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“So tell me, have you ever thought of killing yourself.”
“Have I what!” Ann burst out.
“Thought of killing yourself,” Randy repeated. “After all, you don’t have all that much going for you. You’re what, thirty-three, thirty-four?”
“Twenty-seven, thank you very much,” Ann snorted, fighting back a laugh before very carefully closing the book she had been reading. “Please tell me this isn’t a murder-suicide thing like the one I’m reading about because if it is I’m not buying on such short acquaintance. After all we just met twenty minutes ago..”
Smiling, Randy sat back in his chair and threw a leg onto the table’s side seat. Behind him was the store front for the cafe whose table he occupied. Good Eats the sign said, and for once in a world created of lies and deception, he had found a sign that did not lie. The dirty plate in front of him had very little left of the best biscuits and sausage gravy he had ever tasted. Homemade sausage the menu claimed, and the gravy was thick, not the thin runny yellowish stuff so many places liked to serve. From the looks of her just arrived breakfast, Ann’s omelette would have been just as good if not for the red sauce spread all over it.
Car horns sounded in the street, bringing his attention to where two motorists had stopped to yell at each other through open windows. When the light changed a few moments later the yelling ceased as they drove to the next gridlocked road.
Apparently, tempers were running a bit high today, which made sense, what with the road being completely packed at an unusually early hour. To either side of him grim faced pedestrians traveled the sidewalks, stepping into one just opened store or another, buying very little since nobody knew what was going to happen to their jobs or the economy, or even to the general value of a dollar bill. They were worried. Not unexpected, he supposed, what with things being in a turmoil after the president got himself killed by a rampaging bunny, and where was secret service during that event? Eating donuts or hamburgers or something, he figured, because they sure as hell didn’t stop the rabbit.
“Well,” Ann demanded. “Is it?”
“Is it what?”
“Ooh! I barely know you and you’re already infuriating. Is this supposed to be some kind of suicide pact?”
“Do you want it to be,” he asked, enjoying the good humored tick at the corner of her mouth as she tried not to smile. Small, auburn haired, with a dusting of freckles across her cheeks. She was a bit light in the chest for his taste, but there was a certain charm to her carriage and a sparkle in her eye that caught his interest when he first saw her searching for an unoccupied table. Ann might not have matched his internal picture of the perfect woman, but she sure fit his ideal for a playmate. Almost every word she spoke had to fight its way past a layer of amused laughter. A high spirited woman. Not many of that sort around this past week. The way folks were behaving the end of the world might be near. Truthfully, for some it probably was ending in one way or another, but those problems belonged to other people; not him. As a rule he tended to live each day as it came.
“I think not. My life might not have been terrific the last few years, but it’s sure looking bright right now.”
“I have that affect on people,” Randy admitted, tilting his chin slightly and flexing his muscles so just a hint of their sculpted perfection would show through his not quite tight fitting clothes. Being careful not to shift his eyes towards her, he held his pose for several seconds so she could get the full effect of his carefully maintained six foot frame. As a rule, women started their examination near his arms and chest, noting that he owned the exact right amount of muscle to protectively hold them. Inevitably their gaze next traveled to his face where a two day growth was deliberately left on his cheeks and chin thanks to the proper setting on his beard trimmer. Rough, that face said, but not too rough. A man’s man, someone who was confident and competent enough to get the job done. Above it all was dirty blonde hair carefully arranged to look as if he did not care how it looked. Campy, he knew, but when accompanied by a self-mocking smile this pose and appearance often had the effect he desired.
“Hmmm. Pretty,” Ann commented. “You can stop posing now. I’m suitably impressed.”
“Are you?”
“Not really, but I figured your ego needed a boost. Now let’s get back to this murder suicide thing.”
“Well,” Randy smiled. “From what I’ve gathered so far, you are were orphaned two years ago...”
“At age twenty five,” Ann broke in. “Sort of decreases the orphan value.”
“Maybe, but you have almost no friends, no job, not many hobbies, and apparently, you like southwestern omelets. So tell me, since everything about your life sort of sucks, what is it that you have to live for?”
