“How far?” I gasped, holding my side, still sore from the fall.
“A couple of blocks; we’re almost there!”
They were closing in on us fast. It all seemed hopeless. I didn’t think they would give up; these weren’t the type to follow border regulations. Breathing was becoming harder with my sides in pain. My legs started to burn and I slowed down, close to deciding to give up.
“Get out of here,” I said, deciding to make my heroic stand. “I’ll hold them off, and you can escape. I won’t let them hurt you. I’d rather die than let them touch you!” Bam! There it was, instant stud.
“Are you freaking kidding me? Don’t you dare, you goofy bastard!” Gia grabbed my arm and dragged me behind her. Heroic indeed. “We just gotta get past that corner!”
“I don’t think they’ll stop.” We were coming out into an opening; I could see a park just across the street where the industrial area ended.
“They have to.” Struggling to drag me along, she didn’t notice the tripwire strong across the street, attached to light posts. She fell and pulled me down with her. We landed in the open. I tried getting up, but my body refused to obey. She was struggling to her feet when the first of the cannibals came out in the open.
“Thought you’d make it out of our turf?” School Girl looked ten times more vicious, if such a thing was possible. “Maybe I’m not caring about which side’s ours and which side’s theirs.” She walked out into the open with a mischievous smile. Her fellow cannibals were less confident and experimentally crept behind her. “So now we get to―”
We heard a thunderous bang, and she fell to the ground like an abandoned doll. Three more bangs, and three more bodies hit the ground. The remaining cannibals looked panicked, and they should have taken the opportunity to run because more shots caused more dead bodies, enough for the remaining to turn tail and run. Behind us four men in army camo walked toward us, each carrying a rifle of various size. One had a lit cigarette and smiled at me as he approached; the others held back a couple of feet.
“Well, well, well, I do believe there’s a term for this, boys,” he said with excitement in his voice. “Something like, out of the frying pan and into the fire.” The other three laughed and he took a pull of his cigarette.
“Um.” I got up and helped Gia to her feet. “Thanks for the help―”
He held up a hand, silencing me, looking directly at Gia. “Well, what do we have here, can you believe this? It’s―”
“Shove it!” Gia shouted. “You walk away right now, and leave us alone. Don’t say another word, and don’t look back. Just get out of here.” I thought it would work. They were quiet, and the leader looked especially confused. Smoke lazily danced from his mouth as he sighed, but then he broke into a fit of laughter. His boys followed suit.
“Whoa there, princess, you sure do have a mouth on you. That’s no way for someone of your stature to be talking, now is it?”
“I got something to clean her mouth out with, right here,” said another, walking toward Gia.
“Back off!” I don’t know where it came from, but something in me just decided to abandon all common sense. “Anyone touches her, or even looks at her funny, I swear to God I will eradicate you from this existence!” I pushed her behind me and tried to muster the most intimidating face I could, clenching my fist tightly at my side. I was ready to take down anyone who messed with us. The rifle butt came at my face faster than I could bring my hands up I saw a bright flash before I felt the ground hit me from behind, and the world went dark.
When I woke, just thinking about opening my eyes sent a wave of stale pain through my body. The ground was rocking, and more than once I felt weightlessness while I bounced up and down. Oh yeah. I had taken a rifle to the head. I touched my face and felt an explosion of pain. I rolled over and groaned. Fully planning to never again open my eyes or face the world around me. At that moment, the plan perfectly acceptable, until a gentle hand began rubbing at my head. I reached out and felt the soft skin of someone’s legs; I was reminded of being a child comforted by my mother. I crawled forward and laid my heavy head on a warm lap and drifted back off into a welcoming sleep.
My second attempt at waking up was met with the same pain, only this time I managed to open my eyes. Through the blurriness of my vision, I looked up at Gia. I lay in her lap, and her head rested back against a wall, her face pensive.
“Where are we?” I tried sitting up, but the queasiness in my stomach made a valid argument for keeping put.
