Bang, he thought.
His smile widened.
Such a special moment.
34.
Nat swept a hand up the back of Max’s neck, making him shiver against her. She smiled through her kiss and grabbed his head. Forcing him against her, she pressed her lips forcefully against his. His tongue again prodded against them. Nat opened her mouth a little wider and slid her own tongue over her teeth. She met him in the wet cavity between. Filled with an almost static tingle, her chest rose and fell in deep, quick breaths. Her nipples stiffened and poked against the fabric of the t-shirt underneath the coat. Done stroking her back, Max’s hand snaked further down and clasped her buttock. Even through the thick denim of her jeans, she felt his fingers press eagerly into her flesh. It caused warmth to spread between her legs.
It was never like this with Simon, she thought. No heat, no… fire.
Again, guilt snagged at her heart like a cat with a ball of wool.
She broke away for a second, intending to catch her breath and compose her thoughts. Instantly, Max pulled her back in and continued kissing.
She allowed him to plant small and delicate kisses at the edge of her mouth.
In her arms, Max snapped rigid.
Nat pulled back.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Nat?” said a familiar voice behind her.
She stared at Max, horrific realisation spreading through her like a rotten cancer. Her stomach seemed to plummet from her body. Blood rushed in her ears.
“S-Simon?” She slowly turned her head.
Standing beside one of the wooden boxes, with his face a canvas of astonishment, Simon gazed down at them. At his side, the white-haired friend gave a tilted smile.
“I told you,” said Johan. “That is her, isn’t it?”
Simon’s expression never changed as he nodded.
“Amazing,” Johan said, smirking.
He raised the gun.
Nat broke away from Max, who shuffled back, eyes locked on the two figures.
“This… this isn’t what it looks like,” she said, her body rigid.
Head drooped, Simon studied the floor, averting his stare from her. “It’s exactly what it looks like.” Simon squeezed his eyes shut, his expression like he’d bitten into a lemon. His fingers curled into fists. They shook with ferocity. “Exactly…” he spat.
Leaving him trembling, Johan stepped in front. He pointed the gun.
“You,” he said to Max. “Get up. Now.”
Max stayed seated against the wall, still staring with a burning intensity. His eyes had narrowed to sharp points of hatred.
“I said get up,” said Johan, his voice raised. He glanced upwards at the sound of a bird flapping across the warehouse. After a swallow, he spoke again, voice hushed. “I’ll kill you where you sit, you fuck. Get up.”
Max slowly climbed to his feet without so much as blinking.
“Now walk away from her,” Johan continued. “I think her boyfriend needs a few words with her.” The corner of his mouth curled up in an acidic sneer.
“No,” Nat cried. “Max, don’t!”
Johan blinked.
“Max? You hear that, Simon? All this time, she’s been with one of them…”
“I… don’t care… who… or what,” said Simon. His throat sounded blocked with rage, the muscles of his neck pulsating. He raised a hand and jabbed a finger at her. “How… could you... do this?”
Nat opened her mouth. “Simon—”
His hand whipped across her cheek. Her head swung to the side.
“Bitch!” Simon screamed at her. “After everything I did?”
Max dove forwards, hands outstretched, reaching for Simon’s throat.
“Na-ah,” said Johan. He thrust the gun upwards and caught Max just below the chin with the barrel. The force of the blow knocked Max’s head back. Johan pressed the gun higher. The tip bit into Max’s skin. With his free hand, Johan grabbed a fist full of hair and held Max in place. The sly grin never left his face.
“Max!” Nat screamed.
She turned, hearing the hand whip through the air. It smashed into her other cheek. The sound of the blow echoed in the empty building.
“Nat!”
“Hush up, lover boy,” hissed Johan. “I think we also need a little chat after what your brothers did.”
Pain erupted across Nat’s scalp as Simon yanked her by the dreadlocks to a stand. He brought his face close to hers. His skin burned deep red. Pressed together so tight, his bared teeth seemed in danger of cracking.