“Dear boy. Remember when I told you things have not been so great the last few years. Truth is, I just got out of prison a little bit ago. I’ve yet to find a job, and prison isn’t where you want to discover your lifelong friends.” Wryly smiling, she reached out to gently touch the back of his hand. “Please tell me I haven’t scared you off. It was only passing bad checks.”
Her fingers were warm and hesitant. The half-nervous look on her face pleased him with proof of his romantic charm.
“Do I look scared?”
“You look apprehensive,” Ann admonished. “I’m starting to feel insulted.”
“Not you, dear. It’s your omelette.”
“And exactly what is wrong with my omelette?”
Giving her a wink, Randy pointed an accusing finger at the red sauce. “Not a thing if you happen to own a cast iron stomach, which I don’t, and you avoided my question.”
“What question?”
“What do you have to live for?”
“Why, I’m living for this conversation, darling, and this omelette, which you are keeping me from eating.”
“Walk with me for a while and the conversation can continue.”
“We need to walk for that?”
“Some of us have jobs.”
“I believe I’ve mentioned this omelette already.”
“Yes,” Randy admitted. “You did. How about later then. Tonight.”
“Nineish?
“That would be perfect.”
“I think you might be close to perfect yourself,” Ann admitted.
“Tonight then,” he promised. “Nine O’clock. We meet here.”
“Tonight,” she agreed, before picking up her book, dusting it off, and gently sliding it into a protective box.
Nine o’clock found Randy standing beneath the sign that read Good Eats. Though still heavy, the traffic was lighter than it had been, a good sign since he really hated having to fight through a lot of start and stop traffic. As a rule, he preferred his life to flow smoothly, and so he tried to avoid situations that might become a bit too noisy or dramatic since becoming prosperous enough to step out of the shadows.
Shifting, he studied the now abandoned sidewalks, looking for unwanted movement, looking for predators seeking prey. Truthfully, he did not expect to see gangs or dealers in this area, but a good part of his childhood had been spent in dangerous parts of Mexico and Argentina. Some habits were hard to break. Other habits should never be broken.
At ten minutes after nine Ann had not yet shown, and that saddened him because she was quality goods. Obviously educated, refined even, she was the type of woman he often looked for, someone strong, resilient, and strong willed. Under the right circumstances he could possibly fall very hard for her.
Shaking out a cigarette, he lit it, drew in a long drag, and blew out a thick cloud of smoke that swirled upwards to ghost along the neon letters of the Good Eats sign. It was cool out, jacket weather really for people like him who were used to much warmer climes. The sun was low in the sky, invisible because of intervening hills and tall buildings, but it’s last ray reflected off the clouds, forming a nimbus of purple and orange light along their edges. Rather beautiful in its way. If Ann did not show, this alone would make his wait worthwhile.
A few minutes later he drew on the cigarette for the last time before flicking the still smoking butt against the cafe’s wall. Drawing in a deep breath, he looked around one more time and started walking away.
“Taking your walk without me,” Ann’s voice quietly whispered.
Startled, Randy whirled around to look towards the voice, seeing nothing at first, but then the outlines of a shadowed shape gestured, focusing his attention.
And there she was, sitting at the same table they had occupied earlier. Dressed in dark clothes, auburn hair almost hidden in the night, Ann rose from the table to walk slowly towards him.
How long she had sat there Randy did not know, and that fact made him nervous. Such inattention to his surroundings would have got him killed in his childhood.
“When did you--”
“Just got here,” Ann said. “Saw you were busy smoking, so I sat down to wait. Now tell me, where is this little adventure going to take us. I seem to remember there being a park about six blocks from here, or are we going to the civil war memorial.
“We,” said Randy, taking her hand, “are going to see a play.”
Ann’s fingers stiffened. “I don’t remember reading about anything in this area in today’s newspaper.”
“You wouldn’t. Purely amateur, and they’re still in pre-production. Sets are being made, rehearsals, rewrites, and all that other regular drill. Also, we don’t actually have a venue set up either. Rehearsals take place in the basement of a building about three blocks from here. Pretty crowded since we keep all the props down there too.”
“You keep saying we.”
