Winter's Fury - Volume Two of The Saga of the Twelves

by Richard M. Heredia

  “Just my luck, dammit!” he cursed. A decent piece of wood wasted, a nice little knockdown blown, what a waste. He clicked his tongue in disgust. It would have been a blast. He could feel the truth of it all the way down to the base of his nut-sack. He would have grabbed her by the hair, socked her a few times in the face and…

  Shit!

  He came up from the bed, still on his knees between the girl’s legs, her sex bare to anyone who stood at the threshold of his studio apartment. He grabbed the soiled comforter and flung it over her the moment he was standing. “Don’t go nowhere sweetie. I’m gonna fuck you one way or another as soon as I gets rid of these Bible thumping, ass-munches at the door.”

  “I’ll be waiting… one way or another…,” she reposted on the heels of his sentence. Her eyes were like molten steel, sweltering, hot.

  It still surprised him to no end that the crazy, meth-head liked the beatings, got off the hardest when he was inflicting pain upon her. Her orgasms were thunderous beneath the workings of his knuckles.

  Yeah, a real woman alright.

  Sonny snorted. “You’re one crazy bitch, Tilly.” He was shaking he head. He had to give it to her. She was no simpering princess. She could take a lot of shit and not complain. That’s what he liked about her. So what if she smelled like piss and smoke. So what if she was the neighborhood strawberry, giving up her crease for a hit of anything she could get her hands on. She was no bullshit. She was straight-up.

  “You like me like this,” she said, as if she had read his mind.

  Sonny stared down at her, while she rubbed her chin, aching from his misuse. “Don’t worry, Till, I’ll break you off as -.”

  A second round of deafening pounds struck the door, insistent, demanding.

  “Wait one fucken minute!” he yelled at the door. He peered back at the girl on his bed. “You stay right there.”

  She was nodding as he strode across the garbage-strewn carpet, intent on giving this God-fearing asshole a piece of his mind.

  Then, I’m gonna fuck her right into the mattress like she deserves.

  He stepped up to the portal of his apartment. He flipped the deadbolt and the sliding lock in two rough motions. With the deliberation of a junky, he puffed up so he would be in the proper frame of mind – what he called his “fuck-off” mode.

  “What the fuck do you want!?!” he said much too loud, flinging open the door with all the strength his withered body could manage.

  All he had time to see was the red hair and the biggest pairs of hands he had ever seen in his life. Then, he was, body and all, pulled outside the apartment and hauled off his feet.

  “What the hell did you do to Kimberly, pencil-dick? Where is she!?”

  It was like staring into the fiery eyes of a dragon. Sonny could not find his voice. He was speechless, unable to move in the grasp of the hulking, freckled beast.

  “Where is she?” it asked with unadulterated menace. Its’ orbs were as big as baseballs, shot-through with livid veins.

  “I-I-I-I,” was all he could manage.

  Shawn Moore, holding Sonny by the biceps, shook him like a ragdoll. “Answer me, you panty-waste, or I’m going to beat the living shit out of you!”

  Sonny felt his throat constrict, the words racing through his mind died in his throat. Instead, they turned to ash, making his mouth go dry, chalky. Kimberly? Why did this red-haired creature want to know about Kimberly?

  And how in the fuck was he supposed to know anyway? He had not seen Kimberly in over a week. What the hell was this thing talking about?

  Sonny never got to answer any of his own questions. He never got to vocalize them either.

  They seemed to disappear from his consciousness of their own free will. This was right around the time he realized he was no longer upon the threshold of his domicile. Rather, he was sailing through the air. He was on his way to a rude meeting with the juniper hedge on the opposite side of the walkway that led to his front door.

  This is going to be bad.

  ~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~

  ~ 24 ~

  Confrontation

  Sunday, November 28th, Seconds Later…

  Shawn watched, unmoving, as the boy’s body collided with the juniper hedge. His momentum had been so great, it swallowed him completely.