“How could you do this?” he asked. His hand released her hair, but before she could escape, it clamped around her throat. “Little whore. Aren’t you? Just like the rest. Say it!”
Nat just choked in his hold.
He pushed her back. Nat’s head knocked against the edge of the raised platform.
“Should have known, should have known,” Simon continued, his words rambling together. “What the hell is it with women, huh? Why can none of you be fucking trusted?”
“They’re filth,” said Johan. “I wonder how many times has she done this to you?”
Simon pressed harder.
Nat coughed, feeling her windpipe narrow. Her breath whistled in and out through her nose.
“How many times?” Simon screamed. “How many?”
He pulled her forwards and jerked her back, banging her head on the platform.
“One?”
Forwards.
Back.
Thunk!
“Two?”
Thunk!
“Nat!”
She heard Max’s call, but he sounded far away. Sparks danced in front of her eyes like a snowstorm.
“Three? Four? Five?”
Thunk thunk thunk!
With each strike she sagged a little more in Simon’s grip.
Out of breath and sweating, he threw her down. She landed on her hands and knees, gasping. She rubbed her throat.
“We’ve come all this way to find this bitch,” said Simon. His voice had regained a little composure and sounded more like himself. It disturbed Nat more than his raving. “I think the journey has made me realise something, Johan.”
“And what’s that?” asked Johan, grinning. He seemed to love every minute of the ordeal.
“I’ve learned who my friends are,” said Simon. He stared down. “Finally.”
“I saw it in your eyes,” said Johan. “It was the killing, cleaning up the scum again.”
“No!” Max struggled more and whipped his hands up, aiming for the gun.
Johan pulled it back and struck him across the face with the grip.
Max staggered backwards and tripped over a coil of rope on the floor.
Johan leapt on top of him. Lifting the gun high, he brought it down on Max’s face once, twice, three times. Max fell limp, arms flopped to the sides. Johan poked him in the chest with the gun and, satisfied, climbed off.
“Not so pretty now,” he said. “Take a look, Nat.”
Nat stared at the floor, massaging her bruised throat.
“He told you to look,” said Simon and booted her in the side. The blow knocked the wind from her. Simon pounced and, gripping her head with both hands, twisted her head. She tried to resist, but as the pain in her hard neck muscles grew unbearable, she relented.
“Open your eyes,” said Simon as he moved a hand to her jaw. With his fingers, he painfully squeezed her cheeks inward.
She opened her eyes.
Max lay sprawled on his back, arms spread at his side, palms up. His eyes were closed, something Nat could barely make out with so much blood. It poured from a large gash above his left eye and travelled along his nose, now a dark purple blob.
“Max… no…”
“Max yes,” said Simon. He stepped back and kicked her in the side again.
Clutching her ribs, Nat curled up on the floor.
Johan pointed the gun down and slowly raised it up along Max�
��s body, stopping at his head. He squeezed the trigger just a bit.
“No,” said Simon. “Not yet.”
Nat nearly cried out in relief.
“Why not?” asked Johan as he lowered the gun. “One less to worry about.”
“Think. We can get information from him. We have no idea how many more of those things are down there. If he’s in the family, he’s bound to know. He’ll be in a more helpful mood when he wakes up.”
Johan prodded the limp body with his boot. “That is, if he wakes up.” He replaced the gun in the pocket of his jacket. “But I like your thinking. It’s good to have you back, man.”
“I was stupid, I realise that now. To think I was against it. That was all due to her.”
“Against it?” said Johan. “How could you be against it? Things might have been different if you hadn’t started our little mission. I’m glad you did. I’d have been a mess without the focus.”
“It was you?” Nat spluttered, still clutching her chest. “You said you’d caught him and tried to save the girl.”
Simon chuckled and faked a third kick.
Nat flinched.
