Skypunch (The Skypunch Chronicles Book 1)

by Logan Castle

  “He is our captive and I’m certain justice will be served. Don’t get me wrong, I want nothing more than to see this piece of shit,” she said, gesturing to me, “burn in hell like he deserves to, but we must remember that none of us are above the law.”

  I lifted my eyes in surprise at her words. Well, I tried to. At this point, they were so fat and grotesque, there was simply no moving them at all.

  I heard Larry make an audibly sarcastic yawn in response. “Are you still talking?” The crowd let out a cheer as he turned to face her again. “I believe you got your answer? Isn’t that right, everyone?”

  The crowd cheered again but this time, they were a bit quieter. Without appearing to pay any mind, Larry’s head twisted in a patronizing way towards the defiant Lynn. He held his arms outwards, theatrically.

  “See? The masses have spoken. Now, how about you go back to your seat?” He was gloating again.

  My heart sank as Lynn’s eyes found mine. There was doubt etched all over her face. For a second, I worried that she was about to concede the fight and turn around. I gave her a pain-filled grimace in silent thanks for her attempt and tore my eyes from her as I readied myself for the blows I knew were only a few moments away.

  “No. I will not.”

  My head jerked back up in shock at her unwavering voice. Her face, which only a moment ago seemed clouded with defeat, now reflected a singular, determined purpose. I watched her turn to the crowd and address them, her voice pleading with their humanity.

  “We have all lost so much and it’s almost certain that we are going to lose whatever we have left soon enough. But there is one thing that we don’t have to lose. That is our humanity. What we are contemplating doing here, the thing that you are all standing around and waiting to see happen, is unconscionable. We can’t let ourselves lose the last remnants of what we once were. Despite everything we have suffered, we cannot allow our thirst for vengeance to take us down this path. We are so much better than that.”

  Her words, albeit in my defense, were clear and unfiltered. They carried a weight with them that spoke volumes. I wondered about the true suffering that these people before me must have endured. While I was picking up bits and pieces of information that painted a picture of what it could mean, it remained largely a mystery to me. If I hadn’t already been on the floor, I would have fallen over onto it. Watching the courage of a stranger standing up to the crowd on my behalf was a true thrill.

  I sensed this was my only opportunity, that is, if I were destined to survive. Lynn gave me an opening, a sliver of daylight in the otherwise blackest night and I had to reach for it. I had to take every advantage of it, if only to show these people that I was not the monster they assumed I was.

  I groaned as I tried to move from the floor and get back onto my knees. My head and body were screaming with every twitch of muscle fiber. My bonds were still very taut and between that and the searing pain, it made it almost impossible to pull myself up.

  “Please…let…me speak.” My voice was a whisper but I knew everyone heard me.

  A booted foot struck me straight in the face and sent me flying. I returned to a curled-up fetal position, fearing another like that would assault me.

  “STOP IT!!” I heard Lynn screaming, discernible outrage in her voice.

  Over the pounding in my ears, I could hear feet rushing towards me before cold hands grabbed me by the arms. I ventured a glimpse and through my hazy-white vision, I saw Lynn’s face. Hers was just inches from mine, looking down at me. Our gazes met and locked for just a split second.

  Suddenly, hands wrapped around her neck and she cried out as she was yanked violently backwards. She landed hard on her back and I could see Larry trying to pin her down. His knees held her arms tightly to the floor so that she couldn’t move and her legs were flailing wildly underneath his weight. A heavily garbed arm removed the mask that was covering his face.

  Between my beatings, it was nearly impossible to determine Larry’s size or stature. Now at least, with the executioner’s mask gone, I could finally put a face to the voice that kept tormenting me. He was lean and gaunt with surprisingly opaque skin. Perhaps caused by his aversion to sunlight. The translucence of his pasty skin was in sharp contrast to his dark, bloodshot eyes. His nose was crooked and permanently bent at an odd angle, as if he broke it one too many times. A dark, shaggy beard covered the rest of his face. His head supported a crow’s nest of dark hair, so matted and greasy that even in the dim light, it glistened. From his appearance, I could tell that he suffered from the same collective malnourishment and lack of sleep as the rest of the crowd. That being the case, none of it hampered him in his abusive treatment of Lynn. He continued to hold her down, pinning her beneath his weight and screaming into her steadfast, defiant face.

