by Ana Calin
“I thought you wanted to ask, not impute something,” he interrupted.
Leona brought a fist to her mouth and cleared her voice, probably buying time to rephrase once more. As she spoke, she sounded defiant. “Why did you have us gather all objects that can be used as weapons?”
“So we know exactly where to reach in case of need,” he replied as if he were prepared for the question.
“Why not simply arm everybody?”
“Because I don’t want you panicking at the slightest sound and hurting each other.”
“I’m sorry, Damian, but that sounds more like an excuse than a reason.”
“Do you want panicky drunks waving broken bottles around your pretty face before somebody actually bursts in?”
“You expect people to barge in on us?”
Damian’s eyes flashed as he spoke the next words.
“People,” he stressed, as if saying a name, “chased the three of us from the village back here. They tried to kill one of us. A lash whipped out from the darkness and wound around his ankle. They dragged him, his body smashed into trees and rocks until he came to a precipice, where he almost saw his end. Yes, I think People will eventually barge in on us, and they’ll bring some hellish killing techniques with them.” His voice was steady, but anger lurked deep in it.
“You make it sound like People are pretty good at what they do. And yet here you are, Damian, all three of you. Why do you think you made it back?”
“What are you implying, Leona?”
“I’m implying People want us all in one place,” she said, raising her chin and taking a step closer to him. “I’m implying they were after us from the beginning. They were after the whole group, whom they want to take down in one blow. I’m implying they can take us down in one blow. I don’t think they need guerilla tactics, but just wanted to scare you, so you wouldn’t leave this place again. You made it back because People let you. They chased you back to your cage, and now they’re waiting for the right moment to attack, which is why they haven’t stormed in after you. You didn’t bother to block the door, so I think you know this damned well. You know what to expect.”
Damian’s jaw tightened. “And your question is?”
“Am I right?”
“It doesn’t sound like you still have a doubt.”
“To make the question clearer still: Have you met People before, Damian?”
His features hardened. “I have.”
My jaw dropped. Leona straightened up, even more accusatory. “Then why don’t you tell us what to expect now?”
Damian’s face sealed off all expression, turning into a beautiful, sculpted mask.
“Because it won’t do you any good.” His eyes swept over the rest of us who stood cluttered in the doorstep. I thought his gaze rested on me a second longer than on any other face.
He grabbed the sheepskin and started to the door. Toward me. I melted on my feet, cursing myself silently. How could I be so taken with him, even now?
Hector followed, and George scurried after them like a pet. Those of us who clustered in their way drew aside. My heart smote me as Damian passed by, leaving a trace of cool air and fir scent behind. The others trailed after them like tide, screaming out questions at Damian, and leaving Leona and me alone, gawking at each other.
“What was that?” I mumbled, walking slowly to her.
She shook her head and dropped on her buttocks by the fridge, drained of strength. She’d put all of it in her confrontation with Damian, it seemed.
“We’re in serious trouble, real trouble, Alice.”
I sat by her side, my brain buzzing with increasing alarm, now that Damian wasn’t close enough to keep my reason numb. Still, I refrained from pressuring Leona and resorted to watching her intently. She looked stricken and took a while of eye darting and head scratching before she spoke, measuring her words.
“Getting Marius Iordache talking wasn’t easy, you know? He was suspicious even about the food, paranoid even. It was hard work persuading him it wasn’t poisoned. Now part of me wishes I hadn’t succeeded.” She shuddered.
“Is his story that ugly?”
“You don’t begin to imagine.”
“You know who People are, Leona?”
She took a deep breath, trying to act calm, but she knotted her fingers nervously. “Ten years ago, Marius Iordache covered a hot story that should’ve made headlines – a story that involved Damian Novac. While the ink was still fresh on paper though, the R.I.S. classified the file, then shot down Marius’s story, stating it was all sensationalism. Marius lost all credibility.
