Anthony Puyo's The Compelled

by Anthony Puyo

  “Then what are we waiting for. Let’s go,” Bodo shouts. “If we can get into darkness, we have a chance.”

  The men try their luck and run. Bullets zoom by. They get near an alley and duck into it, never looking back, heading north. In the distance, they see the lights of the ten story hospital.

  “Just a few blocks more, fellas.” Gary remarks.

  Out of breath, Charlie stops midway through the dark alley. “That’s it men,” he huffs out, talking between gathered breaths. “I can’t run anymore, I’m not young like you guys.” Charlie, pushing into his mid-fifties, is telling the truth about that.

  The others slow to a stop, catching their wind also. They gander back down the alley, the danger didn’t follow. Low on ammo, but lucky—sometimes that’s all you need.

  “I need water. I won’t be able to go on much further without water,” Kelly says in between huffs. He slides down the wooden plank fence to his rear, holding his knee caps, gasping. “I don’t feel good.” He turns to his side and hurls.

  Down two properties, a tall white picket fence conceals a two story, baby-blue colored Victorian house.

  “There.” Charlie points, “Those pieces look loose. Help me remove it, Bodo?”

  They pry off two planks.

  “I hope nobody’s home. I’m tired of fighting.” Bodo explains.

  Gingerly, the men make their way to the back door. The guys inspect around the yard with their eyes while ducking. The coast is clear.

  The guys wait on the lush grass while Brimm turns the knob. “It’s locked,” he whispers.

  Kelly whispers back, “You really didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

  “Psst,” Bodo sounds, “Over here.” He stands fifteen feet away, near the side of the house. “This window’s broken . . . Come on.”

  After a peek, which isn’t thorough, since it’s really dark, one by one the three squirt in quietly. The fourth, which is Eli, rolls into a side table, knocking over some porcelain knickknacks. It gains him angry “shushes” from the others.

  Brimm and Kelly flash their hand size flashlights through the wooden house. They didn’t use them before, outside, because it was risky. But now, in a confined space, if trouble is going to come for them, it has to come from within. That’s a price they’re willing to pay. It’s better to know where the enemy is, keep them close, to better the chances of neutralizing them. It’s part of basic training.

  The place is well kept and clean. The men stand low in the living room. A coffee table sits near them with various snacks and drinks.

  Bodo grabs an apple from the fruit bowl. “Trouble must have skipped this place.”

  Kelly quickly seizes an unopened water bottle. With no hesitation, he gulps it down. Charlie and Brimm help themselves accordingly.

  Gary points his light towards the boarded up front door. “Look! The doors still closed, but the windows were broken.”

  Charlie pears up the staircase. “Maybe the residents never left.”

  The men stop their looting, figuring the place might still be occupied.

  Bodo puts his two-cents in, “We got what we need, let’s break while we can.”

  He gets much agreement from Eli Kelly and Charlie Bodine, But there’s always a curious one in the bunch.

  “Let’s see what we got here. Maybe there’s some would be recruits.” Brimm breaks the majority to the sighs of displeasure. It has no effect on his decision.

  He walks to the bottom of the staircase, shining the light up the stairs. He spotlights a hand hanging over the top step. “There’s a body.” Brimm eyes Bodo. “Me in you will go up.” Pointing to Charlie and Kelly, “You two stay down here—keep watch.”

  Gary takes the lead, his pistol in front of him. The wooden steps creek with every step. At the bottom, the two watch.

  Charlie whispers to Kelly, “I bet you wished you didn’t stick around.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. Just looks like you’re of a different mindset. You look like you want to do right.”

  “I do want to do right.”

  “Is that what you feel the Captain’s doing? Or Gary?”

  Kelly sighs. “The Captain’s not a perfect man, but he’s trying to save the city. It can’t be easy to make the decisions he has to make.”

  “He didn’t look to disappointed getting rid of those people.”

  “I can’t argue there. That hurt inside . . . But I have to believe he’s doing what he has to. Sometimes you have to believe, even if doesn’t feel right.”

