by Mike Shevdon
It was Fionh's voice and I opened my eyes, squinting up against the light. She was standing next to the fence we had been sitting on. I blinked, glancing at Blackbird.
"I asked you what you thought you were doing," she repeated.
"Blackbird was showing me how wardings work," I explained.
Fionh raised an eyebrow at Blackbird.
"It seemed a good way of demonstrating how a place can be warded over time," she said.
"You know better than to interfere with the wardings of the courts," said Fionh. "And getting Niall to do it in your place will not help you."
"I don't think I know what you mean," said Blackbird.
"I think you do." She looked down at me. "Don't do that again. There are things in the wardings which you do not want to encounter. They're there for a reason, and not to be meddled with."
"Sorry, I had no idea it was so sensitive," I said.
"No. You didn't. But she did." She looked from me to Blackbird. "You're supposed to be teaching him."
"Oh, I think that lesson was an excellent demonstration, Fionh. Thank you for your assistance."
Fionh's mouth hardened, but she turned and walked away with whatever was on her tongue unsaid.
ELEVEN
Alex was beginning to think she had come to the wrong place. The estate looked abandoned — surely no one lived here? Cracked windows looked down on her, and rubble had been heaped into random piles.
Had she remembered correctly? Some of her memories of her imprisonment were distorted by drugs and the regime she had been put through. She knew not to trust her sense of time, but there were other things. At times her dreams and reality seemed to merge and she wasn't sure she could differentiate between one and another.
The memories that stuck, though, were ones of other inmates. Meetings like that were brief, and often at least one of them would be spaced out on something. She'd been taken by surprise the first time, lying on a trolley and doped up with muscle relaxant. A face had appeared in her vision.
"I'm Donna," she said. "I like movies and romantic stories. Quick, tell me about yourself, something, anything!" She had shaken Alex's shoulders.
"I'm Lexie." Slurring her words, she sounded drunk, but she didn't feel drunk. "Where are we?"
"It doesn't matter. Tell me something about yourself, something normal, something you'd tell a friend."
"There's the cool guy at school," she slurred. "He's called Jamie… he's got a really nice arse."
"That's good Lexie. Now we're friends. They can't break you if you're with friends. We're all in this together. Find someone else. Do the same with them. We can beat them together."
The door opened and a woman entered. "What are you doing?"
"She was mumbling something. I think she was trying to talk to me," said Donna.
"Don't worry about her, Donna. Come along. It's time for your assessment."
Lexie watched as Donna was led away, but the memory stayed.
She'd done the same with others, forming connections, however brief. She could remember all of them, every name, every face.
It was funny, she couldn't remember the staff — except for Watkins.
The bloody severed head of Doctor Watkins was in front of her. The shock travelled up her arm as she chopped the heavy blade down on his open-eyed skull, splitting the bone and sending fragments of gunk splattering outwards, sticking to her arms, her face. Blood and slime slicked her hands. Tugging free the blade, lifting it again, her breathing loud, heart thumping. The exhalation as she chopped down, "Heeuagh!" The swish and crunch as the blade glanced off the skull, slicing off an ear.
She shook her head, pushing the memory away, staggering momentarily at the disorienting vision. She couldn't afford to lose focus like that. She deliberately slowed her breathing, unclenching her fist with the other hand, massaging the spasmed muscles. It was over. She'd had her revenge. He was dead.
A train gave an electric whine as it ran along the bankedup tracks behind the estate. The normality of the sound helped to steady her. She'd seen Gina in a corridor; a two-second conversation. They'd exchanged addresses. When Gina told her it was an industrial estate, Alex questioned her, but there was no time. They'd been separated and she'd not seen her again.
And here it was, except it wasn't here any more. No one had done anything industrial here for quite a while. The buildings were derelict, some of them half demolished, others cracked and vandalised, sprayed with tags and slogans. She navigated through the piles of broken bricks and half-burned timber and came to the building she was looking for.