  “You stupid bitch! I told you to shut your mouth and leave this to me, but no! You had to be a hero!” Without the muffled effect provided by the mask over his face, I could now plainly hear his voice, which was quivering and shaking with anger. Or was it fear?

  The authority he symbolized, which everyone in the room previously rallied behind, was now being questioned by the once supportive crowd. Once every bit as raucous and bloodthirsty as their leader, most of the people were beginning to realize how out of proportion this was fast becoming. As he yelled into Lynn’s face, the spittle flying freely from his mouth, it was clear his voice no longer held the same power it once did. At least, it was clear to me. With his terrifying mask on, he embodied the finality of death and seemed much larger than life. Now, he was just a man. Attacking a woman made him a pathetic one at that.

  I heard dissenting cries coming from the crowd as they watched the front lines getting pushed forward so the people could climb up onto the wooden platform. Amidst the chaos, the guns that were trained on me by the men holding them were no longer a threat. The men were all distracted. I yanked violently at the ropes around my wrists, ignoring the searing pain that surged from the already open wounds on my forearms. I was determined to free myself.

  “Get the fuck off me!” Lynn’s shrieks brought my attention back to her. She was sprawled out on the floor with Larry holding her down with malicious intent. “You have no right….!”

  “What the fuck is going on here?!”

  Just like that, a thunderous voice shattered the boisterous crowd and everyone quickly froze, including Larry with Lynn still trapped underneath him. I looked towards the back of the room to see where the voice had come from and instantly saw what made everyone go still. All alone behind the huddled masses stood a gigantic oak tree of a man. His massive hands were all he used to amplify his voice. Clad in full camouflage attire, the absence of light made him somewhat hard to see, not to mention his dark skin; but that wasn’t the feature that stood out the most. It was his eyes. They were like two lighthouses overlooking a dark, stormy ocean that were now overflowing with anger.

  “I asked a question. What the fuck is going on here?! Answer me.”

  No one tried to speak. Everyone silently deferred that obligation to the person standing next to them. It was only after a couple of solid minutes of nerve-wracking silence that Larry finally found his voice again.

  “We… we are carrying out this man’s sentence,” he started.

  The soldier, (for what else could he have been in such attire?) didn’t allow him to finish. “What gives you the authority to convict him and carry out his sentence?!”

  “We have the authority, Captain Bardham!” Larry retorted angrily. “This man has taken everything from us! When vengeance is finally within our grasp, you can’t expect us to just stand idly by and allow you, the military, to confer his fate for us!”

  The giant man simply stood where he was, allowing his seething fury to color the rest of his shadowed features. “You will do as you’re told! We, ‘the military’ not only risked our lives, but many even gave their lives to apprehend this criminal and bring him to justice. Now, as I and othe
rs care for the wounded casualties of that mission, you idiots are over here dispensing your own version of justice?!”

  Larry just gawked at him and I began to see the members of the crowd beginning to disperse, but the man wasn’t done with his tongue-lashing. “Let me make something very, very clear to you numbskulls. My soldiers and I were sent to this backwater installation on a mission to apprehend Isaac Kent, dead or alive. I was placed in command of this mission and now that we have captured him alive, I will decide who dispenses justice and only after I have received advice from Command. That is how this justice should go without one single fucking deviation from it. He will either die here or return with what remains of my strike force. Regardless, his life and his fate are my responsibility and none of your concern! You will all remain here long after my soldiers and I have gone. Make no mistake about any of that. Do you understand me?!”

  With hushed acknowledgement, the crowd begrudgingly accepted his words. Even Larry appeared downcast and began to ease off Lynn, who was writhing beneath his oppressive body weight.

