Break Free & Be Broken (23 page)

"You're a despicable fucking worm, you know that?" I stomp on his testicles. "YOU KNOW THAT!?" I stomp again, all the while staring deep into his eyes and filling them with all the hate that's inside me. He stares back at me like the big, disfigured baby that he is: a malformed baby that's about to die.

The sight suddenly becomes too pathetic to bear. This fucker's ready to go.

I move to recover my spear from his flesh. His meat is not exactly willing to part with my weapon. The twists and turns required to loosen it cause him to yelp in pain, and Jesus!- he can't stop coughing. Every spasm of his dying lungs sends a drizzle of blood up to dirty me. It's gross. With a focused tug, my spear finally rips free.

As soon as it's out, Francis starts wiggling toward me. I drive the tip of my spear at his neck to halt him. Again I miss, this time hitting high. I catch him on the mouth. The metal rips off his bottom lip, creating a flap of skin that droops all the way past his chin like a defeated flag. A row of bloody teeth atop torn gums are shown to me through the brand new opening in his face.

Francis' eyes squeeze shut and the veins on his forehead become bloated. Both his hands fly up to cover his mouth and he arches back in anguish, screaming at the pain. Poised as he is, I get a perfect shot at the tender meat of his neck. I cry out as I deliver the final thrust. The metal slides through his soft flesh with the easy grace of a pike through water. It doesn't stop until it clinks against the cement wall behind him.

Victory.

His neck sprays out a blood offering. It comes out too quick to dodge, and my face and chest are covered in it. I release my spear and remove myself from the spray. The blood grows weaker with each beat of his heart. As the torrent slows, the blood becomes increasingly dark. What started bright red is now a deep maroon. What is truly shocking is the amount his body has to give. A massive puddle is growing around him.

Watching a life drain at the end of a blade is dimly disturbing, but too interesting to look away from, like watching a snake crush and swallow its prey. His arms loose the strength to hold themselves and fall down to his side. His eyes are wobbling about aimlessly-he no longer seems to know where he is. He isn't breathing much, but when he does manage a breath, the sound it creates is high pitched and strained. After a while of this, a weak cough splashes out of his throat to announce his impending demise. The life compresses out of him, he deflates into nothing more than a fat sack wrapped in skin, and then, he dies.

A colossal inhale comes upon me of its own free will. "Hoooooaahh..." Adrenaline fills me with an unrivaled intensity: adrenaline and fucking rapture. "Yeaaahh!" I shout. Muscles taut, arms raised in triumph, I release a lion’s roar. I killed that vile man! He wanted to hurt me and I didn't let him! I didn't fucking let him. I killed him instead! He's dead! HA! That filthy man is dead! Like thunder I bellow another roar to the gods: a roar to victory!

This awakening of power is unlike anything I have ever experienced. This... this is what it is to be alive! I
should
have been a soldier! Or a fighter! Or a criminal! Now, I have experienced power! Now, I have experienced freedom! And now... I have experienced life! I gaze upon the corpse at my feet: the hulking corpse of a Goliath, the mammoth corpse that
I
created!- without shame and without guilt. Another wave of euphoria hits, and I belt out one more cry to the heavens.

A knock at the door sends me toppling back to my senses. Shit. I might have gotten a little carried away. This is not friendly territory, after all. It is only bad guys wandering these halls.

I quiet down and put my ears to the task of discovering what is happening outside, but it is difficult to hear from this distance past the pounding of my heart and the big, life affirming breaths of my lungs. I tiptoe closer. Another knock sounds, this time more demanding. The handle begins to rattle. Lucky for me, the door is locked. But wait... why is it locked to them?

Upon investigation, I learn the handle is locked from in here. A simple twist of the lock and I could have run free. Oh well. I'm glad things went down how they did. I'm glad this whole night is going how it is. A third knock falls, this time full of unchecked desire to enter.

My choices are none: to escape, I must fight. Nothing but excitement stirs within me to greet such a prospect. My spear remains where I left it: hanging from the neck of a behemoth, remnants of his vitality still dripping down the length of it.

This will be fun.

Chapter the Thirteenth

I march over to Francis and dislodge my blood slicked spear from his pallid neck. It makes a wet slurp as it comes out: the final breath he’ll ever take. The pounding on the door becomes insistent. "Francis, what's going on? Open up!" I think I recognize the voice...

Could it be? Is it my dear friend Joe outside?

The doorknob shakes, followed by more pounding. Whoever's out there really wants to come in. I smile. Fret not, my foe. You need not come in, for I am coming out.

Humming with anticipation, I walk back to the door, fling it open, and launch through as if shot from a cannon. Sure enough, it's Joe. His eyes go cartoonishly wide as I plow into him. I can't tell if the shock on his face is from seeing me or having his belly ripped open by jagged metal. Either way, it's ravishing to behold.

I push him all the way back to the wall, then twist sideways, throwing him to the ground while simultaneously freeing my weapon from his insides. I pull back and stab him a second time. Ribs have to break in order to give entrance to the metal guest, but they are cruel hosts and resist my entry inside. Not satisfied with the depth, I try to pull back, only to find my weapon is stuck in bone. No matter. I pull up as far as I can, lifting Joe's back slightly off the ground, then thrust again, using the floor to add pressure. I don't get a lot deeper, but by the cough of blood I know I made it at least to his lung.

