3 SUM (11 page)

Suddenly whistles were blowing everywhere. I followed the others up the ladders. There was only one way to go, and we charged the barbed wire, bayonets on rifles. I winced as one of our tanks crushed a fallen comrade, friendly fire.

A machine gunner was cutting us down like grass. I ran to the pillbox, and threw in a grenade. Hands over my ears I counted to three, or should it be five? All hell was coming apart around me, until I felt someone pat me on the shoulder.

“Well done, soldier,” said Anais.

Bodies were falling like the rain on both sides, men were screaming, shaking, bloodied and maimed, but as evening approached we were the last men standing. I looked at the fields of corpses no longer horrified but anaesthetised. To live through the danger and live, somehow that felt invigorating yet tinged with guilt to have survived.

There were few stretcher bearers, but plenty of shemales putting the basket cases out of their misery with a final bullet to the head. At least I hadn't lost mine in the heat and hate of battle. My reward was sharing Anais' tent, but together always had a nasty habit of falling apart before we could actually get together.

They entered uninvited, a law unto themselves: two shemale military police. They were suited for authority and booted.

“Well, well, the rumours are true,” said one, looking at me.

“It's not what you think,” said Anais.

“It doesn't matter what I think. You're wanted at General HQ immediately, and lover boy too.”

I wanted to stand my ground, instead I felt I was sinking into it.

“Why?” asked Anais.

“Treason, assassination, and subverting the Femocracy.”

“Doesn't get any more serious, does it Colonel?” said the other shemale, smirking.

They drew their weapons. I wanted to draw their blood.

“Assassination?” I asked.

“General Rolliet,” they both said.

They seemed pleased with themselves.

“Lights in the sky,” a voice shouted outside.

They're called stars I thought, only they weren't, unless you needed the Undiagnosed bombers to give you some breathing space before your last breath. The whistling alarming as the bombs dropped through the sky, and the blasts all around shredded your nerves. You had no idea which tent or piece of ground would disintegrate next.

The shemale MPs looked at one another under their long coated eyelashes.

“Dead or alive,” they said together.

Sometimes things just go slow, other times, important times they move in slow motion, like now. Fingers were on their triggers, about to squeeze, as a wall of flames ripped through our tent. The MPs took the force of the blast, and Anais and I were knocked off our feet.

“Do you believe me now?” I asked as I held her in my arms.

She nodded, and I had a feeling now was my time to prove the prof was right about everything, especially me.

We headed for the woods, stepping over bodies, and circumventing the craters. We crossed to the other side under the gaze of the moon.

“No turning back,” said Anais, holding my hand.

“No turning back,” I repeated, looking into her eyes.

She hesitated but then to my delight threw away her cyanide pill. It was a vote of confidence in the new me.

The night air was cool and so was my head. I had realised that without danger life was nothing but complacency.

There was a river ahead. We stayed out of sight along the bushes before we found a narrow crossing point.

“Can you swim?” she whispered.

I nodded.

“You?”

“I think I've been doing the backstroke all of my life.”

We were out of the frying pan and into the fire, but still cold and wet.

“We have to find the nearest town and get out of these clothes,” she said.

We were shivering.

“First let's share our body heat,” I said.

“Oh, you mean a hug,” she finally replied.

She was kind of right.

I was worried as daylight approached, and I still didn't see cover. As the clouds cleared we followed the belching chimneys to the power station. There was a small railway hub outside with empty coal wagons. They had to return somewhere, and with two stowaways on board. We took our ride and our chances. At least we could ‘hug.'

The prof, my mentor of sorts, was dead, or at least I hoped he was. There were rumours of the gruesome protracted deaths that awaited those that had turned to the other side. He'd known about the bombing raid, I just hoped he was right about Queensy. Anais helped me brush up on my Russian.

