“
Goodnight
Daniel.” Esteban leered, lowering the single-shot rocket
launcher.
“
Can we go
now?” Junior hung out the driver’s side window, agitated by the
worsening dust storm and the potential for unfriendly fire. “I’m
not fishing him out of that shit.”
“
We don’t have
to.” Esteban smiled again, marvelling at his genius. “His torture’s
only just begun.” He clambered onto the backseat with Jen, slammed
the door, and invited Junior to plant his foot on the
accelerator.
Their balding tyres spun
twice before gripping the loose surface and their transport lurched
forward.
“
Who are you?”
Jen abandoned her attempt to sit up; the searing pain from the
piano wire was too much.
Esteban raised
an eyebrow and a jovial grin parted his lips. “You don’t recognise
me?” He tossed his small-bore rifle into the trunk and tucked
his
Peacemaker
into
its holster.
“
Should I?”
Tears of pain were blurring her vision.
“
It’ll come
back to you.” Esteban’s laughter struck a chord of dread in the pit
of Jen’s stomach. She heard tones of her death in his mirth. The
land rover rocked when they rejoined the road, jarring her wrists
with another snippet of pain.
“
What do you
want?” Jen braved the agony and squirmed to something that
resembled a sitting position by leveraging herself against the
opposite door.
He licked his lips. “I
want to play with you for a while.” He ran a rough hand through her
hair and pulled her head back until it struck the glass, bearing
her slender neck for his inspection. He leant forward and caressed
her skin with the tip of his nose as he inhaled deeply, savouring
the smell.
Jen squirmed in revulsion
but the wire snaring her wrists prevented her from retaliating. Her
next words dripped with animosity. “You twisted fuck,” she spat.
“Why don’t you just kill me?”
“
Ah, Jennifer,
you have me all wrong. I don’t intend to kill you.” Esteban
released his fistful of hair and rubbed the back of his hand
against the side of her breast.
Junior barked a laugh
from the front and added, “Yet.”
*
The chemicals
acting on Dan’s neurotransmitters distorted his image of the world.
The tears streaming onto his cheeks weren’t helping either. And the
twitch was getting worse, turning into a spasm. He pulled his
tongue back into his mouth and clamped his jaw shut before rolling
as far and as fast as he could.
Purple.
It was everywhere and he
screwed his eyes shut to protect them from the potent sting.
Purple?
He was digging
through his clouded memory to recall what that meant.
Nerve toxin?
He doubted
it; he’d be dead already if it was. Besides, they’d fired it too
close without protective equipment.
Too
risky, especially in this wind.
His lungs felt
as if they were on fire and he gasped for air only to swallow more
irritant. He kept rolling, trying to get clear of the purple
screen. He held his breath until he nearly blacked out and when he
next opened his eyes, all he could see was red Andamookan sand. A
tiny whirlwind, or spinning-devil as Katherine had called them, was
whipping the purple gas into a toxic funnel and spinning it in the
opposite direction.
Finally some good
luck.
Dan’s vision was hazy and he could
barely focus on his Colt’s sights, let alone anything beyond. He
fought unconsciousness and unwisely shook his head to clear the
dizziness.
Everything
spun.
The
car?
He couldn’t be sure. It looked closer
than he remembered.
And it’s black, not
burgundy.
He was aiming at his thermo-cells,
the barrel of his Colt wobbling dangerously from side to side as he
struggled to keep it still.
A wave of nausea rocked
him when he swivelled to isolate the enemy from the swirl of blurry
background. He chocked on the impulse to vomit but he’d ingested
too much chemical and he emptied the contents of his stomach in an
uncontrollable fit of retching. With a momentous effort, he
staggered to his knees and waved his Colt in an arc, the bitter
taste of vomit fresh on his tongue.
Gone.
He couldn’t see properly but
nothing resembled a four-wheel drive.
He fell to one
side, unstable even on his knees, and landed in the sticky pool of
his own vomit
,
smear
ing
it
across his cloth
es
.
