Haven

by Justin Kemppainen

  “So there I was, bound with my wrists behind my back. My adversary was gloating away about my failures against him. So, I spoke to him. I praised him for his brilliance. I applauded his craftiness, and I expressed nothing but careful reverence for his abilities. He let himself bathe in my admiration.” Kaylee could barely keep her eyes from rolling out of her skull as the narcissist droned on about it.

  Miguel had given a laugh, continuing. “Little did he know, I had secured a small paperclip and managed to disengage the handcuffs I wore. Having forestalled my execution with quick wit, I leapt forward, snatching this very weapon from him.” He opened his coat, revealing the massive revolver. “It was all a part of my plan, you see. He kept himself carefully guarded, so the only way to get to him was to feign being captured. When I seized the weapon from him, my loyal men had already secured the building.” He leaned back in his chair. “I beheld him, helpless, and laughed at him about his failings and his arrogance. The man begrudgingly lowered his head and spoke. ‘Truly you are a silver-tongued fox, Miguel. May the devil take you screaming to hell.’ I told him, ‘perhaps we will meet there someday,’ and shot him.” Miguel concluded.

  Kaylee really didn’t believe it. She had a suspicion that he had merely bought or stolen the pendant he wore and thought it would provide a good nickname, making up a really stupid story to go along with it.

  She was all but openly hostile throughout the entire time she spent with him. She made no effort to appear even slightly interested in anything he said, any of his conquests or close calls. Instead she kept her eyes roaming around, looking for hiding places, exits, weapons, and anything else that she could use to her advantage if the opportunity ever arose. She considered sliding her fork up her sleeve, but decided it wouldn’t be a very useful weapon. That and he seldom took his eyes off her.

  Miguel wiped his mouth and hands with his light pink napkin, matching the thick cloth covering the table. Kaylee couldn’t help eyeing his clothing from time to time, looking at the long-since dried blood splatter from the woman he murdered only a short time earlier.

  He of course, misinterpreted her consistent gaze to be motivated out of interest and desire. His eyes glittered with a carnal hunger, sliding up and down her figure every so often. She tried very hard not to notice the unwelcome attention; it was as confusing as it was offensive. I’m wearing the same dirty jeans and hooded-sweatshirt that I’ve been wearing for weeks, she thought.

  He slowly swirled his glass of the deep red wine, enjoying the aroma and flavor as he took a long sip. “So.” He let the word hang in the air as Kaylee sat, plate and glass empty, hands folded in her lap. “Miss Kaylee.” She just stared at him, waiting for him to get to whatever he planned on saying. “You are a mysterious woman. I like that.”

  Kaylee smirked, curling the corner of her mouth in the slightest of sneers. “Well,” she said with a sickening sweetness, “that’s such a relief. I was very worried; you have no idea.”

  A dark cloud passed over his eyes as the irritation at her flippancy washed over him, but it faded just as quickly. Kaylee clenched her jaw slightly, wondering how much more he would tolerate. Still, she felt delighted to once again cause one of his crazed, bipolar reactions based upon the smallest of inconveniences.

  “I have come to realize that despite speaking with you for the last hour or so,” he took another sip of his wine, “that I have yet to discover anything about you.”

  Kaylee thought, that’s because you’ve been chattering nonstop about yourself the whole time, you dumb bastard. Instead of expressing her opinion, she shrugged, “I was orphaned, and I didn’t want to be one of their slaves, so I wandered around scavenging food and finding places to rest. Now I’m here.”

  Miguel frowned. “That’s it? All of your years, summed up so quickly?” He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “I pity you, girl. You have not understood what it means to live.” He reached across the table, offering his hand, which she ignored. Not noticing the rejection, he said, “I will see to it that your days here are most memorable.”

  Kaylee gave him a cheerless smile. His eyes lit as an idea struck, and he leapt to his feet. “Come with me! I have something to show you. Something quite fascinating.”

  She warily stood and walked towards the exit staircase, with Miguel just behind her. She stopped, folding her arms expectantly. He motioned her down the stairs.