“Hey.” She looked at me with a sorry smile. “How are you feeling?” She rubbed her hand along the side of my face; it sent a warm feeling through my body, as if her hand had the ability to wipe away pain.
“I don’t know, I think I’ve had enough of this. Being beaten up, chased, and shot at. Let’s run away together and join a circus.”
“You weren’t actually shot at. You were almost someone’s dinner, though.”
“I’m sure before the week is over, someone will have the nerve to shoot at me.”
She laughed and carefully helped me to sit up. The nausea and general feeling of wanting to piss myself finally subsided, but the world still seemed to be moving. I looked around to inspect the room we were in, bare except for some rope thrown about and holes along the top where light shone in. “Where are we?”
“Back of a truck.” She sighed, looking at me in defeat. “Slavers, I’m willing to bet they are taking us to Barclay’s Center, see if they can sell us into the arena.”
“Wonderful. I can add ‘fight to the death’ to my list of unpleasantnesses.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it!” Her face became a stern statue. “I won’t let them put you in the games; I’ll kill each and every one of them if I have to.”
I tried to laugh, but it sent a brand new wave of pain through my face. “That sounds like something I said earlier, and you see how that went.”
“That”―she turned my face toward her―“was the bravest or stupidest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Her face was close to mine, and the queasiness in my stomach returned. “I won’t let them hurt you,” I said, with as much bravado as I could muster. Not much.
“And now it’s my turn to protect you.” She leaned in closer, and, before I could say something humiliating, she kissed me. All the pain crept from my body as her lips and mine touched. Hers were so soft and warm, moist and tasty; everything seemed to go away as her tongue met mine in a passionate wrestling match. The truck drove on, taking us to some unknown danger, and, for the first time, I felt not the slightest sign of fear, just exhilaration and anticipation. I couldn’t wait to see what this all meant, where it would lead. Whereas Eve’s kiss was carnal and physical, Gia’s was mental and meaningful. I could spend the rest of my life with her. We would get through this all and then travel beyond the quarantine zone and take on the world that waited. Together.
We kissed for quite a while. I may have lost track of how long, but those kisses we shared were something I would never forget. After that, we settled into holding each other for the rest of the ride, didn’t speak or move, just held each other; our bodies intertwined almost becoming one, silently giving each other the support and strength we needed.
Eventually, the truck came to a stop and stayed put for what seemed like hours. Finally, a rattling sounded outside, and the door was pulled up, letting in a blinding light. Three men stood outside watching us, one was the man who had hit me with his rifle, the same rifle which was now aimed at me. The other was a more thoughtful man. He regarded me with a kind of disgust. He wore a white shirt with fluffy sleeves and a pin-striped vest, a watch chain hanging from his side pocket, brown pants that ended in a pair of regal boots, and a pair of red leather gloves. Gold-rimmed goggles sat at the top of his bald head. They seemed to sparkle. The third man was dressed similarly. However, he held an open umbrella over the other, shading him from the sun, while he himself remained exposed. What made the hai
rs on the back of my neck stand, however, was the realization that it was the man Dodger and I had saved Gia from―Porky! He showed no indication of remembering me, but the bruises on his face were a definite reminder of our first encounter.
“Bow down to Lord Chrysler, boy!” said Porky, making sure to keep his umbrella held in place. My heart sank, but I did as I was told. I pried myself free from Gia’s body to stand and bow as respectfully as my nervous legs would let me. I tried urging Gia to do the same, but she brushed off my advancing hands.
“Sorry,” I started. “I didn’t realize―”
Chrysler cut me off with a dismissive wave and stared straight at Gia. “Geanna Lynn Chrysler! You had better explain to me what is going on, and, be warned, if I don’t like what I hear, you will live to regret the day you were born.”
“Oh, please,” she said, jumping to her feet and out of the van, her attitude returning. “You know damn well you don’t scare me!”
