The Woman They Kept Read online

  The Woman They Kept

  By Andrew J. Krause

  The Woman They Kept

  Copyright 2013 Andrew J. Krause

  Kindle Edition

  Published January 8, 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, copied in any form or by any means without written permission from the author. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  This book is available in print.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters represented are productions of the author's overactive imagination and are used fictitiously.

  Content not suitable for minors.

  *****

  Many thanks to those who have read the various versions of this story.

  *****

  Though the contents of this book are (quite obviously) fictionalized and placed in a dystopian setting, they represent a sad truth about the world we live in. In 2009 the US Department of Justice reported that between January 1, 2007 and September 30th, 2008 there were 1,229 suspected cases of human trafficking reported by task forces in the United States. Of those, 83% were alleged to be sex trafficking.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue5

  Chapter One6

  Chapter Two19

  Chapter Three24

  Chapter Four31

  Chapter Five43

  Chapter Six53

  Chapter Seven65

  Chapter Eight70

  Chapter Nine78

  Chapter Ten81

  Chapter Eleven86

  Chapter Twelve95

  Chapter Thirteen98

  Chapter Fourteen108

  Chapter Fifteen116

  Chapter Sixteen126

  About the Author:131

  Prologue

  He opened his mouth to breathe and dirt fell in, choking him. It felt like he was drowning, crushed at the bottom of a pool of dry black earth. The weight of it pressed down on him and his head throbbed from when they had hit him. His arms were wrapped tight against his body and he could barely move them, his chest couldn't expand enough to get a proper breath. Something was wrapped tight around him, pulling his arms and feet together. He had never been in a place so dark.

  There was a tear in the sheet he was wrapped in, right above his face. Every time he shifted little piles of dirt fell in his mouth, down his nose, in his eyes, and he couldn't get his arms high enough to clear them. He struggled, bucking his legs and flexing his arms as more and more dirt fell on him through the crack in the fabric. Finally something gave and an arm was free, he cupped and pulled and swam his way upward in the ocean of earth. He was suspended in it, clawing through it, tearing his fingers bloody on every little stone he scraped aside, hoping beyond hope they had buried him face up, hoping that there was some chance he would get through this alive so he could save her.

  Chapter One

  The road was hard enough between Isinor and Kitswitch, he really did not need the rain on top of it all. Gideon had been through the mountain pass with its loose gravel and rocky terrain and out onto the grey fields of trash and oily pools of water, hadn't he suffered enough?

  The biometric suit was supposed to keep the acid rain from touching him, supposed to insulate him from every harsh element when he was between bubbles. At one time it had. But that was a long time ago, back when Rolanda had first given it to him so he could be outside Cormac for a day at a time. Back when the suit was new and he didn't need to be between bubbles. Back before she was taken.

  The acid rain seeped in at a hole in his shoulder pad, his skin burning as it dripped through. He twisted the throttle on his old motorcycle, navigating around a long since corroded transport vehicle, and tried to ignore the pain.

  The bubble of Kitswitch loomed in the distance, but Gideon knew enough not to get excited. The glass housing around the city was massive, miles wide, a clear mountain around an entire city. He still had a ways to go.

  The bike handled well under him as he traveled through the mute brown valley, the tires gripped hard even when the dry earth shifted under him. Overhead the grey-green clouds darkened and the rain picked up. It was bad but not unbearable, he had been through worse. And besides, it wasn't like he had a choice. He gunned the throttle to the full to try to outrun it. The strain on his arms became a dull ache as the bike surged forward, he had to get there fast before the heaviest rain came on.

  ...

  The acid rain dried into a fine grey dust by the time the entrance airlock to Kitswitch sealed behind him. Nobody traveled between cities, yet some of the larger bubbles still kept cubbies to store vehicles in. It was a sort of hopeless vanity, the weather got worse each year, anyone could see that. Only the crazy or the desperate chanced travel. Still, Gideon was glad to be able to lock up his bike. He strapped his pistol, an old fashioned six-shooter, under his seat. There was no point in drawing more attention to himself than he needed to. He took off his riding jacket and donned an old brown duster.

  He had been there once before, back before his parents had gotten sick and left him alone in the world. The girls in the street had all put flowers in their hair. He had been entranced by the smell they gave off when they moved. Kitswitch prized itself on its flowers, and by the sweet smell wafting through the air, not much had changed. Flowers of every color decorated the outside of houses along the street, Gideon took a moment to look at a narcissus before moving on. Though its petals were closed in the fading light it was still an anomaly. The teachers in Cormac used to say that flowers once grew everywhere, Gideon wasn't sure if he believed that or not. He was hard pressed to imagine a world that wasn't grey.

  Gideon changed his money at a bank. It was a pain, they always took a cut and Gideon's stockpile was dwindling, but it was necessary.

