by Arya Cole
“You lost your clothes.” This brought another laugh from his lackeys. “They just disappeared, huh? Or did you want to give us a show?”
Brody still could not respond even if he had wanted to.
“You showed a lot of heart,” the colonel said. “You should be proud.” He turned to his thugs. “Help him to his feet.”
They wrenched him up once again. Brody’s legs dangled and scraped against the ground like a lifeless marionette. He could barely hold his head up under his own power. His eyes were half shut and his dry mouth wheezed. The colonel gave him a playful slap across the face in an effort to perk him up.
“You’re tired? It’s not fun to be missing your car, is it? Now you know a bit about how I feel. But you’ve only had to walk a couple miles, only spent a few hours in my shoes. You haven’t even begun to know the hurt you have caused me. I have no children myself. My comrades were spread throughout the world. Some are dead. That car was my oldest companion. I have never traveled without it.” The colonel grabbed hold of Brody’s hair and pulled hard. “And now it is gone. Gone forever! I mourned less when my own father died. You have not even begun to pay for this.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Brody said in something that was barely above a whisper.
“That hardly matters. I have already dealt with the person whose idea it was.”
“No,” Brody choked out. “It wasn’t him either.”
“Then who was it?”
“People in your country,” he said. Brody was still trying to catch his breath. “People who knew you. It was a prank. A joke.”
“A joke? A fucking joke!” The colonel slapped Brody hard across the face. He slapped him again and again and again out of frustration. “This is not a fucking joke!” He punched Brody in his gut and then slapped him again. “Let me ask you something. Did you laugh? Did you laugh when you heard about this fucking joke that came at my expense? Tell me?” Another punch and another pair of slaps. “Tell me!”
Brody shook his head. He could feel blood trickling out his mouth and down his chin. He could feel the time left in his life beginning to slip away.
“Here’s what you are going to do now. You are going to walk again. Yes? But this time you will not go at your own pace. No. You will go as fast as I want you to go.”
The colonel motioned to his goons. They dropped Brody back on the ground and one of them took something out of the back seat. It was a long coil of rope. One of them began to tie the rope to the hitch of the car while the other tied the rope around Brody’s waist. When they had finished they stood him on his feet once again.
“You are going to run until you can’t run anymore. I want to see you at your absolute limit. I will drag the skin from your flesh.”
“Just shoot me,” Brody said.
“No. A bullet is too good a death for a dog like you. You deserve to experience every moment of your death. It will not be quick. It will not be merciful.”
Brody thought that he hallucinated what came next. A hold popped open in the colonel’s chest and blood sprayed out. Another hole popped open right where his heart was positioned. The same thing happened to one of the thugs. The other was missing half of his head less than a second later. Brody heard the glass of the windshield break as the driver was dispatched as well. Before he knew what had happened Brody was surrounded by dead bodies. Blood pooled around them. He looked around to see if he could find the source of the bullets.
At first he couldn’t figure out where they had come from. They certainly hadn’t shot each other. Then he saw three figures emerging from different parts of the town. They came together and made their way toward the town car. They each had a rifle slung over their shoulder. Each of the rifles was equipped with a scope and a silencer. That explained why Brody hadn’t heard the shots. They slowly marched toward Brody but made no signal of recognition toward him. All three were heavily tattooed and were decked in gaudy jewelry. They bore all the hallmarks of Russian mafia hit men. They inspected each of the bodies. One of them removed a knife and slit each of their throats just to make sure.
Brody looked up at these strangers. They seemed to sense his confusion.
“They took one of ours,” one of them said. “That is unacceptable.”
“Thank you,” Brody said. But they didn’t seem interested. They collected the guns and money from each of the bodies.
The one with the knife spoke next. “We did not do this for you. However, you are now indebted to us. Your life now belongs to me.”
Brody didn’t like the sounds of that. “What do you want me to do?”
“Our operation has been temporarily interrupted. It is important for us to pick up where we left off and show that we cannot be intimidated. You will go back to work immediately. We expect double the productivity.”
There went Brody’s plans to retire. “Before he died Sergei owed me money. Twenty thousand dollars. It was for his car.”
“That is between you and Sergei.”
Shit. Of course they would say that. Still, being out twenty grand was better than being dragged to death in the desert. “I have another question,” Brody said. “After this, I’m not sure I want to steal cars anymore.”
The man with the knife waited for him to say more, then said, “I thought you had a question.”
“What happens if I don’t want to steal cars for you?”
“I don’t think you want an answer to this question.”
One of the others lit a cigarette. He offered one to Brody. Even though his breathing was still labored he accepted. It might help calm his jagged nerves. He took a deep drag from the cigarette and held it in his lungs.
“Your clothes. What happened to them?”
“Just lost them along the way.”
“We don’t have any to offer you. We will take you home though.”
“First. Give us a hand,” one of them said. Brody helped them put the bodies into the car. They stacked the three of them into the back seat. One of the hit men then open the gas tank and started messing around with it.