“Do not use that tone of voice with me! I am the ruling hand of Brooklyn, the blood, sweat, and tears of our people. You will treat me with the respect I deserve and address me as such.”
“Okay, sorry… Daddy Bear.”
I was left standing in the van, a speechless mute. My face must have looked awfully confused because the slaver grinned at me. Chrysler roughly grabbed Gia by the arm and dragged her away. Porky walked closely behind, trying to keep them both covered under the shade of the umbrella, but, before they were gone from sight, he spared me a nervous glance, definite fear in his eyes.
“Okay, kid, hope you enjoyed your date with Chrysler’s daughter, because that’ll probably be the last fond memory you have. Now come on.” He motioned with his rifle for me to leave the van. Once outside, he stuck the muzzle into the small of my back. No need; I had no fight left in me. We were outside in an intersection of streets that spread far and wide, each leading further into the heart of Brooklyn, away from home. He led me toward the coppered dome, the words Barclay’s Center still plastered on its side. The place was so massive I couldn’t imagine the number of people who would be inside. If I entered, would I ever leave again? Gia and Chrysler entered the building, leaving me with a sense of true loneliness. I wanted to run after her, I wanted to talk to her, hold her hand. I wanted to not be alone. The slaver urged me on with a sharp poke in the back. We entered the main lobby. Inside the walls were lined with pictures of concerts and basketball memorabilia, signed jerseys and shoes. I looked up just in time to see the elevator door closing, ripping Gia away from me. I tried to catch her eyes before the doors consumed her. But she only looked away.
He walked me over to another elevator and pushed the down button. It lit with a pulsing red light. We waited for a few seconds before a ding announced the elevator’s arrival. The doors opened, and I was pushed in. We rode down to the basement level, four floors under. My surroundings seemed to all blend together. I was feeling terrible. Everything was weighing on me. I didn’t know what to do anymore. The only thing left to do was give up. Everything had been thrown at me, every bad situation I could think of. For ten years now, I had been through it all and survived, kept on going, fought in my own way. But this, this betrayal from Gia, just seemed too much. I needed a win to boost my spirit, and I knew that would never happen deep in the bowels of Lord Chrysler’s arena.
The slaver stopped me, swiped a card over a magnetic sensor, and opened the adjoining door. We walked into a small room, more like a lounge, with a flat screen TV hanging from the far wall, a table at the center with an assortment of half-eaten food and a bottle of soda. Leather couches lined the walls to either side, but most shocking was the realization that Smith was lying back with his feet up, watching the television, smoking a cigarette. The door slammed behind me. The slaver was gone, and we were alone.
“Holy crap, man. What are you doing here?” said Smith with his big gapped-tooth smile.
ere you supposed to be rescuing me, then?” Smith asked, sitting lazily on the leather couch, looking more than let down.
“Sort of, not really… I didn’t know you needed rescuing. We came looking for you; we thought you were hiding out.” I was still confused by Gia’s lies. I felt sick with anxiety. I tried to force down some of the food that was brought to us, at first excited by the sight of a cheeseburger and fries, but quickly found my stomach wouldn’t have it.
“How’d you get caught anyway, and what kind of prison is this?” I waved my hand about, indicating the lavish room, with comfortable couch, dining area, and… Jeez, a working TV!
“I wasn’t caught. I was betrayed!” He came over to sit next to me, helping himself to my fries. “This is all so messed up. I had a deal with Chrysler, and this is how he repays me. Locked up and forced into his games. I ain’t no gladiator, Twist! This beautiful face ain’t meant for fighting.”
“What deal?”