  “I understand, private. Sometimes you need to ride the waves to get to where you're going.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  If you only you knew where those waves were leading you, son.

  Charlie can see the greenhorn is uncomfortable trusting his own intuition. He pitied the young soldier.

  Nearly to the top, Brimm and Bodo can see the hand belongs to a man. He lies face down with a knife lodged in his back.

  Brimm scans the body with his light. Both feet are missing. Meat dangles in shredded form around the exposed ankle bones. He must have been alive when they were eaten off. The dried blood streaks collaborate his thought. “See the discoloration, the pungent smell. I’d say he’s been dead three days.”

  “How bout we leave instead of you playing CSI.” Bodo replies.

  Once on the balcony, the Sergeant flashes his light to the bottom. Signaling their position. Bodo points to one of the four doors in the upstairs hallway that’s opened a crack. Brimm nods and leads the way.

  Upon getting there, Bodo gets to one side of the door with his blood stained knife in hand. Brimm, directing his gun and flashlight, pushes the door softly with his foot. Only seeing the room partially, he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but the smell is horrible; it stinks of urine and feces.

  The guys hold their breath.

  “Jesus,” Brimm exudes.

  He quietly steps in, moving his light around vigorously. The rays flicker on something. It catches his eye when pointed to the end of an unmade bed. Brimm examines further. It’s a chain coiled on the ground leading to behind the flame. The Sergeant’s curiosity perks. He follows with the light as his guide.

  The skin around it is raw, red, hints of pink and purple engrave the flesh above and below the shackle. Just as repulsive, is the grey skin beyond that.

  The shackled female is a shocking declaration. Who did this? What was the person thinking? Entered their minds.

  The naked long haired body is on its stomach, her face buried in her forearm. The woman’s hair is oily, ragged, brass colored with black roots. She’s heavily malnourished.

  “What the fuck happened here?” Bodo asks, expecting no answer.

  Brimm moves the light to a chain link, nailed into the beautiful amber, redwood floor. He replies, “Somebody was fond of her.”

  The sight is odd—unpleasant—and the source of the smell laid all around her.

  Bodo whispers, “Is she dead you think?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Bodo put his blade away and finds his way down to the woman. Though she appeared to be, he couldn’t be certain she’s dead. He got to his knee, touching her arm, feeling her temperature. Her skin is lukewarm.

  “She might still be alive,” he says, looking up at Brimm.

  Brimm gasped a laugh, he seemed to be always cold like that. “She’s dead, leave her. Can’t stand the fucking smell anymore. Let’s move on.”

  Bodo didn’t like his coarse tone, but he didn’t respond to it. He lifted the girl’s arm away from her face, slowly pulling back her string like hair. She resembles a dying plant in a way: her skin discoloring, hair wilted.

  Bodo stares in regret. An image that hasn’t given him peace, resurfaces in his mind. He sees his ex-girlfriend and his son: they’re silent, resting. The two lay on a white sheeted bed—spooning. The way they were when they were found. It wasn’t confirmed how they past. He was told they
were probably asleep when they died. Bodo never responded to the theory. Because he knew how it happened.

  They were poisoned.

  He didn’t think Sarah had it in her.

  Two days before that Friday, the Friday that the incident took place, he got a call from a frantic, angry, depressed woman. His ex-girlfriend, Sarah, was at her wits end. She wanted him back. She tried everything to get him back. But Bodo thought better of it. He didn’t believe she conquered her issues, and he wasn’t willing to give her a chance to prove it.

  Sarah’s personal problems ran deep—and in the past—they cut him deep. She was a compulsive cheater, committing her unfaithful acts while Bodo was out working hard supporting his family. And hard work it was. Bodo made his living through the construction trade.

  He didn’t have infidelity issues. Bodo loved Sarah, so it wasn’t hard for him to be true. But it tore him up inside that she had been with other men. It tore him up more knowing if he left her, it would strain the relationship he had with his three-year-old son, Bobby. So against the grain of his own beliefs, he stuck around, tried to make it work. But she couldn’t stop. It was hard being a sex addict. The woman had no control, and Bodo was a man tired of losing his pride.

