from you is a slight return for all the favors I have given you.”
Gideon was very still, his eyes level as Rolanda shook behind him. Her fingernails bit into his arms painfully, but he barely registered the feeling. The soldiers were still and hard as statues, he knew that he had no chance of fighting his way out of here, especially without his pistol. “What is it you want?”
Akem held up a bony finger. “I have to have an even balance sheet. You can take Rolanda here, who has made me a bit of money and been a nice incentive for you to wreak a little havoc on my competitors, as long as you leave the other one here for me.” Akem stepped toward Leanin and ran a finger down her face. “I once had a girl come through my employ that looked remarkably like you. She was a fighter, if I remember correctly. It took quite a lot to break her.”
Leanin paled and swayed visibly, her eyes darting to the sides. She swallowed hard and balled her hands up into fists. Gideon stepped away from her, shielding Rolanda with his body.
He looked between the two women. Rolanda was rocking back and forth, very pale, her skin hanging off her bones. Leanin looked hard, her muscles tensed and the look of a caged animal in her eyes.
“I accept,” he said. The words hung in the stillness of the air as Akem smiled. Leanin hunched over, her body tense, her breathing going faster and faster. Gideon took off his jacket and put it around Rolanda. Akem motioned to his men and they stepped aside as the two of them walked out.
They left Leanin alone in that room, black masked soldiers all around her. She was as tight as steel, but the soldiers didn't move for her yet.
“How does it feel?” Akem asked, standing back from her. “It looks like Gideon didn't really care for you except in how it furthered his own desires. Your eyes look so sad and so scared, it's quite marvelous. There's a slight look of confusion in your eye. You didn't expect him to give you up that easily, did you?” He smiled. “Wonderful. Just wonderful.”
At a signal from Akem, the soldiers around Leanin closed swiftly, grabbing her from all sides. As they held her he stepped close, so close she could smell the rotten sulfur stench of his breath. He patted her breasts and her backside as though she were nothing more than a cow he was purchasing. “It is always the worst for those who have an inner strength, and I see in you quite a strength. We shall have to work quite hard to break you. I hope my men are up to the task.”
The soldiers cracked their knuckles and grabbed at their crotches. Akem walked to one who was standing near the back. “Cyrus, I trust you'll see that she breaks, and breaks hard.”
Akem took one last look at her before he closed the door on the room, leaving them alone.
The man called Cyrus stepped forward and grabbed her small breast hard. Her own reflection glinted back at her in the mirrored gaze of the soldier's mask. Even to herself she looked small, and frightened. There were five of them and one of her, she didn't exactly like those odds. Nothing in the room looked like it could be used as a weapon.
Cyrus pulled the zipper on her shirt down, exposing the pale flesh underneath. He held the truncheon up to her face. At the end of the long metal rod there was a half circle of metal with two anodized points. Cyrus clicked a button and a mean looking electric arc crackled from point to point. Standing straight, she tried to appear nonthreatening. He set the truncheon down and placed his hands on her bare skin.
It was all the opening she needed. She threw herself down toward the hard metal baton and wrapped her fingers around it, swinging it wide in an arc, catching one of them in the
knee with the little flash of electricity. The others descended on her quickly, raining down blows with their fists and feet.
She brought her arms up over her head, trying to protect her face while holding on to her own truncheon, pulling her knees up to cover her insides as they pummeled her mercilessly. If there were only one or two of them she would have stood a chance, as it were, with five of them barreling down on her, things looked grim.
The sound of gunshots came from the hallway, attracting their attention. The soldiers turned toward the sound and Leanin reacted, swinging the flat side of the truncheon down onto the neck of the closest one. An electric arc lit up and all her muscles contracted at once in a blinding, brilliant pain. Within a moment gunshots rang out again and the pain ended.
Gideon was alone, standing at the doorway with both his and Leanin's revolvers in his hands, slinging hot lead with a snarl on his face. Leanin struck out with her club and soon the rest of the soldiers fell. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her onto her feet and they ran from the place as quickly as they could.
Hidden in an alley a few blocks away Rolanda sat shivering under a moldy blanket covered in stains. When they turned the corner and stopped running, Gideon grabbed hold of Leanin and pulled her into a hug.
“I came back as soon as Rolanda was safe.”
Leanin pushed him away from her. “You traded my life for hers.” She was still holding the electric truncheon in her fist, the anodized tips quivering.
Gideon spread his arms wide. “Can't you see that was the only way? I had to get her out first. She wasn't in any position to fight like you.”
Leanin was breathing heavily, her lips curled into a snarl. An electric arc jumped between the points on the truncheon and she stabbed it into Gideon's chest, pushing it deep into his flesh. His body jumped and danced, his arms flailing in spasms, and then he fell at her feet. Leanin spit on his upturned body and turned on her heel, running away into the night.
Chapter Ten
Gideon woke to Rolanda sitting over him, looking down. Her eyes were wide and her hair formed a curtain around him. His entire body hurt as he sat up.
“Is Leanin gone?” he asked.
Rolanda nodded. She still sat with the moldy blanket curled around her. Looking around, Gideon could see they were still in the alleyway.
“How long was I out for?”
“Awhile. You looked peaceful sleeping,” Rolanda said in a dreamy, fluid way.
Gideon sprang to his feet, wincing, and looked each way down the alley. “Damn it Rolanda, we've got to be going!” His head was pounding and his chest burned from where Leanin had shocked him. "We've got to get out of here, fast. Akem may already be looking for us."
“I need a shower first,” Rolanda said.
He wrapped the blanket around her into a makeshift dress and pulled her out of the alley toward where his motorcycle was stashed. “We need to leave this place. We'll get you a shower later.”