  “Lynn, are you okay?” the large man called out to her.

  “Yes, Captain. Just need to get this stupid oaf off me!” she answered. Larry had taken one of his knees off her arm and she used it to push him.

  Larry didn’t like that. “You dumb cunt!” he swore at her.

  All at once, one of Larry’s hands went up and swiftly swung down, an open palm striking Lynn’s cheek and sending her rocking backwards. The sound of skin slapping skin sucked the air right out of the room. Everyone went deathly quiet. The sudden, eerie silence stopped Larry cold and the hand he used to strike Lynn was still outstretched in front of him. His face was stunned with shock. In that moment, he must have realized the huge mistake he just made. He was about to find out how big it was. During the moment I saw Lynn’s head falling backwards into the floor from the vicious blow, the spectrum of colors in my vision narrowed down to that of just one.

  Red.

  Rage overtook me then. All rational thought left my head and I was consumed by one bloody thought: Larry’s blood-spattered face being smashed beneath the weight of my fists. My heart rate spiked and adrenaline pumped wildly through my veins. Something clicked inside me and I felt weightless and strong, as if nothing could possibly stop me. I attempted to rise before I clumsily fell down from the restraints still attached to my hands and feet. I looked at them with contempt, sending all my anger onto the strands of rope that kept me from my murderous objective. I visualized them gone.

  What happened next was, and remains, a blur. One second, I was staring down at the ropes that secured my hands and feet, the next, I was straddling Larry and caving his face in with a barrage of hate-filled punches. Over and over again, I struck his face and the sounds of my closed fists landing on his already bloodied and broken face delighted me. Even though I acknowledged the stunned shock of the crowd, they couldn’t stop me. No, it took a single sound, a sharp and penetrating scream. That was the only thing that managed to bring me back.

  “STOP IT! PLEASE STOP!”

  Lynn. When I looked over at her, she was staring at me with horror. Blood trickled from a wound on her mouth that I instantly assumed must have been caused by Larry.

  What had just happened?!

  I heard whimpers come from beneath me. I looked down at a mess that had formerly been Larry’s face. He was unconscious.

  “What happened?!” I heard myself cry out. “What the fuck just happ…?!”

  I never finished the sentence. Something hard struck the back of my head and darkness fell upon me.

  Chapter 11

  I don’t recall the exact moment when I regained consciousness. What I do remember is the moment my nose was rudely reintroduced to the rank smell of sewage. Rising from a cold, wet floor, I gagged as soon as the odor of Sulphur hit my nose, searing the lining of my nostrils and nearly causing me to eject the contents of my stomach onto the floor. Somehow, I managed to pull myself together before that happened, not that there was much in my stomach to begin with. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had something to eat or drink.

  My entire body felt weary but the uncontrollable trembling of my fingers was the true indicator of my body’s internal plight. My lack of nourishment was at the point where I needed something to eat or it would start shutting down my vital systems one at a time. It had to maximize what little energy it had left. My head was pounding and five times its normal size. Even as I lay on what felt like cold, wet concrete, my body was a temple of pain. Every shake and convulsion brought that concept back to the forefront.

  I slowly lifted my head off the ground to look down at my exposed chest and mangled forearms. My forearms, thankfully, were no longer a battle scene of open wounds. In fact, the scratches had even begun to seal themselves shut. While they still burned, I was relieved to see puddles of pus on the surface – the beginnings of the scabbing-over process. It seemed I had gotten past the worst of it. While I still had some serious concerns regarding the lack of hygiene in that area and the real chance of infection, I was willing to take any victory, no matter how small. The tattoos would be fine as well. As the skin healed, so would they.

  On the other hand, my chest was a different story altogether.

  I gazed down at it, my breath catching in my throat at the absolute horror of how it looked. I strained to see underneath the puddles of dried-up blood and other unidentifiable shit that all but covered it.

  The signs of my beating, however, were hard to disguise.