She turned around slowly, looking for signs of life. A siren wailed distantly, seagulls flapped their lazy way across the overcast sky. What a dump. Had Gina come back here? Is this what she found? Except this wasn't recent, so maybe she was here after all. She looked up at the green slime running down the walls under the broken gutters, the way the rubble had sunk and settled, the big patches of nettles and bramble — all this happened ages ago.
She worked her way around the nettles to the side door. Someone had kicked it in, probably looking to see if there was anything left to steal. Alex couldn't see what the attraction was, but she squeezed past onto the factory floor beyond. It looked like a film set, one of those abandoned warehouses where they stage shoot-outs and blast all the windows out, except that the windows were wire-reinforced and simply sagged where they cracked. No film crews here. Hey, perhaps that was what she should do — go and find a film crew and make herself useful. She could be an extra, or an actress even. She smiled and shook her head.
She reached the end of the gallery and wandered up the stairs, wary of rats and pigeons. Nothing to scavenge here, though, so she was probably OK. The floor above was the same — cracked glass and scuffed concrete. She went up another level, and here there were signs of habitation. Someone had put up plastic sheets against the light. The gallery was striped with long slivers of sunlight which only intensified the shadows. In the dimness a mattress was laid against the wall. Surely Gina wasn't meaning this?
She walked forward, keeping near the windows where the light was better. "Gina?" Her voice sounded hollow in the dark. "Gina, it's Lexie. You remember?"
There was a scuffle in the shadows. Something moved. Maybe she was here after all?
"We ain't had this good luck in a loooong time." The voice was male.
"I'm looking for Gina," Alex called out. "Is she here? Do you know where she is?"
"Ain't no Gina here, sweetness," another voice, also male. Alex backed towards the stairs but a shadow separated from the dark and moved between her and the exit.
"I'm just looking for my friend," she said, glancing between them. "I don't want trouble."
"Ain't no trouble here, we all welcome, sugar." They moved apart, spreading out to form a half-circle around her. Alex backed towards the window. She reached behind her and tugged the plastic sheet. It slid down behind her.
They squinted against the light. "That's a shame," said the one with the gang-pattern in his buzz cut. "You seen our faces now, and we ain't happy with no witness."
"I didn't see anything," she said. "There's nothing to tell."
"It's not what you seen," said the one with the diamond earstud between her and the stairs, "It's what you gonna see."
To her left, the guy with the buzz cut grabbed her handbag. She shrieked and held the strap for a moment, but had to let go or be dragged towards him. He laughed, and then turned the bag upside down and emptied it on the concrete in front of her.
"You ain't got no money," he kicked through her make-up, the hair clip, the half-eaten bar of chocolate and the plasters she'd stolen. "She gonna have to find some other way to pay," he said to the others.
"You leave me alone," she warned, her fists bunched.
"Oh, come on sweetness. Give it up for us and we'll treat you nice?"
"You better leave me alone. You don't want to…"
A shadow moved in behind her. She glanced around
and met a fist coming the other way. Her face made a sound like a pile of wet meat hitting a slab and she flew backwards. Bright flashes trailed across her vision and she felt suddenly sick. Her mouth tasted thick with blood. She opened her eyes to the glare from the windows above her. Buzz-cut was holding her hands above her head while the others pulled off her clothes. She had been thrown on the mattress which they must have pulled out towards the windows
"Let me go! You bastards!"
She kicked and struggled against their grip. Her shouts were mumbled where the punch had swollen her lip. She wrenched at her wrists, but Ear-stud had his weight on them and his grip was like iron. He just laughed down at her and tried to lean down for a lewd kiss. She twisted her head aside as her skirt was pulled down off her legs.
"Get off me! Help! Help me!" she hollered.
Her shouting and squirming only seemed to excite them more. They grabbed her ankles, tugging off her shoes. One with knife scars all down his arm took handfuls of her top and ripped it open down the front. She screamed as they pulled the sleeves off one arm and then the other, ripping it off her.
