Twisted City (3 page)

James
retrieves the bottles of Jack Daniel’s and Crown Royal from the wet-bar and
replenishes each of their glasses.

“If
you don’t mind me asking, Lathan,” James says, “
where
are you from?”

Lathan
seems to weigh the question for a thoughtful beat, then says, “Nowhere really.”

“Fair enough.
I can respect that. But let me ask
you this; where are you going?
Anywhere in particular?”

Lathan
weighs this question even longer, as if giving it some extremely careful
thought.

“Forgive
me if I’m making you uncomfortable,” James says. “That is not my intention. I’m
only curious to know if there is a particular place you are trying to get to,
because if so, I’d like to know if there is any way I can help. But if there
isn’t in fact
nowhere
you need to be then I would like
for you to consider staying here.”

“That’s
very generous of you, but I’ll have to pass.”

James
holds a considerable gaze on Lathan for a moment, and then simply says, “I
see.” With drink in hand, James stands and goes to the center window of the
room. Keeping his eyes toward the outside world James says, “Lathan, will you
please join me? I’d like you to see something.”

Lathan
glances at Taya and she nods her head. He goes to stand next to James and peers
out the window. The view is magnificent. Much of the city can be seen for what
seems like miles. The surrounding area in the north end is barricaded with high
walls built with brick and mortar, cinder blocks, large concrete blocks,
fencing and barbed wire enclosing buildings and squaring off the perimeter and
manned by several heavily armed guards keeping out the unwanted.

“I
was a lawyer before it happened,” James says as he stares off into the city
below and beyond, remembering the days of yore.
“Had my own
law firm in this very building.
The Law Offices of Grant, Hinder and
Kimble,” he says in what is to be a serious media commercial tone of voice. “It
was quite successful. I started out like any new lawyer with big dreams would,
from the very bottom and slowly worked my way up. I took great pride in
building what eventually became my very own firm. And within a blink of an eye,
Poof
, it was gone. Just like that. I lost my wife, my only son, my home,
everything except for Taya. Kelly Hinder, one of my firm partners, and her
entire family were killed by pillagers. No one knows what happened to Larry
Kimble.
Probably fled to one of his getaways.
Who
knows? So I was left with two choices: go on hiding and die living in fear, or
fight back and work to rebuild and help others. I brought people together and
showed them that we can get through this and can prosper with what we have
left. It’s been a struggle but we’ve built what you’ve seen down there and we
will continue to build. So you see, Lathan, this is our pinnacle, the only
place we now have and I must do whatever it takes to protect it.”

 James’
features suddenly go solemn. “The Maddick’s are making it harder for us.
They’re mostly criminals, straight scum from what’s left of the old world.
People
who only know to steal, rob, rape, and murder. They
came out of the woodwork when the shit hit the fan. Of course they weren’t
known as Maddick’s then. They’re named for the man who leads them, Vincent
Maddick. A mean, sadistic bastard who seems
to’ve
come straight out of hell itself and brought them all together and convinced
them all to follow him by proving to them how malicious he can be if they don’t
abide by him. At first they were only a nuisance, wreaking havoc here and there
in the city, but he’s grown strong in numbers very quickly and he’s only gotten
meaner and more sadistic. We’ve created and acquired plenty of resources over
time like fuel, food, clean water, and weapons. Because of this, Vincent has
been trying to infiltrate us.”

“Where
did you get all of the artillery?”

James
grins. “Compliments of
Claxton’s
finest. Many of the
men you see securing this place were once cops. Just like the two who were
taken by the Maddick’s two days ago. I intend to get them back.”

“What
makes you think they are still alive? From what you’ve just told me it’s
likelier that they’re dead.”

“Yes,
and it sickens me to think it. They could very well be dead. Or worse, they
could be tortured. Which I think is more
likelier
,
thinking that Vincent will want to keep them alive to try and extract any
useful information out of them about this place, where everything is, where the
weak points are, things like that. The Maddick’s are scattered all over the
city but their main quarters are on the south end. Vincent has taken up
residents in a hotel there. It used to be one of the finest in Claxton but all
it is now is a four star shithole. From what I understand the entire basement
is a torture chamber. That’s where I believe he’s holding my men.”

“Why
are you telling me this?”

James
turns to face Lathan directly and says, “I was hoping that you would be up for
the job.”

“To bring your men back?”

“Yes.”

“You
have plenty of men here who are probably capable enough to do it, why not get a
few of them to do it?”

“Capable in trying to do it?
Yes, definitely.
But
stealth enough to pull it off?
Very unlikely.
These men are mostly common police officers with nowhere near the training you
obviously possess. I mean for Christ sakes, you killed two men with a sword
like some kind of samurai out of a movie and I bet that you’re just as good at
hand-to-hand combat. I can only imagine what you can do with a gun.”

“Look,”
Lathan says, “I’m sorry about your men but I have my own problems so there’s
really nothing I can do to help.”

“Maybe
we can help each other.”

“And
I made it clear to your niece that we cannot.”

James
chews on a thought for a moment,
then
says, “Will you
at least stay for a little while and take advantage of our hospitality. You can
visit our town below and if there is anything you like, please don’t hesitate
to accept it on our behalf. And I’m sure my niece would love to show you around
anyway. Isn’t that right, Taya?”

Taya
has been utterly engrossed in their entire conversation while sipping her
drink, and while in mid swallow, she chokes from her uncle’s putting her on the
spot, suddenly bringing her into the conversation. She tries to cough it out
while trying to affirm her uncle by nodding her head. “Yeah,” she barely
manages to say, and then coughs some more. “Sure.”
Still trying
to clear out the pipes.
“I’d love to.”

