Dangerous Lovers

by Becca Vincenza

  “X,” Ludwig said before she could find out what Roman wanted. He thought the nickname for her was funny, and adopted it himself.

  She stepped forward so she was directly beside his chair. It amused her to see him sitting there like some King on his throne. The interrogation room was a large, dark room inside their main headquarters in downtown New Berlin. There were no windows – on purpose. Ludwig wanted anyone inside to feel completely disconnected from the world outside. Dark grey stones tiled the floor, stained from repeatedly spilled blood. Along the walls were sconces that lit the room in a dim glow, casting dancing shadows to unnerve the prisoners. There was no furniture except for the chair he sat in. It wasn’t necessarily a fancy chair by any means. Solid wood, carved with his crest at the top, and a red cushion for him to sit on. But still, she thought of it as his metaphorical throne.

  She waited in silence for him to address her again. She never spoke out of turn. After five years of being his third in command, Dinah knew exactly where her place was.

  “Is the pathetic excuse for a human telling the truth?” he said, as if asking what the weather was currently like outside.

  “He knows little,” she answered. “He’s more scared of what you will do to him after. His thoughts aren’t coherent.” She kept her voice low, only loud enough for him to hear.

  “Pity.” He frowned. “Nothing of use?”

  Dinah turned to look at the man kneeling on the stone. He watched her nervously, visibly shaking under her cold stare. She searched deeper, shuffling through the useless crap she didn’t need to know. What is this? She thought, narrowing her eyes. Interesting. She pushed harder.

  “He has a wall,” she said simply.

  Ludwig leaned forward in his seat, his face hardened. “Another one?”

  Dinah didn’t look away from the prisoner, but nodded in reply. This was the third this week. It hadn’t happened before then, well, except for her mother that last day. The fact that it was happening often now was concerning. Someone was teaching these men how to block her out.

  “Break it down,” Ludwig ordered.

  Dinah pushed forward hard, breaking down the wall as if it were nothing but sand. It crumpled in her mental fingers, revealing everything hidden there. Oh yes, she thought, there it is.

  “There is a bar in the eastern ghetto,” she said. “A meeting is planned there for tomorrow at midnight.”

  Ludwig snickered. “Midnight. So dramatic.” He sighed.

  The man’s eyes burned, furious. “You cannot stop us all!” he shouted. “No matter how many of us you strike down, we will only rise up again – stronger!”

  “I’m sure you will,” Ludwig answered dryly. “Anything else, X?”

  “Nothing useful,” she said. “He’s not in the inner circle. He knows little.”

  “Very well.” He nodded. “Roman.”

  Dinah watched dispassionately as Roman stepped forward, pulling his gun from the holster beneath his left arm. He raised it level with the man’s head.

  “You are all going to hell,” the man said, the fear in his eyes at war with his words.

  Roman smiled down at the man, mercilessly. “Looks like you’re going to beat me there. Let me know how it is.” He pulled the trigger, the man’s brains splattering across the floor. The soldiers manning the periphery moved instantly, dragging the body away, and preparing to clean the mess. She didn’t envy the task.

  “I want you both at that bar tomorrow night,” Ludwig said.

  Dinah looked at him in surprise. “Even me?” she asked, louder now that no outsiders were around. All the soldiers in the New World army knew she was a girl so she didn’t have to be as careful around them.

  “Yes, you too,” he said. “I need you there, Di. If anyone is going to be able to uncover these rats, it will be you.”

  “If the meeting is going to be there, Ludwig, I’m sure me and my men can handle it,” Roman said.

  “It’s not enough. I want her there. Just make sure nothing happens to her,” he said pointedly to Roman. Ludwig hardly ever let her out on these raids. He was constantly worried something would happen to her, even though she was hard to beat in a fight. The fact that she could hear her opponent’s move before they made it made beating her difficult.

  The truth was, Ludwig relied on Dinah too much to risk losing her. The fact that he was letting her tagalong for this raid was surprising. She knew Roman’s reluctance was him just being overprotective as well. Between the two of them, it was a wonder she was allowed out of her room each day. Not that she really fought to get out. Over the years she’d been here, she found herself hiding within those four walls like it was the only world in her reality. Like the world outside wasn’t the same as the one she had to live. She was slipping further and further away from everything she used to be before joining the army.

  “Bring me back information I can use,” he said, getting up from his chair. “These rebels are a constant thorn in my side. I want them wiped out, and I want it done now.” He stormed off, four soldiers breaking away from the rest to follow him.

  Dinah stood with Roman, watching Ludwig as he retreated. “He’s getting impatient,” Roman commented.

  “Gee, really? What was your first clue?” she replied. Roman turned to her with an appreciative grin.

  “You’re getting mouthy in your old age.”

  Dinah rolled her eyes. “I’m only twenty,” she said. “Hardly old.”

  “Actually, you’re twenty-one,” he corrected. “Happy Birthday, Lottey.” He pulled out a small package from a pant-leg pocket. Dinah was speechless. It was her birthday? How did she manage to miss that? She looked up at Roman, amazed he’d actually remember a thing so trivial.