2gether

Chapter Nineteen

“Her name was Sleazy. She could have been a real doll, but that wasn't her style. It wasn't mine either, that's why we met in Shanghai Lil's the brothel at the far end of town, downtown, near the docks. Me? I was just a kid with empty pockets and a head full of dreams. But my fantasy soon turned into a nightmare, after someone slipped a sleeping powder into my vodka. They needn't have bothered; the alcohol was knocking me out all on its own. I was a punk who liked vanilla milkshakes trying to act the tough guy, kidnapped for a life on the high seas.''

I reached for the bag of popcorn taken from the food market on the ground floor.

“But now I was captain of my own ship, The Crazy Joy, and a pirate who took no prisoners. If anyone got in my way they were sliced in half, used as sea bait. I didn't act as hard as sailor's biscuits; I was. And when I wanted a woman I didn't ask. Power came too easy, but then I met her, and my heart melted.”

“You've been watching that movie all night, Valiant, are you going to be OK in the morning?” asked Anais.

We were in Minsky's, a Department Store, hiding. I switched off the film; I'd already seen the ending, twice.

“You're right. I need some rest, and company.”

But did men really act like the heroes on the screen, or was it propaganda?

We were in the bedding department, on a king size mattress with goose feather pillows, and silk sheets. I felt nervous. I knew what Anais expected as I knelt beside her.

“Well, are you going to show me the monster we have created?” she asked, unfastening my clean, new shirt.

I'd left the dirty towels neatly piled in a laundry basket, couldn't break the habit of a lifetime.

We ripped each other's clothes off; there were plenty more hanging on the rails.

“What are you thinking?” she asked as we lay back on the pillows.

“If it was as good as Lusterone.”

“What's that?” she replied.

They used to say ‘a girl is never alone with Lusterone.' But I'd just found her better company.

I rolled on top of her, too excited to talk. I'd communicate in another way.

We were rudely awoken by the shutters rolling up, and quickly dressed off the rails. We'd packed a small case, and grabbed some shoes before pressing the lift to the ground floor. The movie DVD ‘The Crazy Joy' was in my pocket, and we stepped confidently between two cleaners and onto the streets.

Between the morning sunshine and freedom, Russia didn't seem too bad after all, and already I'd seen men at the steering wheel, without makeup. Things were on the up.

I looked over my shoulder at the blue flashing lights across from Minsky's. They'd found the tills ripped open, and the suitcase I carried was loaded with more than clothes, we had local currency too. Now we just needed a hotel to get clean, and then dirty all over again. I could get used to this.

We'd worked up a hunger, and headed for breakfast. We followed the beeline inside the burger bar, and everyone ignored the tramp propped against the wall outside. I grabbed a paper to read, and pretended I was Russian. Anais had worked in interrogation and was fluent; I felt like a beginner again.

“So, that's what meat tastes like,” I whispered in her ear.

“I'm a day ahead of you,” she said, smiling.

It was so good Anais went back for a second helping for both us, and more coffee. I was beginning to see why they wanted to open our eyes. This was a life that looked good enough to live, embrace, and I hadn't seen anything yet.

I steadily noticed one thing though, everyone was packing, and their thumbs never seemed far from the safety. Still, if you had something worth keeping, you'd want to protect it.

A couple of heavies in restaurant attire were dragging a bundle of protesting rags away from the window. Bad for business I guessed. Speaking of heavies, I was one of the few slim guys there.

Anais placed her index finger on the back of my hand. Code for stay put and don't talk. Two guys in uniform strode to the front of the queue. No one protested and I guessed they were pretty important. They ordered coffee and doughnuts, and when they left the volume rose.

“Police,” said Anais.

I smiled, wondering if it was OK to speak or move. But I could have stayed there, next to her, forever; she had a face from Heaven and an ass hotter than Hell. Her jeans were tight, and mine were loose; they needed to be.

She scratched her ear with her little finger, another code, and I relaxed.

“I need a shower,” I said too loud, damn, and in English.

An old lady looked over; her eyes never left me until Anais spoke with a heavy Russian accent.