  Life steadily got worse for them. Bodo, not one to give up easily, tried, tried, and tried more still. The outcome remained the same and was always repeated. She would beg him back, he would stay for his boy, and in the end, he would pay the price by being tortured.

  The times he wasn’t out of town should have been a blessing. He pushed himself to satisfy her, ignoring his own pain. He found retreat in drinking heavily, hoping it would stop the images of the other men while they made love.

  It was struggle in those days. Bodo would cry before sex, sometimes after, if he could even begin to have it. Many times he struggled to get an erection. Sarah, with the nerve, would tear him down for it. Verbally abusing him. The most heart wrenching slurs had to do about her lovers. She would often compare him to them, out of spite. To gut him. And she knew what she was doing. Sarah always knew how to deliver the hurt.

  One night, Bodo couldn’t take it. He slapped her good; leaving a bruise across her face. He remembered afterwards going into his son’s room, giving him a kiss. It was heart straining.

  Bodo said to him, “I’m sorry, son.”

  After that, he walked out on them.

  What he didn’t know, was that night Sarah laid in the same spot, in shock, for more than an hour. Not because of the hit, which he had never done before, but because of the way he left. There was a heartfelt message in it. He wasn’t going to live that way anymore. Sarah had finally reached his limit, and now he was gone.

  She could have called the cops. But that was never an option for her. Sarah tallied the damage, saw the guilt and pain she had caused him. It was her turn now. When he walked out, she felt his life-force leave. She wept and sobbed for the rest of that night and many nights after. Sarah didn’t want to believe it, but her heart broke the news to her: she had finally lost the man she loved. For good.

  They were split for a year. During that time, Sarah would call him as if they were still together. She would call his phone, only to get the answering machine. She didn’t stop there. Next came his work, but he was never available.

  Bodo only returned calls to talk to Bobby. And that was her only chance, so she took it. Sarah would take the opportunity to explain how she changed. The same old stuff she would leave on his voicemail: how she got counseling, how she refrained from all her lovers since the time he left, how she was cured of infidelity. Lastly, Sarah would tell him how much she loved him, and how sorry she was for tearing their family apart. Regrettably for her, her pleas were met with disappointment. Bodo wanted nothing to do with the failed relationship. But that’s not to say he didn’t feel anything. The truth was, he loved her more than she loved him. Of course, he never told her. The night he left Sarah, he made a conscious decision to quit listening to his heart.

  Did Sarah really believe she had changed? In her own mind she did. The woman got desperate. Leading up to that awful day, she began talking crazy. Making threats, acting hysterical on the phone.

  Bodo was to work that weekend in La Mirada, California: a small town, down south in the Los Angeles area. But the way she was acting; what she was saying, was it enough to make him a no-show at the worksite? No. He “conned” himself. That was his word. And perhaps he did.

  He remembered thinking to himself. A lot of people make those threats and don’t go through with them. She’s just upset. Angry at herself, but blaming me. Typical Sarah. She isn’t really going to do it. She’s weak, but not that weak. She just wants attention. When she sees she’s failed, hopefully she’ll go on with her life this time . . . finally. She’s not stupid, she ain’t going to do it.

  She did.

  Her aunt didn’t know, but Bodo did. When he found out, it destroyed him. Especially knowing he could have done more to stop it.

  If only I had believed her, he thought at the time.

  When the madness of incident magnified, and it became clearer what was happening; where the world was heading. It became easier to feel that maybe their death was a blessing. Meant to be somehow. It was a paper thin way to get some closure. And he accepted it . . . At least that’s what he wanted to do.

  “Let’s leave.” Brimm scoffs.

  Bodo feels the woman’s neck for a pulse. “Hold on, I feel something. It’s faint, but I think it’s there.”

  “What the hell are we going to do with her? She’s too weak to come with us.”

  Bodo looks up at Brimm. “What the fuck is so bad about saving someone? Damn, man.”

