Uprising

by Justin Kemppainen

  ******

 

  Out of sheer boredom, Kaylee had continued her search of the small flat. In the bedroom she found an assortment of women's clothing, further cementing her notion that she was not the first one to be brought there. As she looked through the clothing, she found a small sundress.

  Thinking it could put Miguel off-guard, and admittedly just a little curious to see herself in a different light, she put it on. It was a tight fit; if she had eaten three decent meals a day for a month, she probably wouldn't have been able to squeeze into it. Perhaps it was some innate feminine sense or obvious aesthetic choices, but she felt very strange wearing dirty black tennis shoes with the dress. She went barefoot, enjoying the feel of the soft carpet on her skin. She looked in the full-length bedroom mirror, lightly enjoying it.

  She used the bathroom and discovered that the plumbing was nonfunctional. This didn't really surprise her much, only a few places in Elijah's district had working plumbing. It took a lot of work to manage, and only a couple of people had any idea how to do it. Miguel probably had someone come and clean it out for him when it was used. In the nonfunctioning refrigerator was a pitcher of stale, lukewarm water. She drank a little and damped a cloth, using it to wipe away some of the dirt and grime from her face.

  She once again found herself bored, sitting on the couch. She was considering standing up and taking a fifth look around the place. Or is it the sixth? She was pondering this question when the door banged open.

  She jumped to her feet, slightly startled, and the pungent aroma of too much cologne applied too recently wafted into the room. Miguel stood in the doorway. In his arm he cradled a bottle of wine or champagne; Kaylee couldn't tell the difference at first glance. When he saw her his mouth dropped open a little. Slowly, a wide grin spread across his face as he drank in the sight her.

  He appeared to have cleaned up entirely. He was wearing a clean silk shirt and white khaki pants, free of bloodstains. His collar and a couple of buttons were undone, revealing a little of his smooth chest with the signature pendant around his neck. Kaylee was surprised to find herself ever so slightly attracted to him. It caused little concern, however, because the repulsion from his hideous cruelty was much stronger.

  Settling into her role, Kaylee tried to give him a modest smile, which looked like more of a grimace. She felt like a piece of meat under his intense gaze. She folded her arms under her chest, uncomfortable and self-conscious. She kept herself from giving an involuntary shudder as he remained in the doorway, staring at her. In the hallway, she could see the two large men flanking the door, facing outward. Part of her screamed to duck past them and run away, but a larger portion commanded her to stay put out of some sense of duty. Not that I could get past them anyway, she thought.

  Miguel finally snapped out of his spell and closed the door. He rushed forward, dropping the unopened bottle on the carpet and swooping in to grab Kaylee. She let out a yelp as his arms encircled her waist and his face moved inches away from hers. She tried to move away, but he pulled her close, grinning.

  He whispered, "I see what's going on here, my lovely little dove."

  Kaylee's heart skipped a beat and a cold wave of anxiety swept through her body. Trying to maintain her composure, she said in a tiny voice, "Wh-what do you mean?"

  His wide, hungry smile remained, and he said, "I felt it the very moment I laid eyes on you, and I knew… I just knew… that you felt it too."

  She had no idea what he was talking about, but she played along anyway, "Of… yes, of course," she said with a nervous smile. In spite of living in and around a theatre building, acting was not one of her strong suits.

  Miguel was too starry-eyed to notice. "Absolutely perfect. What a lovely creature you are." He held her close, and she could feel his warmth. "You were meant to be with me," his tone sounded oddly sincere.

  "M-Miguel…" she whispered his name as he caressed the side of her neck. It filled her with a warm, tingling sensation. Internally, she cursed her body for responding to his touch.

  "But let us not be too hasty, yes?" he said, suddenly releasing her. From their positioning, the unexpected change caused her to lose her balance and nearly fall. He didn't notice, scooping up the bottle from the ground and carrying it into the kitchen. She could her him clattering around, pulling wine glasses from the cupboards as he called out, "This wine, it is very rare and valuable." She heard a pop as the cork came loose. "You remember our friend, Nigel?"

  Kaylee couldn't help but shudder as she remembered the bloody, stinking mess of the cell. Miguel walked in with two glasses filled with a dark red liquid and the bottle, recorked, tucked in the crook of his arm. "Once captured, he was quick to reveal exactly where it was that he descended from." He handed her a glass, which she took. "I sent some people in, and they brought a few nice little luxuries back." He gave a light laugh. "A shame they couldn't bring a little sunlight with them, no?"

  He handed her the bottle. The label was written in a language she couldn't comprehend or even identify. She looked it over, turning it in her hands and feeling its weight. She briefly contemplated hitting Miguel with it but decided to wait for a better moment and weapon. She didn't think she'd be able to swing it fast enough, and he was not taking his eyes off of her.

