Haven

by Justin Kemppainen

  He grinned, revealing a couple of gold teeth, “Well, hello there, my dear.” His voice was smooth and deep, with a hint of an accent that Kaylee couldn’t identify. Probably faked to make him sound more exotic, she thought. It would have been soothing had Kaylee not sensed the flood of carnal desire creeping into it. “You are quite the pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

  Red stepped forward, “Boss, I-”

  Miguel’s head snapped upward, his face a mask of anger. “Quiet! Can you not see that I am trying to comfort this poor girl?” Red’s mouth snapped closed, and he stepped back.

  Miguel turned his attention back to Kaylee, his anger melting into a warm smile. “I apologize for the behavior of my men. They are brutish and stupid.” He glared up at the pair, who lowered their eyes in submission. “Come, sit beside me.” He gestured at the open seat next to him. Kaylee looked into the eyes of the other girl, whose face was pitiful and filled with sorrow. Miguel transferred his cigar to his other hand, which sat right in front of the girls face. Her eyes widened, noticing the large chunk of burning ash hanging precariously over her bare legs. She squirmed involuntarily away from it.

  Miguel calmly removed his arm from her shoulders, placed his cigar on the ashtray on the table, turned towards the woman, and viciously backhanded her.

  “You stupid, filthy cow! You dare express revulsion at my touch?” She squealed, cowering in the seat, as he raised his hand to strike her again. “I am a gift to you, woman! You would have nothing without me. I give you food, shelter, care. I give you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams! And this is how you thank me?” He lashed out, striking her again. She flopped facedown onto the cushion, sobbing softly into the black leather. Miguel rolled his neck and dusted off his shoulders. His face still betrayed his irritation as he looked at Kaylee and gestured at the seat next to him, “Perhaps you, dear girl, will understand my generosity. Have a seat.”

  Kaylee sensed an opportunity that she wouldn’t likely get again. I don’t have a chance in making it out of here anyway, she thought hopelessly. Still kneeling in front of him, she crawled over towards him. She reached behind her as she did, smiling at Miguel to distract him. He cocked his head slightly, confused at her sudden warmth, and smiled back. She gripped the small .22 pistol in her hand and put the other on Miguel’s knee. She heard Trip and Red behind her gasp as she pulled it free and whipped it around, sticking the gun into his ribcage.

  Kaylee squeezed the trigger, filling the room with the polite crack! of such a little weapon. She was slightly shocked after the discharge to find her wrist across her body, in grasp of Miguel’s hand, the pistol aiming into the leather cushion. The girl on the stage screamed from the gunshot and dropped, covering her head. There was a small, ragged hole in the cushion, barely an inch away from Miguel’s torso.

  Miguel smirked, and turned over Kaylee’s wrist, causing her to cry out, examining the weapon. “Look at this! Such a tiny thing, yet I would imagine still potent.” He looked down at Kaylee, whose arm was bent at an awkward angle. “Much like you, I would wager, my dear.”

  Kaylee gritted her teeth and searched her pocket, looking for the switchblade. Dismayed, she remembered that she had not retrieved it from Griff’s chest.

  Miguel wrenched the pistol out of Kaylee’s grip with his other hand, and put it on the cushion next to him. He then reached in to his jacket, pulling out a large magnum revolver, placing the barrel at Kaylee’s temple, still holding her wrist.

  “If you are carrying anything else, I would suggest leaving it.” He cocked an eyebrow at the nervous-looking forms of Red and Trip, who remained poised, half in action to try and stop Kaylee. “Of course, this wouldn’t have been a problem if you had brought her here properly prepared.” His intense gaze bored into them.

  Terror seeped into their eyes, and they exchanged glances. They both started babbling apologies, “So sorry, sir- Griff’s fault- won’t happen aga-” rumbled together.

  Miguel cut them both off, “Quiet! I won’t have your foolish excuses on top of your incompetence.” The two fell silent, hanging their heads. Kaylee would have thought it comical in another situation.