“What did you say to her?” I asked.

“We were on a first date and you were trying to impress me that you were a spy: a double agent on leave.”

The old lady got up and winked at me as she left.

Anais pinched my arm, “You're taken.”

I laughed, probably too long, but I was nervous; we were surrounded by the enemy.

“Well, that's a relief,” I said on the street.

“To come out full, or alive?” asked Anais.

“Both.”

“Kiss me,” she said, pulling me towards her.

Finally, I asked her, “Am I that good?”

She looked down the street at the two men walking away. “Undercover police.”

They looked no different than the other hundred guys I'd seen this morning. “How can you tell?”

“Their hats,” she said, “bear skin.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about the Undiagnosed,” I said.

“Don't get too paranoid, soldier, knowing your enemy is an advantage. And don't get too comfortable either, we're not staying.”

“We?”

“OK me, you get to choose. Just help get me back with what I need: the evidence to clear my name.”

“Where now?” I asked.

“The cinema, as you seem to like movies so much. And don't worry, we'll sit on the back row.”

We bought two tickets for ‘The Crazy Joy 2,'and queued again for two large popcorn, candy, and cola. I even managed some Russian at the till.

We came out late afternoon, overdosed on chocolate. Men and women were walking together along the pavements, some hand in hand. I tried it with Anais, she didn't resist, and I instantly felt like bedding her. Anais was one step ahead and pointed at the sign, ‘The Hotel Orlov.'

“Let me do the talking,” she said.

“What if they ask me a question I don't get?”

“Act dumb. I'll say it's shellshock.”

Finally, we were shown to our room.

“What was all that all about?” I could guess the remonstrating was about more than getting a room with a view.

“He wanted to see our papers,” said Anais.

“We haven't got any.”

“I paid extra.”

“Was it enough?”

“We'll find out, I guess.”

I sighed, even flexed a muscle or two subconsciously.

“Let's wash the grime away,” she said, heading for the bathroom.

Chapter Twenty

The ‘Hotel' neon light was outside our room, burning brightly through the cheap curtains. We'd got used to it; hadn't been out for three days. Meals were brought in, paid in advance. They included animal meats, and I was feeling beefier.

“What on earth are you doing?” asked Anais between our latest romantic encounter.

“Press ups. I saw it on the TV.”

She crawled underneath me, and our noses touched.

Our lips kissed each time I went down. Eventually I gave in, until we noticed another light through the curtains, flashing blue.

“You think ...?”

“Let's get ready, just in case.”

I checked the window, the police car was empty. We ventured onto the fire escape, sad to leave, but still together. The honeymoon was over as we crept along the pavement. Over my shoulder the cops were looking through the guest list as we made our escape. But it was night time, and we had no idea where we were going.

A woman was shouting down a mobile phone before hanging up. She pushed it inside her long strapped bag but it hit the floor. She hadn't noticed, so I chased after her; Anais followed. Perhaps she knew a place we could go?

“Miss, please,” I said.

As we turned the corner he was grabbing her arm, dragging her to the car, until I sliced his hand with the steak knife I'd kept from the hotel. Unlike me, he was in no mood for a fight and sped off.

“This is yours,” I said, holding the phone and smiling.

I awaited my thanks, and she snatched it back.

“You gonna ruin my business,” said the young woman.

I could give her a few makeup tips. Her eyeliner was too thick, her lipstick smudged, and her clothes way too revealing for night time.

“And what business is that?” asked Anais.

The girl laughed, “This is Seymour Street, pay more, and you see more.”

We didn't have a clue.

“I'm a hooker.”

Still no idea.

“Are you two from another planet?” she asked.

“Out of town,” said Anais.

“What about him, he's a guy isn't he?”

“Shellshock.”

“Honey, I get them too, still wanting and willing to pay for Raisa.”

Eventually Anais understood, and she whispered to me.

“What did you just tell him?” asked Raisa.

“What you told me.”