Looking down, Randy’s gaze met her eyes. Darker than the night even, another thing about her that he had not noticed the first time. Allowing his gaze to slip further down, he saw that she had changed into a dark blouse owning a plunging neckline. Apparently, she was not a huge believer in industrial strength bras. Then again, with her modest assets, she did not need much beyond the frilly black lace thing she wore. “I’m the playwright. My first play. And tonight you will be the audience. Also my first.”
“Impressive,” Ann said coyly. “I see that you are looking down my top, which makes you my audience. Sad to say, you are not my first.”
“Are you insulted?” Randy asked, moving his gaze higher, but she did not wear a frown or a scowl. Instead, her lips still formed the same small smile he had grown accustomed to seeing that morning.
“Amused,” Ann corrected. “Men are so easy to control.”
“Are we?”
“Like putty in the right woman’s hands. A few lies...a little deception, a padded bra, and we can make you believe anything.”
“Does this mean I have hopes for a kiss?” Randy asked.
“That depends entirely on how much I like your play.”
“Then by all means, I must take you there at once since rehearsal starts in fifteen minutes.’
“Please do.”
Firmly grasping her hand, Randy started walking to the west, using careful steps that were adjusted to match her stride. Not at all shy, Ann freed her hand to guide his arm around her waist as they walked, thus allowing their hips to touch.
A promising beginning. It spoke well for the set of her mind.
Testing the waters, Randy allowed his hand to slip from her waist until it rested against her opposite hip. Feeling a slight tingle of anticipation, he drifted it slightly further back.
Where it was promptly grabbed before being sent back to its original placement.
“Down boy,” Ann laughed. “I might be fresh out of prison, but I’m not in that much of a hurry. Date first, and then we’ll see what happens.”
“Date first,” Randy agreed.
When they reached a small but well lit building whose front was decorated with paintings of laughing faces and theater masks, he took her inside.
“Hey Randi,” a woman dressed in a loose fitting floral shirt called out upon seeing them. Bending the corner of a page on the book set before her, the woman carelessly closed its damaged cover, rose from her seat behind the front desk, and stepped forward, gesturing for the two men she had been chatting with to rise with her. “Didn’t expect to see you in tonight since there’s no real business going on. Rest and recuperation, you know.”
“Ann,” Randy said, waving an expansive hand in the woman’s direction, “I’d like you to meet Tonya. She’s our coordinator and general all round answer gal. She’s also in charge of our girls. Sees to their training and all that. An absolute expert on body postures and positioning. To be honest with you, I don’t know why she sticks with our small enterprise instead of moving up to the big leagues.”
“Big timers only look at people like me as just a number,” Tonya explained as she and her two men stopped in front of Ann. “In a place like this, the owners know how to show appreciation for their workers.”
“Why thank you,” Randy said.
“You are welcome,” she replied. “So is this a tour only, or are you recruiting.”
“I told her a tour, but with her face and body lines, I’m planning on recruiting.”
Tonya gestured towards the two men. “This big one is Richard, and the other is Henric. You’ll get to know them lots better before long.”
“But I can’t act worth a lick,” Ann broke in. Her gaze turned to where the three had previously been sitting. Three empty chairs and a desk littered with several badly abused books. She saw at least one torn binding, and at that sight she momentarily frowned. “Don’t know nothing about it,” she said, turning her attention back to the woman. “My memory is horrible for things like that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Henric supplied. “For the first few months you won’t need to know more than a few memorized lines. Besides, we specialize in quick training. Some of our girls learn the trade in less than a week.”
Releasing a small giggle, Ann relaxed her hold on Randy’s arm. “And how about the guys. Are they slow learners?”
Tonya shook her head. “We keep our males in a separate house. Less trouble that way.”
“I don’t underst--” Ann began, and then the two men reached out to grab both her arms.
“You Son of a Bitch!” Ann shouted towards Randy just before Richard viciously punched her in the jaw.
Ann opened her eyes to see a disfigured shape huddled six feet away on the other side of a firmly constructed cage. Common fencing, she supposed the wire was, what with its galvanized coating and its crosshatched appearance. Not the strongest of wire, but then strong wire was not exactly needed to contain a herd of subjugated women.