  He hauled Kaylee up in a deft move, spinning her around, releasing her wrist and curling his arm around her midsection. She now sat on his lap, fighting the urge to vomit at his touch. She didn’t struggle, as he now held the gun at an angle on the side of her face, caressing it with the tip of the barrel. She felt his breath on her neck and could tell he was grinning. “I suppose I can’t be too upset can I? You’ve given me the opportunity search her myself.”

  She shuddered as his hand roamed across her figure. On certain places, he lingered longer than was necessary, filling her with a bitter anger, but when she tried to pull away, he pressed the gun into her cheek. She fumed as he completed his extensive search, satisfied that she didn’t carry any other weapons. He slid her from his lap to his left, opposite his other girl. The woman had since sat up again, a few tears rolling down her cheek as she shivered from her state of undress. An angry red welt was rising on her cheek.

  Miguel extended his arm around Kaylee, who slid away on the cushion from him, slapping his hand and glaring at him, “Don’t touch me, you piece of shit.”

  Miguel tossed his head backwards and laughed, “Such fire, such spirit!” He threw his arms wide open, grinning at Trip and Red, who still stood there, waiting to be dismissed. “Well done, my friends. Any of your foolishness today is forgiven a thousand times over by bringing me this delightful creature.”

  The two beamed, standing up straight. Kaylee again had the urge to laugh out loud at them standing there, like little children proud of their accomplishments and the praise. Miguel turned away from them, appraising Kaylee up and down with obvious enjoyment. She scowled back at him with her arms folded, inching as far away as the edge of the cushion would allow, wishing she still had her weapon…

  Which she now noticed was sitting on the cushion next to Miguel, who had seemingly forgotten about it and the other girl, in the presence of Kaylee. He noticed the pair of underlings still standing eagerly, as though waiting for a reward. “What are you still doing here? Get out.” He waved them off. They exchanged dismayed glances and turned away.

  During this brief exchange Kaylee saw that the woman kept sliding her glance down to the small pistol and inching her hand towards it. Kaylee’s eyes went wide and her breath caught in her throat as the girl’s hand closed over the weapon and started to lift it.

  Miguel turned and fired his huge revolver without hesitation, filling the room once more with a roar that made Kaylee’s gunshot sound like a tiny squeak. Kaylee screamed as blood, bone, and brain matter sprayed in what seemed like every direction as the bullet shredded a huge exit wound out of the woman’s head. The smoking barrel held poised as Miguel frowned, looking down at his clothing, which had a few splatters on it. The dead woman remained upright for a moment before sliding from the couch onto the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath her.

  Everyone in the room, including the dancer, who hadn’t yet gotten up from the previous event, froze, watching Miguel. He sighed, sliding the revolver back into his shoulder holster. “Such a waste.” He mumbled, straightening his jacket. Kaylee couldn’t tell if he was speaking about the woman or his clothing.

  Red and Trip came running back up, holding their rifles. Miguel stood up, “Good, you’re back. You.” He pointed at Red. “Get rid of that.” He said, motioning to the dead woman. The two exchanged brief glances before awkwardly grabbing the woman’s arms and extracting her limp, body from the booth. Red tossed her over his shoulder and walked out of the room, the woman’s blood dripping along behind him as he went. The woman on stage had disappeared behind the curtain, and several of the other people in the area, were on their feet watching.

  Miguel sighed again as he looked at the trail of blood leading away. “Good help is so hard to find these days.” He turned to Trip. “Find someone to clean this up.”

  Trip
stepped forward, “Boss, I need to talk with y-”

  Miguel walked up to him, until he was inches away. He bared his teeth and snapped. “Was there something unclear about my instructions?”

  “No, boss, but-”

  “Then why are you still standing here?!”

  Trip winced and backed away a couple of steps, and spoke again, “I need to tell you something-”

  Miguel bore down on him again, anger etched into the lines of his face, “Do you understand that there is nothing you can say that will interest me in the slightest? Get moving, now!”

  “Boss, Griff is dead!” He blurted.