  "So, he just left it open? Where was it?" Kaylee asked, curious as she passed the wine bottle back to him. She figured knowledge of an access point to the surface could be useful, especially if the Citizens didn't know about it.

  "He broke through the floor of his condominium building on the mid-southern section of the city," he said, turning his back to set the bottle on the table. Kaylee cursed silently at the missed opportunity of his diverted attention.

  She did, however, know the location of which he spoke. Fancy, expensive housing had existed along the mid-southern edge of the valley, used by the wealthy before Citizenship established itself. It was pretty far away from the Escape. The area had become another good place for salvage, so not very many people actually inhabited it.

  Miguel turned back and held up his glass. "A toast. To you, my dear, and to us." Kaylee could barely keep herself from rolling her eyes as she clinked glasses with him. She took a small sip. It was rich and bold: a dry wine. She didn't like it. Still, she smiled at Miguel after taking another drink. He walked over and sat on the couch, motioning for her to follow.

  She complied, sitting a foot or so away and facing him. He didn't say anything, only watching her and occasionally taking a drink of wine. Kaylee drained her glass and set it on a small coffee table, looking at him expectantly. He set his glass on the table, and inched closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulder and coming in close.

  Kaylee stood up and moved out of his reach, walking toward the bay window and looking outside. She tilted her head slightly, seeing Miguel's facial expression mix of bewilderment and frustration at her sudden retreat. She gave a tiny smirk.

  The corner of the apartment featured a bay window, full view of the square below. She stood there, watching the movements of Miguel's various people.

  She heard Miguel standing and moving towards her. He came up on her left, putting his hand on her waist. She turned towards him. His expression was empty, almost solemn. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. With a sudden motion, he pulled her in and kissed her, passionately, on the mouth.

  Her eyes popped wide at the advance, and she drew away. She pulled her hand back and slapped him in the face. Miguel held a surprised mingling with furious expression as a bright red mark rose on his cheek.

  Panicking, Kaylee remembered what Victor told him about Miguel's reactions to attacks on his face. Fearing his response, Kaylee leapt forward, throwing her arms around his neck and planting her lips on his.

  Miguel let out a muffled cry of surprise as he was shoved into the wall by the force of her charge. Yet as she kissed him, his eyes slid shut, and his anger melted away. Kaylee winced slightly as he pulled her, roughly, close to him.


  They broke away from each other. Kaylee let out a yelp as Miguel swooped down and picked her up, flinging her over his shoulder. He carried her through the living room. As he passed the coffee table, he stumbled slightly, knocking into it. His half-full glass of wine tumbled over and spilled onto the carpet.

  Oblivious to the permanent red stain he was leaving behind, he carried Kaylee through the hallway into the bedroom, tossing her onto the bed. She flopped down on her back, sidling up and resting her head on the pillow. She reached her arms back behind her, faking a stretch as she felt underneath for her concealed weapon. She was reassured to find it still there.

  Miguel stood at the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. He watched her with a desperate lust in his eyes, fumbling with the buttons. Not meaning to, she gave a wicked smile when she noticed his frantic behavior. If ever there was a time when his guard was down, it would be now. He, of course, misinterpreted her smile as a craving desire and tried to hurry his efforts.

  He finally managed to unfasten the last button on his shirt, and he pulled it off before jumping forward on top of Kaylee. He leaned in close and kissed her again; she pretended once more to enjoy it. His hands ran up and down her body. She put all of her effort into not tensing or shuddering.

  As they kissed, Kaylee reached up behind her, ready to seize the moment. Her hand touched the blade. She curled her fist around the makeshift grip she had made, tensing her body, ready to strike. Now or never, she thought. As she inched the knife around the pillow, there was a noise.

  A chatter: like the sound of weapons fire. Distant and muffled, but unmistakable. Kaylee released the knife, hoping it was out of view as Miguel raised himself up, kneeling on the bed. An expression of suspicious concern crossed his face as he held that position, listening. The chatter of gunfire repeated, this time clearer. He sprang from the bed and ran out of the room, not bothering to grab his shirt. Kaylee jumped up and followed after him, pausing only to readjust the knife to be certain it was still properly hidden.

  He was already to the bay window when she emerged out into the living room. A deep scowl spread across his face. She came over beside him and looked. Dozens of Miguel's mercenaries ran in various directions away from the club, and she could hear indistinct shouting back and forth between them, shaky attempts at mobilizing strategic groups as they moved towards the source of the now fairly constant gunfire.

