by I N Foggarty
Regardless of how hellish his headache felt, he could not stay here until the end of time; unless he had actually been cast down to hell. Carefully Matt opened one eye a crack and hastily shut it again. The light it seemed, no less blinding than before. It took three more attempts before he could actually keep an eye open a tiny fraction. When he could eventually keep it fully open he discovered that the source of his torment was in fact just a dim table lamp and that the rest of the room lay in darkness.
His vision restored Matt took in what little of his surroundings he could see without moving. Unfortunately, his view consisted only of the aforementioned table lamp and the back and side of a burgundy coloured couch. His sense of smell fared little better, everything in the vicinity of his nose smelled like vomit. Ignoring the putrid stench and his better judgement he tried to sit up. As he rolled over and attempted to swing his legs around gravity took over and he hit the floor with a dense sounding thud.
“Ouch!” Matt groaned, his head inflicted with a new rush of pain. Well, at least he could see more of his surroundings he thought, then regretted it.
Although dimly lit, he could make out two other sofas in the room. Wrestling with a sea of images in his head, he tried to figure out where he was… Raymond’s.
Attempting to recall the previous evening's events only brought about an uncomfortable moan, “urgh.” His struggle to remember coupled with the bottles that lay strewn around the floor at least yielded the fact that he had gotten very drunk. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the vomit he smelled had probably been his own. In fact, he should count himself lucky not to have landed in it when he fell off the couch.
Lying around on Raymond’s floor wouldn’t do him any more good than it already had he reasoned. With great effort, Matt eventually managed to overcome the protests of his head and sat up. Propped against the back of his couch he took a moment to catch his breath and prepare himself for the daunting task of trying to stand. I am never drinking again he swore to himself as he shakily got to his feet; having to grab the arm of the couch to avoid another run-in with the floor. With difficulty, he crossed the room.
In front of him above a wide cabinet, hung a large ornate mirror in the shape of a rhombus. Even in the rooms dim light, Matt could tell he looked quite dishevelled. Absentmindedly he tried to make his hair look more presentable; one side pointed upwards was not a good look for him. Trying in vain to tame it his eyes became distracted by the light bruises on his neck. Hickeys? Who had he been…?
“Oh, no,” Matt groaned. Pulling a strand of chocolate brown hair from his collar he saw clearly the cotton candy pink residue around the marks. “Natalie,” he whispered to himself, clutching at the hair in his hand.
When the memory came back to him Matt did not know what to feel. He had only been dumped a few hours prior and then hit her on the rebound. Granted he must have been quite drunk by that point, though he knew it to be a poor man’s excuse. Natalie was one of his closest friends and snogging her like that would undoubtedly have given her the impression that he wanted them to be more than that. Did he? He could not answer that question at this point. Besides Anna had shown up so perhaps…
“Oh, no,” Matt exclaimed softly, the hazy memory of Anna’s vibrant red haired head walking out the door enveloping his mind. She had shown up looking for him. Yet he had been so drunk he had not realised it was her until it had been too late.
Heart pounding Matt raced from the room. If Anna had dumped him then why had she shown up? But if she hadn’t dumped him why did she send him those texts? And what on earth would she have thought when she saw him kissing Natalie? Something did not feel right about last night and he needed to find out what. For that, he needed to find Anna.
##
The sun had not long risen over the still sleeping city as Matt staggered along what felt like the tenth street beyond his limit. Yet somehow, the perseverance Anna had instilled in him during training, won out over the majority of his brain and body that wanted to collapse into the gutter. The fresh early morning air had done nothing to help his headache and the steady increase in sunlight only aggravating it.
Slowly Matt plodded on. He had no idea which street he was on, but at least he recognised it. Which meant he must be on the right track. When he had left Raymond’s there had still been a few people scattered around. Most had been lying, like him, in what had probably been the same place where they had keeled over. However, a few had been huddled together in conversation and one pair of girls, who he had recognised as being Raymond’s two cheerleaders, had been sitting making out on a wooden chair. He’d seen no sign of Raymond himself. The same had held true for his friends. If they had any sort of luck they would hopefully be at home and asleep by now.
At least it was still early enough for him to make it home before anyone noticed. His parents were generally lax about when he came home if he did not have school the next day. However coming in at such a time in his current hung-over state would not go down well if he were to be caught. Only a few more blocks he told himself after forcing his brain to remember which turn off to take. A few more and you can go to bed, sleep off this blasted hangover, and no one will be any the wiser. After that, he could sort out this whole mess between Anna, Natalie and himself. His heart sank again at the thought of Anna. How could he possibly explain to her what had happened?
So absorbed in thought, Matt failed to notice the car that pulled up beside the curb. A loud blast of a horn made him jump and cringe at the same time, resulting in a strange sort of twisting movement that ended with his ass hitting the sidewalk. Looking up his eyes widened as he caught sight of the driver who had honked him.
“Morning, Bro,” the driver declared in a voice that sounded far too cheerful for this time in the morning.
“Morning, Janine,” Matt replied in a deflated manner. Irrespective of her being a cop, he was now well and truly busted.
