Demons of Abyss - Retribution

Chapter 9

Elea

The last few days I have spent every day in Vic's training hall. Every night I stare at the dreary ceiling of the bedroom in Kilian's apartment. I lie awake for hours, even though I'm tired, and my body desperately needs the rest. But I can't sleep. I can't find any peace. My fingers wander to the scar on my ribs. I can't stop thinking about the images that never leave my mind. Images of my mom on the wet asphalt. The image of Dad with blood pouring from his head. The picture of Charly. The image of me paying him back everything he did to my parents. And as if all these dark thoughts were not enough, today I also have the worry about Kilian in my head. He left for this fight about half an hour ago. I have a bad feeling. Even though Kilian is one of the best fighters I have ever seen, I am still worried. He has grown on me with his emotionally crippled nature. He is just like me. Furthermore, he carries a darkness that I also feel every day.

I stare at the ceiling for another few minutes before I make a decision. I can't stay here like Kilian has asked me to. I can't sit around here while I might as well study my enemies from the background and rush to Kilian's side in an emergency. It kills me to wait here. He didn't want any of the Demons to recognize me, even if I look completely different now. I'm still struggling to get used to my reflection myself. Fortunately, I glanced at Kilian's phone when he got the message with the details about the fight. So I know the street name and the house number. So I throw on a pair of long jeans and a black shirt, slip on my sneakers, and head out. I leave my blonde hair down to hide my face, which isn't covered in tons of makeup today.

A short walk and a cab ride later, I'm walking down Colfax Ave, keeping an eye out for anything noticeable. I have to admit, I was really naive when I thought I could find my way around. I did give the cab driver the number, but he dropped me off almost half a mile away. Maybe that's the disadvantage of growing up more or less isolated, I'm just not skilled in such things. The only thing I am good at is fighting. So I set off in what I hope is the right direction. Except for the streetlights and the building lights it is pitch dark. In some sections there is more activity and in others the street seems lonely and deserted. Garbage bags pile up on the building walls in front of the snack bars and the smell of rotten food makes me wrinkle my nose. Now and then, a few dubious guys and women in skimpy outfits loiter around on the corners of houses. I keep my head down, but still watch out of the corner of my eye how they behave. Earlier, such a sleazy guy wanted to run after me. I just mumbled a "f**k off" over my lips and passed him by. I almost thought he wouldn't give up, but luckily for me, he didn't. Drawing attention to myself now would not be beneficial. Who knows, maybe among these guys are friends of the Demons? So I try to attract as little attention as possible and raise my head only to look for the house numbers. But the number I'm looking for is nowhere to be found, especially since this part of Colfax Ave is at the end and looks more run down than the rest of the street. Just as I walk past a supermarket something catches my eye. A Harley parked at the next intersection. I look around. Where would I organize a fight, if on the one hand I have nothing to lose but on the other hand it is not too conspicuous? After only a few seconds, my eyes fall on a gun store. I think I have found the right place, because there is another machine parked in front of the gun store. I march down the street, fervently hoping that the fighting isn't over yet. The closer I get to the one-story building labeled Westside Gun's, the more excited I get. I try to remain calm and survey the surroundings. The first question that comes up is how do I get past the two guys loitering in the backyard? I spot them soon enough and continue down the street to make it look like I'm taking a walk. Just past the fence that separates this gun store from the next lot, I turn and disappear behind the shrubs that are growing rampant on the side lot.

It looks abandoned and that makes me breathe a sigh of relief. I creep further along the fence and stop at about the height where I saw the two guys. I need to get into this building. I look around and spot a tree. Perfect. Quickly, yet with great caution, I make my way up. Without hesitation, I climb up the tree trunk. As far as I can see over the fence but tough to disappear into the darkness. I recognize the two guys and I also see that there are some skylights on the roof of the building. Maybe I can get in through one of those? Two black pickup trucks are parked in front of the building. Somehow I expected more. Surely it was supposed to be a big fight? I quickly push the thoughts aside, though. I'm about to head out when I hear a squeal. I make out a guy just opening the gate. At least a dozen men appear in response. They are all wearing the robes of the Demons. The blood rushes through my veins. But then, then I discover something else. I hold my breath in shock. A tall figure. It must be Kilian. At least what is left of him. Two giants drag his body after them. Kilian's head hangs between his shoulders and his feet drag across the ground. I don't know if he's still alive. I quickly jump off the branch and land as quietly as possible on the grass. With quick steps I run to the fence and am about to climb over it when I hear loud voices and stop. It's that Booze. I would recognize that greasy voice anywhere.