The attack was brutal, but not as lethal as I had hoped. Joe is very much alive, writhing on the ground, clutching at the foreign object embedded through his core. His remaining life stands in direct opposition to my power, and such a thing I cannot accept.

Finish him
.

Bone cracks as I struggle to free my spear. I end up having to press my foot down on his sloppy chest to get enough torque to get it out. Hawking and gasping blood, he wraps his hands around his middle to fend off my next attack. His mistake was thinking I was going to go low again. I swing the butt end of my spear in a wide arc toward his head. It connects with bone jarring force, causing his legs to jerk and his eyes to go out of focus. I take three more swings to the same spot, not satisfied until the bloody crevasse I opened drips pink fluid along with the red.

Light up the grill. The piggy is dead.

My posture stiffens to that of a hero: shoulders back, head held high, chest puffed out in triumph. Now that I've shed the old skin that was holding me back, I'm two for two in enemies slain. I have to resist the urge to take a victory strut down the hall, so high is my current opinion of myself.

So what now? What next? Do I take the fight to Jux? Gather myself a basket of revenge for giving his fat fucking man child the green light to my b-hole? The idea certainly has its appeal... but just because I’ve been able to kill Jux’s peons doesn't mean I'd be able to kill him; and besides, I don't have any idea how many other people he has guarding him... or even where I am. An assassination attempt could quickly get out of control, and I don't want to forfeit this life I've just learned how to live.

So no, no. Jux will be spared. He was fairly good to me, after all, and even if his intentions weren't good in the end, he inadvertently supplied me with the opportunity to get better.

If I can get out of here, I can probably find my way back to Tink's. Assuming the police haven't already shown up and ransacked the place, there will be hella drugs there; probably money as well. Oooo, and all the guns Sage left. With so many tools at my disposal, I'll have a great chance at a new beginning.

It's settled then! To Tink's!

Having decided, I rush to Joe's body and start digging through his pockets, hoping he has the keys to the cop car. He was driving... and yep, here they are. As an afterthought, I steal the pistol from his hip. My chance of escape will undoubtedly be better as a modern man vs a Spartan.

I take one last look at my trusty spear before throwing it against the ground. I'm sad to leave it. It did great work for me, but more than that, it's the first weapon I ever killed with. The sentimental value of such an item can't be expressed in numbers. Were the situation less treacherous, I'd take it with me-maybe hang it on my wall-but alas, it won't be so.

I squeeze my new pistol tight enough to feel the raised bumps on the grip. Perhaps, before the night is through, it too will get to taste a soul.

Gun in hand, I look both ways down the hall, trying to get a bearing on where I am. It proceeds as far as I can see in both directions. The floor, walls, and ceiling are all cement: dank, musty cement. Had I been blindfolded, I still would have known I was underground. The air has that muted chill that only comes when below the surface. By the extensive nature of this tunnel, I assume it must lead to an exit other than the one through the cabin, but I don't know which way to go.

Hm.

I choose to go right, because, why not. Just a few steps in that direction, I notice drops of blood spattered on the floor. The only source I can think for such a thing would be my nose as Francis carried me here, so right was wrong. I turn my back and walk the other way.

A good distance later, the hall ends in a left turn, and not far after the turn is a door. My first fear is that it may be locked, but it isn't. I ready my gun, inch the door open, and slip to the other side.

Stairs. Excellent.

I move at a snail’s pace up the stairs, straining to hear any sounds from above. I stand for a moment before the door at the top and continue to listen. Hearing nothing, I carefully push it open, letting the light from below invade the oppressive darkness within. Once through, I close the door back up, letting the dark reclaim me. I can't see a thing, but if I'm blind, so is the enemy, and I can live with that. Besides, I'm at home in the dark.

I place my free hand against the wall and hold up my gun with the other. Before long, my eyes start to adjust, and I realize the black isn't as pitch as I'd thought.

I stop. Did I just see movement up ahead? I stand still-not even breathing-listening to the dark as hard as I can. When I see nothing and hear even less, I start moving again. After just a step, a shadow descends upon me. My gun is slapped from my hand and I'm thrown against the wall. The world ignites in the hot white light of a flashlight.

Defeated so easily... damn.

"Chales?"

No way...

"Sage?"

He whips the flashlight up, directing the harshest part of the light against the ceiling and allowing the overflow to illuminate the hall. I'm sure the shock on my face is a direct reflection of the shock on his. He has a silenced pistol pointed at my face, but as soon as my identity sinks in, he lowers it and shuts off his light.

"Come this way." He hisses, and starts pulling me through the dark. I make him stop so I can grab my gun, and then we continue. After a short distance, I hear him crack open a door and get a cold taste of the outside air. When we get outside, I learn we were in the farmhouse. Sage leads me off the porch and back into the trees. There is nothing but joy pulsing through me. I never even considered that he cared enough to come save me!

After going a ways into the trees, Sage finally stops. "God man, you look awful." He says with a light laugh.