“He archived the article at Gardianul and started his own investigation, determined to prove the story real and restore his name, but always ran into a dead end. The audience labeled him paranoid and obsessed with conspirators when he came out on TV, alleging the Romanian Intelligence Service had switched off all sources and covered the truth. He became the fool of the year, which is why he eventually dropped the matter, but never forgot it.
“Now here’s the first interesting turn: A month ago, Svetlana contacted him. They met in Bucharest, where she told him she knew all about his story, and that she’d even seen the file the R.I.S. had on its subject. That she could help him prove it. Marius, still obsessed with the matter, agreed to give her the archived original article from 1995 in exchange for a look at the file, which she was supposed to enable. She didn’t keep her word and went off radar. He got a hold of her in Constanța, told her he’d be a thorn in her rib until she fulfilled her promise.
“The attempted rape was the first subject we began to bond on up in the attic. Marius alleges that Svetlana, cornered by his presence in Constanța, led him on. She even invited him on this trip, facilitating access to Damian Novac himself. Marius was thrilled, and agreed to keep his identity secret ‘til the ‘right moment’ – if Novac discovered who he was, he might’ve not come along or disappeared. Once here, Svetlana subtly came on to Marius, and later staged the attempted rape to make him look the villain, so nobody would trust anything he might say about her. She punched him in his weak spot – credibility.”
Makes sense. Last night she’d come with him to the room and lay by his side without objection. I hadn’t even noticed them.
“Get to the point, what was the story?” I urged her.
“In 1994, fifteen-year-old Damian Novac got on a train. His purpose: illegal work abroad, since he was underage. He never came to destination, though. The train broke down in a village close to the border – somewhere around Oradea, but still in the middle of nowhere – and he checked at an old inn, which offered free lodging for him and all other travellers. What they had in common? They’d all transferred to that train in Bucharest, and had almost no contact to their families. A few days after that, a farmer found the place empty and messed up. There were stains of blood everywhere, and the windows broken. It looked as if a massacre had taken place, save for the main element – bodies.”
A chill went through me. “How did Iordache come upon all this?”
“Wait. One year later, Novac burst into a hunting lodge in the Apuseni Mountains, surprising a ranger, who fortunately stopped to think before he reached for his rifle. The ranger managed to reason with him and contacted the authorities. He was the only person Novac talked to, the boy had gone completely wild. He didn’t say a word to the cops, doctors or shrinks. The police got their info from the ranger, and Marius from his well-established sources within the police force. But, as I said, the Intelligence Service closed the cops’ snouts overnight, and Marius was left with nothing.”
“But what had happened at the inn? Did Damian ever tell the ranger?”
“He told him that and more. Apparently there was an ambush the night Novac spent there. None of the others were ever found, dead or alive. But the most shocking part was actually in the headline, which I saved until now, because it only makes sense in the context: Damian Novac escapes the hands of organ dealers.”
Chapter Five
“Yes. The police ascribed the massacre at the inn to a criminal corporation, BioDhrome. They allegedly dissolved soon after the R.I.S. started on their trail, but Marius is convinced that’s bullshit. They were a corp, much too big to evaporate in thin air just like that. He’s convinced they used their power and money to . . . transform. Based on his later investigations he’s also sure there was more than organ trafficking involved.”
“More?”
“Experiments on humans. It was these experiments that became a matter beyond police competence, even a matter of national security. A matter for the R.I.S., the Military and Defense. Marius tried to go deeper on this, but, as I said, he eventually hit a dead end. The R.I.S. silenced all his leads, and created a file titled The Executioner on it – a name given to Damian Novac, who had returned to civilization with certain . . . powers.”
“And you believe him? Marius?” I grinned like an idiot. This isn’t happening was on replay.
“And why not, Alice? His account fits so well with what Svetlana said that night at the Bourbon. Now she acts crazy, people try to kill us with no obvious reason, and Damian’s acting all mysterious. What else could explain all this, if not that they’re after unfinished business with the Executioner, as well as our kidneys and livers? Hell, maybe it was Novac himself who drew us in this trap.”