“What was I supposed to say, that it was me all along? I feel it may have soured our relationship, Nat. I had to say something. The thing is, and sorry about this, mate, I wanted to keep all that in the past. I thought… I was happy. That night in the Fourth Dimension, seeing Johan and the boys, brought it all back.”
Leaving Max behind, Johan walked over and stood on the opposite side of Nat.
“How could you forget? Seriously, the things you used to do.” He knelt down next to Nat. “You should have seen him back then. He didn’t just have his fun and quietly get rid of them like we did, oh no. He really butchered them. Made such a mess. Even I felt a little put off by some of it. I tried to match his… genius with the last few girls, just to show the boys I was as good as him. No one can fuck up whores like the master. He’s an artist.” Johan straightened up, leaving Nat to sob. “You remember the big red head?”
Simon seemed to focus in the distance, dredging his memories. “What was her name? It’s hard to remember them all. Something foreign, wasn’t it? Natalya?”
Johan nodded. “You really did a number on her.”
“She was disgusting,” Simon spat. “Not only a woman—another scheming, evil woman—but a disgrace. She made me sick.”
“We still had our fun though, right?”
Simon grunted. “It may have looked like fun, and you might’ve got your kicks, but I hated it.” He sniffed. “Still, had to be done. They need to know their place. I think the fat pig actually enjoyed it. Probably the most attention she’d ever had.”
Johan sniggered. “She lost a lot of weight in the week we had her, as I recall.”
“Oh yes,” said Simon, a grin spreading across his face like a crack splitting glass. “We did remove most of it.” He made a sawing motion with his hand.
Nat burst into a run, shoving herself forwards with her feet. She burst past Johan and headed for the open door. Her shoulders whipped back. With her legs running full pelt, she slipped and fell back, hitting the floor hard.
Johan released the back of her coat.
“Nice try,” he said.
“How about him?” asked Simon. “Still out?”
Johan glanced down. “Like a light.”
Simon licked his lips. “You know, I think Nat needs to learn a little about respect. Bring her over here.”
Johan immediately obeyed. Again, he grabbed the hood and used it to yank Nat to her feet like a leash.
“You’re letting him order you around?” said Nat, desperate to find a way out of her situation. With no way to overpower them, especially not with Max unconscious and Johan with a gun, she hoped that talking might get her out of this alive. “I thought you were the bad boy.”
“Compared to this guy?” said Johan and pulled her along. “He taught me and the boys everything we know. It’s nice to have him back.”
“You’re both fucking crazy,” she screamed.
Simon watched the ceiling. “Shut her up, Johan.”
Johan clamped a hand over Nat’s mouth, and he too glanced upwards.
What are they so afraid of up there? Nat wondered.
She tried to scream. If they wanted her to be quiet, she’d make as much noise as possible. Hopefully, the brothers would come running.
Johan’s hand felt tight as a second skin. Her scream came out as a low humming sound.
“That’ll do,” said Simon. “We don’t want to disturb the birds. Get her over here.”
With one hand on her mouth, Johan used his other arm to grab her around the waist and pull her forwards. Nat tried to beat herself free, battering his chest, stomach and face with short slaps and punches. He appeared to barely feel them and threw her across the floor.
Simon caught her before she fell and hoisted her up.
Taking a deep breath, Nat prepared to unleash an ear-splitting scream.
A knee to her diaphragm reduced her to a gasping, sputtering wreck.
“Naughty,” Simon whispered. Two more hard slaps swept her head left to right.
“Are we taking her with us?” said Johan. “I still think we should get back soon and come back tomorrow night with more guns. She could keep us amused until then.”
“Just like old times?”
Johan nodded. “Just like old times.”
Simon ran his hand up across the red and blotchy skin of her face, mopping up the shed tears with his fingers. He gazed into her eyes, which hung half open.
“I thought you were different,” he said. “The one that could change me.”
He pressed her back against the platform.