  They came out of Heavenly Bodies and crossed the street, Miguel again filling the void of silence with mindless self-important chatter. “…I had to tell him, ‘I am sorry, my friend, but the male figure simply does not interest me.’ He was such a loyal man, I could barely bring myself to shoot him for the insult…” Wow, Kaylee thought, and here I was thinking he couldn’t disgust me any further.

  They entered a building called “The Dungeon,” which was across the street from Heavenly Bodies. Kaylee cringed when Miguel gleefully told her of the fetishistic practices that used to occur within. He tossed his head back and laughed at his own cleverness when he spoke of how he repurposed it to be used as a prison. “After all,” he said, chuckling, “most of the rooms already have chains.”

  Like most of what he said, Kaylee found this to be not nearly as amusing as he did. They walked through very gothic-style gloomy grey-stone hallways, heavy wooden “cell” doors with sliding viewer plates lining the corridor. They apparently took the ‘dungeon’ theme seriously when the place had been in operation. The rooms were generously spaced out, as they were made to entertain paying clients not actually keep people prisoner. She couldn’t see into any of the rooms, but she had a suspicion that Miguel probably kept more than a couple of them occupied.

  “I’m performing an experiment, you see,” he spoke as they walked along electronic torches that almost looked like real flame illuminating the halls. They came to a stone spiral staircase, leading both up and down. Miguel walked downward, “I always find the thought of being underground to be more unnerving, don’t you?” Kaylee didn’t respond.

  They descended a level. There were still further stairs down, but Kaylee guessed that it probably would have been for maintenance and utilities for the building. Not for clients, so the decoration would disappear. In any case, Miguel didn’t continue down any further. Instead, they came out in a similar hallway to the one a floor above. On this level, for whatever reason, the illumination in the flickering “torches” was much more dim and gloomy. The stone walls glistened as though with cool moisture, but running her hands across their surface, Kaylee discovered it was just a glossy sealant. She stifled a laugh.

  They walked all the way down the hallway, which ended in a wooden doorway, with the same access slot. This one was wide open. Kaylee heard the sounds of shuffling footsteps from inside the cell with a little bit of gruff muttering.

  As they approached, a foul smell grew in intensity. It was the most wretched thing Kaylee could ever conceive of, and she started gagging as they came nearer. Miguel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his mouth and nose. Kaylee winced at the odor that smelled like month-old death and decay mixed with human waste and burnt hair.

  Muffled by the cloth clamped over his face, Miguel said, “Allow me to introduce you to my latest social experiment.” He pounded on the door, which rattled and groaned, “Nigel! We have a guest!”

  Kaylee peered through the slit into the dark cell. From the dim light spilling in from the hallway, she thought that it looked more like a hotel room. She could make out the outlines of a queen-sized bed, miniature refrigerator, and even a television over on the far right. To the left, obscured slightly in the shadows, she could make out a figure and some tall object, like a sheet of plywood standing on its end.

  “Nigel! Don’t be so rude.” He moved his hand to a section of brick, and pushed. All of the lights in the room came on, followed by a shriek and stream of raving.

  Kaylee almost vomited when she viewed the contents of the cell. The accommodations portion, with the bed, fridge, e
tc was for the most part untouched. The sheets looked unrumpled and unused, and there was a thin layer of dust over everything where poor Nigel could only dream of going.

  The other side of the room featured a tall wooden board with leather straps at various positions, ideal for securing a willing prisoner. Next to those, chains were set into the wall. They had about ten feet of give and clasped around the wrists of a man, who appeared more than slightly worse for the wear.

  The walls and floor within a 15-foot radius of the man were splattered with stains of gore and filth. The purple carpet, so saturated with blood, looked a deep brown. The walls were streaked with bloody handprints. A bucket in the corner was overflowing with waste, which in turn was tracked about the area; traces of it spattered the walls.

  Kaylee gagged again as she saw a mangled corpse on the ground, stripped of various portions of its flesh, teeth and bite marks apparent across its torso and extremities. The arms sprawled awkwardly out, and the face, conveniently positioned to be viewable from the door, was etched with the agony of his final moments.