"That was my best… you've torn my best…" she was crying and kicking, and at the same time couldn't get her breath. Arm-scar struggled to tear her bra apart, but the elastic proved more resilient and wouldn't tear. Eventually he just pulled the clasp apart at the back, pulling it up her arms and off while Ear-stud held her down.
Arm-scar pinched her nipple hard. She spat at him, but he just smiled. "This is the best bit. I love this bit." He grabbed her knickers and yanked them down in a single swipe. There was a moment of silence as Alex lay in shocked nakedness.
"You a peach, Babe." Arm-scar stood, staring down at her, while the other two grabbed her ankles and braced themselves against the mattress, stretching her wide. She watched in stunned fascination as he dropped his pants and pulled a huge erect penis out of his boxers.
"Is it your first time, sweetness? I'll make it good for you." He grinned, flashing brown-stained teeth. Alex heaved against her captors, but they had her all stretched out. He knelt down between her legs.
"Nooooo!"
Her cry was echoed by a low moan from the structure of the building. Something tinkled to the floor along the gallery. A slow ticking started in the pipes where they criss-crossed the ceiling. Arm-scar glanced up and then back at her.
He shook his head, refusing to be distracted. "Ain't no one gonna save you now, Peach."
A sound like popping valves travelled down the gallery towards them. The fire suppression system sprayed out where it ran through the network of pipes across the ceiling. Freezing cold water rained down on them all, to the shouts and calls of the men.
Arm-scar looked up into water raining down on them, and then down at Alex. "Makes no difference to me. A wet peach is still a peach."
"You don't understand," said Alex, through gritted teeth. "But you will."
Heads turned as the water started running across the floor towards them. Drops gathered into pools and pools ran into rivulets. It gathered into a wave that swept across the floor and crashed over the mattress.
"What the…?" The man knelt between her legs faltered. He glared down at Alex. "If it's you doing this I is gonna teach you respect." He drew back his fist.
Water ran up his legs like quicksilver, streaming up his body, defying gravity. He flicked his fist, trying to shake it off, but it clung to him like a second skin, covering him in a film of moving liquid. Too late, he realised that it was covering all of him.
He shouted, "What the fuck?" leaping backwards, trying to flick it from him, pushing it away from his face, his nose and mouth.
In seconds he was enveloped in a moving bubble of oily water exactly formed around him. He clamped his mouth shut against it but it ran into his nose and ears, covered his eyes. The others watched in horrified fascination as he floundered about, the water still spraying down from the pipes, adding continually to the liquid invading every orifice. He tried to scream but was choked off as the water rushed down his throat, gulping off his cry in a bubbling hiccough. He flailed his arms and fell, splashing to the floor as the water pooled around him, smothering his cries.
Alex was suddenly released as the others grasped how wet and vulnerable they were. While their friend thrashed and clawed at his throat for air, they scrambled to their feet and backed away from her. Whatever it was they saw in her eyes. It terrified them.
They turned as one to run, but the water was under their feet, making them slide and stumble, grabbing out to each other for support. They crashed, entangling each other, splashing into the water which covered the floor. They clawed each other for purchase, crawling over each other, shouting and swearing, trying to be the one furthest from the liquid sheet flowing towards them across the floor.
Alex pushed herself up from the mattress, unaware of her naked state, eyes filled with a swirling blue fire as she focused her anger on them. Her hair writhed around her head as if seeking something to grasp and choke. As the thrashing from Arm-scar slowed and subsided, the water around the remaining three started to rotate into a slowly whirling pattern.
"You miserable little shits!" she spat. "You pathetic excuses for humanity."
"We weren't gonna do nothing," shouted Ear-stud in panic as he tried to pull his way over the other two. "It was Naylor was gonna do it."
Alex glanced at the figure trapped under the faintly heaving bulge of water across the floor.