He ate another fry. I could see him making a decision whether to share the information or not. “A while back, I was approached, picked up in a fancy car, had my head filled with compliments and stomach filled with food. The compliments were good, but I been eating crackers for the better part of a month. So the food had me sold from the get go. They brought me to Brooklyn, said Lord Chrysler wants to run a deal. Whatever was whatever, man. They had pizza, real pizza! You going to eat that?” I slid my plate and half-eaten hamburger to him, urging him to keep talking. Between mouthfuls he continued. “So I met with this fat cat, really pleasant fella. His office was nothing but food and women. It was nuts. He showed me his window, told me to take a look. His office overlooked the arena. It was crazy man. They have people fighting, fighting to the death! People versus people, animals, and cannibals… well, cannibals are people too, I guess, but still it was crazy! Freaked me out, but then I thought, yeah, these guys got something going here. These are the head honcho mothers you wanna be rubbing elbows with.”
“What was the deal?” I shouted, startling Smith from his reverie.
“Okay, okay. Dude’s name was Randy. He’s like Chrysler’s lieutenant or something, makes all his wheels and deals.”
Porky! “I met him, well dressed, looks like he’s losing all his hair, rides around in a BMW?”
“Yeah, that’s him! That car is sick. Anyway, tells me that they want something, I gotta raid the Empire to get it, asked if I was up to the task. Please, I tell ‘em, raiding the Empire is what I do! But they don’t want just anything. It’s a little blue box sealed up nice and tight. I’m not supposed to mess with it or anything, just bag and run. Randy was supposed to come get me after I was done, give me safe passage back into Brooklyn. Only things went south when I ran into you guys. Suits everywhere, screwed everything up. Randy never showed, so I had to make it back on my own.”
“We ran into him, at Times Square.”
“What the hell was he doing there?”
“He had Gia… Geanna with him. That’s where we met her.” I filled him in on the events that happened after we split up, from meeting Gia at Times Square to getting caught by the Slavers and brought here. He focused on finishing off the hamburger, lost in thought.
“Wonder why she came. You think Chrysler don’t trust him maybe? Maybe she was making sure we returned with whatever it was I was stealing.”
“That doesn’t make sense. He was trying to force himself on her. We saved her. She didn’t want anything to do with Brooklyn!”
“Nah, man, you didn’t save her, she’s a Chrysler. She’s the biggest bitch I’ve ever met.”
“You met her?”
“Yeah. After dealing with Randy, he took me to meet Chrysler, solidify things. She was there, had her nose up at me the whole time. She has her own digs over in the Botanical Gardens. Don’t make much sense, her running with you guys. Maybe she needed a way to get back safely.”
“No, it can’t be.”
“What, do you have a hard-on for her or something?”
“Just drop it. What was the deal? What did they offer you in return?”
>
“I’d get my own spot here in Brooklyn, something sweet, no more squabbling underground, wondering when the next meal ticket was. And look, man, cable!”
He produced a remote from his pocket and aimed it at the TV. I was shocked to see a working TV, all 32 inches of flat screen in pristine condition.
“Well,” he said, tapping the remote on his head. “Not really any cable, we just get the one channel. It’s the fights all the time every time. Looks like they are gearing up for some big event.”
The camera panned across aisles upon aisles of seats and audience members. They cheered and laughed, faces filled with anticipation and excitement. I noticed so many different outfits, but most fit the Victorian mold that so many of the wealthier people enjoyed wearing. Women were in fancy dress and elaborate hair styles of elegance, some holding masks over their faces, molded in strangely contorted emotions. Those without masks seemed to take pains to lose their faces under layers of makeup. The men wore finely tailored suits and elaborate top hats. I noticed a number of jackets decorated in flamboyant colors. There were so many rows of attendees it was easy to imagine the whole world partied in the coliseum. At the center of it all, on ground level, was an old school basketball court surrounded by barbed wire fencing. Either end still had basketball hoops, frayed netting hanging loosely from the metal rings. However there were also the added additions of dead bodies hanging from each post, swaying back and forth.
“Must have been a draw.” Smith pulled his chair in closer to the TV. “There has to be a winner and a loser. If you don’t kill your opponent, they tend to string you up to make an example of you.”
The Artful (Shadows of the City) Page 17