“We should leave now,” the one with the knife advised.
Brody followed him back toward town. The other two followed as licks of fire began to rise up in the town car. None of them seemed particularly worried about anyone in the town seeing them. In his two trips there Brody hadn’t seen a single sign of life. It was a modern ghost town, long ago abandoned for some unknown reason. The car exploded and the bodies turned to ash behind them as the Russian mob escorted Brody home.
TWENTY
The Ghost
After Brody had convinced the Iranians to leave her apartment, Hannah continued to cry for what must have been an hour. She never did end up calling the police. She was too distraught to speak. She no longer even cared about her own safety. They could come back if they wanted. Without Brody by her side it didn’t matter. She thought she would never be able to recover.
Eventually she was all out of tears. She sat silently on the floor as the sun began to set. Long shadows draped her in darkness. She couldn’t decide what to do next. She would eventually need to function again. She would need to go to school. She would need to eat. She would need to experience human interactions. First, she had to get herself up off of the floor. It was a daunting task and one that she wasn’t quite ready to undertake. She managed to at least sit up. It was more significant progress than she thought she would be able to achieve when Brody first walked out the door.
When she finally did manage to stand up she felt dizzy and confused. It was more than just a head rush. She was still coming down from the adrenal rush of having her life threatened. She became so light headed that she had to sit down again, this time on the bed rather than the floor. She held her head in her hands and tried to regain her sense of awareness. She tried to think of something she could do to help Brody but nothing came to her. He may even be dead already. The thought was too much for her to bear.
She sank into a state of mourning. There would
be no other time for it. No wake, no funeral, no memorial service. He’d be a forgotten man, a casualty of the underworld. At best he would be buried in a potter’s field. The reality was probably far worse. It was not the fate that he deserved. He was a good man, despite his criminal past. He had proved that on his last day by coming to save her.
She thought of ways that she could remember him and things that could be done in tribute to his sacrifice. She barely knew anything about him, even after thinking about him constantly for the past week. She didn’t know where he’d come from or what he’d done in his life besides steal cars. She had only ever considered his future. It was a future that had always included her. And now it was a future that would sadly never be realized. Maybe there was some way to find out about his past. Track down his family or his old friends. It would be hard without even knowing his last name. It was even possible that Brody wasn’t his real name at all.
She decided to take a shower. Perhaps she would be able to wash away the sorrow. She stripped down and turned on the shower. She didn’t step in right away though. Instead she leaned on the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. She considered how much she had changed in the past week. In a way she felt as if she had finally matured. She had always been smarter than most and carried herself in what most would consider to be a “mature” way. But emotionally she had not grown up yet. She had never experienced this kind of pain and loss. She continue to examine herself until the steam from the shower fogged over the mirror.
The shower helped to at least breathe a little life into her being. It also felt good to rinse of the dried tears that had streaked her face. She spent a long time under that steamy spray of water. The water was too hot and her skin turned red. It was exactly the type of harsh cleansing that she needed. She washed off all the guilt and shame of letting Brody leave without putting up more of a fight. The one thing she couldn’t wash away was the regret that she felt.
When Hannah got out of the shower she laid down naked on the bed. The comparatively cool air felt like ice against her overheated skin. She began to shiver. She would have cried again if her tear ducts hadn’t already been depleted. She now felt numb, almost as if she were in a comma. The sun had now set below the horizon and the room grew dark. Hannah felt as if she lay inside a sepulcher. She may have slept, she may not have. She was no longer sure of what was a dream and what wasn’t.
That made it all the more confusing when her phone rang and she heard Brody’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey babe. I’m okay.”
She was sure that she was dreaming. She was positive. She closed and opened her eyes several times in succession, trying to snap herself back into reality. No matter how hard she tried though she was still on the phone and it was still Brody’s voice that she heard.
“Hello? Are you there?”
“I’m here,” she managed to squeak out.
“Look, I’m in rough shape,” he said. “I can’t really move around too much. And my car is back over at your place. Do you want to come over?”
“To your place?”
“Yeah. I’d like to see you.”
“I’d like to see you too.”
“Great.” He told her the address and dictated directions. Hannah was in such a daze that she nearly walked out the door wearing only her purse. Brody probably wouldn’t have minded but better to throw a set of clothes on for the trip.
She crossed the city and came to Brody’s apartment building. It was completely impersonal and nondescript. It was the type of place where no one knew or cared about the names of their neighbors. One could live comfortably while maintaining relative anonymity in a place like that. It seemed like the perfect fit for someone like Brody.
She came up to the door of Brody’s apartment. Now she was the one doing the knocking. She heard him moving around inside. Hannah still couldn’t believe that he would be the one to actually open the door. It was all some sort of trick designed to give her false hope at the lowest moment of her life.
