R.E.birth Page 14

  “Rain!” I hear Emma call from inside the shop.

  I turn around and look to see Driesen rolling around, struggling to get free. Handing my end of the rope to Ami I move to intercept Driesen.

  “You just stay put Mister Grada, else I will have to chase you down and do unpleasant things. Believe me when I say you don’t want that,” I warn him sternly while entering the shop.

  As Driesen squirms around, grunting and trying to break the ropes I put my knee into a soft spot on his back and pull up on the rope’s end until he hollers out in pain and stops squirming.

  “You and Mister Grada are going to take me to the U.F.A. building and we are going to sort this whole ‘protection money’ thing out with Denis. If you attempt to get away, I will incapacitate you again and this time I will tie you up in a much more unpleasant way.”

  “You won’t get away with this,” he grumbles.

  “What is there to get away with? Who is going to stop me?” I puff myself up to them, despite being injured and in pain.

  Silence follows. I slowly stand up and pull on the rope up, coercing him forcefully to stand with me. As he climbs to his feet following my unspoken command, I twist his arms to get him to go where I need him to. We exit the building together and I stand him next to Anthony, both facing me.

  “Now then, you are going to take me to the U.F.A. building and I am going to speak with Denis,” I direct them. “You will walk a few feet apart from each other and if either of you try to escape I will drop you both.”

  It is strange. The words coming out of my mouth are confident. Between the events that have been happening over the past couple weeks and now, the confrontations, I’m not sure if this change in me is good or not. But I suppose being able to assert myself to protect people is not terrible.

  “I’m coming with you,” Ami grabs my hand.

  “You should help Emma clean up. I don’t want to put you in any danger.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Emma springs to life from the door of her shop and clings to my other arm, “We’re coming with you.”

  “Your shop…” I start.

  “Is destroyed,” she finishes.

  “What if you get hurt?” Ami asks.

  “Then they would likely turn to hurt you and Emma next. I really need you to stay here.” I turn my head, smile at her and then whisper. “Besides, you are older: you should set a good example and keep her out of danger.”

  Ami lets out a loud ‘humph’ while crossing her arms, but after a few moments of me pleading with my eyes she drops her arms to her sides and reaches her hand out for Emma to take. Emma protests, but I let her hand go and smile. She reluctantly takes Ami’s hand and I turn to the thugs.

  “All right men, we have a long walk ahead. Best we get started now,” I grab their ropes like the reins of a horse and whip them along.

  They turn and begin walking, following parallel to the park and though I cannot see the tower that is the U.F.A. building I know they are leading me in the right direction.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  After walking at a steady pace for about an hour we have arced our way through the city, past the run-down section and found our way into the nicer area where Ami and I woke up on the train. While they have been silent and cooperative for the time being, I keep my guard up to prevent any surprises. Looking over my shoulder every now and then nervously, I cannot help but make sure we are not being followed, by the girls or otherwise.

  “So what is Emma to you? Why get involved in our affairs?” Anthony asks from my front left. I see no harm in some conversation and it will certainly pass the time faster.

  “I saw a little girl being picked on by grown men for money. If that is not morally bankrupt I am not sure what is. She needed help.”

  “So yous don’t actually know her?” Driesen asks.

  “Sure I do. We have a business relationship.”

  “I remember you. You were coming in with two women one day with all that food,” Anthony recalls.

  “That is correct.” There are a few moments of silence before I speak again. “So what is in it for you to beat up on little girls?”

  “We don’t bother people that pay their protection fee,” Anthony replies.

  “It is not really a protection fee if you are the one that is tearing her down is it? Back to my question: what’s in it for you?” I ask a little more firmly.

  “Boss pays our bills. Boss says ta do it, we do it,” Driesen responds.

  “So Denis, a child, tells you what to do and gives you money for it, even if it is wrong?”

  There is silence again as we continue to walk and I see the U.F.A. building come into sight. Getting closer than I had previously, I see that it sits separated from the other buildings, a large perimeter of solid ground surrounding its base. I find its black exterior quite ominous and the dark windows make me feel like I am being watched from each and every one of them.

  “We used ta be fighters. We were paid by the boss’s dad ta fight each other. People would come from all over ta see us fight,” Driesen speaks up. “The pay was better then.”

  “Well, what happened?” I ask.

  “Denis’s father went away on a business trip,” he continues. “He’s been gone for a while and only Denis gets ta talk ta him.”

  Message by bird? Or courier?

  “I miss the ol’ boss.”

  “Why not get him to come back? And what happens if he does?” I ask.

  “We’d probably go back to the old ways, fighting each other for money,” Anthony replies.

  Our conversing stops when we near the entrance to the building. There is a large arch above the doorway with amazing and intricate swirling patterns covering it. Several doorways line the exterior, but I find that rather than traditional push or pull doors, there are pieces of glass hinged at one point and slowly rotating as if to let one person in at a time. Posted out front are two very husky, bald men guarding the doors in blue pants and red straps that are hooked onto the front of the pants and strap up and over their shoulders to the back side. When we reach the door the men speak.

  “What do…” the first one speaks.

