Twisted City (10 page)

Very
little happens the way anyone thinks it should. And just when you believe it’s all
over, it’s really only just begun.

The
light comes first, bright and pure white, so full and complete he actually
believes he has died and is entering that other place he’s always heard about.
Although he always believed that when his time comes he’ll be heading more in
the southern direction where it’s said to be a lot more warmer, and he’s not
talking about Mexico either.

Then
the pain hits him and he realizes that he’s lying down in a bed in a room
brightly lit with very white walls.

He
glances around him, moving only his eyes. When he peers down to his right he
sees a mass of dark hair by his side. His hand is down there being held. He
lifts his left hand to touch her hair but regrets trying to do so the second he
moves it, hissing at the pain.

She
lifts her head. Her eyes are red from sleep and there’s a trace of drool at the
corner of her mouth which she quickly wipes away. She smiles and says, “Hey
you. How
ya
feel?”

“Like
crap,” Lathan croaks.

Taya
giggles. “It’s better than nothing at all. I was worried, but the doctor said
you’ll be fine. You just need to rest. Is there anything I can get you?
An extra pillow?
An extra blanket?”
A lecherous smile curves her lips. “A little victory sex, maybe?”

He
laughs halfheartedly. “If I could, believe me, I would.”

She
mildly persists while softly rubbing his hand. “Then how about a little
fellatio? You won’t have to move a muscle.”

“Taya,
I’ve just been shot, twice. Give me a little time to recover.”

She
pouts cutely. “I know, I’m only joking.
Kind of, anyway.
Is there anything I can get you though? Are you thirsty?”

Partly
joking but also partly serious he asks, “I don’t suppose you got any morphine,
do you?”

“Oh, here.”
She opens a small pill bottle and
dumps in the palm of her hand two little white pills. “The doctor said you’ll
probably be wanting a couple of these when you wake up.”

“What
is it? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.
Gimme
.”
He takes them with a glass of water she hands him.

“How
are the other two?” Lathan asks.

“Stan
is okay. He’s just got a lot of bumps and bruises and little cuts.
Jonsey
got the worst of it. His leg had to be amputated,
Vincent literally skinned it and it got infected. He also cut off one of his
ears and cracked a couple of his ribs. What kind of person would do such a
thing?”

Someone
knocks on the door, and then a baldheaded be-speckled man
peeps
his head inside.

“Hey,
Dr. John,” Taya says cheerfully. “Look
who’s
up.”

“I
see,” Dr. John says. His smile is warm and genuine. He steps inside wearing a
white smock and a stethoscope around his neck.
Very retro.
“I heard voices as I was passing by so I thought I’d check to see who it is,
and bless it be our hero.”

“I
don’t know about all that,” Lathan says.

 Dr.
John insists. “You did a very selfless and great act. You surely saved the lives
of two young men and may have saved the lives of many others
here,
I would be honored to shake your hand.”

Lathan
humors the good doctor by shaking his hand and says, “I guess that makes two of
us.
Seems you saved my life as well.”

Dr.
John waves it off. “Oh, that was nothing. It’s what I do. Besides, I was under
strict orders to not even allow God himself to take you away. Mr. Grant would
not allow it.”

Lathan
is unsure how to take that. It may mean a couple of different things. One,
James didn’t think he would be able to accept Lathan’s death after what he
thought Lathan had supposedly sacrificed for everyone, or two, there are
selfish reasons on James’ part for him needing Lathan to be alive, like if
something else happens they will be able to count on Lathan to help them again.

But
when it comes down to it Lathan doesn’t much care either way. He did what
needed to be done. Got himself shot up in the process, minor setback, but he’ll
be well enough to check out in due time.

Dr.
John checks Lathan’s pulse and heart rate and asks a series of questions about
his past health and how he currently feels.
The good doctor
adamantly sticking to his professional roots and protocol.

“Everything
seems to be good then,” Dr. John concludes. “Taya has already made it quite
clear that she will be taking care of you personally around the clock, but I
will be checking up on you now and then while you are here. Taya, did you
remember the pain killers?”

“Yep.
I already gave him two.”

“Good.
Take them when needed and do not overdo it. If there is nothing else, I need to
inform Mr. Grant that you have awakened. I expect he’ll be here soon after.”

Dr. John eases
the door closed behind him.

Taya
informs Lathan that he’s been all the rave throughout the entire town with talk
about how he singlehandedly killed five hundred Maddick’s and saved The
Pinnacle.