A hand falls upon my shoulder, snatching my attention before I can reply. I turn around to see Jade, a rifle slung over her back and a smile covering the whole of her face. She gently strokes my swollen, shredded eye, then pulls me into a hug. My heart would have surely exploded if all the blood didn't rush down south. Running shorts offer little cover, so I release myself from her before she gets a personal feel of just how excited I am to see her.

I laugh, so happy they came for me, so happy to be safe!

"You guys came for me!" I proclaim.

Jade's smile wanes and her gaze settles onto the ground. Confused, I look at Sage. He's kept his smile, but it's strained.

"Well... not exactly. The truth is, we didn't even know you were here. I saw you get arrested... we thought you were with the cops."

Dread starts tickling my spine with its warted tongue. "Then why are you here?"

Sage sighs. "We're looking for a man named Juxtapo Schultz, but the real question is, why are you?"

Jux? They're looking for Jux? What happened to El Sanchez? I catch a whiff of betrayal as Jux's question echoes through my mind: 'Why do you think the stranger set you up?' This must be connected. God damnit, it's all intertwined.

I ignore Sage's question and turn back to Jade. It is my turn for answers, and if the weight of them is going to squash me, I'd prefer it be her tongue that dispenses the load. "Did you know it was Quinton's money? That this was going to happen?"

I regret asking the moment the words leave my lips. This is one of those abominable inquiries where the answer is almost guaranteed to demolish the soul, but the topic matter is too important to just let it go, so you do what you must and ask, praying against fate that you somehow get an answer that won't destroy you.

Jade looks back down at the ground. The smell of betrayal becomes so pungent it burns my nostrils. The fetid stink of it is enough to make me gag.

"We knew it was his money, but we didn't know this would happen."

So there it is. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, focusing on the pain it brings me to keep from falling apart. Even though I'd already deduced what happened, hearing Jade give word to it makes it infinitely more intense.

"Chales, I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I promise it wasn't supposed to happen like this."

The sincerity in her voice breaks through the flames of despair threatening to consume me. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. She
did
just say it wasn't supposed to happen like this, so maybe, maybe!- she meant it wasn't supposed to happen at all; that this was some kind of mistake! Now that I think about it, the thought of her actually tricking me into such a horrible situation doesn't make sense. It doesn't fit with the angelic image she holds in my mind. My brain can't reconcile the contradiction.

"So what was supposed to happen?" I ask, clinging to a gossamer ribbon of hope.

"We thought Quinton's men would take you to Juxtapo. We were going to tail you to find him, and then we were going to strike when they were dealing with you and their guard was down... but saving you was always part of the plan! We weren't just going to leave you, and we assumed we'd be able to get to you before anything serious happened."

Anything serious... what shit. I just nod, not much caring for the explanation. All I heard was that basically, this
was
the plan. The adrenaline that was keeping me oh so very high is now oh so very gone, leaving me sore with an overall sense of out of place bewilderment. What have I been thinking? I actually started to view myself as a valuable member of their squad. I'm not. My life meant next to nothing to them. Chales: the person, was just Chales: the tool, in their eyes. Nothing more.

I have more questions in my head but decide to let them die of their own accord. I'm ready for this night to be done. Both Sage and Jade look to be at a loss. For all they've taught me, I decide to throw them a bone before I go. "Just so you know, Jux
is
here. Well, not ‘here,’ here, but in a cabin maybe... a quarter mile that way." I point in the appropriate direction.

Sage lights up like the noonday sun. "What!? How do you know?"

I provoke him with my answer in retribution for my ordeal. "I had dinner with him, maybe an hour ago. I talked with him for a long time. Very interesting fellow."

The way he glares at me reminds me of nothing so much as the way Jux glared at Roger before clobbering the life out of him. "What did you tell him?" He growls.

His death stare and tone make me furious. "Don't fucking worry about what I told him. Maybe I told him nothing, maybe I told him everything." I continue to goad him. I'm not the same greenhorn he dragged into all this, and he needs to recognize that.

In a flash, Sage has me by the neck and slams me into a tree. "What the fuck did you tell him!?" He yells. His hand buries itself in, pushing my adams apple to the back of my throat. It fucking hurts, but more than that, it pisses me off.

I don't take the assault lying down. I'm a giant slayer now-he can't touch me like this! I chop down on his arm, break his grip, and throw a fist at his chin. I swear to god it would have knocked his ass out if Jade didn't intervene and knock me off balance at the last instant. I stumble sideways but manage not to fall. I glare at both of them fiercely.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I roar, ripping into Sage with the full brunt of my fury. "Look at my face, you stupid bitch. LOOK AT IT! You have no idea what I've had to go through since you guys tricked me into helping you with that 'little' favor, and you have the fucking nerve to lay your hands on me?” I wave my arms dramatically over my torso and pants. "See all this wet, fresh blood? It's from a man I had to kill: a man who was trying to rape me! Can you understand that!? And that was after he took his sweet time torturing me! And it wasn't YOU who fucking saved me! I did it! I had to take care of myself after you threw me, with full knowledge, into the lion’s den with nothing but the assurance that everything would be fine. Everything was NOT fine!"