Fighting to Survive

by Rick Pine

  Remorse started to consume him.

  He could have easily taken out those three goons, and the driver. The big one would have been a challenge, but he’d taken down bigger. But he couldn’t risk getting involved. He’d had to think of Maria and Daisy, too.

  “They don’t all have to die because of my past,” he muttered, convincing himself he’d made the right choice.

  Casey stood next to George, who was already rousing. He looked up at Casey, blood now covering half of his head and shoulders. “Yous have to help Billy.”

  George’s head flopped back down. Casey looked up towards the kitchen window. Maria was there and staring at him with her piercing eyes while holding a cleaver. This should be interesting, he thought.

  Chapter 6

  September 25th, 2095

  Unknown Location

  Alex awoke confused. The knock to the back of the head had really done a number on her. She struggled with her thoughts for a moment. Her memory was coming back. “Fuck,” she mumbled as she thought of her father, and tears started to stream down her face. She went to wipe them, only to realize her hands were tied behind her back. She wiggled her feet, expecting the same, only to find them unbound, much to her surprise.

  It was pitch black, and she couldn’t see anything. Where am I? She heard a low hum which sounded like an engine. Am I in the goddamn trunk? Just as she finished that thought, the car jolted and she flew upwards, just enough to crash into the hard surface above her. She landed with a thud. A moment later she was jolted again, as the car sped over another large bump in the road.

  The realization of her situation began to sink in. She was being kidnapped by the Cosa Nostra. The tears started again.

  Why? What could they possibly want with me? If they take me to some fucking Doll’s House I’m going to have to start biting some cocks off. Her tears stopped as the rage began to consume her heart. I’d rather die than work as a whore. No fucking way.

  She started to hunt around the trunk for anything useful, something she could use to help her escape, or at least cut her bindings off. Nothing. She lay still and thought for a while. She needed to escape, but how?

  An idea came to her, but it wasn’t a good one. Yet it was all she had, and she would give it a go. She owed it to her brother. She had to get back to him.

  Alex kicked furiously all around her, making as much noise as possible. She screamed out every profanity she could think of in a constant verbal barrage. They had to be able to hear her. She continued for several minutes until the car came to a gradual stop. She heard a door open. Yes, it worked!

  The trunk opened, and Alex squinted against the light. They looked to be on the side of the highway. It was the man she’d beaten the shit out of. He kept one hand on the trunk door, and the other was nursing his busted ribs. Alex smiled, somewhat sadistically.

  “Shut the fuck up. I’m not in the mood to play games,” he warned her.

  Alex kicked out her leg with all her might, aiming for his ribs again, but he saw it coming easily enough, or at least expected it. He dodged so the kick missed him, and as soon as he was clear of her foot he slammed the trunk lid down, crushing her leg. Alex screamed out in pain.

  “I said I’m not in the mood for games.”

  He lifted the lid again and made eye contact with Alex as she dragged her leg back inside the trunk.

  “We have at least four more hours to drive before we get to where we’re going. So I suggest you shut up and enjoy the ride, maybe even take a nap. Or…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his brass knuckles, “Or I’ll put you to sleep, and the next time you wake up you’ll be gagged and ‘ave your feet bound.”

  She didn’t like either option. She remained quiet and nodded, resigned to the fact she had no choice.

  “Good. Make me come back here again and they’ll be no second chances.”

  Alex snarled at him as he closed the truck. What a cock, she thought. Four hours? Where were they going? That’ll take us outside of the territory, surely?

  Alex was getting scared. What did they have planned for her? She lay her head down, and thought of her father and brother, before finally crying herself to sleep.

  Chapter 7

  September 26th, 2095

  Northern District

  The Pits, Cincinnati (formerly in Ohio).

  David drove his passengers through the city, finally coming to a stop outside an old building that appeared to be abandoned. David got out first, surveying the area, and looking for signs of un-welcomed attention. Even at two in the morning, the street was still pulsing with people, though each and every one of them kept their eyes focused on what they were doing or where they were going. Looking around to see other people’s business was far from sensible these days.

  He edged around to the passenger's side of the car and opened it, giving an “all clear” nod to Mr. Rossi, and together they walked along the side of the boarded up building until they reached a black iron door. At the side of the door was a box with a large hole through its center. David placed his right forearm through the hole for the scanner to read his ID chip. The flashing red light on top of the box turned green and the door unlocked with an audible clunck.

  As they stepped inside they were met by two large men dressed in tailored black suits. The holding room was small, but wide enough for a desk and a metal detector. Behind the desk sat an older woman watching some soap opera on a small, ten-inch tablet screen. Behind her was the cloakroom. But instead of being full of coats, it was stacked with guns.

  David took out his gun and placed it on the desk. “Good evening, Deloris.”

  She glanced over her large-lensed glasses and nodded before returning back to her tablet screen. She slid the gun from the desk and put it underneath, separate from the others, without taking her attention off her soap opera.

  Mr. Rossi stepped through the metal detector first.