"Don't worry," she said. "He got what he deserved." She paused for effect. "And now you're getting the same."
The water rushed inwards in a spiral vortex, clinging to them where it splashed. They hollered and screamed trying to throw it off. It ran up their legs and arms, coating their skin and covering their clothes while they scrambled over each other to get away from it.
"Enough!"
The voice came from a figure by the stairway. Another figure gestured and a wind whipped down the gallery tearing the sheets from the windows, flooding it with light. In the glare, the water sparkled malevolently. Alex saw that there were three of them, the young woman who had spoken and two males who flanked her. They were standing at the edge of where the water sprayed from the ceiling. She realised they weren't much older than her.
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" said Alex in a low voice that rang with threat and anger. "You didn't see what these… these… worms, were going to do."
"But by the look of it, Naylor has paid the price," the newcomer said. "Inconvenient, but no doubt necessary." She was taller than Alex, with spiky black hair and a nosestud. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her motorcycle jacket, and she put her head on one side, affecting disdain.
"You said you'd protect us from the likes of her," said Buzzcut. "You said if we kept the place clear you'd see we had it to ourselves."
Alex looked from Buzz-cut to the newcomer. "You mean these shits work for you?"
The woman's voice was calm. "They kept unwanted visitors out in return for small favours. It looks to me like they've seriously overstepped the mark. Is Naylor dead?"
"If he isn't he soon will be," said Alex, turning back to where Naylor was floating in the unnatural blob of liquid.
"Leave them, Alexandra. They are beneath your notice."
She turned back. "How do you know my name?"
The newcomer leaned back and said something quietly to one of the young men beside her. He disappeared upstairs.
"We've met before, though I think you were indisposed and are perhaps unable to recall. We were in a place we both know well and were glad to leave."
Alex tried to place her. She'd thought she'd remembered everyone, but then there were the gaps between the dreams and reality. She shivered and suddenly became conscious that she was naked and cold. The spray from the ceiling slowed and then stopped, leaving only a sporadic dripping along the gallery. She clasped her hands together to stop them shaking. She knew in her head that it was shock. She had almost been raped and now she
couldn't stop shaking.
"My clothes…" she said. "Those bastards, they tore…they ripped my…"
The one who'd gone upstairs returned with a blanket, which he passed to the young woman. She approached Alex as if she might bolt any second. "Here, put this around you. That's it." She wrapped the blanket around Alex's shoulders. She guided her as she splashed in bare feet to the stairs. The other two stepped back to allow her through.
"Take her upstairs," she instructed the one who'd brought the blanket.
Alex was gently ushered upwards. Behind her the unnatural mound of water holding Naylor suddenly collapsed leaving the wet body lying on the concrete. She could hear the woman issuing orders.
"Get this stuff cleared out," she said. "I want this place looking like nothing happened."
"What about Naylor," one of them asked.
"Take the body and dump it somewhere no one will find it."
Here was a mumbled protest Alex didn't hear.
"I don't care," she replied. "You reaped the reward you deserved. You're lucky she didn't drown the lot of you. Naylor was an arrogant fool and mean with it. I, for one, will not mourn his loss."
Alex was guided up to what looked like a cross between an apartment and a warehouse. They steered her to a sofa where she sat on the edge and shivered. She kept thinking about what had almost happened, and all the things she could have done. Why hadn't she done any of them? She could have drowned them in their own spittle, sucked all the water from their blood — any number of things. They wouldn't have even known she was there if she didn't want them to. Why hadn't she done any of them?
The young man with the blanket brought a throw from one of the other sofas and handed it to her. "You're shaking like a leaf, girl. Here, put this over your legs."
He sat down beside her.
"I'm Mark," he said offering his hand, "but you can call me Sparky. That's Chipper. He don't say much." Chipper lifted a hand and then went back to looking out of the window.
Alex untangled her hand from the blanket and shook his. It seemed an odd formality given the situation, but he gave her a toothy grin.