  Miguel stepped back, attitude abruptly changing from anger to curiosity, “Really? What happened?” He didn’t seem concerned by the news.

  “I don’t know, boss, we were by that big spa building.” He slid his eyes to the floor, considering whether or not to tell him everything.

  Miguel picked up on the hesitation, grabbing his shoulders, “What is it? Tell me all that happened.”

  Trip looked at the floor, “It was Griff, boss. He didn’t want to bring the girl to you. He took her inside the building, and made us stand outside and keep watch. He was going to just get rid of her when he was done.”

  Miguel scowled, “Then the swine got what he deserved. You took care of him, yes?”

  “No, boss-”

  “Then who? The girl?” He looked back at Kaylee with a huge smile on his face. “My dear, you continue to impress me!”

  “No, boss. I mean, yes, she did stab him, I think, and they were fighting, but…” He trailed off, clearly frightened.

  Miguel shook him, “What is it? Tell me!”

  Trip stuttered, “It, w-was some kind of monster. It grabbed Griff and broke his neck, like it was nothin’! Then, me and… me and Red we came in, and-and…” he stuttered, “and started shootin’! The thing takes, like, a dozen bullets, like it was nothin’, and, and then it just disappears!”

  Miguel eyed Trip for several moments, hands still on his shoulders. “I think I believe you.” He said, slowly. “Hmm... what do you say?” He asked Kaylee.

  Kaylee, still in slight shock from the recent violence, merely glowered up at him. “Go to hell.” She snarled.

  A quick flash of irritation passed across Miguel’s face, but it faded into another smile that made Kaylee want to crawl out of her skin. “It is all right, my dove, you will warm up to me,” his eyes darkened, “one way or another.”

  Kaylee swallowed hard as Miguel turned back towards Trip, whispering some series of instructions that she was unable to hear. She leaned in closer, but couldn’t make out anything of importance.

  Trip nodded, with vigor, and walked off, slinging his assault rifle over his shoulder. Kaylee tensed up as Miguel turned back towards her. “Why don’t we move to somewhere else; this will need to be cleaned before we can return. Perhaps we can head to the restaurant and get something to eat,” he smiled at her, “I’m dying to get to know you.”

  The thought of something to eat didn’t sound terrible, sadly even after witnessing the poor woman’s death, so Kaylee stood. Miguel put his arm around her waist, guiding her out of the room. She resisted the urge to shake him off or hit him in the face. The thought crossed her to try and grab his revolver from the unbuttoned jacket, but her mind replayed the splatter and the surprised look on the woman’s face as her life abruptly ended, so she decided to behave. For now, she thought.

  Without a fuss, she allowed herself to be led out of the room, people with buckets and rags already filing into the room. With as much malice as she could muster, she thought to herself, you’ll be dying all right you son of a bitch.

  Chapter 15: Spiritless Savior

  The creature called Malcolm crouched in the alleyway outside of the spa, bits of glass shaking around on the folds of his clothing from his rapid entrance and exit. He had his coat open and layers of clothing lifted, revealing his bluish-gray skin. He used a long, thin chunk of sharp glass to form a wide-slit. He peeled his skin back, plunging the glass into the bullet hole and twisting it around.

  Pain shot through his body as he pulled the glass out in a swift motion; a flattened slug came with it, falling to the ground and tumbling away. He tucked the flap of skin back into place, blood flow from the wound already slowing. He repeated the process several more times on various places of his body, slicing into his body and removing the numerous bullets.

  Satisfied that his body had been emptied of foreign objects, he pulled his clothing back into their proper places. By the time he stood up, most of his wounds had ceased bleeding. He hoisted himself up, through one of the broken windows into the spa once more, rolling to his feet inside. The body of Griff still lay where it had dropped.

  Malcolm felt a very slight pang of regret. He didn’t relish hurting people, but he didn’t like people hurting anyone else either. He stood over the corpse, and crouched. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Then, as if by instinct, he reached out and slid the poor man’s glazed eyes closed, and moved the slack, gaping jaw to a closed position.