“Soooo, what’s my favourite bro doing lying on the sidewalk at five-thirty on a Saturday morning?” his sister asked cheerfully. Did she find the situation amusing?
“Umm….”
“A better liar than you might have tried to claim that you had been jogging.”
He forced himself to smile. “Would that save my ass?”
“No,” she replied, sounding amused. “Because I know that you would never go running in those clothes.” His despondency must have shown on his face for Janine decided to skip the rest of her weird lecture. “Hop in.”
Matt gratefully obliged. If a painful death was all that awaited him when he got home at least he wouldn’t have to walk the rest of the way. Once he had fastened his seatbelt Janine sped off.
“You know if I had still been on duty I would have had to bust you,” she said her tone turning serious. “Although, you’re not the first person in our house to have staggered home hung-over at this time in the morning.” She smiled at him knowingly. “Just don’t make a habit of it or mom will have both our heads if she finds out.”
“Don’t worry I’m never drinking again,” he replied truthfully. “Thanks, Sis.”
“Don’t mention it. Where were you anyway? I thought you were going to Anna’s. She phoned looking for you.”
“Wait, what!” Had Matt been the one driving he would have just slammed on the brakes. What did she mean by Anna had phoned him?
“Yeah, she phoned to see if you were in just before ten last night.”
That didn’t make any sense whatsoever Matt thought. Unless Anna had changed her mind about dumping him and decided to phone and patch things up. But why not just call his cell phone? Awkwardly Matt searched his pockets for his phone. When he found it he hastily withdrew it and checked for any missed calls or text messages. There were two from a number he did not recognise but nothing from Anna.
“I told her you had come back home for clothes then headed to Dylan’s.”
Well, at least that explained how she found him. She must have spoken to Janine then assumed th
at he had gone with Dylan to Raymond’s. However, it did nothing to answer the question of why she had bothered in the first place. Something was definitely not right with the whole situation. With great difficulty Matt forced himself to send a short text to Anna, apologising and telling her that they needed to talk. He just had to hope that she would listen.
“Anyway I doubt you’re the only one suffering this morning,” Janine announced as he hit the send button. He gave her a funny look. “We busted six guys who turned a bar into a wrestling ring, had a case of domestic violence where a woman beat her drunken husband around the head with a steel toe-capped boot and a guy found hanged on a construction site.”
Matt’s head spun as his sister regaled him with her night's escapades. In the end, he wound up with a picture of a burly wrestler hung upside down from a girder by his bootlaces. Any other day and he probably would have found the whole thing fascinating. Janine had a talent for recalling the events of her work with an excruciating level of blood and gore. Speaking of which… “You should have seen one of the guys from the bar fight. Someone took a broken bottle and thrust it right into his eye. It looked like it was going to pop out. Not to mention the blood congealing around all the shards. Bet the docs are still plucking out the pieces.”
Matt retched as the gruesome image of a man’s eye, ringed with blood-soaked fragmented glass dominated his mind. Only by virtue of having no stomach contents, which had probably been left on Raymond’s floor, was he spared the embarrassment of hurling all over Janine's upholstery.
“You okay there, Bro?”
“Fine,” he managed to blurt out in between bouts of nausea.
“Anyway by the time I left it didn’t sound like it would get any better. The body of a teenage girl was phoned in over in South and one of the guys up in West Town put a call out as his daughter hadn’t come home… Speaking of which...”
The car came to a halt and Matt suddenly became aware that street and road had been replaced with the familiar brown metal of the garage door. Clambering out he recoiled at the first flecks of sunlight that had started to creep over the tops of the houses opposite.
"Geez Count Mattula, in that much of a rush to go hide in the darkness?" The playfulness in her tone was made more irksome by the sight of her keys spinning around a finger.
Stupidly Matt patted down his pockets only to discover he had left his own in his rucksack, which still resided in the trunk of Dylan’s car. It appeared he had been doubly lucky that his sister had found him. He did not relish trying to climb up the trellis and in through his bedroom window in his current state.
“You’re not the first one to have come home at this time in the morning and lost their keys either. Though this one you owe me for," Janine said with a smile, expertly opening the front door without making any audible sound.
Matt nodded and bid her farewell as she went towards the kitchen and he the stairs. Trying to limit the noise from his footsteps he headed upwards. His legs were wobbly and twice he had to grab the bannister for support, but eventually, he made it. He even managed to open and close his door without making much noise. Once inside the room, he grimaced at the sunlight that was starting to stream through the window. Hurriedly he closed both blinds and curtains, plunging the room into semi-darkness. Matt let out a slow breath before he haphazardly undressed and climbed into bed, pausing only to set his alarm clock for two o'clock in the afternoon. Soon after his head hit the pillows, his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.
His last thought was a flash of red hair disappearing around a doorway and out of sight. His hand grasped at empty air wanting it back, but try as he might, it was gone and nothing he could do would bring it back. He frowned and rolled in his sleep.
Icebreaker
Water droplets fell to the bottom of the frozen landscape in a silent but constant drip. The impact causing each minuscule bead of water to burst into speckles. An excavation was underway but if the dripping caused any issue, it certainly did not slow the barrage of blows aiming to loosen the mass of ice from its lofty home. Slowly it had some effect, the drone of scraping thuds beginning to chip away at the frozen backdrop sending shavings of ice fluttering into the cold air. A classic contrast of soft and heavy.