  “Arms up,” said one of the men. His photo ID was labeled just Ben. After both men were patted down, Ben barked “Go.”

  They walked out of the holding cell into a large room that could comfortably hold 2000 people at a time. Even though it wasn’t a fight night, blood still stained the walls of the fighting pit that occupied the center of the arena. The smell of sweat was overpowering.

  They continued to walk the length of the room until they reached the annex on the far end, where they were greeted by a slim man of medium height, whose black, tailored pinstripe suit looked expensive, even to Mr. Rossi. With his ink-black hair slicked back, and his face clean shaven, his appearance was impeccable, even at two in the morning.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t my friend Mr. Rossi. How are you? Good?”

  “I’m very well, Mr. DeLuca.”

  “No, please, no formalities needed. There’s no one else here.”

  “As you wish, Ciro.”

  “You guys must be tired after a long drive?”

  “Yes, indeed. But it was necessary.”

  “Please, come and sit.” Ciro sat them at his private table in the annexed room. The table always had red wine present, at least every time he had visited.

  “Help yourselves to wine,” Ciro said, after seating himself. “So, Mr. Rossi, there was talk that you have brought me a gift?”

  “That is correct, Ciro.” Mr. Rossi smiled. He took out his cell phone and tapped out a quick message and pressed send.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Lou sat in the black sedan outside of the Pits, waiting. His phone beeped. He looked down at the message he’d received. It simply read: “Ready.”

  Alex woke with a start as Lou opened the trunk. She adjusted her eyes, though it was still dark out. Must be the middle of the night, she thought.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Alex asked. “Where’s the other bitch? We have unfinished business.”

  Lou looked down at her with contempt. “We switched places a few hours ago. He went to the clinic to get fixed up,” boomed Lou’s deep voice, matching his heavy-set, s
ix-foot-two frame. “It’s time to go.”

  Lou was surprisingly gentle helping Alex out of the truck. But then, this time, she was at least cooperative. She didn’t fancy her chances against her new foe, the big fucker.

  Her right leg was painful to walk on. It had bled, too, for sure. That’s the last time she’d try to kick someone from inside a trunk. Running was definitely out of the question, too.

  They walked around the side of what looked to be an abandoned building, and Alex wondered if she was going to get executed in the alley. But that didn’t make sense. They could have done that anywhere, even in her own home, so why drive her all the way here? She struggled to hold back the tears as her thoughts went to the recent memory of her father lying on the floor in their house.

  They stopped in front of a big black iron door. Alex noticed the box at the side of the door with a red light. What’s that? Alex wondered silently.

  The door opened. In the doorway stood Ben. He nodded to Lou, who reciprocated.

  Alex turned to face Lou. “And I thought you were a big fucker?”

  Lou didn’t acknowledge the comment, and preceded to lead her inside.

  “Arms up,” demanded Ben. Alex shook her head and turned slightly to reveal her bound hands behind her back.

  Ben looked at Lou. Neither spoke, but Alex could sense they each knew what the other wanted to say. Ben left on the ties and patted her down.

  A thought crossed her mind that she should knee him in the face as he bent low patting down her legs. But the door was now shut with nowhere to run to. She allowed herself a small grin as she thought of it. Shame. Instead, she’d play along and find out what was going on first. They weren’t going to kill her, and this was no doll’s house, so it intrigued her.

  Ben nodded to Lou again then proceeded to lead her through the other door.

  “You two are real chatty,” Alex said as they walked through the entrance. “You two dating?”

  Lou tightened his grip on Alex’s wrists, pulling her back to his level. He looked down with a stern expression.

  “He’s my brother,” Lou exclaimed, before pushing her, making her stumble forwards through the entrance. The door closed behind Lou.

  They were in.

  Chapter 8

  Northern District

  Parsons & Son’s Orchard, Romney.

  Casey helped George up off the ground and slung his arm over his shoulder. They walked slowly toward the house before Casey eased George onto a plastic chair that sat near the back door.

  “Let me get you something for that ear,” Casey said. As he walked into the kitchen he was met by Maria, who was still holding the cleaver.

  “How could you? Why did you—” Maria started to rant. Her screams would have been heard by Daisy, too. Her face was red with rage, and her breathing became more labored. Her knuckles turned white from clutching the clever with all her might. Casey cut her rant short.

  “Not now, George needs help first. We can discuss this later.”

  Maria nodded, though reluctantly and Casey knew she must have a lot of questions about what was going on. Not least, she’d want to know where Billy was.

  “Where do you keep your first aid kit?” he asked.

  Maria pointed to one of the cupboards. “Top shelf.”

  Casey grabbed it and ran back out to George, who was thankfully still conscious.

  “Still with us, George?” It was rhetorical. Casey quickly threw on a gauze pad to stem the bleeding from his missing appendage. “How much strength do you have? Can you hold this in place? You’ve got to push hard though.”

  George did as he was asked and held the gauze pad in place. “Could yous get my ear?” George nodded, signaling over toward his ear laying in the dust.

  Casey walked over and picked it up, and brushed off the grit best he could before returning it to George.