  "What's going on?" Kaylee asked innocently. Miguel didn't respond; he continued glaring out of the window, concern seeping into the corners of his scowling face.

  Kaylee walked over to the end table, her foot kicking the wine glass that had tumbled to the ground and getting wet with the spilled wine. She picked up the half-full wine bottle, gripping it in her hands as she moved back towards Miguel. She held the neck in both hands, like a stunted, thick baseball bat. She tensed once more, ready to swing as there came a loud rattling of the doorknob at the entrance. It was followed by a rapid knock on the locked door and a frantic-sounding, "Mr. Miguel? Are you there? Something has happened!" She spun around, hiding the bottle behind her as Miguel snapped his attention to the entrance.

  He stood, saying nothing for a moment as though paralyzed by indecision. He finally shouted, "One moment!" He moved away from the window, navigating around the coffee table towards the door. He hissed to himself, "Someone is going to pay for this indiscretion."

  Kaylee started to panic. She knew once the bodyguards came inside, she'd never have a prayer of doing anything to him, and who knows if he'd be killed or not in the assault. Her thoughts raced, and she became convinced that he'd never be out of the way unless she did something. It really is now or never, she thought.

  She cursed herself for not grabbing the knife, but there wasn't time enough to go get it. His back was turned, and he had almost reached the door. She ran forward, swinging the bottle wildly with both hands.

  With a hollow thunk! the makeshift club collided with the back of Miguel's skull. He gave an angry cry and staggered forward, thumping into the door before dropping to his hands and knees.

  Kaylee moved forward, hearing the rattle of the doorknob and the frantic knocking, accompanied by the yelling of, "What's going on? Are you all right?"

  She positioned herself next to Miguel, who remained bent over. Raising the bottle over her head, she prepared to smash in his skull. Miguel threw out a hand, shoving Kaylee away. Surprised by his quick motion, she stumbled backwards, dropping the bottle onto the carpet. She tripped, falling down just inside the kitchen. She scrambled to her feet as Miguel clambered shakily to his. She stared at him for a moment as he held his hand to the back of his head, fingers coming away bloody.

  He turned towards her, his face a mask of livid rage. He breathed hard, but she could see his eyes were glazed and unfocused. She put herself into a boxer's stance, weight distributed evenly on the balls of her feet, hands out in front of her. She backed away as he stood, half-hunched, staring at her and sucking air in and out.

  He finally moved. As he sluggishly stooped to pick up the wine bottle, she hooked her foot around the plastic container of oil and kicked it over. He started moving towards her, white-knuckled grip on the bottle, eyes filled with hate. He didn't say anything, and didn't appear to notice the slick liquid spreading over the tile as he brandished the bottle in one hand. Kaylee backed away, wincing as her eye caught the knife block that Miguel now stood within feet of. God, why am I such an idiot, she thought desperately.

  Luckily, he didn't notice it either; he passed by it without taking his eyes off of Kaylee. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for some other weapon, not seeing anything she could use. The frantic pounding on the door ceased; instead now a heavy rhythm of the outside bodyguards throwing themselves against it, still shouting, could be heard. It was ignored by the occupants.

  Miguel sprang forward, swinging the bottle towards her. Kaylee let out a short cry and tried to dodge out of the way. As he neared, his foot slipped on the slick, oil-coated linoleum. He flailed his open hand around, trying to catch his balance. His swing went wild, sailing over Kaylee's head and smashing into the wall.

  The bottle shattered, spraying wine and glass around, splattering all over Kaylee's back and head. She ducked into the living room, wine droplets trailing behind her. She heard the sounds of mild squeaking and loud cursing as Miguel continued slipping and trying to regain his balance. She heard a thud as he finally fell down. Kaylee hopped over the couch and snatched her empty wine glass. She struck the bowl of it on the coffee table; it shattered, leaving the base with a sharp stem. She whirled around, gripping the small weapon in her fist.

  Miguel had already scrambled to his feet, charging forward. His shirtless body was splattered with wine and bits of glass. His right side was scored and bleeding, slick with oil and sporting dozens of tiny cuts where he had fallen into the broken bottle pieces. Kaylee could see that he also cut his feet, through his thin socks, and was tracking fresh blood onto the carpet of the living room.

  They stood, half-crouched, on either side of the couch, facing each other. "You filthy little cow," Miguel spat. "I could have given you everything! You could have been mine!"

  Kaylee gave a wild grin. "What could you ever offer me you impotent son of a bitch?"

  Miguel looked stricken, as though slapped. "Oh, what's wrong?" Kaylee jeered. "You thought I actually liked you?" She tossed her head back and laughed. "How could I? How could anyone?"