Shifting, she set her arms beneath her and shoved herself up from the floor, swiveling her hips until she sat cross legged. Around her sat, leaned, and lay a half dozen other females. Ann found herself reluctant to categorize all of them as women since at least two were still adolescent girls. One of the girls was bruised and disheveled and owned silky black skin. The other appeared to be of mixed oriental ancestry. The rest of the women in the makeshift cage with her wore aristocratic features and owned blonde hair and peach perfect skin, ideal examples of magazine cover pages and California wet dreams. They were perfectly attired, immaculately clean, and their hair was arranged in exotic patterns that seemed more natural to a runway or mosh pit than it did to this particular situation, but their eyes...all their eyes were hopeless and dead.
In contrast, the occupants in the other cages around her did not appear to be quite so well cared for. Six cages, heavily populated with women bearing a darker hue, blacks, hispanics, and perhaps a couple of Arabic extraction, the women bore tattered clothing and heavy bruises. One dusky woman, naked, laying on her belly in the residue of her own blood, quivered and shook and mumbled something low and spanish while a fellow prisoner daubed at her torn back with the dirty remnants of a stained T-shirt. In another cage a woman on her knees eagerly serviced Richard and Henric and Randy while a thin hispanic man held the ends of a wire loop that was wrapped around her neck. Outside that particular cage several expensive looking business suites hung neatly from a number of white vinyl hooks.
Well, if that was to be the drill, Ann was more that willing to participate, and the sooner the better since that offered her a better opportunity to escape while her strength remained. From the looks of her attire, she guessed her turn would come soon. She was not exactly naked, but the lace underwire bra and silk panties they had left her did little to provide cover.
One of the blonde women followed the direction of Ann’s gaze. Shrugging, she nodded at Ann and smiled thinly, and then Tonya came into view. Seeing that Ann was awake, she approached. A tangle of keys attached to a retractable ring fastened near her waist jingled with every step.
“Hello Ducky. I’m guessing that you pretty much understand the situation already.”
“Pretty much,” Ann admitted. “Pa, he dealt a lot on the shady side so I learned a lot before he put me behind bars him own self. You’ve taken matters past prostitution and went right into slavery. Them girls out there are the disposables. Cheap, easy to come by, so it doesn’t matter what the client does to them. Us, we’re the precious ones. White women claim a premium price in many parts of the world so we can be used hard but not damaged.”
“Not permanently damaged,” Tonya corrected. “And that gal over there that the boys are working on isn’t going to get hurt bad this time. She’s new. Fresh out of Peru. How is your jaw?”
“Damaged and sore. Truthfully, I rather enjoy the sensation. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a real injury.”
“But not broken?’
“No.”
“Any other problems I should know about?”
“I’m locked in a cage and I’ve nothing to read.”
“You don’t get nothing until after you’re broke in.”
“I can wait.”
Tonya scowled. “You’re a cool one.”
“I was locked away for a long time. I’m sort of used to it. Besides, I don’t plan on staying here for long. I have friends that make these people look soft.”
“You told Randy you had no friends.”
Ann tilted her head to the side and released a slight chuckle. “Please, we spoke for less than an hour. We hadn’t even screwed yet. Do you really think I would confess all my secrets so quickly. You’re a woman. You know we thrive on lies and deceptions.”
“I think you’re going to be more trouble than Randy thought.” Tonya raised her voice. “Randy! She’s awake, and she says she isn’t planning on staying because she has friends.”
Glancing towards the busy men, Ann saw Randy grimace just before pulling himself out of the young woman’s body. The hispanic man holding the wire looped around her neck released his hold with one hand, pulled the wire violently away, and gestured abruptly to the other men.
“We are finished here. She knows what she is good for. Randy, lets go see what kind of trouble you’ve brought us. Richard, Henric, throw some clothes on and see if anybody is hanging around.”
“Yes sir,” Randy answered, and that answer told Ann that the hispanic was the big honcho in this operation. Interesting, and not too surprising. Though thin and slight, he moved with a smooth surety that spoke of something that went way beyond mere training. The grace in his walk, the deep buried viciousness in his eyes, they told Ann a story that went far beyond words. This man had distinctive features, but more than that, he had unforgettable eyes.