“Five hundred?”
Lathan says skeptically.

Taya
grins at the notion. “Next week it’ll be a thousand.”

“And
I believe it.”

Both
are quiet for a few ticks,
then
Taya breaks the
silence. “Why’d you do it? Why did you go out there by yourself and risk your
life?”

Lathan
is unable to honestly answer her, so he simply shakes his head and shrugs.

Taya
is only slightly disappointed.

“Were
you scared?” she asks.

“Not
really.”

“Did
you ever think that you may die?”

“Not
at first, but toward the end . . .”

Another
knock on the door and this time it’s James, looking exhausted but relieved to
see Lathan well.

“Lathan,
I can’t imagine another soul in the world more thankful for anything right now
than I am for you having done what you did. On behalf of all of us here, thank
you.”

“I
really don’t know what to say, James.”

“You
don’t need to say anything at all. Simply relax and have a successful recovery.
Are you comfortable? Is there anything I can do for you?
Anything
at all?”

“I’m
good, thanks. I took a couple of pain killers a while ago and Taya is going to
get me something to eat soon, so I’m already looked after quite well. But thank
you.”

James
smiles on his niece. “Taya’s a good
girl,
I keep
forgetting she’s no longer a little girl. She’s all grown up.”

Taya
rolls her eyes and says, “I’m going to get you some food. And when I get back,
visiting hours will be over. Understand,
uncle
James?”

“Understood.”

Taya
winks at Lathan as she goes out the door.

James
brings Lathan up to speed on what took place after he rescued Stan and
Jonsey
. Those who weren’t near Lathan or the explosions had
either run off or began charging and shooting at the gate. Most of them were
shot down by the gate guards and those who weren’t got away in the few vehicles
that weren’t damaged by the explosions. The next morning an armed guard
clean-up crew went out to haul in what could be salvaged and burned the dead
bodies in the incinerator.

“It
was a mess, but a mess that we were more than happy to clean up. Only one thing
though, there was no sign of Vincent. Did you see him out there?”

“Up close and personal.
I cut off a couple of his digits.”
Lathan holds up a hand and wiggles his pinky and ring finger. “But a man
wearing a mask came out of nowhere and saved him before I could finish him off.
Know anything about that one?”

“Mm, yes, Vincent’s personal body
guard.
No one’s
sure what his name
is,
we refer to him simply as ‘The
Masked Man’. They say that he will follow Vincent into hell itself if need be.”

“How
do you know so much about them?”

“
There’s
a few men here who’ve infiltrated Maddick as spies.
One of our men was eventually discovered, and Vincent sent him back, piece by
piece. We no longer risk lives to spy on them.”

Taya
shows back up with a bag full of food. She empties its contents on a table next
to the bed.

“Everyone
sends their love and respects. I got some baked chicken from Mrs. Dobbs, our
poultry and rabbit keeper, some goats milk from Mister
Markum
,
the goat man, some bread from Mrs. Floyd who runs the bakery, and . . .” she
brings out a Tupperware bowl filled with a mix of colorful green, red, and
orange, “Fresh salad
with
dressing.” She holds up a bottle of dressing.

Lathan
gives her a knowing grin, remembering what transpired between the two while
making a salad the day before.

James
says, “I guess I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll drop in on you sometime tomorrow,
if that’s all right.” Before leaving out the door he turns back to Lathan and
says with emotional sincerity, “Twice you’ve put yourself in harm’s way to save
the lives of others. First you saved my nieces life and now you saved our
people’s lives. Complete strangers to you. You are a rare breed, Lathan.
And a complete mystery.
But I hope we will get to know each
other better.
This is your home, whether you take it or leave
it, you will always have a place with us.”

“Jacko!”

The
pumpkin faced man scuttles into his King’s chamber like a frightened mouse.

“Yes?
What is it, sire?”

Clinching
teeth, Vincent says, “My hand is killing me. Summon Jizell and tell her to
bring me the best dope she’s got.
Quickly!”

“Yes,
sire.” Jacko bows and leaves as fast as he came, eager to please.

Vincent
takes another strong belt of the God-awful bootleg from his bottle, squinting
as he swallows it down. He’s been laying up in bed since he got back yesterday,
drinking and smoking, trying like hell to deaden the pain in his hand. His
personal doctor bandaged it up and gave him some pills he called pain killers
that have not been working worth a damn.

Vincent
lifts his bandaged hand to his face, considering how odd it looks. Like an
alien’s hand. It is now thinner than his wrist. He closes his fingers into a
fist – half a fist – and wonders if he will be able to throw a good punch
again?