  The full spectrum of purples, blues and yellows on my body were an unwelcome sight. I feared that underneath my rapidly developing bruises lay something far worse. A few broken ribs were acceptable but the piercing pain in my side when I tried to inhale concerned me the most. A collapsed lung perhaps? I could barely apply a Band-Aid correctly, so guessing at my own prognosis was an exercise in utter futility. I couldn’t diagnose anything without the benefit of medical attention. With no indication whatsoever as to whether I would receive medical attention, I resigned myself to lie right where I was and hope for the best. Not a simple undertaking.

  I lifted a shaking hand to explore the lines of my face and assess the irreparable damage I already knew was there. I stopped and hesitated for a moment. I was arguing with myself whether I wanted that particular information so soon. Unable to resist, I slid my fingers from my forehead down to my chin. As my fingers descended, I mentally noted every lump, surface wound and distortion that I felt… and believe me, there were a lot of them. Even without the aid of a mirror, I knew my face was the subject of nightmares. Resting my head back down onto the ground, a pitiful groan erupted from my parched throat.

  “Yeah, you’re hideous. No two ways about that,” a woman’s voice said. I guessed she was just off to my right.

  Unaware that I wasn’t alone, I rose into a sitting position with blinding speed, doing my best to ignore the pain that still hammered me.

  As I did, I heard several distinct clicks above and around me. There was no confusing those sounds. Several automatic weapons were being locked, loaded and, most likely, pointed right at me. I froze instantly.

  “Careful,” the same voice sounded again, calmly cautioning me. “After that stunt you pulled with Larry, they’re looking for any reason to take you out. I would move very, very slowly if I were you.”

  I recognized her voice before laying eyes on her. It was Lynn.

  I strained to find the spot from where her voice had come. My eyesight, or lack thereof, was hampered by the dark. If not for a single, gleaming white leg that stretched into one of the few rays of light, I could not have seen her at all. As I searched in vain for the rest of her, I was barely able to make out the walls that surrounded me. I was in a room that spanned maybe ten feet by ten feet, too big to be a closet but certainly not large enough to hold more occupants than Lynn and me without me being able to see them. I quickly surmised that the guns I heard had to be coming
from directly above us. I didn’t even bother looking up to verify my suspicion. Instead, I returned my eyes to where Lynn was sitting against the wall.

  “You,” I croaked.

  “Yes. Me,” Lynn retorted. “How did you do that?”

  “What?” I asked, confused by her question.

  “Back there. One moment you were bound, hand and foot. The next, you weren’t. How did you do that?”

  My mind raced back to that one moment of pure, unadulterated rage. I recalled how I looked at my bindings and imagined them gone before finding myself straddling Larry, pummeling him into bloody submission. At one time, something like that would have been completely unexplainable but that time had passed. Deep down, I knew what happened and that it had everything to do with the tattoos on my forearms. Somehow, I must have willed my bonds to disappear. Although the mechanics of how they worked continued to elude me, I knew my tattoos were responsible for my freedom. I had no plausible way to explain all that to Lynn so I settled for the next best thing.

  “I-I-I don’t know,” I stuttered. A long, uncomfortable silence followed. I waited as long as possible before I just couldn’t take it anymore. I said the first thing that came to mind. “How is Larry? Is he okay?”

  Lynn laughed and I instantly felt stupid for having asked. “Do you really care?”

  Her question caught me by surprise. I kept myself from responding out of sheer nervousness. I stopped and thought about it. Truthfully, I didn’t care. The man had struck a woman and, while I failed to explain the events that resulted in me sitting on top of him and pummeling his face, I could honestly say that I didn’t feel much remorse about it either.

  No doubt seeing my hesitation, Lynn offered her own opinion. “Fuck Larry! He will be fine. His pride is the only thing that’s hurt and, trust me, he has plenty more where that came from. Don’t pay it any mind.”

  “I can’t see you…” I started.

  “Good. I don’t want you to see me,” she responded, matter of factly. “But I do want to see you.”