Abuse of Chikara (book 1) (17 page)

Quinton wakes up under a pile of rubble and dust. It is dark outside. When he confronted Red, it was in the early afternoon. No telling how many days had passed since. Looking around the pharmacy, it looked like a hurricane had hit the place. There was broken glass and bottles of pills all over the place. The entire area has been taped off and no doubt checked for survivors. Good thing they had missed him. In his current condition, he was in no position to fight anyone right now. Taking stock of himself, he was bleeding from multiple wounds over his body. His hair was burnt, clothing torn and he felt weak. He would not be getting revenge on Bill or anyone in this state. A number of stores next to the pharmacy had been destroyed or damaged to varying degrees. He could only imagine how shocked anyone passing by had been by the explosion. Dirty Red had not gone down easy. Quinton had learned a valuable lesson about being overconfident. Red had planned on taking them both out from the start.

Looking around he sees that this entire block has been taped off. Across the street he sees a small convenience store partially damaged, but still structurally sound. The front door is hanging off its hinges and obviously some looting has taken place. Entering the store he finds bottles of alcohol, duct tape and other materials. Back over on the other side of the street was a large flea market store with two levels. The top level was blown to bits by the blast. Most of the stores next to the pharmacy suffered a similar fate. Clearing some large pieces of rubble, he finds the bottom level is actually in good shape. He puts some of the rubble back in place to conceal the entrance and heads down the large stairs to the bottom floor. The bottom level was in really good shape. Many of the booths and materials were in good shape. There was enough food, water and other materials for him to stay alive for months. He could see why the workers could not work here though. This place would suit him well for a few days at least. He was unable to locate any rubbing alcohol so he uses a bottle of vodka he found. He could have found some, but was in a haste to get off the street. Picking up the large piece of rubble blocking the entrance had almost made him faint. He pours the vodka over his wounds to sterilize them. Next he uses pieces of cotton torn from a new mattress, he found down here. He places duct tape over the cotton to keep it from moving too much. Then he rips up pieces of bed sheets to tie it all off. The damage was not as bad as he thought at first. The bleeding was not heavy and no major arteries seemed to be hit. He finds another new mattress and lays down on it to rest. Most of the food stuff he found was junk food, but it would have to do for now. Candy bars, chips and popcorn was better than nothing. At least he had plenty of bottled water to wash it down. Time to lay back and try to recuperate a bit.

It has been five days since his date with Dirty Red. Most of his wounds had healed. He had giant burn marks on his arms and legs. The areas he was bleeding from were hardly noticeable. If he were a normal human, he would have needed skin grafts. Only a hospital would have been able to stop the deep bleeding. Yet he had been able to bandage his own wounds using tape, cotton and old mattress stuffing. A normal person would have bled to death or most likely died from shock. Lying here on this soft mattress doing nothing, he was actually feeling pretty good. He had been doing nothing, but killing and hiding the entire time since escaping from his jail cell. He had spent much time reading old newspapers. Funny enough, there had been an article about the man who invented the first bandages. Apparently his wife was a bit of a klutz who would always cut herself in the kitchen. The guy took cotton and some type of tape to dress the wounds.

Incredible what people could do when they applied their energy to positive things rather than nonsense like Bill. He had found out at least one new thing while playing with his abilities. He knew that his hearing had been augmented, but by focusing he could tune out background noise and hear any one particular conversation very well. Almost like the people were standing next to him. It worked on any noise, but certain other sounds like vehicles were hard to make out from one and another. He had done this once before when listening in on Garcia and the Street Captains. He did not know how he had done it at the time, but practice had helped. He could hear the conversations of people up on the street talking, discussing their daily lives. Being under the ruins of this store and a level underground did not bother his hearing. There was Leon arguing on his cell phone with his girfriend. Apparently, he did not think the baby was his. There was a bus driver on the Pulaski route calling the police to remove a rowdy passenger. He refocused again and heard a couple having sex. He assumed it was taking place inside a car on the street as there were sounds of vehicles passing that he had tuned out.