"Take him to the bunker and don't let him die. He's going to bring us some money in the fights."

Through a small gap in the fence, I see them hoist him onto the back of a black pickup truck. He is alive. Kilian is alive. And at that thought, my mind turns back on. How am I supposed to fight over a dozen men? In my plans for revenge, I have imagined killing one by one. I know I have to free Kilian, but if I do it rashly, I won't have even the whiff of a chance. So I do what my mind tells me and not what my heart wants. Because my heart wants to go to Kilian and free him from those assholes. My mind, however, knows that if I do so, I would be to signing his and my death warrant. So I look for a solution. I discover an old Toyota on the side of the road, which probably has its best years behind it. But that's exactly what I need. I sneak up on the car and try the door buckle on the passenger door. Having practically grown up in the garage with engine addicts, I know that on these models, the central locking system usually doesn't work or isn't even there yet. My heart is up to my neck when the door actually opens. I keep another lookout to make sure no one notices me. All seems quiet, so I slowly slide into the passenger seat and quietly close the door behind me. Then I lean over the g'ear stick to the other side, so I can get under the steering wheel. I reach for one of my Kunai's that I have strapped to my lower leg. My third knife is still missing. But now I have other things to worry about, so I turn my attention to the fairing below the steering wheel. I slide the blade into the gap between the steering column and the fairing and pry it off with a quiet crack. Then I take the other side and right after that I have the plastic part in my hand. I toss it carelessly onto the back seat, which is littered with what feels like five tons of garbage. That's why it smells so bad. I'm just about to unpack my phone to turn on the flashlight, when I hear voices. I stay down and breathe softly. My heart is racing. I expect someone to yank open the door and get me any minute. My body gets ready. But right after that, the voices fall silent again. Cautiously, I take a look through the windshield and spot two guys wobbling down the sidewalk. Relieved, I exhale and continue. First I try it without a flashlight. With my fingers, I feel around for the steering wheel lock. I slide my knife in and with a little force, I push away the lock pin on the steering column. Then I turn my attention to the relay. Now I need light. So I put the phone on the floor and use the light of the display. It's now or never. I have to hurry. First, I don't want anyone to catch me, and second, I want to know where they're taking Kilian. I have to go after them. I pull the handbrake, disengage the gear, and bridge the two poles with my knife. It sparks, and the car makes an irregular clacking sound after a few spitting sounds. It worked. I almost thought the battery had run out from the looks of this car. The lessons with Ben and the screwing in the workshop were worth it after all. I frantically grab the phone, shove it into my pocket and slide into the driver's seat.

I put the car in gear and spot the headlights of a car in the rearview mirror. As it passes, I see that it is a black pickup truck. I almost miss them. I wait a few seconds before I take up the pursuit. At first, It sounds like that the car is giving up, when it only jerks forward, but after a few meters it has caught on and is moving. I am lucky that it started. I stay at a safe distance from the pickup and follow it through the streets of Denver. After a few minutes, we leave the busier city behind and move toward an industrial area. Some of the factories look abandoned, others might have been rebuilt. After a few more minutes, I put more distance between the car and me as it slows down. Maybe it is too conspicuous to follow him there, where there is hardly any traffic. So I stop and park at the roadside. Attentively I continue to watch him. When he parks on a spacious area in front of a water reservoir, I turn off the engine. Then I get out and disappear into the darkness of the adjacent fence wall. Just as I'm about to creep closer, lights suddenly appear behind me. I squeeze close to the stones and hope fervently that they don't spot me. It's the second pickup truck I've seen at this Westside Gun's. He drives on, and I exhale in relief before holding my breath in fright. I know what to expect before I even turn around. I know the feeling of the cold metal on my skin, just pressing against the back of my head. Bear has trained it on me often enough. Knives, batons, guns, and still other weapons. That's why I try to stay as calm as possible as I raise my hands and slowly turn around. The darkness doesn't reveal too much, but I can make out the steel-blue eyes between the narrowed lids. One corner of my opposite's mouth lifts. The shaved head and bull neck might frighten others, but it's a bright spot for me. He's not moving quickly.

"Booze will be happy to see you. He likes to tame wild horses."