Still naked, stinking of sweat and sex, Randy picked up a gun from a table set outside the cage door, and then he and the Hispanic approached while the other two men hurriedly slid on their clothes before locking the cage, grabbing their own guns, and jogging away. Behind them, the young girl lay huddled on the ground, curled in a smooth fleshed ball, arms hugged about her knees while her body shook to silent sobs. Around her neck was a flowing ring of red from where the wire had cut too deep.
“I’ll take my kiss now,” Randy quipped when he stopped before her. “Of if not now, soon.” He posed, thrusting his hips slightly towards her. “Bout another hour you’ll be getting some of this.”
Studying the rather impressive size of his flaccid equipment, Ann allowed herself to smile. “Please don’t speak to me, Randy. I very seldom bother speaking with dead men.” Dismissing him, she turned her eyes to the hispanic, allowing her gaze to roam the full length of his body before finally resting on his eyes. “Not quite so impressive, but still large enough and you got an interesting tattoo on your cock since we last met. Must have hurt like a bitch when you had all those curlicues put on it, but now that it’s over don’t you think that was just a bit silly Fernando.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You know me?”
“I heard that you went to work for my father, but I didn’t know you then. I knew you from before.”
“I’ve never worked for any man.”
Shrugging, Ann stepped closer to the bars and slid a finger beneath her bra strap. “Subcontractor then. You took his orders. So tell me, do you want me to get rid of this thing now or do we have to wait a while?”
“The only person who ever gave me an order was--”
“--David Guilty,” Ann supplied while casually removing her bra. “My father, though he was always loathe to admit it since mom was nothing more than a prostitute he put on his permanent payroll. He pretty much made sure we had a roof and food but didn’t do much beyond that. Truthfully, I almost cheered when I heard that you’d killed him. Made me very proud of everything I taught you.”
“Guilty had more than two dozen children. I’ve never met but a few, and none of them taught me nothing.”
“Sorry darling, but I never told you. A matter of trust. After all, you were such a vicious little boy.”
“Miss,” one of the women behind her dared whisper. “Don’t bait him. Please. It isn’t smart.”
“Put your bra back on,” Tonya snapped. “There’s a time for that, and now isn’t that time.”
“Please don’t be rude so soon before you die.” Ann answered. “A person should always strive to make their last moments dignified. Tell me Fernando, am I too forward?” She held out the small bit of material she had removed. “I thought you might like to have this since there’s a transmitter and an antenna hidden within the underwire. Unless you do something about disabling it, a couple former employees of Dr. Wise should be along soon to find out where I am.”
Randy’s arm swung up. Moments later the room roared with a sudden boom. Ann staggered when a force slammed into her abdomen, nearly doubling her over before she forced herself to straighten. Looking down, she saw that a thin stream of red trickled down her skin. Only a slight pucker showed where the bullet had entered.
“Eyes narrowing, Ann stared directly into Randy’s face. “Do that again and you’ll make me very mad. I told you I was behind bars, but I never told you I was a prisoner inside Mercy Bend. Don’t fuck with me.”
Paling, his gaze fastened on the puckered place where Ann’s belly still bled, Fernando took a half step back. “Jenni Twill? Is that you? You’re too young. You should be decades older.”
“I’ve Changed, lover. You know what I can do, just like you know how very much I dislike being assaulted. Somebody has to die for that.”
“I came back like I promised. I killed three men trying to get you out, but then I heard that you had been named incorrigible and put down. I tried to kill Dr. Wise, but nobody can ever get at her. She has too much protection. Even for me.”
“Unlock the door dear. We can talk later.”
“NO!” Randy shouted when Fernando reached for the keys attached to Tonya’s belt. He swung abruptly around until his gun pointed at Fernando’s head. “I don’t know what kind of hold she has on you, but she said I was a dead man, and I’ve just seen that bullets can’t do her much harm. She isn’t coming out of there.”
Sadly shaking her head, Ann looked down at the bra she still held. “I suppose I might as well put this back on.” Looking back to Randy, she frowned. “I wasn’t actually going to hurt you, but its too late now. Fernando spent his time in Mercy Bend too.”
With a sudden blur, Fernando moved faster than any human had a right to move. In a flash Randy’s gun was in Fernando’s hand. Fire shot from the suddenly steady barrel. The gun kicked upwards, and Randy fell away in a smear of spewing blood. Around them feminine eyes turned incuriously upon the site of yet another corpse. Ann supposed they had seen the same sight many times before. The only difference this time was that the dead person happened to be a man.