He decided to eat again and lay back down. Might as well wait until nighttime when there would be fewer people around. Waking up he stretches and checks a cheap wristwatch he had found. It is 12:30 a.m. and the perfect time to get his groove back. He heads back up to the first level and easily moves the large slab of concrete, which gave him problems when he was still hurt. He places it back and heads out with no real destination in mind. He had found new clothing in the old underground flea market. Hopefully these blue jeans, black t-shirt and black gym shoes would not attract much attention. He could handle any police officer in Chicago who did not have powerful military weaponry like grenade launchers or bazooka. He did not want to hurt any good cops, though. His battle was with Bill and any corrupt officers who acted like him.

This old flea market had been something of a godsend. He would have to figure out how to keep this place. Even with the top floor totaled, it served him well. He could get his hands on money no problem. The local drug dealers would be more than happy to donate to his cause. Hours later he was still walking around playing with his special hearing ability. He never knew listening in to people’s private business could be so fun. Listening into private conversations gave him an insight into people that he never really had before. People often showed a fake persona to the outside world. They conformed to fit in or make money. If he remembered his college classes, persona was a Greek word-meaning mask. The word personality had come from it. So your personality was your mask that you wore to the outside world. He knew people were racist, sexist or just low-down. It was a learning experience to hear it unfiltered in people’s own words. He had become so lost in his thoughts that he had not even noticed the two officers parked nearby. He creeped into a nearby alley and walked about 20 yards in the other direction. They did not even notice him creeping around and hiding his presence from them. He decided to use his new hearing on them. Two Caucasian officers were whispering to each other about something. He was willing to bet something naughty that little boys in blue were not supposed to be doing. Focusing, their words become crystal clear as if they were right next to him.

“Chuck, why are we taking this broad home instead of to the station?

“We take this broad in and she’ll be out in a day or two. Chuck is about to hit this shit. You just watch out and make sure nobody gets close, okay.”

Chuck was a white officer about 6 foot, 3 inches and heavyset. Lenny was a short white male about 5 foot, 9 inches and slim. Chuck grabs a young, buxom white female maybe 5 foot, 7 inches with blond hair from the back seat of the squad car. The young white female was obviously not a willing participant in this little get together. The female was begging and pleading with Chuck to let her go. Quinton could easily tell what was going on here. No doubt that Chuck and Lenny had caught the young girl prostituting. They would take turns taping her. What prostitute would actually report it to the police and admit she was breaking the law herself. The same thing allowed police to shake down drug dealers with little repercussions. Chuck had taken the woman into a old boarded up brick building. Someone had removed the boards for the front entrance. It was time to teach these guys a little lesson. Quinton walks out of the alley toward Lenny,who is nervously looking in all directions. Lenny finally notices him and starts to address him in that tough guy voice many officers used out on the street. “Keep walking, brother, nothing to see here.” Quinton keeps walking toward Lenny at a slow pace. “Dude, keep walking, or I'll bust your ass!” Quinton keeps walking toward Lenny until he is about three feet from Lenny. He gives him a big, warm smile. He has something very special planned for these two fellows. Lenny is already agitated by being the lookout man, and he does not take Quinton’s presence happily. His face twists in rage as he starts screaming. “Are you fucking blind, deaf and dumb? Get the fuck out of here before I shove my baton up your ass.” Quinton laughs at Lenny's reaction to his presence. “You want me to leave so your partner can shove his little baton up that girl, huh?” Quinton starts walking toward Lenny again who goes for his gun. In a blur of speed, Quinton grabs Lenny's wrist and breaks it. A light blow to the head puts Lenny into dreamland. The handguns that most officers carried would not do anything to him unless it was a direct hit to an eye. Even then, it would not cause any lasting damage. He did not want a loud noise to bring nosey people into it though.

Chuck does not seem to have noticed his friend being smacked down. Quinton can hear the young lady screaming and pleading for Chuck to stop. It seems he had started forcing himself on her. Quinton threw Lenny over his back and ran upstairs to the second floor. Chuck had the young girl on an old mattress in the living room of one of the units in this old building. There was no door, so he walked right in and put Lenny down on the floor. Chuck was so engrossed in his sexual antics that he did not notice Quinton walking up behind him. Chuck was thrusting back and forward on top of the girl like a wild man. Quinton grabs Chuck by the neck with his left hand and lifts him into the air. Chuck tries to go for his gun to no avail. Quinton easily disarms him and slams Chuck into a nearby wall repeatedly until the fool stops squirming around. He tosses the dazed officer on the floor and searches both men's pockets. The search turns up over $3,000 in cash. Guess crime did pay after all.