  He took a moment to look back out of the bubble, the glass had a faint reflection so he could see the variation between the rolling dust clouds outside of the circle and the green gardens behind him. It was crazy, but for a moment he wished he were still out there, standing in the rain, getting burned badly enough that none of this would matter anymore. The moment passed and he walked into the city.

  His muscles and bones ached with exhaustion but every lodging he stopped at asked to see his identification. He would have probably been fine, bubbles rarely communicated with one another, but he couldn't afford to take the chance. The least populated street would have to do for a bed. He found one with a few vagrants sleeping on the ground and he chuckled to himself, even a rich city like Kitswitch had homeless people. He propped himself against a wall and was asleep in an instant.

  ...

  In the morning the sun rose vibrant and red through the glass, the storms had passed in the night. Red sun in the sky, okay to fly. Not that it mattered in here, the bubble kept all the storms outside, but Gideon had made it a habit to keep an eye out for any indication the weather was changing. It was the only thing that kept him alive in between bubbles.

  A peace officer walked by and looked at him a little too long, so Gideon picked himself up and walked on. The hum of an electric rail system whirred above his head. Gideon followed the track with his eyes, it looked like it did a simple loop around the place, weaving between buildings. A bicyclist passed, swerving to avoid him on the street and cursing.

  In a city like Kitswitch, there wasn't really a bad part of town, so Gideon didn't know where to start looking. They hid their bad in the cracks and crevices
. “Do you know where I can get some company?” he asked a stranger walking by. The man shrugged away from him, averting his eyes and quickening his pace. He got the same reaction from the next few people he asked. Finally a stout man in a bowler cap pulled him aside.

  “You want to be careful how you ask those things,” he said. The man needed a shave and smelled like day old whiskey, but Gideon leaned in close to him. His pores were large and filled with grease and his shoulders were bunched up and tense. “You aren't from around here, are you? You a rider?”

  Gideon shook his head.

  The man smiled and his shoulders relaxed. He was missing a tooth in front. “People like to believe the things that you're asking about aren't things that exist in a place like Kitswitch. Most of them got their underclothes pulled up too high if you ask me, they believe a person hasn't got any desires. But guys like you and me know." He winked and nudged Gideon with his elbow. "Thing is, you got to know how to ask, you can't just go mugging people straight out. There's a lot of territory issues with the riders, you don't want to ask the wrong person.”

  “Where?” Gideon asked.

  “You looking for company for a night or a lifetime?”

  “I can get company for my lifetime?”

  “You can get company for theirs,” the man gave him a yellow grin, “it doesn't have to be for yours.”

  Gideon scratched at his face, giving him a much needed breather from the man's stench. “I need to know where I can find both.”

  The man rubbed his hands together and cackled with delight. "Wonderful, wonderful. I'd just ask for a small donation for that information. Nothing much for a man like yourself, just a few marks."

  Gideon had a five note in his hand. He had expected as much, no one did anything for free, and as soon as the man was paid he wrote down an address. "The Cantina," he said. "That should have what you're looking for."

  Gideon hopped the rail to the place, thankful to be away from the man's stench and his leer. He cracked his knuckles and watched as the city rolled by underneath him.

  The address was on a street lined with neon signs completely devoid of people. It was barely midday, so Gideon ate a sparse lunch and waited for the sun to go down. He had long ago discovered that streets like these only come alive at night. Many of the bars along the street had biblical names; Fallen Angel, Horny Goat, Garden of Earthly Delights, things like that. The only one that didn't was the one he was looking for, the Cantina. It wasn't like the others, there were no neon lights nor gaudy pictures of women in the windows. It simply looked like any other building, a few windows smudged up with grime, paint that was peeling off in strips, cigarette butts littering the front stoop. Gideon leaned up against the Fallen Angel across the street and waited.

  Waiting was always the worst for him. Though he tried to keep his mind blank and still, too many little nagging whispers kept forcing their way in. Was she alright? How long would he have to be doing this? Who had her? The sun went down while he fought off his thoughts.

  Soon the street began to fill with men and women drinking and smoking, going in and then coming out of the buildings. Gideon watched several people enter the Cantina before standing and walking in it himself. Once inside he was frisked thoroughly by two large men wearing suits that bulged around their right hips before being pushed inside. Gideon found himself in an empty room save for a single man standing and polishing glasses behind the bar. He cocked an eyebrow, he was sure he saw a good amount of people come in before himself. Where had they all gone?

  “Kind of an empty place, isn't it?” Gideon asked as he saddled up to a stool. The tables were empty, a fine sheen of dust visible over everything. No one had sat at any of those tables in years. What was going on?

  “We don't do much business," the bartender said, his eyes never leaving Gideon. "What can I get for you?”