  The occupant still alive wore a filthy, stained white outfit. Skin hung loosely off his thin, hollow frame, and he shuffled towards the door, blinking in the unaccustomed light. A month-old white beard adorned his face. This, too, was encrusted with brownish-red dried blood and the patches of visible, pale skin smeared with it. His brown eyes sunk into his gaunt, vacant face. Almost in front of the bars, he reached out, revealing blood and filth-stained hands. He reached towards the door and was brought up short with a loud clank as the chains drew up to their length. Vague moaning and gibbering issued forth from his lips, which were whitish with frothy spittle. A pained expression crossed his face as he struggled against the chains to move closer to the door.

  “That’s far enough, Nigel.” Miguel spoke as if to a child.

  Kaylee covered her mouth with her hand as she saw a ring on the man’s hand, bearing the mark of Citizenship. She wanted to leave, but she found herself unable to look away from the torturous scene.

  “P-pl… Please… Help me…” came the piteous moans from the man, still reaching in vain towards the closed door. “S-so. Hungry…” Nigel’s face contorted and he threw himself forward, his arms wrenching behind him, bringing his face only a few inches away from the door.

  Miguel held a satisfied expression, but Kaylee could see that even he was disturbed by the sight of it. Bile raging in her stomach, she wondered if maybe even his depravity had its limits.

  A new odor of decay assailed Kaylee, as his rotten breath passed through the slit, and she backed away from the door as Nigel cut loose a stream of raving nonsensical gibberish. Her gag reflex triggered once more when she saw his bloodstained lips and rotting teeth. He wrenched against the chains, screaming at the top of his lungs, eyes rolling back showing the whites.

  Miguel slammed the viewing window closed, muffling the madman’s shrieks. Kaylee turned away and walked briskly down the hallway. He caught up to her quickly, talking about something. She completely ignored him, focusing her attention on not vomiting. A couple of tears rolled down her cheeks as she ascended the spiral staircase.

  They soon came outside, and in front of the entrance Kaylee doubled over, taking several deep breaths of fresher air, still imagining the suffocating stench all around her. Miguel was talking about something, and he had a somber tone.

  “…freely admit that it has, perhaps, gone further into the realm of the vile than I ever intended.” He rubbed his chin. “Yet I can’t seem to abandon the experiment. In a grotesque way, I find poor Nigel and his reactions so utterly fascinating. It’s such an interesting study in human behavior.”

  Kaylee shot a glare at him, “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Miguel looked surprised, “Have you not been paying attention?”

  “To what?” Kaylee snapped. “Your justification for that horrific torture?”

  Another of the intense scowls passed over Miguel’s face, melting into that same warm smile as he relaxed himself from the insult. He wagged his finger at Kaylee, “Someday you will have to learn to listen and obey, my dear.”

  “Oh really?” Kaylee made a rude gesture. “Then today I’ll stick with pissing you off.”

  Miguel looked suddenly surprised, as though he’d been slapped. It passed quickly, and he smiled sadly. “What you don’t see, my dear, is what Nigel teaches us.”

  “Whatever,” she said dismissively.

  Miguel displayed a heavy scowl. “Tell me, do you think, if given the opportunity, that gentleman in chains below would afford us any mercy?”

  Kaylee scowled back. “How should I know?”

  Miguel smiled thinly. “Let me tell you, then, what he intended.” The smile faded. “He broke through a sealed section of his own apartment up above with the goal of hunting and killing one of the ‘elusive vermin,’ as he called them. One of us.”

  “Bullshit.” Kaylee said, disbelieving.

  Miguel drew in a deep breath. “No. I assure you it is the absolute truth. He had a hunting rifle, and he brought his servant along to carry equipment.” He frowned, “Since their culture holds us as little more than beasts, he believed it would be easy sport.”

  Kaylee cringed. He never stood a chance, she thought. The image of the man in the festering gore-stained cell came back to her, “But why are you doing this to him? Just kill him or let him go!”