  “…you want?” the second one finishes the first one’s sentence.

  “I want to see Denis. We have some business to discuss.”

  “Driesen…” first one.

  “Anthony…” second one.

  “What is…” first one.

  “…going on here?” Second one.

  “Wow, that’s extremely annoying. Can just one of you talk and the other be silent?” I bark at them.

  “They could, but you’d only get half’a what they’re sayin’,” Driesen’s deep chuckle fills the air.

  “This man has stopped us from collecting money and tied us up. He wants to see Denis,” Anthony replies.

  “Denis won’t…” first one.

  “…like that!” the second one finishes.

  “Hey,” I yell at them viciously and point my finger. “I don’t care what Denis will and will not like. I am going in to see him! Anthony, Driesen, show me in.”

  I advance with Anthony and Driesen still in front of me and the two large men move into our path. My patience wears thin, my energy doing the same. Though I have not eaten in a while I resolve not to show weakness.

  What would be the best and easiest way to take down these two? Use them against each other?

  “Move or I will be forced to make you move,” I warn them.

  “No,” they speak in unison this time.

  Acting impulsively, I push between Anthony and Driesen and dart to the gap between them. The husky men quickly apprehend me between their two stomachs. I slam my foot down on one of the right one’s feet and he squeals, loosening their belly grip on me. The one on my left reaches down and grabs me by the shoulders, lifting me up to his level and shakes me rapidly. Dizziness sets in and I feel the other one hit me in the back with his club of a fist.

  Being up in
the air provides me an opportunity. Leaning back as far as I can and then swinging my head forward, I use my forehead to crack him right in the bridge of his nose, feeling it shatter. He drops me to grab his nose but it does him no good the way the blood gushes to the ground. He wails.

  “Last warning. Let me pass unharmed.” I turn to the one who is not bleeding.

  “Not going to…” he starts but the other is too busy trying to control his bleeding and wailing to finish the sentence.

  “Fine.” I say, frowning.

  A strange thought occurs to me when the fat man tries to grab me.

  Why am I so adept at fighting? I seem to know just how to get what I want in a fight.

  His girth works against him and I am able to maneuver and elude his grasp. He swings around and tries to backhand me as I move under one of his arms and to his side, but he misses. I jab at his kidney, but his fat is too thick that I am not able to get in a solid blow. He swings around again and I evade his attack, switching places to find myself no longer in between the two of them.

  The one whose nose I crushed seems to no longer care that his face, chin, neck and shirt are being completely soaked with blood and joins his brother’s side again. They move as quickly as they can to overtake me but I back away quickly, out of their reach. As the one who is still unharmed takes the lead, I get an idea and turn around, running away.

  “Look at him run…” the one in front starts.

  “…he’s scared,” the second one finishes.

  Turning back around, having put a dozen feet in between us, I run at the one in front full speed. I see his legs brace and his arms outstretch to grab me, but leaping into the air I swing both legs out in front of me and plant my feet into his sternum. A look of surprise and dismay appears across his face while toppling backward onto his brother and I hear him exhale all of the air from his lungs.

  Falling onto my elbows and hip I can feel the abrasiveness of the solid ground, but I spring to my feet again, ready to go. Alert, my eyes dart around and I find that while I have been tussling with these two, Anthony and Driesen have found the opportunity to disappear. Looking at the brothers, the one I kicked in the chest flounders on the ground, choking and gasping for air while his brother stumbles around.

  Should I be thankful that Driesen and Anthony didn’t decide to add in to this already overweight fight, or uneasy about where they have disappeared to?

  With the twins muddled, I move toward the doors. Without anyone to guide me, I realize that I am stuck searching this ridiculously large and unknown building for Denis. Pushing on the glass as it moves around, I jump in nervously as it spins, closing me in between three pieces of glass for a brief moment. The door spins so quickly that as soon as I have entered the door, I have exited.

  Upon entering this building I am met with a very different layout of interior features that I am unfamiliar with, but signs everywhere give me indications of what it is all for. To my immediate front is a row of a dozen small booths with doorways to what lies beyond in between each one. Blocked by walls on either side of the dozen booths my way forward is through one of the entrances labeled ‘Ticket Sales’ on a placard hanging from the ceiling. Moving cautiously through I find that it opens up to an area that is slightly larger but a wall runs left to right and I notice several areas of importance noted with more signs. Looking around nervously, the quietness begins to unnerve me and I attempt to find my direction.

  Directly in front of me lies a set of double doors, with more booths labeled ‘Bidding Posts’ on either side of it. As I move toward the wall I can see that to both my sides a hallway runs the length of the building and I find a couple illuminated elevator signs. Walking on tiptoes I put my hand on the handle of one of the doors but it will not budge. Noticing a little lever at the top of the handle I attempt to press it down, but find it locked in place, however luck favors me when I try the other handle and I hear an internal click. Looking around once more before pulling I feel as if I am a criminal creeping around, but I remember that my goal is noble.

  Looking in, beyond the door is a dimly lit room with rows upon rows of seats that spiral around the room, all facing the center of the room where a large fighting ring exists. I recognize its likeness to something floating around in my brain where men in suits of metal armor would swing swords at each other and fight until one was incapacitated or dead.