“See.
She’d love to show you around. Allow us to do that
much,
it’s the least we can do.”

Both
James’ and Taya’s faces reflect just how eager they are to please, but if truth
be told, he’d already made up his mind to stay for a bit before stepping into
James Grant’s domain. He’ll ride their hospitality for a few days, long enough
to retrieve what he came for, and then he’ll vamoose.

Lathan
nods his approval.

“Excellent,”
James says, “I will have a place in the building prepared for you. And if there
is anything that you may need, let me know, and it will be done.”

Shadows
dance in sinister animation across the walls and the ceiling above from the torch’s
flickering play of light. The air is thick with the stench of rot; a weak
stomach will soon lose its most recent meal in this place. The one carrying the
torch wears dark clothes, boots, gloves, and a mask that conceals all but the
eyes. The other one wears much the same but with a black trench coat and is
without a mask, his long dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, his face is
ghostly white and clean shaven.

The
masked man unlatches a door whose hinges protest with rusty squeaks when opened
into an even deeper void of darkness. Rats skitter across the floor. The masked
man enters and lights the torches around the room. It is four hundred square
feet of sheer nightmare; two tables covered with filth and gore; bits and
pieces of bone scattered all over the floor; chains hang from the ceiling with
meat hooks on ends with chunks of flesh still pierced on them. Two men are
seated beside each other in the middle of the room with their hands cuffed
behind their backs and their feet shackled to the floor. One sits nearly
sideways on his chair with half his ass hanging off the seat, his head lolled
to the side. The other sits hunched over with his head hanging low over his
chest. Both are naked and covered in dried blood.

“
Wakie
,
wakie
,” Vincent says.

There
is no response from the two and this irritates Vincent. He turns to the masked
man and makes an unspoken gesture toward the two captives. The masked man
reacts quickly. He grabs his club from his belt and whacks it over the bare
foot of one, nearly snapping it in two. The prisoner yells out, waking up the
other prisoner but he gets a whack across his shin anyway, causing him to yell
out as well.

“Ah,
there we are,”
Vincent says, pleased. “It’s time now for our daily exercise.”

Both
men are made to stand with their hands chained to a bar in the wall above their
heads and their feet kept shackled to the floor. The masked man exercises them.
When Vincent asks a question and it isn’t properly answered then they receive
exercise. They’ve been exercising for the past two days and each day gets
worse.

“The
time for calisthenics is now over,” Vincent says. “We are going to start
hitting the weights.”

The
masked man produces a small leather case.

Vincent
says, “We’ll start out light.” He opens his hand and a shiny scalpel is placed
in his palm as delicately as a surgeon’s nurse would have done. Vincent focuses
on the man to his left and seizes one of his ears. The man lashes
out,
trying to shake off Vincent’s grip but it is too tight.
Vincent doesn’t do it fast, no, that wouldn’t be as enjoyable, but instead, he
slowly carves the ear away from his head. The other man does his absolute best
to keep from cringing at the gruesome sounds coming from his friend as he is
being tortured and maimed. Both men are already badly beaten, bruised, and cut,
but the eyes have been left alone. Vincent is adamant about leaving the eyes
unharmed on all his victims, at least up until the end, just so they are able
to see what is actually coming to them.

Vincent
mocks the man as he cries and begs to not be hurt anymore. Vincent shows the
man his own severed ear, shoving it in his face and rubbing it on his cheek,
nose, and lips.

Vincent
abruptly stops as he feigns astonishment. “I just realized something. Jacko is
missing an ear.
His right ear.
He’d probably like to
have this.” He examines the ear for a thoughtful moment and then puts it in his
coat pocket.

Vincent
politely asks the masked man if he will please unshackle a foot and hold it out
for him. Once a leg is free the prisoner kicks out, knocking the masked man in
the head. The masked man quickly recovers and slams a fist into the
prisoners
stomach and another follows into his side,
cracking two ribs, taking the fight out of him.

“Now, now, boys.
Play nice,” Vincent says.

As
the masked man grabs hold of the prisoner’s leg and holds it out, Vincent comes
closer as if he’s going to share a secret with his prisoner. “Every man has his
breaking point, and you are about to reach yours.” Vincent steadies the
scalpel’s edge midway down his shin, sinking it into the skin and bringing it
completely around the leg to meet where the cut was first made. Staying in one
complete movement he brings the scalpels edge down the length of the lower leg
to the top arch of the foot. Vincent hums as he works. The prisoner shakes
uncontrollably against the masked man’s strong grip, trying his ultimate best
not to scream out for the pain.

Vincent
puts the scalpel away and wraps both hands around the top cut. The prisoner
realizes what is about to happen when Vincent starts to dig his fingers under
his skin.

“Please,
no. Oh god, no. Please don’t do this. Help. Someone help me.
Help me! Help
me! Someone help me!
PLEASE GOD
HELP
ME!”

The
skin is slowly peeled away from his leg. At one point Vincent tells the masked
man to let go and when he does, as the prisoner jerks his leg back in trying to
free himself, the prisoner also mindlessly helps to peel his own skin away. The
pain of it all causes him to pass out before it ends. Once the skin is separated
from flesh and bone his leg drops and the bloody foot slaps wetly against the
floor.

“I
believe that’s enough exercise for today,” Vincent says with satisfaction. He
holds the skin up as if it is a prized pelt, and to the other prisoner he says,
“Tomorrow.”