I stared blankly at her. “It can’t be.” I shook my head. “It can’t be happening.”
“You’re in denial,” she sneered.
My mind began to wrap around the hideous reality bit by bit. A paralyzing fear gripped me.
“This is some mind-blowing shit, Leona . . . Some serious shit.”
“Now’s not the time to be a wimp, Alice,” she admonished, putting her hard face on. It reminded me of the scowling gypsy girl I’d discovered in our back yard years ago, barefoot and muddy, stealing apples.
“Easy for you to say. You’ve seen it all. Your dad was a shylock, for Christ’s sakes, and the entire city trembled only when they heard his name. But I was raised in a cocoon, Leona, I only know nasty shit from books.” A shudder went through me at the flash of memory involving her father darkening our doorstep, deep frown on olive-skinned face, heavy golden chain around his neck.
Leona grumbled. “Well, even for me, organ trafficking and illegal medical experimentation are a whole new level. Derailing trains and making people disappear without a trace means power, Alice. A whole lot of power. A hydra, its claws drilling deep in the Romanian underground.”
“If they want our kidneys and livers they’ll get them!” I squeaked. “We don’t stand a chance!”
“Pull yourself together.” She slapped my back, then jumped up and grabbed one of the metal objects from the counter. Only when she pressed it in my palm did I realize it was a short, rust-adorned screwdriver.
“What are you doing?”
“Keep it under your sleeve,” she said, tucking a knife under her own.
“But Damian said – ”
“I don’t care what he said. Right now, I don’t trust anyone in this place any more than I do People out there.”
“Leona, you’re losing it.” The words were careful to leave my mouth. She looked as manic as Svetlana had just a few hours earlier, save for the dark circles around the eyes and the sucked-in cheeks.
“Oh, you think?” she snapped, her face red and her brows scrunched. “There are three people here who knew about BioDhrome – Damian, Marius and Svetlana. Now you mark my words: one of them has drawn us in this trap. One of them works with those butchers hand in hand. So I’m not following a suspect’s orders. And neither are you.”
As soon as she finished her sentence she grabbed my wrist roughly and dragged me out.
The main room was loud and crowded, but she elbowed our way close to the center, where Damian and Hector answered questions worse than in a press conference with the President. George tried for the anchor role, appointing the next questions, but no one minded him. He looked overwhelmed and utterly useless. Leona shot a few of her own arrows in the mix, but they didn’t hit anyone’s ears, not until she managed to clasp Hector’s arm.
“This is crazy,” she yelled. “What’s the plan?”
“There is no plan,” Hector yelled back. “We just get out of here as soon as Damian and I have checked the area.”
“Out? Freaking out? Into what, chains, knives or bullets?”
Angered, Hector pushed her into a mass of bodies. I was in the front line, her shoulder squashing my face.
“Stay here, if you prefer gas.”
“What do you mean, you troll?” she shouted after him, but he was already too far. He talked to George and pointed in our direction, making the latter nod. Proud to have gotten a direct assignment, George hurried over and led us to the putrid sofa by the stove.
“Gas, yeah,” he said as if he’d lived through this before himself. I couldn’t decide if his composure was admirable or just plain ridiculous. “Gas that doesn’t smell or burn, but that’ll blast our adrenaline levels so high, that we’ll jump at each other’s throats.”
“We’ll fucking kill each other?” Leona shrieked.
“Some would end up dead, others severely wounded.” The words dropped on us like bedrock. “In any case, it would go fast. When no one, or just too few still stand, they’ll barge in. They’ll shut down the survivors and take the bodies.”
Hellish killing techniques.
“Novac told you that? Why didn’t he fucking do it from the start?”
“You use that word a lot,” George admonished. Both he and Leona seemed to be growing furious for no real reason, as if they barely waited for a pretext to catch fire.
“Oh, don’t you try to educate me, George, I’m too old for that shit!”