Nat’s head lolled back on her neck.
“But you were far worse than any woman I’ve had the misfortune to meet,” he said and smiled. He grabbed the zipper of her thick coat and began to slide it down.
“Simon,” said Johan, nervously looking up at yet another sound from the rafters, “we should get out of here. The birdman could be back at any second.”
“Just a minute. She needs to learn, and she learns now.” He unfastened the zipper and spread the coat wide.
His hand explored the warmth of Nat’s skin. His fingers slid over her breasts; his hand felt like a fat spider.
“We don’t have time for this…”
“Of course we do,” said Simon. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your sense of adventure! We can double-team her.”
Even in the poor light, Nat saw the intensity in which Simon studied her. She shuddered.
“Is she… clean?” asked Johan.
“The cleanest.”
“Well…” Johan stepped forwards. “I suppose a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. Birdman has a lot to deal with down there, finding a box big enough to bury his brother in.” He chuckled, his voice still low. “Who’s going first?”
Simon hitched up Nat’s jumper and t-shirt underneath the coat. It revealed her bare stomach and the underside of her bra.
“I’ve had enough of this bitch already,” he said. “You might as well have some fun with it.” He hitched the fabric higher. “Don’t expect much.”
The room burst into light from above.
Nat closed her eyes. The hands around her slid away.
“What the hell?” said Simon. “What…. where the hell did he come from?”
Nat forced her eyes open again.
On the far side of the room stood Whistler, Jenkins at his side. In his hand he clutched a short metal bar that protruded from a panel on the wall. Large light bulbs burned above.
“Whistler?” cried Nat.
“You…” growled Johan as he reached into his jacket pocket.
Birds covered every ledge, every wooden support. They nestled against each other in nooks and crannies within the crumbling wall. Staring down, they bustled restlessly. The sound of rustling feathers echoed.
“Birds,” said Simon and released Nat. She s
lid down the side of the platform and landed on her knees. Her coat hung open, her chest and stomach still revealed. “The birds are back, Johan.”
“I know,” he said. “Bring the girl. We’re getting out of here.”
Simon stepped forwards and stretched out a hand. He reached for her throat.
Nat shrank back against the platform.
One of the birds, a small thrush or sparrow, darted through the air like a fluttering brown arrow. It shot between Nat and Simon. He jerked his hand back.
“Did you see that?”
“It was only one of them,” cried Johan. “You wouldn’t have felt it. Grab her. We’ll be okay as long as…”
His words tapered off at a sound from behind.
Whistler loitered by the switch, watching in silence. The sound had emerged from the open hatch, still open in the shaft at the centre of the room. It came again, the clang of metal.
“That’s him,” said Simon. “The birdman! He’s coming.”
“Forget the games,” said Johan and pulled the gun from his jacket. He held it aloft. “Let’s do what we came to do and get the fuck out. First, our little lover boy while he’s being so well behaved.”
He looked down.
During their short spell of staring upwards at the birds and the sudden light, Max had vanished. All that remained was a small splash of blood on the dirty floor.
Johan roared and glanced around the wide room. “Where is he?” He turned on the spot. “Where the fuck did he go?”
“We’re not leaving until he’s dead,” growled Simon. He lurched towards Nat and grabbed her by the hair. She scratched at his hand and screamed.
“Shut it!” he cried and hauled her up. He paused to pick up a short piece of wood that narrowed into a sharp point. “Watch him!”
Whistler had ventured further into the room, his footsteps silent underneath the shouting. He stopped, realising all eyes were on him.
Johan aimed the gun and fired.
35.
A small cloud of dust sprang out from the wall a metre to Whistler’s left.
“Shit,” cried Johan and glanced to the ceiling.
Some of the birds had dropped from their perches, disturbed by the explosion of the gun. They circled overhead and called to each other. This seemed to agitate their audience further, who, in turn, flapped their wings and paced back and forth along the rafters.
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