  Miguel clenched his teeth, veins stood out on his neck and forehead. He held one hand out in front, jabbing his finger at her. "How dare you? I am a gift! You should be so lucky to have one such as me!"

  Kaylee laughed again. "Oh, but I could have." She mocked him. "I felt it the very moment I laid eyes on you."

  Miguel let out a roar and leapt at her over the couch. She ducked underneath his outstretched arms and struck out with the glass in her hand. She felt a light resistance, like a pin pushing into ripe fruit, as the sharp end punctured the skin of hi
s shoulder and slid into his flesh with ease. He screamed in pain, a high-pitched wail resounding through the room.

  He flinched hard with Kaylee gripping the base of the broken glass. Part of the stem snapped off under the torque, an inch or so remaining lodged in Miguel's shoulder. He cradled his wounded arm and put on a mixed expression of pain, rage, and sorrow, so piteous he looked as though he would start crying soon.

  Kaylee gave a fierce roar and feinted a leap towards him, brandishing her now-tiny shard of glass. Miguel cringed backwards and threw his arms up to defend his face, howling as the pain of the stab wound flared.

  She took the opportunity of distraction to dash towards the hallway, intending to find another weapon. Miguel recovered from his cowardly display, growling. His anger and resolve became renewed by her trickery and flight. Gingerly, he used his thumb and forefinger to grip the cylindrical glass shard. With an agonizing lack of haste, he tugged at the piece. It slowly slid out of his shoulder, eliciting another wincing growl from him.

  Casting it aside, he stepped around the coffee table and moved cautiously out into the hallway.

  "Come out, girl. You cannot hide from me," he called out, softly.

  There came no answer.

  "Stop this foolish game. Come out, now."

  There was a thump at the door again, harder. Miguel could hear the definite sound of cracking wood as the jamb began to give way. He smiled to himself. "Do you hear that? When they get inside, they will kill you." He ran his bloody hand through his hair, "If you come out, I could be lenient. Or I could open the door and let them in." He started to make a half turn towards the entrance.

  An indistinct and incoherent, muffled shout came from outside the flat. Miguel heard the soft scuff of bare feet on carpet as Kaylee moved within the bedroom. He crept forward, looking through the open door. He didn't see her but guessed she was standing just to the right of the door, waiting to pounce and expecting him to be disoriented and off-guard. He didn't notice that the pounding at the door had ceased, nor did he hear one of his men cry out, "Oh God!"

  "This is your final chance. Reveal yourself, and you will be treated fairly." Not even giving her a chance to respond, he jumped around the corner. As he came into the room, she let out a battle cry and swung a heavy lamp at him.

  Miguel easily ducked and grabbed her wrists, ignoring the shredding pain in his shoulder. He yanked her arms apart, causing the lamp to drop harmlessly to the floor. Kaylee struggled, but he held her firm. She tried kicking at him, but he twisted to the side, easily avoiding her strikes. He moved his face close to hers, grinning.

  Kaylee spat in his face. Miguel stepped back, stunned. With surprising force, he slapped her with an open palm. Face stinging and vision blurred, she was flung to the side, stumbling over and falling onto the bed. She whirled around, but he leapt upon her, pinning her arms and legs.

  A triumphant expression crossed Miguel's face as he considered his positioning; he grinned wickedly. Kaylee flailed about in an effort to throw him off of her, but he held fast. Still pinning her wrists up over her head, he swooped in and kissed her neck, biting down almost hard enough to draw blood. She snarled and thrashed her head; he jerked back before she could hit him.

  He chuckled down at her. He released one of her hands, far too tempted by his impure thoughts. She struck him, pounded against him, but she couldn't provide enough force to even faze his advances. She tried to reach over to his injured shoulder, but he twisted away again. She clawed at his skin, pounded at his scratches and bruises, but it didn't seem to bother him. His free hand roamed across her body. She shuddered as a wave of revulsion spread over her when he caressed the bare skin of her legs, sliding his hand up her dress.

  Panicking once more, she flailed and thrashed her body around. She used her free hand to fend off Miguel's, which pushed up at the fabric of her dress, exposing more of her bare skin. She pulled her other arm free and scratched at his face, drawing blood as she tried to reach his eyes. He unclasped his belt with one hand, pulling it free. He held a length of it and lashed her, across the bare skin of her thigh.

  A loud slap echoed through the room and Kaylee gasped at the sharp pain, pausing her resistance in a moment of shock. Miguel took the moment to loop the belt around her wrists and pull it tight. With them bound together, he held her arms against the headboard with one hand and continued roaming around with his other hand. Kaylee bared her teeth and growled.