The acrid smell in his nostrils evoked another gag but there was
nothing left to come up.
Someone touched his
shoulder and he spun wildly with a half-clenched fist, knocking him
away. The chemical had also affected his ears and he couldn’t hear
the screech of wind whipping sand against the thermo-cells or the
reassuring shout from Cookie as he made another approach. It
sounded as though he was underwater – everything distorted and
muffled. Dan rasped for breath as though suffering from pulmonary
emphysema. If he’d inhaled any more anti-riot chemical he would’ve
asphyxiated despite its claim for non-lethality.
“
It’s me!”
Cookie shouted, loud enough to pierce his daze.
Dan vaguely
wondered where he’d left his Colt as he allowed Cookie to drag him
to his feet.
There are
two.
Samantha helped on the other side,
offering more support that he would have guessed possible from her
slight frame. He entwined sickly fingers around their clothes and
limped with them in a seemingly random direction.
Why am I limping?
His left
knee was numb and he looked down to see whether it was still there,
afraid the detonating canister had blown it off. He sported a nasty
gash in is trousers and a trickle of blood had soaked down to his
sock, but it wouldn’t leave him permanently disabled.
From the roll.
He’d sliced
himself on one of the sharper rocks.
Dan stumbled down the
stairs and obediently lifted his arms when Cookie tried to peal the
vomit soaked shirt from his body.
“
What
happened?” Fear permeated Samantha’s question. “Where’s
Jen?”
Jen…
Dan shut his eyes and collapsed
onto the couch, which Samantha had covered with a towel to protect
from vomit. “They got her.”
“
Who’s
‘they’?” Cookie asked while using the sponge from the sink to
remove the worst of the acidic mess coagulating on Dan’s body. It
made him queasy, but somebody had to do it and Cookie wasn’t one to
shy from vulgar tasks.
Dan did his best to
shrug, regretting it when another wave of nausea splashed inside
him. “I don’t know.”
“
We heard
gunfire and came to look.” Cookie swallowed his desire to retch.
“We stayed out of the way until we heard a car tearing arse out of
here. Then we saw you rolling out from under that purple
cloud.”
“
Riot gas,”
Dan explained. “Designed to incapacitate a swarm of
fanatics.”
“
Yeah well it
messed you up real good.” Cookie swabbed at the remaining chunks
clinging to his chest hair. “But what-”
The phone
rang.
Dan prised his eyes open
and sat up. His cordless videophone used a rotating encryption
algorithm to skirt the privacy issues associated with boundless
transmission mediums. It was shrill and drove a spike of pain
through his muted hearing. Samantha handed him the receiver on the
sixth ring.
“
Hello?” he
answered, barely above a whisper.
Silence. Whoever was on
the other end had disabled the video feature. Only a steady crackle
of static informed him that someone was listening.
“
Who is this?”
Dan’s patience was wearing thin and blind rage was the only emotion
ready to replace his civility.
A crackling laugh buzzed
through the speaker, just loud enough for Samantha and Cookie to
hear. “Hello Daniel.”
The voice was
hauntingly familiar though Dan couldn’t quite place it. Someone
from his past, someone he’d prefer to forget.
Damn it.
He wished his memory would
cooperate.
“
Where’s
Jen?”
“
Oh, is that
what you call her?” The voice mocked him with a low wolf whistle.
“Quite a honey you have there. Or
had
I should say. What a pity she
comes from such an ill-fated family.”
Dan knew the man was
toying with him and he was in no shape to play games, especially
ones that required him to think. A splitting headache was throbbing
in his frontal lobes. “Who is this?”
“
Tut, tut,
Daniel. It hurts me to think I mean that little to you.” The voice
laughed again. “But what should I expect, huh? You went back to
your life, totally unaware of what you did to mine.
But I think
you’re going
to remember me this time, Daniel.”
“
Cut the crap
arsehole,” Dan snapped.
“
Why don’t you
guess?” The lustre of joy evaporated from his voice.