“Mind your fucking tone!” Before I knew it, he slapped her hard with the back of his hand. Leona’s head snapped sideward. I jumped between them and shielded her with my palms up, stricken by George’s violence that showed in his face as if his arms had never been around her and his lips never on hers.
“For Christ’s sake, what’s gotten into you, George?”
He skirted around me, grabbed Leona’s shoulders and pushed her against the wall.
“You started this, bitch! You talked too much in front of too many, now look at the panic around you. They assaulted him with questions, he gave them answers, and all hell broke loose.”
“At least you know the shit you’re in, you slobbering moron.” Her knee found a quick way between his legs. George crouched in pain, with both hands on his jewels. His face was a swollen red, his eyelids wrinkled as he pressed them shut. Leona clutched his nape and the same knee kicked his mouth, while I watched dumbfounded.
The next instant George got hauled into the wall. The attacker immediately flung himself into the picture too, hands stiff like claws, hair messed up, his nostrils almost fuming – the Wretch. No longer a zombie, but a crazed animal, holding its prey in place and looking eagerly around for something to grab, something to hurt with. Leona had taken care of him when he’d come back from the horror blizzard, so he must’ve felt protective of her and furious of George. Out of reflex, I followed his scowl. Nothing, there was nothing around us except a lonely beer can that I kicked out of his reach.
Leona grabbed me above my elbow and wrenched me aside. “Don’t freaking come between them, you’ll get hurt.”
“They lost their minds! They could stab each other!” I jerked to free myself from her clasp, but she held on.
“No, they can’t. Novac had everything that might be used as weapon gathered in piles, and the piles are nowhere around here. Just let them cool down.”
It hit me. “My God. Damian never intended to arm us, but to make sure we don’t . . .” My body fell mellow as I realized what was truly going on, and Leona let go of me.
“The gas. It’s already inside, and it’s turning us into crazed animals,” I concluded.
One glance around t
he room was enough to see a number of heated arguments and fights had started everywhere. Leona looked more and more like a cornered animal herself as her eyes darted around, her hands clenching like claws.
“You’re right,” she said, her eyes sweeping the room. “The poison has probably been in the entire time, maybe in small check-doses. It was in yesterday, when Marius provoked Damian. Tonight, when Svetlana attacked you. Now it’s pouring in full force.”
“But where is it coming from?” I spun in place, getting dizzy as I searched for the source. The windows were closed. The door to the corridor was open, most certainly the ones to the bunkroom and kitchen too, but the entrance door was shut. No draught. Gas that doesn’t smell or burn. The answer fell into place like dollar signs on a slot machine.
“It’s the freaking stoves,” I cried out. “We need to get out, Leona! We need to get everybody out, it’s the only way to stop a massacre!”
She looked at me with knitted eyebrows, flash-filtered my words, then nodded, and grabbed my hand. She dragged me in her wake, plowing our way towards the exit until a thought of Damian stabbed my brain. I drilled my heels into the ground, technically pulling the brakes. Leona turned to me with desperate, bloodshot eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?” she bellowed.
“We need to warn the others, we can’t just save our own ass.”
A second later someone shoved Danny between us, the hippie woman’s younger boyfriend. He knocked our hands from each other’s clasp as he stumbled backwards, and we came apart.
“Leona!” I called out, my arm outstretched, reaching for her. No use, I lost her in the rapidly growing hustle, bodies squashing me between them. I managed to wriggle out of the congestion, but I couldn’t find Leona.
Damian, he can stop this. I spotted him with two of his iron-pumped friends, their fists balled by their thighs, ready to attack him. Damian watched them with the sharp gaze of a hawk, ready to fight. I started toward the scene on an impulse to help him, but before I took a few steps a mass of hysteria poured my way. The noise turned deafening. I lost Damian from sight and hurried to move out of the congestion before people’s eyes fell on me along with their wrath. My heart pounded with fear, my eyes wide and my mind alert. There wasn’t a friendly face left, every single person everywhere I looked had turned into an animal.