  “You got me something?” she asked. He stood with the small present between them, a sardonic expression on his face.

  “No, Lottey,” he answered. “I’m just standing here with a little box for no reason. Just take it”.

  She narrowed her eyes, still not reaching for the box. “Stop calling me that. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  “I do it because you keep telling me not to,” he said. “You should have realized that by now.”

  “You’re annoying.”

  “I know.” His smile stretched wider. “Are you going to take this, or am I going to hold it out all day?”

  With a sigh, she reached out and took the small gift. She hesitated for a second before lifting the lid open to reveal the delicate pair of earrings inside. They were a beautiful blue stone set in white gold. Jewellery was a privilege of the upper class. Very few had such luxuries, and although she wasn’t part of the lower class by any means, Dinah had never owned anything like this. She had no idea what to say.

  “They’re aquamarine,” he said. She looked up, still speechless. He shrugged uncomfortably. “They reminded me of your eyes. I always think of that stone when I look at you.” She blinked. It never occurred to her that Roman would notice anything about her. Despite the fact that she knew he was attractive, she swore to herself that she would never get too close to someone. Plus, the two had always been more like siblings. She didn’t get the sense that this was his way of hitting on her, more like a genuine observation of his that he wanted to commend in some way.

  “They’re beautiful,” she finally said.

  He smiled, accepting this statement as her way of saying thank you. “Perhaps when you’re alone you can put them on.”

  “I will,” she replied sincerely. “I’ve never owned anything like these.”

  “They’ll look even more beautiful on you than they do in that box.” They smiled awkwardly at each other before he cleared his throat. “Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow night for our big outing?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be ready.”

  He took a step back. “I will see you then.” He turned and left, leaving her in the middle of the interrogation room with blood at her feet, a pair of beautiful earrings in hand, and a dumbfounded expressio
n on her face.

  Dinah entered her room, turning all three locks as soon as the door was shut. It didn’t matter how well the building was protected, she never trusted it enough to leave her door unlocked. There were enough men in the New World army with seriously questionable morals that she was often on guard, even at home. She turned and looked at the small room she occupied and frowned to herself. Home. Perhaps that was a bit much to describe the single room and bathroom – the only space she could call her own. It wasn’t a lot, but knowing how most of the population lived, it was definitely better than some. The roof didn’t leak, and there was actual heat. That alone was more than most could hope for.

  She started her nightly ritual of disarming herself. Considering the amount of weapons she wore on her at all times, this was quite the exercise. She removed the two M1911 pistols from the double shoulder holsters, the desert eagle from the holster strapped around her thigh, the dagger in her boot, and the compact semi-automatic Smith and Wesson tucked in the back of her pants. She pulled her shirt off, shaking out her long, black hair. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, enjoying the feeling of air on her face.

  Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she took off her boots then headed for the shower. It was only eight, but really, what else was she going to do? She didn’t have friends, so even if she had wanted to go out, who would she go with? And where? She knew nothing of the city she lived in for five years now. It was just as unknown as it had been the day Roman brought her here. Sighing, she stripped down and got into the shower, letting the hot water wash over her. Tomorrow would be a long day anyway, she told herself. A solid night’s sleep was always a good idea before she had to deal with searching a large group of people. She just hoped they knew something worth her time.

  Chapter Two

  “Bridgette, you’re up!”

  “Coming!” she called back, finishing the thick, black line across the lid of her left eye. She sat back, blinking at her reflection in the mirror. Fluffing up her shoulder-length, brown curls, she took one last look at herself before walking to the stage entrance.

  “Go make me proud, darling,” Sebastian said with his usual drawl. Bridgette threw him a quick smile that he returned easily. Sebastian was the stage manager. His only job was to make sure the girls were on when they needed to be, and the show flowed. But he was so much more than that to all of them. Sebastian watched out for them. Any time one of the club’s patrons got a little out of hand, it was Sebastian who was there first to defend them. Not that he was a particularly threatening man. He wasn’t much taller than Bridgette’s five foot seven, and he couldn’t weigh much more than a hundred and seventy pounds, but she had caught glimpses of his arms and stomach under the shirts he wore, and knew the man worked out. He might be pushing fifty, but he had the body of a much younger man to go with his still thick, black hair.

  Bridgette heard her cue and walked out to the marked spot on the lift that would bring her up to stage level. She shook out her nerves and got into her opening pose. Dancing at the Red Lounge wasn’t exactly what she had envisioned for herself when she was younger. When she had finished high school and started waitressing, she planned on saving her money to go to university and becoming a doctor. But after the city she called home was destroyed, along with most of its inhabitants, including her family, she’d been forced to move. Nineteen and alone wasn’t easy, so any means of making a buck became number one on her list of priorities. Who was she kidding? Being twenty-four and alone wasn’t any easier, and she was still doing anything necessary to earn some money.

  The lift groaned and creaked as it began to rise. She repositioned her feet to keep her balance on the old, rickety metal. One day, she thought, it was going to collapse beneath her. She heard the other girls’ singing their parts and she took another deep breath. Then her head was up over the stage and the bright lights hit her eyes. She was used to this though, and managed not to squint against them. It always took her a second to adjust.