  A strange thing to remember at a time like this.

  Off to my right, above the seats, there is a closed-off room with a large viewing window looking down into the ring. A light on inside piques my interest.

  As I am about to enter in to go look around a familiar sound causes my heart to skip a beat. Ding! The sound of an elevator opening to my right startles me and I move to hide myself behind the door.

  Inside the fighting room, I close it quietly and rush down a set of stairs into the spiraling seats, ducking down in between two rows to my right.

  My fear ignites when I hear the same door click open and voices begin to echo throughout the stadium. Crawling on my belly like a snake, my arms and legs swiftly carry me to another break in the seats and more stairs. Hiding as best I can amongst the seats I listen intently, gauging the distance of their voices rather than what they are saying. When they make their way down the stairs to the ring I breathe a sigh of relief. They’re dressed up identically and in funny clothing. Each appears to be wearing a multicolored single piece of clothing that wraps all the way from their heads down to their shins and I am reminded of a jester, dressed to entertain.

  As they move, every step exposes me to them and their line of sight should they turn around, so in a crouched position, I move as silently as possible to the adjacent chairs and get down on my stomach again. I notice that I have inadvertently been moving closer to the room to the right. Hoping to take refuge within, I slink quietly along while they converse and as I reach the door on the side of the booth I pull it open and slip in.

  Locking the door behind me, I am alone again and I find that I can breathe normally. Keeping to the wall so as not to be seen from the outside I survey the room, finding it decorated from wall to wall with large pictures of many different people dressed in fantastic ways. A dark brown, polished desk sits at the back of the room and a comfortable looking, empty chair sits beyond.

  Moving along the wall to the desk I finally exit the view of the window and I take a seat in the chair. Scattered papers litter the top of it and some appear to have not been touched in a long time, but a singular object has fresh ink on it. A book is sprawled open to a page that had been written in just recently and I can see a list of businesses and credit amounts. Thumbing through I find that Denis’s extortion efforts are wide, as each page has a multitude of business names. Snooping through the pages further I find a map of the city, titled ‘Chas’. Its expanse on paper makes it seem much smaller, as beyond the borders of Chas, farmland is labeled and it spans at least double the size of the city.

  Closing the book to take it with me, I am shook while sitting in the soft chair and a deep hum fills the room. Watching out the window, the arena begins to move down and finally disappear, blocked by a solid wall. The whole room is moving upward, like a giant elevator and though I think to exit at some point, I wonder where I might end up if I opened the door out of here now.

  Where this is taking me? Did I press something I should not have?

  The room arrives at the next floor but continues to pass by. Walking to the window the wall turns into another fighting ring beyond the window and there are more people on this second floor arena. They notice me and puzzled looks cross their faces, realizing I am not supposed to be here. But even as they start toward the room, there’s nothing they can do about me because the room is in motion. Floor by floor the room heads up the massive building and with each one I pass, more people become alerted to my presence. Letting out a chuckle, I feel a bit smug that they cannot do anything about me being here. The room comes to a halt with a jolt the door flings ope
n.

  “What is he doing in there?!” Denis yells at two muscular bodyguards who are not dressed as outrageously as the others. “He has my journal!”

  “I believe we have some things to discuss, Denis,” I wave the book at him with a grin.

  “That’s mine! Give it to me! Make him give it to me!” He begins whining and then looks at his guards for help.

  A guard quickly takes a step forward and attempts to snatch it from my hand but I step back out of the way and as he oversteps into my reach.

  I drop my torso down and jam my shoulder into his ribs sharply shoving him to my right. He stumbles into the window and tries again, swinging his fist toward my jaw in a right hook.

  With incredible instincts I drop the book and kick it behind me a few feet. Then I grab his fist and his upper arm, and use his own momentum to swing him around and slam him into the glass again, shattering it.

  I am too adept at this to have been a butcher or farmer in my time. Because I vaguely remember a fighting ring, does that mean I was a fighter?

  As the first guard hangs through the broken glass I turn my attention back to Denis, but he has begun running, escorted by his other guard and heading for a door in the same location as the one on the bottom floor.

  “You are not getting away from me,” I mumble.

  I grab the book and begin running after him. The door closes long before I can get there but I race to catch up, running out into an unknown part of the building. The layout is similar to the bottom floor, with only a few notable differences such as stairs leading up and down to my direct front instead of ticket booths. The elevator to the left dings and I see them duck in. Though I rush to make it, the elevator doors close before I reach them. Numbers light up above the elevator and I watch as they climb from twelve to twenty.

  Must not be trying to escape.

  I press the button to go up and wait for the elevator to return but when it is half way back to me a horde of fighters, the same ones I saw while riding up in the room elevator, have begun appearing down the hall in the opening where the stairs are. They spot me and one of them points. Quickly they begin to move to intercept me but when I look up the elevator is still at sixteen. They begin to get closer, but when I hear a ding before expected I look to the elevator door and find that this one has not opened. The one a few banks down has. I rush over to it to find the twins from outside inside and looking at me, dumbfounded.