  His glowing eyes landed on the hilt of a knife protruding from Griff’s chest. He gripped it and pulled, ignoring the wet sliding noise as the knife came free, slick with Griff’s blood. He examined the knife, discovering its simple mechanics. He dropped the weapon, not interested in keeping it.

  He walked through the locker room and lobby, out the front door in the direction he sensed was correct, spotting the recent treads of shoes in the dirt. He followed in that direction, keeping watch far ahead so as not to be surprised by any people. It probably wouldn’t be a problem; he had hidden himself enough times to know his vision far surpassed anyone else’s. In addition, he felt little concern anyway. With the few encounters he had experienced, he was becoming aware of how much stronger, faster, and more resilient he was. The pain from the wounds had ceased entirely. He looked down at his coat, which was riddled with small holes and dark blood stains, still fresh and wet. However, as he ran his gloved hand across where the wounds should have been, all he found was smooth, scarless skin. He adjusted his clothing again, securing it in place.

  Save for one piece. He loosened the cloth surrounding his face, exposing it to the open air. He inhaled deeply, once again flooding his olfactory sense with the decay of Old Haven. He picked out the light scent imprinted on his mind as Kaylee’s. He’d been following and waiting for her for days for some reason yet unknown in his own mind.

  Just as he was deciding to do again. Securing his facial wrappings once more, he took off at a rapid pace, cutting back and forth across the streets, sticking to the areas not illuminated by street lamps. Even with the random detritus scattered about, he made little sound and continued moving in the same general direction. Suddenly he stopped, and crouched in the shadows.

  Two men, chatting as they walked, came by the place where he hid. They sauntered carelessly, speaking to each other regarding something Malcolm thought he recognized, but only in a vague fashion, as though he had heard about it years ago.

  His memory, still chaotic and unreliable, filled his mind with images of fantastic places that he was almost convinced that he’d never been to. Towering crystalline structures of translucent pastel colors, swirling around, mingling with the red-orange sunlight, shining off of the glassy streets, illuminating a city of beauty and luminescence. His face scrunched up as the image mingled with crumbling brick and bright, white-colored buildings.

  He was still not entirely sure why he continued to follow Kaylee, but he knew that she was still in trouble, and he felt determined to help her. He sprang from his hiding place, hurrying along in the direction that the two men, with their captive, had passed.

  Chapter 16: Uncivilized Behavior

  For someone who led a pack of half-starved criminals and vicious men, making a pleasurable life out of the abuse of people already experiencing great suffering, Kaylee found Miguel to be quite dull.

  There were several empty lev
els to the Heavenly Body club, filled with gimmicky bars and other stages, as well as dozens, maybe hundreds of small, private rooms. Also in the building were a few restaurants. They weren’t any longer in direct service, but Miguel had people and supplies enough to have someone provide cooked meals.

  In spite of her captivity, Kaylee could not resist the hot, delicious food. She devoured it without speaking, guzzling the offered wine. Her head felt a little cloudy from the alcohol, yet still everything the man across from her said was incredibly boring.

  “This man turns back towards me,” Miguel was entrenched in some story about a man of his trying to take control of his organization. “and notices that all of his ‘followers’ are actually aiming at him instead of me.” He chuckled. “I never thought a man could remain standing for so long while being filled with holes.”

  His stories were consistently violent, and she found herself either in disbelief or generally less disturbed by them the longer he spoke. She yawned.

  “Tired are we, my sweet?” Miguel took a small sip from his wine glass. “Would you like some more to drink?” He pulled the bottle from the ice bucket and filled her glass once more. She drank the deep, red liquid without saying a word, gulping it down as he watched intently.

  Kaylee had not spoken more than ten words during the entire course of the dinner. Miguel had entertained himself by chattering almost nonstop as Kaylee bolted down her meal. He told stories of how he came into power, how he killed ‘so and so,’ and numerous other of his conquests. One story Kaylee found particularly amusing, not in a positive way, was how the man described his nickname, the Silver Fox. Apparently he received it when he first took control of the organization.