  Sonny’s screech drew out, pathetic as he twisted and turned within the branches and twigs of the bush. He tried to squirm his way free, but only succeeded in miring himself deeper within the plants pokey confines.

  There came the muffled sound of small feet running across the carpeting within the reeking apartment.

  Shawn turned in time to see a half-naked girl, loosely wrapped in a filthy comforter come toward the threshold. She had one hand clutching the fabric of the thick blanket, the other pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

  “You leave him alone!” she yelled.

  The six and a half foot, high school basketball star rounded on the young woman, feeling his face twist with disgust. “Or what, you skank?”

  She recoiled at the ferocity of his tone, stumbling back a step and a half, her feet tangling underneath her. “Don’t hurt him,” she said by way of recovery, much of the aggression draining from her face.

  Shawn straightened. “Have you seen Kimberly?”

  “Who?” It feigned ignorance, an affront to his intelligence. The girl knew who he was speaking about, there was little doubt.

  Shawn could see it in her eyes – recognition.

  “Kimberly Madison,” he forged on nonetheless. “She used to date lover-boy over here. Have you seen her?” He pointed at Sonny, who was still caught within the prickly plant.

  Her brow bunched. “She doesn’t hang around me. How would I know where she’s at?”

  Shawn took a step into the apartment, his eyes squinting because of the lack of light.

  She back-pedaled, until her heels hit the box-springs of Sonny’s dilapidated bed. She bent at the knees and flopped down in a heap. The soles of her dirty feet flashed at him for a moment. “Don’t hurt me!” she mewled, scooting where the headboard would have been if there had been one attached.

  “Has your boyfriend seen Kimberly?”

  She tilted her head to the side like a canine, flummoxed. “I don’t see how. He’s been here with me since… since… like Wednesday or Thursday. We’ve been… inside, the entire time.”

  Shawn glanced about the apartment, his nose wrinkling at the mess, the fetid smell of drugs and unwashed bodies. From the state of their environs his could guess she was probably telling the truth. There was trash and empty food containers on the floor. The sink was full of the same. The bowed couch had god-what-knew caked on one of the cushions. There were crumbs and potato-chip remnants all over it as well. The coffee table, clogged with bottles of cheap vodka, cans of beer and Red Bull, was disgusting. There were ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts, matches and lighters by the score. But the variety of dried liquids staining all across its’ surface was the worst. The door to the small, walled-in bathroom was ajar. He could see the towels on the floor, toilet paper, rolled and unrolled, all about. The fixtures looked like they had not seen disinfectant in over a year. What should have been white tile and porcelain facades had long since turned to varying shades of gray. In some cases they were ebony where something nasty encrusted.

  He peered at the stringy-haired chick on the bed. “If I find out you had a hand Kimberly’s disappearance, I’m going to come back. I will hurt you then, real bad.”

  Tilly grimaced with genuine confusion. “Disappearance? Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Haven’t you been watching the news?” It was his turn at misunderstanding.

  “No!” She said it like he was idiot for asking.

  Addicts don’t watch the news. They watch cartoons, you dumb ass! Don’t you know that? He could almost hear her saying out loud.

  He glanced over at the ill-treated, 32-inch LCD in the far corner. “You should tur
n on the set, you dipshit. There’s some pretty horrible shit going on rig -.”

  Sonny’s attempt at a “charging yell” forestalled the larger teen.

  “I’m gonna fuck you uuuuup!”

  Shawn swung around as Sonny bolted up the four stairs leading to the porch.

  The smaller male leaped from the highest step, intent on bowling Shawn over. Used to hard, sometimes blind, picks on the basketball court, he acted out of instinct. In less than a heartbeat, he made his body rigid, hands clasped over his lap, hunching his shoulders.

  Sonny when struck the tall, lanky boy with his shoulder, it was like hitting a solid plank of oak. His momentum was arresting within inches. The kinetic energy transferred directly back into his body. He bounced off and landed on his butt, stunned, eyes blinking, devoid of comprehension. He was leaning back on his palms when Shawn leaned toward him.