Rolanda stopped and threw away his hand. “No, Gideon. I always take a shower after. It has to be done.” She crossed her arms. They were standing in the middle of the street, it wasn't like there were a lot of people around but neither were they alone. Gideon forced himself to stop and take a deep breath.
“Rolanda, this is not a game. This is life or death, we have to get out of here.”
Closing her eyes and turning her head away, she crossed her arms. “I get to take a shower when I'm done. Those are the rules.”
His lip curled into a sneer. Standing like a petulant child, she pointedly ignored him, the rag of a blanket barely covering her nudity. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he stopped. “Okay, fine. We'll find a house close to the bikes and be quiet about it. You have to go fast though.”
Rolanda dropped her hands and smiled, giving him a kiss on his cheek.
They found a house with all of the lights off near where Gideon's motorcycle was parked. In the backyard Gideon turned on the hose, holding one end up so that Rolanda could wash under the cold stream of water. An old shirt and pair of pants swung forgotten on a laundry line and Rolanda slipped them on.
“Can we go now?” Gideon asked, unable to mask his irritation and impatience.
“How do I look?” She said, spreading her arms into a pose. The shirt was a torn black t-shirt with the name of a local bar on it and the pants had holes in the knees. Gideon didn't say a word, he just grabbed her arm and dragged her towards his bike.
Leanin's motorcycle was gone, her spot empty, the only remnant of her was a little pool of engine oil that shone in the streetlight. It may have seemed unimportant, but he had hoped to catch her, to be able to explain. She had to see reason, she just had to.
“What are you staring at?” Rolanda asked.
Gideon said nothing, instead strapping his own helmet on her head. It was too large, they had to bunch up her hair inside to make it fit. A scarf wrapped around his own face was his only protection, it wasn't much but if it started raining it might mean the difference between life and death for him. It wasn't like they had time to buy a new helmet.
He checked his map, looking for anyplace close that they could get a little more situated before trying to put serious miles between themselves and Akem. A few hours north there was a small bubble named Elmar, off the track. It would have to do.
...
Gideon cursed the growing clouds overhead as he raced along the road. The ocean was to his left, the stink of it wafting over him. Rolanda seemed to have forgotten to stay still on the back of the motorcycle, she was waving her hands this way and that, causing the bike to swerve dangerously. He tried to ignore it but when she suddenly shouted out with happiness he took a hill too fast and his front wheel briefly left the ground. It was only dumb luck that he was able to keep the bike under control.
It began to rain in the last mile before Elmar. The scarf took the brunt of the burning drops of water, he kept his eyes squinted so that nothing could get in and do serious damage. When they pulled into the port of Elmar he brought out a bottle of water and poured it over his face, flushing out his eyes. He could still feel little pins and pricks burning him where the scarf hadn't covered, but the coolness of the clean water helped. His skin felt raw.
“Save some for me,” Rolanda said when she pulled off her helmet. Her smile was wide and her eyes were manic. “That was fun! Can we go for another ride soon?”
Gideon's face throbbed and he closed his eyes for a moment. “Rolanda, I almost went blind doing that run, do you not even see that?”
With her fingertips she pulled her smile down at the corners. “In the wind all the spiders got blown from my hair, they couldn't hold on.”
Gideon brushed his fingers through her hair. “What spiders? What are you talking about?”
“You can't see them, but they'll catch up soon.” She squatted down in the dirt while Gideon packed the motorcycle into one of the parking cubbies. When he came out she had drawn a little portrait of herself.
“What are you doing?” Gideon asked. “We have to get going, we have to find a place to stay.”
“I'm drawing a picture so that I'll know I was here. Pretty little picture, pretty little life. I existed.”
Gideon sat down next to her. She looked like Rolanda, she had the long sweeping golden locks of hair, the high proud cheekbones, the same curve of her breasts and waist, but something had changed. Before all this happened when he would look into her eyes there was a quiet intensity, a reserved and deeply intelligent curiosity about the world around her, they were so sharp it was sometimes hard to look at them straight on. Now something was slanted, opaque within them. He found himself thinking that Leanin would never have allowed herself to be changed in that way. People that strong broke the world, not the other way around. Gideon
shook the thought away.
“Storm's coming,” Rolanda said.
“We're under Elmar's dome, we should be alright.”
Turning her head sideways, Rolanda smiled. She stretched out her hands like a child and Gideon knelt and embraced her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Her smell reminded him of the flowers of Cormac, the little purple ones he never learned the names of. For a moment he was transported back there, tapping at her window to get her to sneak out with him. Rolanda petted the back of his head. “Hush, hush. Thunder can't hurt you. It's the rain you have to worry about. The drop drop drop of it wears you away until you're gone.”
He allowed himself a few moments of comfort before he had to start thinking of what they were going to do next.
...
Gideon convinced the owner of the Rusty Spur Saloon to rent them the room above the bar for a night. It was small, with a single mattress stained brown from sweat and an open shower in the corner, but it was indoors and secluded. The floorboards creaked with every step they took and the paint on the walls was peeling away in large chunks.
“It smells sad,” Rolanda said, her nose crinkling.
“You can't smell sadness, Rolanda. Sadness is a feeling.” Gideon threw his bag down by the side of the bed and pulled out a map. “I've got the track marked on here, we're going to have to avoid it at all costs if we hope to get back to Cormac.” He took out a pencil and began tracing possible routes. It would be hazardous no matter which route they took, avoiding the track meant avoiding major bubbles and spending their time in little, mostly forgotten about places.
“You can too smell sadness. It's sour, and sweaty, with a little bit of urine,” Rolanda said.
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