No
matter, I’ll still be able to wield a knife.

A half hour later Madam Jizell M. D.
slinks into the room, looking most delectable, wearing sandals and skimpy
clothing; practically ribbons and threads.
Great eye candy.

“I
hope you brought me something good,” Vincent growls. “My hand is killing me.”

“So
I’ve heard. The whole town’s heard.” She stands next to him and places a black physician’s
bag on the bed. “Now what did Doctor Frankenstein do and what kind of
medication has he already given you?”

Vincent’s
face scrunches up. “Why do you call him that? He’s a good doctor.”

“Mm-hm.
Is that why you called for
me
?
 Because of how good
he
is. Let me see your hand.”

“My
hand is taken care of. It’s fine. All I need is something for the pain. So why
don’t you open up your little bag there and give me something that is going to
take me straight to the moon.”

“Fine,
if you don’t want my help, I’ll just leave.”  She snatches up her bag and
turns to leave.

Vincent
panics and quickly reaches out for her. “No
no
no
no
! Wait! Don’t leave! Here’s my hand! Just don’t
go!”

Jizell
slowly turns back around, cocking a hip out with a delicately plucked eyebrow
raised, giving Vincent a defiant gaze.

Vincent
wags his hand out to her from a loose wrist, assuring her he will be compliant.

Placing
her bag back on the bed, she takes his offered hand and jerks it to her, not
real hard but hard enough for him to know she is peeved.

“
Ow
!
E-zee.
Half my hand’s been
chopped off for Christ’s sake.”

“You’ll
live. Your bandages are soaked. I need to change them.”

With
the bandages removed, his hand looks like the side portion of an uncooked steak
that’s been sliced in half, only nastier. The bleeding is stanched with no
apparent infection.

“Looks
clean,” Jizell observes. “I’ll just need to put some ointment on it and wrap it
with clean bandages. What did he give you for the pain?”

Vincent
plucks a bottle off the bed and tries to read the label. “I don’t know what the
hell these things are. Here.” He tosses her the bottle.

She
snickers.
“Regular Tylenol.
Good for headaches and
mild pain, but that’s about it. I’m going to give you something a little
better.”

“A little!
How about a lot?”

She
wraps his hand back up with fresh bandages and gives him a small bottle
containing forty pills.

“
Dimorahl
,” she says. “Take them sparingly. I don’t have
very many.”

That
puts a monkey of a grin on his face. He wastes no time opening the bottle and
tilting it up to his mouth, dumping three pills onto his tongue. He chews them
up and washes it down with a swig of bootleg.

“
Ahh
.
Feeling better already.”

“Then
my work here is done,” Jizell says, closing her bag.

“What’s
the rush? Stay a while.” He pats the empty space of bed next to him. “It’s been
a while since we’ve enjoyed each other’s company.”

She
notes the sexual innuendo in his tone with the eyes that seem to suddenly zero
in on her ample bosom, but she is far from titillated. Most women – actually,
all women – lie in Vincent’s bed when called upon for fear of what he may do if
he is rejected, but not her. Not anymore, anyway. She’s fully aware of how far
she can push Vincent before his patience crumbles entirely. Therefore when it
comes to sex she will have it only when she wants to and with whom she wants to
have it.

“Excuse
me, sire,” a shaky voice dares to speak in the doorway;  Jacko bent
partway around the side of the door, timid as ever for having to disturb his
master while propositioning a young maiden. Not that he’s been eavesdropping.
Not for very long, anyway.
Only for a couple of minutes.
Although there’d been times when he has spied on him doing things to women he’s
only imagined doing. He is way too bashful to visit one of the brothels so he
looks forward to the times he can catch Vincent in action with them. At least
he’s able to get off on secretly watching. But he dares not be caught. Vincent
will have his prick cut off for sure.

“What
is it?” Vincent says, agitated.

“Pan
and Bruno are here to see you, sire. They say it is of the utmost importance.
They have the Mongoose.”

“
The who
?”

“I
believe it is the boy you
were wanting
to see. The one
who killed a few of your men, whooped Pan and Bruno, and stole your food,
sire.”

“Oh,
yes. Send them in.” Vincent regards Jizell apologetically. “I have some
business to attend to, so maybe some other time, huh, love?”

Jizell
tilts her head to the side and says with thick sarcasm, “Aw, geez, too bad.”
She wastes no time leaving the room.