  Bodo feels a tug on his boot. He looks back to the woman. Her eyes are open with full dilated pupils. Bodo moves away quickly. The infected is weak, dying, with little strength. She barely moves, mumbling nonsense too low to make out.

  Behind them, the knobs of the double-door closet turn quietly. Bodo and Gary are too focused on the woman to notice. The doors open. Not a sound is heard. An infected appears, a young white male with short dark hair. Drooling blood covers his mouth with stains all the way down to his yellow t-shirt. In the closet, a half-eaten foot lies.

  Barefooted, it has Brimm in his sights. Its hands go up, ready to grab his neck from behind. Unexpectedly, a squeeze toy is stepped on by the infected, making it squeak.

  Unlike Brimm, Bodo swiftly turns. “Watch out!”

  Brimm, halfway through his turn, finds it too late. The infected grabs him from behind in a choke hold. The two struggle. Gary drops his pistol and flashlight—leaving the room mostly dark. The infected, slipping on a piece of clothing, takes them both down to the floor, ramming up against the exit—shutting it. The flashlight spins, landing its rays on the strugglers, blinding Brimm.

  Bodo charges the infected, kicking him in the face; sending him to the surface with the impact. Gary free, crawls away choking. The infected quickly recovers, reaches for the gun. Bodo goes for another kick. Gary grabs the light. Bodo, now in darkness, misses—tripping up against the wall.

  The infected holding the gun, aims for Brimm. Gary with the light in hand, points it at its face, blinding the crazy, slowing him for a second. He shoots anyways. The bullet zips over Brimm’s head, violently embedding into the wall behind him.

  The infected readies for another shot. This one a sure kill. There’s no time, all the Sergeant can do is brace for it. The light points at the wall as he shields.

  His neck cracks, sending him down like a bricked bag. The gun bangs on floor besides his body. Bodo, with great might, threw a jarring fist to the crazy’s Jaw, snapping its neck.

  Brimm’s in total surprise. He was a goner, and he knew it. He should have thanked God this night for allowing Bodo to be there.

  Kelly and Charlie get to the doorway. It’s an awakening moment. Gary looks like he’d seen ghost (he was close to being one), while Bodo stands over the dead crazy.

  “What the hel
l happened, Sergeant?!” Kelly asks.

  “That dead son-of-bitch nearly killed me.” Brimm replies, rubbing his neck.

  He steps forward grabbing his pistol. He peers towards Bodo whose lips are swollen, accommodating the bruise under his left eye. His demeanor—serious, gazing back at Brimm; he has no expectations.

  Brimm’s face appears almost shameful as he murmurs the quiet remark of gratitude. “Thanks.” Seconds later, without hesitation, he shoots the shackled woman, killing her. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  Three of the four men go out the broken window they had come in from. The other gets a call on the radio. He’s told the conversation should be private.

  “I’ll be out there in a minute,” Brimm relays.

  Once again, the men stroll down the alley. Gary grabs Eli’s arm, holding him back at a slower pace. The young man is a bit confused.

  Brimm whispers, “Let them get a little in front of us. I need to tell you something.”

  As the men walk, the gap between them increases as planned.

  Gary starts to fill Eli in. “I got a call from the Captain back at the house.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “He put us up for another mission.”

  “Okay, what is it?”

  Brimm points his head towards Charlie and Bodo. “Those two are not to make it back to the hospital.”

  “What!” Kelly replies, a little loud.

  Charlie and Bodo turn to them with Charlie asking, “What are you two doing over there?”

  Brimm straighten up his voice. “Nothing. We’re just having a mission debate.”

  Bodo, mouth to the side, sensing some bullshit, says just over his breath, “Pssh. Whatever man.”

  Charlie spouts. “We’re not as concerned as you think. Go ahead and finish your talk. I’m ready for a cigarette break, anyhow,” Asshole.

  Brimm places his hand on Kelly’s shoulder. “Sure, you do that over there, I’m going to have a little chat with my soldier.”

  Charlie lights a cigarette for himself and Bodo.

  “Where did you get these?” Bodo asks.

  “At the freak show back there. I took at as a parting gift.”