  “You listen, you little piece of shit, ‘cuz I’m only gonna ask you once. Did you have anything to do with Kimberly’s abduction?”

  Sonny looked up at him with eyes glazed over.

  “Hey, I thought you said she disappeared like she ran away or something,” stated the girl from inside the apartment.

  Shawn peeped in her direction for a moment, unwilling to look away from the sprawled Sonny for any length of time. “She did not run away,” he barked at Tilly.

  “So, she's kidnapped?”

  “What the fuck do you think I’ve been saying?” He blew air through his lips, forgetting the skank on Sonny’s crusty bed. “Well, ass-wipe?” he demanded of Kimberly’s ex-boyfriend, kicking his bare foot to get his attention.

  Sonny gazed up with rheumy eyes. “Well, what?”

  “If I have to ask again, I’m going to beat the shit out of you,” threatened Shawn.

  “I haven’t seen Kim in over a week, man. Since the day you came up on us all fucken ‘Hero’ and shit, I haven’t seen one hair off her ass.”

  The ballplayer did not hesitate. It took one step and backhanded the sitting addict. He hit Sonny on the left side of his head, hard enough to topple him over into his side. “You better learn to watch your mouth when it comes to her. Do you hear me?”

  Clutching at his head, Sonny replied, “Fuck, man, you don’t have to get all sensitive and shit. I was just sayin’ -.”

  Shawn stepped closer, about to deliver another blow – harder this time.

  Sonny scooted back, his butt hanging off the porch. “Don’t hit me, man!”

  “Leave him alone, please,” came the plea from inside, closer than before. Tilly had readjusted her clothing and was standing a few feet back from the doorway.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with Kim, alright!” Sonny was breathing in gasps. He leaned to one side to spit on the stairs. “I swear, man. I haven’t seen her.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “She made it pretty clear she didn’t want to see me anymore, so I stayed away.” He glanced up at Shawn, one eye narrow. “I mean, that’s what we always do, you know. She blows me off for a while, cools out, and then she comes back. She always had before, so I figured I give her some space. I figured she’d come around in time. It’s nothing new, man.”

  Shawn smiled out of the corner of his mouth. Sonny had the tact of a Mack Truck. His scan of Tilly’s face confirmed what he was thinking.

  She was staring at Sonny, shocked outrage written plain on her face. It was apparent, she had figured herself a more permanent figure in Sonny’s life. Finding out she been a temporary distraction did not seem to sit all that well with her. Or maybe she was just aggravated over her provisionary access to Sonny’s supply of drugs. If she was anything like the user Shawn had pegged her to be, the later was likely the most plausible description of her reaction.

  “You better be telling me the truth,” he said as ominous as he could, glancing back at the shirtless wonder still sitting on his butt.

  Sonny snorted, and then clicked the roof of his mouth. “I have no reason to lie, man. I didn’t even know she was missing until you came over here all Rambo and shit.” He was shaking his head. “I just figured she’d find her way back…”

  “Sonny!”

  “What, Tilly!?!”

  “Jezuz, you over-sized, douche bag, I’m standing right here!”

  I frowned, his chin sinking toward his chest as if he had no clue what she was talking about. He went so far as to give Shawn a quizzical look.

  The tall teen inhaled, his eyebrows rising. She’s all your, bro. Have at it.

  “Well, sorry for throwing you in the bushes,” he said instead, not sorry in the least. “But, you know, I had to make sure.”

  Sonny did not reply. He just sat there examining the multitude of scratches and gouges about his torso, arms and hands as if he was seeing them for the first time.

  Shawn turned back to the girl named, Tilly. “I know you guys don’t hang out, or get along for all that matter, but if you by chance hear anything please let the police know. Everyone is freaking out over what’s been happening since all the shit went down on Wednesday.”

  She was frowning again. “You make it sound like there’s more to it than just Kimberly getting snatched.”