  “A whiskey, please.” The contents of the bar were innocuous. There were pictures up on the wall of people that Gideon didn't recognize with signatures scratched across them, vintage signs for types of beer that Gideon had never tried, and old pieces of farming equipment that proudly showed rust from age. He leaned across the bar and lowered his voice. “I didn't really come here for a drink.”

  The bartender smiled, revealing an impressive collection of sharp and brilliantly white teeth. Gideon had the disturbing sensation of staring at a wild animal, though nothing of the rest of the bartender's demeanor would hint at that. The rest of him was as innocuous as the bar itself, mid-sized shoulders, plain clothes, shaven face, but those teeth set Gideon on edge. They were wild teeth, animal teeth. Teeth that were built for piercing and tearing flesh. “Not many do. Are you in town for the fight?”

  Gideon sipped at the whiskey placed in front of him and his heart skipped a beat. The bartender's eyes betrayed no hint of emotion. Gideon kept his breathing steady and measured. “What do you mean? I live right on the other side of the rail.”

  Those teeth flashed again. “No you don't. Your shoes are half melted away. You a rider? We don't affiliate or discriminate against any clan, you should know that.”

  Gideon wished desperately that his gun was still strapped to his waist. There was nothing on the walls that he could use as a weapon if it came down to it, he would have to rely on his fists. “I ride, but I'm not a rider.” He pulled up his sleeves and showed two bare forearms to the bartender. “No mark.”

  “There sure isn't a mark, but something's deviling you. You look at things out of the corners of your eyes,” That toothy grin came back again. “Like I do. You're welcome here so long as you don't cause trouble. You're not a rider, and you're not a peace officer.” He leaned back and pressed at something below the bar. An audible click came from behind Gideon. “Men's room is open,” the bartender said, nodding his head towards the door.

  Gideon hesitated half way to the bathroom. “How did you know I'm not a peace officer?”

  The bartender tongued his canines in a feral way. “An officer wouldn't have been looking around the room for something to kill me with.”

  ...

  The men's bathroom was a white tiled room that had a noticeable lack of the smell of shit or piss or disinfectant. It smelled like just any other room, and had just as much dust everywhere as the bar outside. Everywhere except for a trail along the ground leading to a full length mirror that now swung wide open, revealing a passageway behind it. There was a stone set of winding stairs behind the mirror. Gideon swallowed hard before stepping down onto the first step.

  “It's not a grave,” he told himself quietly.

  As the staircase wound down the sounds of music and shouting grew louder and the smell of sweat and sawdust floated up towards him. A strobe of flickering neon lights danced up the stairs as he got to the bottom, and soon Gideon stepped into a crowded throng of people cheering.

  At the center of the room an elevated platform had a silver cage around it and the sounds of a struggle were accompanied by the cheers of the crowd. A man stood on one side of the cage, bare chested and bloodied, with his hands tightly gripped into fists. Gideon raised his eyebrows and stood on his toes to see what the man was fighting. Hunched down in a fighting stance, the fur along its back raised, teeth bared, was the largest wolf Gideon had ever seen. It too had blood flecked around its body. The fighter and the wolf stalked each other around the cage, each scoring hits with fists or teeth. The wolf growled and spit dripped from its maw onto the mat they were fighting on.

  There were couches to one side of the cage and Gideon slid over onto an empty one, getting a better view of the crowd around him. Some were standing, some were sitting on couches or chairs like himself, most were well dressed in suits and dresses with ties loosened and jackets thrown over chairs. In and around the area of the couches there were several young w
omen wearing only bras and panties. Those who weren't serving were sitting on the laps of the people on the couches. A bald old man on the couch across from Gideon was sucking on the exposed breast of a woman who couldn't have been more than eighteen, his wrinkled hand pulling aside her panties as she sat on his lap. Her face had the blank and passive look of either drugs or boredom. There were many more women around Gideon with this exact same look on their face.

  A woman with angled features drawn onto her face sat down beside Gideon. She too wore only a bra and panties, her face covered thickly with make up, eyebrows drawn in where they had been plucked out. Her lips were painted garishly red and glistened in the low light of the basement. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked. Gideon nodded, he had left the whiskey upstairs. “Do you want to buy me one too?”

  Gideon cocked an eyebrow and the woman pointed to the old man next to them. There were two abandoned drinks next to them, still full. He now had his finger up to his wedding ring inside of the woman on his lap.

  “Sure,” Gideon said and he took out his wallet, handing her a bill. She ignored it and reached for a larger one before bouncing off. In a moment she was back with two iced drinks and she handed him one. It tasted sweet and strong, some sort of alcoholic tea. A feeling of warmth spread through Gideon as he sipped it. The woman waited for Gideon to set down his drink and then sat down on his lap, grinding herself into the fork in his pants. He lifted her gently and set her beside him on the armrest instead. “What's your name?” he asked.