“Nobody points a gun at me,” Fernando explained to Tonya. He nodded towards the cage door. “Let her out.”
“Boss,” Tonya gasped.
“You don’t know what she can do, Tonya, but I’ve told you stories about the sanitarium and what it does to people. Jenni Twill is damn near invulnerable. If she cared to expend the energy she could squeeze right through the fence, and then she could shape shift into something with claws and teeth. The only reason we’re still alive is because she isn’t really angry yet.”
“But a punch to her jaw--”
“I’m a woman,” Ann supplied. “I know how to fake it.”
Hand shaking, Tonya pulled on her key ring, separated Ann’s cell key from the rest, inserted it in the lock, and turned. Ann roughly pushed the door open, banging it into Tonya’s face with the force of her shove. Ignoring the gun Fernando still held, Ann strode towards him until only a few inches separated them. “Drugs are okay even if my father didn’t approve of them. Theft. Murder. Extortion. Prostitution. I don’t mind those, but this slavery thing has to stop, Fernando. It will bring unwelcome attention to this town, attention few of us can afford.”
“But what about?” Fernando gestured towards the caged women. “They will talk.”
“Sell them to somebody else. Just make sure they get out of this county...and Fernando...there are two men upstairs who dared lay their hands on me. They need killing.”
“I understand,” Fernando answered, and with those words Ann knew that she had the dangerous crime lord fully cowed. Following the direction of her stare, he looked towards the steps leading upwards, shivered, and headed for them without bothering to put on clothes.
“Wha...what about me,” Tonya stammered. “I never done much more than talk at you.”
“You know who I am,” Ann supplied, stepping nearer.
“Fernando knows too. I won’t tell nobody no more than he will. I promise. Besides, he told me all about you. He told me what you can do. In an hour you won’t look nothing like what you do now. You’ll be tall or fat or even a man.”
Above them, a shot sounded, and then another and a third. There was a brief pause, and then two more quick shots. Gently rubbing her fingers over its material, Ann looked down at the bra. It was soft and giving, but it was made to deceive. Padded and underwired, when worn it lifted and presented and accentuated the few assets she owned. Like her, it presented a lie. Unlike her, its lies were not dangerous and it could not feel pain. Within her belly she bled away her strength, bled away her vitality in an effort to control her muscles and flesh, to squeeze her wound tight shut so nobody would guess its severity.
And they would not guess. They would not guess because her strength was her will. Others at Mercy Bend might have learned to tap into new strength. They might have learned to shift shape, to walk through walls, or even to defy the dictates of gravity.
The only advantage Mercy Bend had ever given her was an insurmountable strength of will.
“You don’t know who I am,” Ann whispered, leaning forward so only Tonya could hear. “And Fernando does not know because I never told him. I am not Jinni Twill, Tonya, but I am a friend of hers and I have a very good memory for descriptions, so I knew Fernando at first sight.”
“You lied?”
“Lies and deceptions, dear. I warned you.”
“T...then who are you,” Tonya begged.
“I’m the Librarian, and I absolutely loathe people who destroy books. I saw the condition of the books you had upstairs.”
And then, snake fast, Ann Guilty whipped her bra around Tonya’s neck and pulled it tight. Her body shook with the strain or murder. Almost, the struggling woman broke free, but Ann thought of the time when she saw her first victim damage the binding on a rare book. Filling her mind with the memory of his tall frame toppling beneath her insistence, ignoring the gnawing pain in her belly and the newly released rush of blood that raced from her body, Ann pulled the bra tighter. When Tonya’s knees sagged and her body slumped to the floor, Ann rolled Tonya to her back, took careful aim, and slammed her heel repeatedly into the woman’s throat until that throat no longer had any human shape.
Sighing, Ann looked down at her work while a rush of quiet satisfaction ran through her body. She looked towards the apathetic prisoners who stared at her like she had done something only vaguely interesting.
“She bent the pages on a book,” Ann explained, fully expecting to see understanding form in their expressions, but like her mother and father and all her psychiatric analysts, they did not seem to care.
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