  Miguel gazed back up at her, catching her eye and smiling. He leaned in close, inches away from her. "Now you will see, my dear," he whispered in her ear. "Even with your poor attitude, I can still be generous to one like you." He caressed the side of her face, pulling his hand back when Kaylee snapped at it. "Soon, you will understand what a gift I can be. Then you will beg me," he licked his lips, "you will beg me not to stop."

  A detached calm settled over Kaylee's mind as Miguel turned his attention downward again, and she ceased her struggling against him. He fumbled awkwardly at his trousers. The grip of his injured, likely very painful, arm loosened on her bound wrists, and the unfastened belt slipped.

  Kaylee looked up, passive expression on her face as she noted the slackened grip on her wrists. As Miguel's attention lay elsewhere, Kaylee pulled her wrists apart, and the belt loosened further. In a quick motion she slid her right hand free. Her arm shot underneath the pillow, gripping the knife that lay underneath.

  Miguel glanced back at Kaylee with just enough time to see a mote of light from the hallway glinting off of the stainless steel blade of the knife. Just enough time for his eyes to widen and a cold chill to sweep through his body as the blade jammed into the side of his neck.

  He released a raspy, gurgling scream and a jot of blood sprayed from his mouth. Miguel stood and stumbled out of the room, leaving a bloody handprint on the doorframe as he exited. Kaylee pulled the belt off of her remaining hand and flung it aside. She jumped to her feet, and, after hastily straightening the dress, ran out in pursuit.

  Miguel had fallen down and was feebly crawling away, trailing smeared blood on the carpet as he went. Finally, as he reached the edge of the couch, he turned around and collapsed against it, his strength and life flowing out of the wound. Wet gasping noises issued from his throat.

  Kaylee felt a grim satisfaction as she watched his struggle; she walked to the couch and stood over him. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with fear, as he sputtered and gurgled. He opened his mouth and gave a pathetic cough, unable to speak as he clutched at his bleeding throat, the knife still imbedded deep within it.

  She watched him as he lay dying, a sneer curling on her face. Finally, with short, sharp gurgling gasps, Miguel's eyes slid out of focus, and his hand fell to the ground. After a couple of twitches, he did not move any further. Kaylee stared at him, vaguely aware of the sounds of muffled thuds and activity out in the hallway, not caring about what the guards would do when they saw their leader. She had succeeded. Elijah and Rick would be proud of her.

  The door burst open with the sound of splintering wood as the jamb shattered. Kaylee spun around in time to see the upside down body of a large man in a suit flying through the air and flopping to the ground at her feet.

  In the doorway stood a familiar figure. He wore several layers of clothing across his body and a large trench coat. Across his face he wore a loose wrapping of cloth and scarves, and atop his head laid a battered, wide-brimmed hat.

  They stared at each other. Malcolm's eyes, with the swirling hints of color set in milky white, narrowed as he saw the body of Miguel.

  A lump formed in Kaylee's throat as she stood there, once again battered, exhausted, and bloody. And triumphant, she thought. Much to Malcolm's surprise, she jumped forward and flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. His arms flailed around briefly, unsure of what to do before settling awkwardly around her shoulders. He stood, moderately uncomfortable, as she sobbed lightly into his shoulder.

  She broke away from him, eyes still wet from the floo
d of tears. "Thank you," she whispered.

  Malcolm nodded. A grating, hoarse noise issued forth from him, a sound like a man with half of a lung clearing his throat. "Hkhwellcomm," came the reply.

  Kaylee smiled, comforted more by his presence than his conversation ability. After another quick hug, the distant, constant chatter of weapons fire brought back the desperate circumstances outside to the front of her mind. She ran over to the window.

  In the distance, a few blocks away, down the street off to the right of the club, Kaylee could see forms of men. Some twisted bodies were lying in the street, unmoving. Others were taking cover against the cold and half-broken brick walls, jumping out occasionally to fire their weapons. Several of them pulled back, ducking swiftly around cover as they fled.

  They looked like they were being driven back. Cold apprehension swept over Kaylee. She glanced off to the left, seeing the street fairly empty, a few men sprinting with their various weapons in that direction. She frowned.

  She jumped slightly when she noticed that Malcolm, without a sound, had moved to her side, also looking out the window. Unconcerned about startling her, he silently watched out the window.

  Kaylee looked down at herself. She still wore the dress, although now it was disheveled, wrinkled, and smeared with Miguel's blood. She straightened out the hem and twisted the fabric around until it sat properly. She frowned. It's so impractical, why am I still wearing it?

  She looked outside once more, at a loss for what to do. She shrugged. It's safer in here than out there, she thought. At least until we figure out what we're doing.