Ramone let out a string of curses as his homemade ice scraper slipped against the melting maw and the momentum of his blow caused his hand to be dragged across the cold jagged surface inside of the freezer. The blasted icebox had been just that, a box of ice long overdue a thaw. Ironically, devoid of any usable freezer product such as Ice cubes, he had no other choice but to chip away at the accumulated frozen condensation with a broken plastic tool. With one final slam, he succeeded in dislodging a sizable chunk. Discarding the scraper in disgust, he scooped the ice chips he had made onto a scrap of cloth and wrapped them up. It had been fortunate the previous occupants had forgotten to switch off the generator, otherwise, he would have found only a large puddle of useless water.
“Mrgh,” Ramone grimaced on placing the makeshift ice pack against his left cheek, now sporting an ugly black bruise. It hurt like hell and he was convinced the impact had made his brain rattle inside his skull, the only consolation being that thanks to the burning, pounding ache in his head his ribs had ceased hurting… for the time being. Some stroke of luck that encounter had been he thought bitterly as he fumbled to light a smoke with the other hand.
After a thorough berating by Tanya, he and El Roca, got themselves caught in a traffic jam, caused by some idiot hitting a street light. While stuck in said jam, with the mixed smell of exhaust fumes and El Roca’s greasy cheeseburger breath, the woman had called back to inform him of yet another change in plan. Apparently, some bozos in suits had shown up at the kid’s residence and so they had no choice but to do a grab and run out in the middle of the street. Ramone had not agreed with this new strategy. Kidnapping someone in the middle of a residential street came with a hefty amount of risk. A van like theirs would be considered out of place in most residential areas and it was too late in the day to pass it off as routine work or plumbers. Not to mention the possibility of people wandering or dog walking and you could never be sure who might be curtain twitching.
It was in that vein that when an opportunity had presented itself they had acted. A few turns and minor traffic infringements later they escaped the road blockage and resumed course when by chance he had spotted a lucky break walking along a deserted street. It had unquestionably been the right person. Tanya had, for once, been useful and provided a snapshot she had taken earlier that week. The only snag had been that they were not alone.
The street had housed deserted office buildings, was dimly lit and devoid of traffic both of the pedestrian and automobile kind. The perfect place to snatch someone. Ramone had quickly weighed up the options. Do the job there and pick up both kids or wait and see if they separated but risk being seen by someone. It had been a no-brainer. There were two of them and two kids, one each. El Roca had, of course, moaned at the prospect of ‘double the work'. So Ramone had said that if he was that lazy he could grab the girl for she would probably be lighter and would most likely put up less of a fight than the boy would.
Man had that backfired on him. He’d once heard a saying about lucky breaks and looking gift horses in the mouth but no one had warned him about a fucking filly who bucked like a bull and packed a punch. He cursed as he took a draw on the smoke. The left side of his face hurt like fuck. In fact, in hindsight, he had been fortunate that the blow had not knocked him out…Damn that lazy bastard, Roca.
Once they had agreed on who would grab who, they had decided that Ramone should exit from the front of the van and Roca the rear. That way they could come at the kids from both sides and the back doors would be open for a quicker getaway. He, of course, had fulfilled his half of the plan. He had got out the front of the van, ether-soaked cloth in hand and grabbed the boy with ease. The girl had shouted at him but he ignored her thinking Roca would have her in a matter of seconds. I
t was not until the boy’s body went limp in his arms and a shot of pain had flared up in his busted ribs that he sensed something amiss. One second he stood hissing through the pain struggling to keep them both upright, the next, his neck had snapped around, the girl’s fist having collided with his cheekbone. His grip on the boy had slipped and he had staggered backwards. The force of the blow had been like none he had ever received from a bare hand, and he had been on the receiving end of some powerful slaps from Maria during a tantrum.
Struggling to steady himself, part of him wondering what the fuck had just hit him, he heard the crash of what transpired to be the van's back doors opening. Roca, the dumb fuck, must have kicked them open. The bitch had clearly heard it too as she diverted her attention only for Roca to shoot her in the chest.
Her body crumpled to the sidewalk and Ramone had recovered enough to scoop up the now unconscious boy and get him into the back of the van. Roca had quickly followed suit. Moments later, he sat back behind the wheel while his comrade bound their quarry’s hands and feet. It had been an unmitigated disaster.
What was done was done Ramone thought bitterly. The only redeeming feature being that Sergio, surprisingly, had not flown off the handle when he had explained the situation to him. The sod must have gotten drunk and laid, for nothing else he knew of would explain his mellow routine.
Rummaging in his pockets Ramone found the small bottle of painkillers Jasper had given to him. Popping the cap he dry-swallowed two and lowered himself onto a lumpy old sofa that looked like only the stitching in the fabric held it together. It creaked loudly as he sunk into it and for a second he held himself stiff waiting for it to collapse. When it did not cave in he relaxed slightly and leaning back looked around the place…