  Just then Maria walked out, little Daisy following closely behind. Casey was relieved to see she’d left the cleaver in the kitchen.

  “Let’s be taking you to the hospital, George. Maybe they’ll sew it back on?”

  George started to get up, not being a man who’d question his wife.

  “Do you really think that's a good idea? It’ll cost you a thousand at least. Do you really have that kind of money to waste when you owe the fu—” Casey stopped himself from swearing, realizing Daisy was present. He backtracked, “When you owe the Mafia fifteen?”

  Maria and George looked at each other. He had a point.

  Casey continued. “I’m no doctor, but your ear has been lying in the dirt for a while. I doubt they’d sew it back on, anyway, because the risk of infection would be too high. And it’s just the lobe. You can still hear with it, right? I’m just saying, maybe not getting yourself in a deeper hole with the Mafia is the smart move right now.”

  George and Maria nodded, submissively.

  Casey had always refused to call the Mafia by their preferred name, La Cosa Nostra. They hated the name Mafia, as it reminded them of the historic days when they were taken down. They saw that as a failure on their part and it irked them. They considered the titles Mafia or Mob as insults and disrespectful. They were all about respect, and Casey had none for them. Not after what they had done to him, and what they had taken from him. He wasn’t going to show them a shred of respect they didn’t deserve.

  “Come on George, let’s get you inside where it’s more comfortable. Get you cleaned up good,” Maria said. She turned to Casey. “You carry him into the family room. He’s best off in there.”

  Casey followed the orders. He was good at that once.

  Chapter 9

  September 26th, 2095

  Northern District

  The Pits, Cincinnati (formerly in Ohio).

  Alex had never seen anything like it before, and combined with the weird combination of sweat, booze, dust, and death lingering in the air she found it fascinating. In the middle of the giant room was a pit, at least seven feet deep.

  Lining the walls of the pit were stone bricks, much like the ones used in the walls they had back home on the farm. The ground of the pit was covered in dirt, or maybe it was sand, Alex found it hard to tell. The pit was oval shaped and at each end was a ladder. There were a few low-level bleachers scattered around it, but mostly it looked like standing room for watching whatever took place in there.

  Lou nudged Alex and pointed to the far end of the giant room, and she saw people gathered around a table in an annex in the distance. She started walking slowly, as she looked around, familiarizing herself her surroundings.

  As they approached the table, Ciro stood up, and everyone else followed. Alex looked back at Lou, who was walking behind her, for direction. But he looked straight through her and focused instead on Ciro. What a cock, she thought.

  “Welcome home,” Ciro said with a smirk. “I’ve heard so much about you already, and I’m looking forward to having you stay with us.”

  “Yeah? Well I ain’t got a clue who the fuck you are? And who said I was staying?” she spat in reply.

  Ciro’s smirk deepened. “How rude of me for not introducing myself. I’m Ciro DeLuca of the Gambino family. You may address me as Mr. DeLuca. I’d also like to ask that you keep your cursing to a minimum, especially when this place is filled with paying customers.”

  Alex was always getting lectures about her language. It never stopped her. In fact it often just encouraged her more. “What the fuck is this place?” she demanded.

  “It’s one of my many Pits here in the District. This is the biggest, of course, and my favorite. It was my first, and that’s always a special relationship.”

  Alex didn’t speak and just stared at him. She could sense he liked to talk, a lot. So she’d let him, for now, while she worked out what she was going to do.

  Ciro continued. “This place is full of customers four nights a week. Some come for the entertainment, and some come to gamble. The casinos are quiet these days, as everyone knows the house always wins.
But here, they can win. They like that. Of course, we make back any payout easily enough in cover charges and selling liquor. But what’s important is that they feel like they can win. People like the idea of hope, and cling to the hope that even they can get one over on the Cosa Nostra. Of course, they know deep down that we still win, but they ignore that and focus on that small, insignificant victory of theirs.”

  He still hadn’t told Alex specifically what went on in the Pits, but she was starting to make a good guess. She thought about asking him to stop waffling on and tell her why she was here, but then he spoke again.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name. Where are my manners today?”

  Ciro nodded to one of the men standing by. He held a scanner in his hand. It looked like the ones people used in lieu of a metal detector. But this wasn’t for that. Besides, they’d already patted her down as they entered.

  It must be an ID scanner. Alex hadn’t seen one so small before. She’d only used one a handful of times. There wasn’t much use for them out in the country. She’d heard that in the cities you were scanned all the time. Every time you walked into a store or club, for instance. They can tell where you’ve been, and sometimes more importantly, where you’ve not been. The Cosa Nostra was paranoid that the people were going to overthrow them one day.

  The man walked over to Alex and grabbed her right arm. He scanned her forearm until the red light turned green. He took it to Ciro. The display read:

  Name: Alexandra Lane

  Born: April 9th, 2079

  Parents: John and Julie Lane

  Status: Citizen

  Ciro nodded and the man returned to his post.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Alexandra,” Ciro said with what sounded like sincerity.