  Cheers rang out when the audience saw her. She let her blood red lips turn up in a sly smile, batting her fake eyelashes at the men watching her. Things could be worse, she reminded herself. At least at the Red Lounge they got to keep their clothes on. She knew a lot of joints where the girls had to do some pretty degrading things. Red Lounge was an upscale men’s club that specialized in burlesque dancing, which meant skimpy costumes, but all the goods were covered.

  She adjusted the mic around her ear, making sure it was close enough to her mouth so the audience would be able to hear her clearly over the music. Then she stepped forward and fell into the familiar routine of singing and dancing. The men continued to holler at her and the others as they danced around the stage, following their routine. Letting her voice rise high, the notes clear and in tune, she basked in the energy and adrenaline of performing. As the song came to an end, they gathered around each other for the final pose, hitting the mark taped on the floor for them. Applause followed and she smiled, controlling her breathing so she didn’t look as winded as she felt. Then the curtain fell and they all relaxed.

  “Good job, ladies!” Donna called out. “Everyone take five!” She walked over to Bridgette, motioning for her to step aside privately.

  “What’s up?” she asked, wiping at the sweat trickling down her face. The lights always killed her. It was no wonder she had to wear so much make-up.

  “You looked good out there,” Donna said.

  “Thanks.” Donna and Barry were the owners of Red Lounge. Bridgette always admired them for running this place as efficiently as they did. It was pretty difficult to keep any business going in the eastern ghetto, considering all the inhabitants were poor, but their set-up was bringing a lot of big spenders from the upper class sections. Bridgette knew it wasn’t easy; however the two of them seemed to make it work. And she knew that, deep down inside, they thought of the girls as family.

  “Listen,” she said, her voice lowering. “I have a private party coming in, in about ten minutes. I need you and Michelle to perform for them. You think you can handle that?”

  Bridgette shrugged. “Sure,” she answered. She’d done private parties before. It could be a bit more trouble, since they were in the rooms upstairs where there were no security guards posted inside. Barry made sure there were at least two posted out in the halls though, so if they ever got into any real trouble all they had to do was holler.

  The way Donna looked at her made Bridgette think there was more to this than she was telling her. She waited for her to continue, but Donna gave her a strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes and then turned to leave. Bridgette walked back down to the dressing rooms to find Michelle. She found her sitting at her table, reapplying her lipstick. Her long, blonde hair flipped over her shoulder when she turned to look up at Bridgette.

  “Hey, girl!” she said. “Good job out there. I wish I had your voice.” She pushed her lips out in a pout, her green eyes going all puppy-dog on her. Bridgette laughed and shook her head. This was a common exchange between them.

  “We both know you can sing just as well as I do,” she argued.

  Michelle waved her off. “Don’t lie to me, it only makes me feel worse.”

  Bridgette rolled her eyes, taking a seat at the station beside her. “Donna needs us to do a private party in ten. You cool with that?”

  “Sure! Who is it?”

  Bridgette shrugged. “Probably some uppers, considering no one from around here could afford it.”

  “Maybe I’ll meet my future husband tonight,” she said wistfully. All the girls thought this way. Bridgette was probably the only one who had no desire to marry one of the upper-class men. She hated the social system of the New World. Every time she walked home, she saw the effects of it. From the homeless on the streets, or the boarded up buildings of once beautiful, thriving businesses, it reminded her of how much damage was wrought on all of them. New Berlin was the only major city left. Ludwig and his army of teenagers had almost obliterated the
entire world’s population. One man. She could hardly get her head around it. She remembered what it was like in those first few months – the bombs, the panic.

  The first time communications went down, everyone was left in the dark. They soon learned they had been reduced to a third of the world’s population, and there was no stopping it. People talked about the end of the world, but it didn’t happen the way we imagined. No, it wasn’t some natural disaster, or widespread plague, it was just a plain old regular asshole. Figures. Now Ludwig ruled like some King from the history books she used to read. It was awful and she hated it, but her mother always said “you just gotta adapt.” So that’s what she’d been doing for the past five years – adapting. Living on her own and getting by.

  Her thoughts went to her mother, and the same sad, empty feeling filled her. Bridgette remembered that day well. The raids, the devastation. Running home to find it burning. Waiting until dark when the rains finally put it out. Rummaging through what was left, and finding her mother’s wedding ring; her sister’s confirmation necklace. Both of them – gone.

  “Hey,” Michelle said softly, touching her hand. “You okay?”

  Bridgette shook herself out of old, painful memories and smiled. “Yeah, sorry. Got lost there for a second.”

  Her friend smiled knowingly, giving her hand a little pat. “I get it. So what song do you want to perform?”

  “Diamonds?” she suggested.

  Michelle nodded. “Let’s do her proud,” she said with a wink. They both put two fingers to their lips, kissing them and then holding them out to the beat up photograph of Marilyn Monroe taped on Michelle’s mirror. They laughed, and Bridgette left to change outfits.