“And he can't understand me?”

“Not as much as me,” said Anais.

My Russian was a little ropy, but it would help if she slowed down. It was coming back to me but I'd preferred Chinese at school. I was a natural.

China was neutral but had long been suspected of colluding with the Undiagnosed. It wouldn't have been all bad if they'd joined forces; forget the superior numbers, I'd have been earning a fortune at HQ.

“Are you two leaving?” asked Raisa. “You're making me nervous.”

“Perhaps we can help each other, you did say we were bad for business,” said Anais.

“He was one of my best customers.”

“Then even more reason to accept my proposal,” said Anais.

“Sorry, honey, I only do guys. I gotta draw the line somewhere.”

“I'm not after sex, just a place to stay.”

“Look, I don't care who you're running from or why, just how much can you pay?”

“How much do you charge for sex?”

“Fifty credits, but, I already told you, I don't do women.”

“And how many men do you see in a night?”

I wasn't in on the conversation, but they seemed to be getting along.

“Usually two or three, five on a good night.”

“Let's say I believe you. I'll pay you five hundred to stay the night.”

“Two thousand.”

“One thousand.”

“Done.”

“But you have to stay with us, the entire time.”

“Now you've gone and spoiled it.”

“Deal or no deal?”

Raisa thought for a moment, “OK, but remember no sex; at least with you, he's not bad.”

Now that I could understand, and Raisa was looking in my direction, licking her lips. Were the stories of cannibalism true?

We followed Raisa under the streetlights, and passed several dishevelled co-workers, some climbing into cars, others out. Some vehicles were sleek, others old and grubby like their owners. Whatever possessed these women? That question was soon answered by the empty syringes on the floor.

“Sorry,” said Raisa as she cleaned them up, and quickly pushed them into a box marked ‘Broken Biscuits.'

There was an overflowing bin, and used teabags on the sink, next to a sugar bowl with a dead fly on top.

Anais came closer. “We'll take it in turns to sleep,” she said.

“I agree.”

“You're sure there are no needles in the bed?” asked Anais.

Raisa threw the cover back, “See for yourself.”

It wasn't hotel standard but we needed some rest, and it was a double. Raisa saw the disgust on my face at the sweat stained flannelette.

“I'll get new sheets,” she said, and Anais sighed with relief.

They made the bed together, as I watched, smiling. You didn't have to be a mind reader to figure out my thoughts.

Anais climbed in first. Her jeans and bomber jacket were on the back of a pine chair, chipped and stained like everything else around here. She looked a vision in her white pants and vest as she fell asleep.

“Shame you're slow on the uptake, handsome,” said Raisa.

She was looking right at me, but I could hardly keep my eyes open. Bravely I approached the sink, rinsed out a mug, and made a coffee. I used the white powdered coffee-mate; at least, I hoped that's what it was.

Chapter Twenty-One

I'd have been shot on the front lines for dereliction of duty and insubordination, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. I was sprawled on the sofa with a cushion in my arms. The hooker hadn't turned us in but there was a noise outside, and it wasn't pretty.

Raisa lifted the blind gingerly. It was daybreak, and the light hit Anais' picture perfect face. For a moment they were almost side by side, and I wondered whom I preferred? Anais with her dreamy eyes and cute nose, or Raisa the hooker with dark circles, and the downturned mouth. She had pockmarks too but eyes willing to see and do anything you wanted and could pay for. I instantly saw the attraction of complete depravity and control.

They were marching closer.

“It's Semyon, my pimp,” said Raisa. “Hide in the wardrobe.”

I was reluctant, we were fish in a barrel ready to be shot, but Anais took my hand. I could see the other fella's hand too, through the slats from behind the few meagre clothes; it was cut. And Semyon was waving a gun. It was surprising how quickly you picked up a name when your life depended on it.

They pinned Raisa down, and that was about as much as I could stomach. The guy with the cut hand was now on the end of my knife staggering around the room, ready to drop dead.