  Though he was not pleased the way she said it, he answered all the same. “Let’s just say what happened four days ago was pretty much on par with what happened on September 11th, 2001.”

  “What?” It was Sonny, now standing, dusting off his tattered jeans.

  Shawn shook his head. “You guys seriously gotta pay attention to what’s happening in the world around you.” He stepped passed the smaller man. “From what they’re saying, the Event isn’t over – not by a long shot.”

  “The what?” asked Tilly.

  Walking down the stairs, Shawn pointed back inside the apartment. “The TV, CNN – you’ll know everything in minutes. They’ve been broadcasting twenty-four seven since 6:47 pm on Wednesday.” He continued down the path. “If anything comes to mind, no matter how small, call the hotline.” He was gone around the corner of the ramshackle edifice.

  Sonny watched after him for a few seconds, hearing the LCD come to life.

  He was scratching at his chin in speculation when he heard his slutty bedwarmer exclaim, “Sonny, you gotta see this shit. The dude wasn’t fucking around. There’s some serious shit going down.”

  He was not sure how to feel. Kimberly was gone. She was not coming back.

  Kimberly Madison was so much more than gone.

  Sonny knew nothing of basic Astronomy and the vast distances therein. He couldn't even imagine it.

  ~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~

  ~ 25 ~

  An Unlikely Reunion

  Sunday, November 28th, 11:11 am…

  Marissa Avalon and Christina Sturge flew toward one another. The moment they heard what they knew to be the massive chain scraping against the outer surface of the thick, cast-iron bound door, they ran. Their embrace was fierce, desperate. Their hands searching, their hearts bleeding for the comfort they could not hope to feel from the other’s clutch. The situation was too dire. Their predicament was too harrowing. Such comfort was scarce beneath the ground, confined in what looked like tunnel straight out of World War II.

  “What is this place a bomb shelter?” Christina had asked after she had calmed down enough to explore their surroundings. That had been two days ago, or so the girls surmised. Being in constant dark held back by a mere lantern had made such designations difficult.

  To Marissa’s young mind, the assessment of the older girl seemed adequate enough. It did appear as though the awful man with the face in constant change was keeping them in a shelter of some sorts. The light fixtures were reinforced, ensconced about a thick steel mesh. The ceiling was domed, the walls blending into it at either side of the passage. Though the place looked old, there were no cracks or signs of decay anywhere along the concrete enclosing them. Sure there was dust and various other debris abound. But, there was nothing that gave either girl the notion of dilapidation. Its’ constr
uction was such to outlast ravishes of time.

  The chain slammed against the door; the great, rusted tumblers within squealed in protest. The gigantic, robed man forced the portal open with little effort. The third grader knew she couldn't even nudge it a centimeter.

  Marissa and Christina, hid their faces in the hallow of the other’s neck, trembling. Over the course of the past forty-eight hours their fear of the man who had abducted them had not diminished.

  Rather, it had multiplied.

  He came and went at irregular intervals, rarely speaking. Only their health seemed relevant to him. Other than to tell them to eat, because the Seeker? had wished it, he said nothing. Whatever that meant they were not sure, but every time he had uttered those words, he had followed them with the same threat.

  “If you do not eat as commanded, I will force it upon you. And, I promise, you will not like that.”

  There seemed little room for compromise. Thus, they had eaten, though the foodstuffs he brought weren't those that served to nourish them. They were odds and ends. They were things found at the back of the pantry or the refrigerator. Those items long forgotten because of the rarity of their consumption. Cocktail wienies. Instant grits. Liquid Smoke. Sardines. Peanut-brittle-covered Macadamia nuts. Cornmeal. Southwestern-style Season salt. This was only naming a few.

  Some of what he brought they could eat, but an equal amount needed preparation or at least a microwave, or were mere seasonings. Since they had no household appliances, they could do little with those items. Other than pile them off to one side, they could only hope sometime soon he would bring something else so they could use them.