And yet when the door opened it was the expected ghost who stood in front of her. Brody looked half-dead, which was actually better than Hannah had been expecting. His face was bruised and his lip was fat. He stood with a hunch as if every muscle and joint in his body were rebelling against him. His eyes were blackened and bloodshot. The most important thing, however, was that he was there. In the flesh. It was him.
“Come on in,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
She did more than that though. She was so excited to see him alive that she nearly tackled him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She pressed her face hard against his, so hard that he had to subtly push her away.
“What happened?”
“It’s all settled. They won’t be bothering us anymore.”
“But your face…”
“It’s a small price to pay.”
“You need to take care of that. Come on.”
She took him by the hand and led him inside. It was a spacious studio with very little furniture and almost no personal effects. It was the type of sparse, Spartan existence that she was expecting though it lacked the gritty quality that she had envisioned in her head. He did not live in a hovel or a slum. If anything, Brody lived a solid, simple middle class life. That is when he wasn’t stealing luxury cars and holding a gun to the head of an Iranian warlord, of course.
“Do you have any hydrogen peroxide or rubbing alcohol to sterilize those cuts?”
“Umm, I don’t think so,” he said, as if the notion was ridiculous.
“Do you at least have some ice?”
“Maybe. I think so.”
“Okay. You lie down. Give me one second.”
Hannah want to the corner of the apartment where the kitchenette stood. She found that there was a tray of ice in the freezer. Who knew how long ago it had been filled. She searched for something to put the ice in. Some sandwich bags or a thin towel. Finding no good options, she took off her shirt and dropped the ice cubes in the middle she wrapped it up until it was something resembling an ice pack. It would have to do for now.
She came back over to Brody’s bed. He looked up at her coming toward him in her bra and smiled.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she said. “We need to get you healed up first.”
She put the ice pack against his bruised cheek bone.
“Hold that there,” she said.
Brody held the ice pack against his face. He looked up at her with a look of submissive affection. She could have done whatever she wanted to him at that moment. He was in a state of complete vulnerability. She didn’t know what had happened to him today, but she knew that it must have been something incredibly traumatic to break his previously indomitable spirit. Hannah even began to think that perhaps there was something that bruised Brody than his skin-deep wounds.
“So it’s over?”
“Mostly,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t even know. I’m alive. But I’m not out yet.”
Hannah nodded. So it wasn’t over yet. He would have to continue to work for these people. She got the sense that this time he didn’t have much choice in the matter either. He had gone from an independent contractor to an indentured servant. That had to be it. Hannah was convinced that it was this, and not the beating and torture that he had endured, that had him in such a low state.
“It will all work out,” she said, not sure if she believed it herself.
“Let’s not worry about it right now,” he said. “How was your day? Good?”
His nonchalance made her laugh. It was unexpected and it felt good. It was only about an hour before that she thought she would never be happy again, let alone let out a cathartic laugh such as this.
“It was terrible.”
“Oh no. Why’s that?”
“I thought I lost you.”
Brody smiled. “Nope. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Hannah was beginn
ing to feel better. The sorrow of the day and shock of the night were starting to wear off. “I like your place,” she said.
“Thanks. Sorry it’s not much. I don’t have company over very often.”
“Stop being modest. It’s great.”
She leaned down and kissed him.
“I’m glad I got to see it.” She kissed him again. “And I’m glad I got to see you.”
She leaned down to kiss him again. This time he put his arm around her to hold her close. She got down next to him on the bed and they shared several more kisses. In between they would look each other deep in the eyes. Brody set the ice pack aside. He didn’t seem to want it in the first place. He placed his hand on her bare skin. It was cold from the ice and it chilled her through the whole of her torso.
She wasted no time taking off his t-shirt and shorts. She saw that there were cuts and bruises all over his ribs, chest, and legs as well. It was even worse than she had first thought. She began to kiss each of these bruises and contusions. He winced each time her lips made contact but did not try to stop her. She kissed all around his body, tasting the faint metallic tinge of dried blood and the salty flavor light sweat. He turned over onto his stomach and Hannah made the same trek with her lips over his back as well. She ran her hands over his tense muscles and did what she could to ease them. She kissed the back of his neck and then licked and nibbled gently on his ear.
He turned back over and took her in his arms. They kissed again and he held her close. Brody unclipped her bra and tossed it aside. Her nipples brushed softly against his chest as she hovered over him. She could feel his cock growing against her thigh as she straddled him. Luckily what he had been through earlier that day hadn’t seemed to affect his abilities as a lover. He cupped her breasts and rubbed her nipples with his thumb.
She wiggled out of the pants she was wearing and let her panties go with them. She rubbed her body over his cock. Her breasts, her abdomen, the outside of her pussy. His cock was now standing fully at attention, just waiting to be inside of her. She thought briefly about teasing him a little bit and holding off. Ultimately she decided that she had been through enough that day already. Instead she positioned her pussy above him and began to lower herself down.