“
Why don’t you
just tell me?” he retorted, still unable to lock onto the fleeting
memory that would bring a flood of understanding to the
situation.
“
Picture it –
the year is 2059 and Mike Cameron is rallying public support for
the opposition. But, oh dear, somebody killed him
instead.”
Dan’s eyelids
slid shut and he assembled the strength to rise to his feet.
“Esteban Garcia Valdez.”
I should’ve
known.
Memories crashed against his inner
thoughts, bringing bad tidings.
“
There, that
wasn’t so hard was it?” Esteban cackled. “All you needed was a bit
of encouragement. But you know what, Daniel?”
“
What?”
Something deep within Dan’s aura of self-defence screamed at him
that he didn’t want to know.
“
I’ve had a
greater impact on your pathetic little life than you think.”
Esteban sneered into the receiver.
A pulse of adrenaline
added strength to Dan’s pacing. “Is Jen still alive?” He carried
the conversation away from Samantha and Cookie.
“
Oh yes, she’s
fine. Very fine if you don’t mind me saying so.” He paused for long
enough to lick his lips and blow a kiss in Jen’s direction. “Do you
want to know what we have in mind for her?”
“
Probably
not.”
“
Ah, but I
think you do.” Esteban relished this. He’d been waiting for this
conversation, waiting for when it would have the maximum impact. It
was a speech he’d practiced hundreds of times before falling asleep
at night and whispered to his reflection in the mirror while
shaving in the morning. He’d fastidiously woven it into the fabric
of his existence. And now, finally, he could deliver the message.
“Listen and you might learn something.” He reached forward and
squeezed Jen’s firm breast, sliding his hand inside her shirt and
bra to feel her flesh. She cringed, but the piano wire ensured she
couldn’t twist away. He liked watching her cower and loved to smell
her fear. “First I’m going to rape her.”
Dan winced as if Esteban
had plunged a dagger into his chest and twisted it. He could only
imagine the fear captured in Jen’s eyes at that moment, looking at
a man that had just admitted his intention to rape her. Perhaps the
worst part for Dan was his feeling of overwhelming helplessness. He
could do absolutely nothing, and he knew it.
“
I’m going to
have heaps of fun,” Esteban said relentlessly, “tying her wrists
and ankles to each corner of the bed with piano wire and forcing
myself upon her.” A wicked gleam twinkled in his eyes. Something
evil possessed him and Jen had to look away. “I’ll be nice about
it,” he said, his voice drifting through the speaker pressed
against Dan’s ear. “I’ll be gentle. It won’t hurt unless she
struggles,
but
there’s nothing I can do if she cuts her hands and feet off
with the wire.”
Dan felt sick to the pit
of his stomach. The residual taste of vomit on the back of his
tongue nearly spawned a fresh bout of gagging. “You
bastard.”
“
Ah, no, you
missed a word. I’m a
fucking
bastard, Daniel.”
“
Fuck
you!”
Esteban laughed, enjoying
Dan’s torment. “You want to know what I’ll do then?” He paused,
though didn’t really expect an answer. “I bet you do.” Another
pause. “I’m going to get a tube of superglue and squeeze a thin
film into her eyes. Do you know how much the fumes sting if you
hold that shit too close? I can only imagine it’d burn like a
hornet’s dick if you got it on your cornea.”
Dan froze in shock,
dropping to his knees.
“
Your wife
screamed for ten whole minutes when we did that to her. Man, you
should’ve heard. This time I think I’ll tape it so you can enjoy it
too.”
Disbelief sweated in
beads across Dan’s slack jaw while a seed of murderous wrath boiled
in the dark recesses of his mind.
“
So then we’ll
leave her for, oh, say four hours? That should be just long enough
for her to mourn the loss of sight. Your wife was whimpering the
whole fucking time, begging for her life and for the life of her
unborn child. But you can’t rush these things you know, there’s a
certain sophistication required or it turns into a barbaric
bloodbath.”