  He rounded on her, anger in his eyes. “And what do they do to the people they take to the surface, hmmm?” He bared his teeth. “Do they let us simply go? Do they give us an easy death?” He shook his head. “I recognized the man he brought with to carry his weapons for him. One of mine, taken months ago. What remained in him was nothing. He became a mindless slave. They did that to him.” Miguel raised his chin. “So tell me, is what I’ve done to this man any different?”

  Kaylee frowned, trying to come up with a response.

  Miguel smirked. “Do you see us, starving under their heel as we are, devouring our own dead? Perhaps we are not so barbaric after all.” He shrugged. “Or maybe the term has no meaning at all, and people, Citizen or otherwise, are capable of doing horrific things in the proper circumstances given the proper convictions.”

  Kaylee felt a flare of anger. “No. You don’t get to say that.” She glared at him. “You don’t get to pretend to be some misunderstood saint.” After his posturing, his desperately boring stories, his calm execution of that poor woman, and his depraved torture of the poor soul chained to the wall, she simply could not handle him discussing any sort of morality. “You’re so full of shit. You talk about how they’re worse, but they aren’t. You didn’t even give your own former man an easy end. He’s in there, being eaten for your little experiment.” She shook her head. “No. You just like to hurt people, that’s all there is to it. It doesn’t matter how you try to justify it. You’re just some sadistic son of a bitch.”

  Miguel glowered at the insult and paced away a few steps. He sighed, hanging his head. “How much longer do you think you can try my patience?” He whirled around, striding towards her. “It is not unlimited.”

  Defiant, Kaylee sneered up at him. “Oh, really? What a shame. I feel so sorry for you.”

  His arm shot out, grabbing her wrist. She tried to pull away, but he held firm. Into his jacket he reached, pulling out the huge revolver. Kaylee’s eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to scream as he held the gun next to her face.

  He released her arm and cupped her chin. “Understand this. Your life is mine. You live and die by my whim.” His smiled at her, revealing his gold teeth. “I like you, my sweet. Your spirit is most impressive.” The smile faded. “Do not test me.” To add insult, he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth.

  He released her. She took a few steps away and spat. She scowled at him.

  “So, the Citizen lasted two weeks before starting to consume his dead servant,” he said, continuing the story. Kaylee’s mouth hung open as Miguel switched gears in conver
sation as though nothing, including his big ‘we’re no different speech,’ had happened. He really is crazy, she thought. God… what have I gotten into?

  Right then, as he, with animated vigor, began to tell the story of Nigel’s capture, Kaylee realized that she had never felt quite so alone and helpless. How am I going to get out of this, she wondered. As Miguel continued to chatter without pause, she felt a crushing despair seep into her mind as no answer came.

  Chapter 17: Revelations

  Michaels again found himself sitting at his desk. His new promotion entailed new responsibilities; most of them seemed to regard a large amount of paperwork. He wasn’t sure if they were expecting him to continue working with prisoner subjects and conditioning, but, with the large impending raid, patrols down below had ceased.

  In the late afternoon, he had finally gotten back to his office. He realized that the day before, instead of properly closing out and shutting things down, he had simply closed the terminal lid when Dunlevy contacted him. When he reopened it, he noticed that the end of the video file had provided a string of random text. He wrote it down right away, just in case it was a clue to something important, and just in case he couldn’t find it again.

  For a couple of hours, he had the computer running searches again, this time looking for specific file dates one at a time to narrow the field of search. It had appeared to have become more cooperative since his initial success, returning plenty of files as opposed to nothing at all.

  Michaels clapped his hands together in an uncharacteristic victory gesture as he spotted another video file in and among several text and various program and system documents. The date was two weeks after the initial discovery. He moved the cursor over it, and the file vanished.

  He raised an eyebrow, and attempted the unfocused stare pattern again, to see if the file would make itself reappear. When this failed to work, he searched for the file name itself, frowning when the search result turned up nothing on the file “mlc-spcmn.” Damn, he thought.