Taking money from these clowns, along with money he has taken off thugs, Quinton now has about $10,000. Quinton gives it all to the girl, who call herself a cab on her cell phone. It seems her name is Melissa and she ran away from home a few years back. The girl clashed with her conservative Christian parents over her wild lifestyle. Quinton tells the cab driver to take her to a motel for the night. She would head out on the earliest Greyhound bus to Milwaukee to stay with her parents. The family sure had been happy to receive a phone call from her. He had been thinking of revenge only, but maybe he could actually do some good with these powers as well. When he died he was going to hell, so he might as well make the most of it. He was going to toy with these two fools for a bit and kill them, but they deserved more than a quick death. These were rotten bastards who used the law to prey on the weak and helpless. He finds some handcuffs in the police charger he uses to handcuff them both to a radiator in the room. He breaks one leg of each man so they cannot escape quickly even if they got out of the handcuffs. He shoves their socks in their mouths and tapes their pie holes shut with duct tape. He wants to hear then scream, but not too loudly

A quick search of the building turns up tools, a hot plate and cooking and cleaning utensils. Apparently someone had been doing work here. Most likely getting the place back in shape to start renting the units out. He had been heating butter knives on the heating plate for some time. Good thing the electricity was still on. Taking one of the smoking knives of the plate, he presses it to Chuck’s face. He holds it there for a good minute. The small butter knife crackles and hisses against Chuck’s skin. Chuck screams and wiggles trying to break free of his handcuffs. The blade leaves its impression etched in Chuck’s skin over and over, each time burning through both layers of skin. Quinton alternates between different knives to keep them hot. Even if Chuck could get away, Quinton would just break his other leg. He had considered doing just that, but wanted to save that for last. Chuck’s partner gets the same treatment. Stepping back a few feet, Quinton admires his handiwork. Not bad, but he was only finished about 1/4 of his art work. He then finds a gallon of some off brand bleach. The front label read “Dirt be gone.” With a black marker, he writes “Dirty cop be gone.” He begins pouring the bleach in the various wounds over their bodies. The two scream out and whimper in pain at the harsh bleach entering their wounds. “Ah, it’s music to my ears gentlemen. Not so much fun when you are on the receiving end, is it assholes?”

Not too shabby considering he had never been to art school. This pain was a small price to pay for the pain and suffering they caused others. “So, Chuck, you enjoy shoving your cold sausage in people against their will. Let me warm that sausage up for you brother.” He presses the white-hot butter knives against Chuck’s penis and testicles. Chuck screams like a banshee and passed out. “Dude, women don't like men with no staying power, bro. Oh don't be jealous, Lenny, I have more than enough hot loving for the both of you.” He takes the hot knives and starts moving toward Lenny. Lenny starts shaking violently and pulling on the handcuffs. Quinton takes the hot knife and smells the smoke pouring off the blade. “I could make a cologne scent from this and make tons of money. I can see the commercials now. A muscular young buck with tons of half-naked women around him. An unseen voice actor would say ‘burnt penis; it makes the ladies go wild.’ I wonder if Frank Welker is available to do the voice work? Sorry to keep you waiting Lenny.” He moves closer and puts the still hot blade against Lenny's penis and genitals. Like Chuck he also passes out from the intense pain.

This had been fun, but it was time to go. He left the building and found a pay phone on the corner. Not too many of these things left around these days as most people had a cell phone. Not to mention the former mayor had some silly idea that getting rid of pay phones would deter drug dealers somehow. In fact, gangbangers were among the first adaptors of cell phones back in the day. Many drug dealers carried them around as a status symbol. Many of these politicians did not seem to really think out what crap laws they passed. Getting rid of pay phones had just created an inconvenience for other people who did not have a cell phone at the time. At least this one was here and worked. He made a quick call, letting the local police station know about the situation and then left the area quickly. They would find the two fools and maybe they would survive. Maybe they would learn a valuable lesson and change their ways. He did not kill either of them as he had wanted to at first. He decided he wanted them to remember this experience for the rest of their lives.