Disgusting words from an even more disgusting mouth. As he finishes the sentence, the switch clicks for me. I check his left hand, in which he holds the gun now pointed at my forehead. He holds it, as if he's sure I won't resist. He grips it only half-heartedly. That's what Bear always meant about assholes like that, always underestimating women. This is exactly my chance. I inconspicuously eye his legs to see which one is less strained. Then I look up at him and throw him off with an uncertain smile. I turn from the direction of the shot. Raising my hands, I slap my forearm against his left and with my other hand I grip his wrist. The gun almost falls out of his fingers, but to be sure I kick my foot against his right knee. I hear the soft crack and right after that the sound of the gun landing on the asphalt. The guy goes down and gives a pain-distorted curse.

"You f*****g cunt."

I quickly grab his gun and point the barrel at him. He gets back to his feet groaning and shaky. He's definitely angry now.

"Take me to him, so I can show him, how tamed I can be."

He taunts me with his laughter. Then he shakes his head, barely noticeable, and limps toward me. I back away, my finger on the trigger. Ben has taught me all kinds of things about guns. How to clean them, how to put them together, how to pull the trigger, how to hit. But one thing I didn't want to do-I didn't want to kill. I wanted to save it until I found the guys who really deserved it. But now, at this moment, an inner turmoil settles over me. Can I take someone's life? Especially when I look him in the eye while doing so. Even if he's still such a dirty, greasy guy? But there he is, limping closer and I give a warning hiss.

"Don't take another step."

He laughs even louder, and I'm afraid it's going to draw the attention of the others. I can handle him, but with more of them, it would be difficult.

"Your hand is shaking. You won't pull the trigger, even if you are a b***h, but you don't have the guts."

A loud crash echoes off the walls and buildings. Now I've definitely drawn attention to myself. I need to get out of here as soon as possible. I have to think of something else to free Kilian. The guy in front of me, goes down again. This time his curses get stuck in his throat and all I hear is a pain-distorted groan. I hit his thigh, just like I wanted to. I grab the gun, a Dan Wesson, and am about to run to the car when I already see several men heading towards me. The roar of engines can be heard. Damn. I spot a hole in the fence wall and quickly turn around to disappear through the gap.

The voices of the men accompany me, as I run across the grounds, trying to orientate. I run past a few cable reels, further across the sandy ground behind a dilapidated tin hall. I need to get out of here. The men's footsteps come closer, and I look for a way out. It's hard to see anything because it's so dark. I continue to walk along a chain-link fence. But suddenly I recognize the lights of headlights there, too. They are coming closer. Have surrounded me. I slow down so that the sand under my feet almost makes me fall, because I slide. I spot a shack adjacent to the building. I need a place to hide, as I see no way to escape them right now. With a running start I jump onto the small hut and climb as quietly as possible further onto the roof of the hall. In order not to draw attention to myself, I crawl along the roof. These tin roofs are not exactly known for being able to move around on them, without making any noise. As I hear the motorcycles and the men's voices approaching, I lie still. I still have the gun in my hand. I take out the magazine and count the bullets. Five damn bullets, if I can make it out right in this darkness. How am I supposed to take out a horde of these guys with five bullets? Kilian would curse me. I hear the men approaching and one of them calling out. "Bull said, she went this way. Find her and if possible, let her live. We'll show her what happens to bitches, who mess with the club."

I slowly pull the air into my lungs. I realize I'm screwed. But then I hear something. A name. A f*****g name and the chance for revenge returns.

"Charly will be happy to get some fresh meat." Charly. I feel so much hate at that name. Two guys are walking down the hall whispering to each other. I can hear every single word. "I thought, he was in Oregon?" They stalk on, and I scramble closer to the roof, so I don't miss any of their words. "Yes, he still is, but he's coming back earlier than planned. West says he could be back in a couple of days."

West, I've heard that name before. That's the guy, with the unforgettable dark eyes. The guy who struts around like the king himself. I shake my head and try to push the thought away. Then I hear a noise. Someone is climbing on the roof. Damn. So the chance of getting away from here unseen, drops to zero. Not even that five bullets would save me. I might get a few of them, but what about the rest, buzzing around like startled bumblebees? I would die, even before I got my revenge. I don't want to die like that. But maybe this is my chance too? And then my brain shuts down, because if I think about it. And, I'll change my mind. I roll onto my side, take a deep breath, and stare up at the night sky. Where scattered stars glitter and the clouds cover some of them. One last moment of peace. One last moment for me, as the person, I am now. Because nothing will ever be the same again. Then I roll to the eaves and beyond. I let myself fall into an uncertain future.