Rachel and
Raphael’s apartment
fter a night of fitful
sleep, Raphael woke up and went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of much needed
coffee and some breakfast. It was his day off, so he was up later than usual
and his mother had already left for her shift at The Fishhook, which for once was a relief, because he wanted some
time alone.
The previous night, when
Raff returned to the apartment, his shirt stained with blood and his expression
haunted, Rachel’s irritation at him for not cooking dinner turned immediately
to shock and concern.
“Raphael, what happened?”
“Cassie and I were attacked
by a hobo, he threatened her with a knife, tried to make me give him dad’s
harmonica. Cassie struggled away from him, and her neck got cut.”
While Raff spoke, Rachel
listened and gently stroked his arm, “Cassie, the girl you met on the bus? Is
she alright?”
“Yeah, I got her home and
told her dad what happened, the paramedics stitched her up. She’ll be fine.”
She carefully brushed his
hair away from his eyes, “You did the right thing, sweetheart.”
“I wish Cassie’s father
believed that, he blames me.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t mean
to, he’s just worried about his little girl, that’s all.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Raphael
stood, “I’m going to bed.”
“Don’t you want something
to eat?”
He shook his head, “Not in
the mood. Night mom.”
“Goodnight sweetheart.”
While he sat at the kitchen
table, sipping coffee and nibbling absently at a slice of toast, he realised
that he’d left his father’s harmonica at Cassandra’s apartment. This really
bothered him, because from the days of his early childhood, he’d always carried
it with him.
Although he knew she’d be
at home, Raff didn’t think he could bring himself to face Cassie so soon after
what had happened, or worse still, her father. Peter Phoenix’s cold, steely
anger had cut him deeply. The fact that this kindly old man blamed him for his
daughter’s injury only intensified his own feeling of responsibility.
For the remainder of the
morning, Raff tried to distract himself by working out and watching TV, but
found that he couldn’t get Cassie off of his mind, so he decided to take a walk.
For hours, Raff walked the
streets aimlessly, stopping at a fruit vendor’s table to buy an apple when he
began to feel hungry. As he moved from place to place and saw others doing the
same, he felt that life was going on around him, and that he was merely a
spectator. Suddenly and without consciously
realising it, Raff found himself at the door of Cassie’s apartment. For several
minutes, he just stood there, unsure of whether to walk back home, or knock on
the door. After having this internal argument, he gathered his resolve and
knocked on the door.
When she opened the door,
Cassie’s face lit up with a wonderful smile, “Hey! I thought you weren’t gonna
come back, I’m so happy you did.”
Looking at her, in a
beautiful light blue dress, all Raff said was, “I don’t really know what I’m
doing here.”
Without replying, she took
his hand, led him inside and told him to sit down.
“Do you want something to
drink? I just got back from the grocery store, so we’ve got beer.”
“Uh, I’d rather have some
juice if you’ve got it.”
“Orange juice coming up.”
She fetched a glass, handed
it to him and sat down on the couch opposite him. The same couch he’d left her
sitting on the day before.
She watched him drink with
a pleased expression on her face. After a few sips, he put the glass down and
said, “This is crazy, what are we doing? I almost got you killed yesterday and
now I’m sitting here drinking orange juice.”
“First off, you stopped
that old man before he could really hurt me. Secondly, I didn’t think he’d do
that. I gave him money too, remember?”
“But I---“
“But nothing,” she rose from her seat and
knelt in front of him. Once again taking his hand, she fixed him with a steady,
unblinking gaze,” I’m only going to say this once more, so you better believe
me this time. What happened yesterday
wasn’t your fault, you protected me and brought me back here as quickly as you
could, I’m always going to be grateful to you for that.”
Raff was caught off guard
by her kiss. It was tender, but firm. At first, he was a passive participant in
it, simply enjoying the sensation, but this didn’t last long. When he returned
the action, it was equally as passionate as Cassie’s, and it locked their lips in
a powerful embrace.
When their lips finally
parted, the two young people looked at each other in a kind of stunned silence,
neither one sure of what to say.
“Uh, wow,” Raff said
hazily, finally breaking the silence.
“I’ve been wanting to do
that for weeks,” said Cassie.
“Well what took you so damn
long?”
She smiled, “Oh shut up,
you weren’t exactly taking the driver’s seat on this.”
She got up and walked down
the passage, into another room. When she returned, she held his father’s
harmonica in one hand and in the other, the switchblade she’d been injured
with, “I thought you’d want this back.”
Raff was simultaneously
pleased and disturbed. He took the harmonica and after running his thumb over
its surface, put it in his pocket. He hesitantly took the knife, “Have the cops
come to see you about what happened?”
“Well yeah, but by the time
they got here, he was gone. They said there was almost no chance of finding
him, not that they really cared. You know what it’s like.”
He thought about the fact
that the police had done next to nothing to identify the person who’d robbed
him of his father, and nodded grimly, “Yeah, I do. But why’d you keep the
knife?”
Cassie pondered the question
for a moment and said, ”As twisted as this might seem, I want you to have it.”
Raff looked confusedly at
Cassie, “What kind of gift is that? Wouldn’t you rather I get rid of it?”
She shook her head, ”You
shouldn’t only see it as something that hurt me, keep it to remind you of our
relationship.”
Raff pocketed the knife,
“Okay, if that’s what you want.”
Just then, her father entered
the apartment. Raff jumped nervously to his feet, “Easy Raff, he’s not gonna hurt
you, but you two should talk.”
“Hey cupcake, I’m ba---
can’t seem to stay away can you?” Peter said, switching in mid-sentence when he
saw the young man.
“I came back for my
harmonica, I’ll be going now.”
Before he could take a step
toward the door, Cassie clamped her hand firmly onto his shoulder, digging her
fingers in just a little, “Uh uh, I’m not letting you pull that again. If
you’re both going to be in my life, you need to deal with this.”
“Fine,” Peter said, taking
off the cap he wore as he sat down on the couch, “let’s talk.”
“Mr Phoenix, I want you to
understand how bad I feel about what happened. The thief fed us that bullshit
story and I listened to all of it, I let my guard down with a stranger, and in
this city, that’s dangerous.”
“Yes it is, but I suppose
that if you lose your faith in people, what do you really have? Listen Raphael,
I didn’t mean to take it out on you, but think about how it looked, you burst
through the door with my daughter in your arms, she was bleeding and pale as a
ghost. No father ever wants to see that.”
“I don’t blame you for
freaking out sir, but I hope you know that Cassandra means a lot to me.”
Peter smiled a wry smile,
“That damn well better be true, because she practically ripped my head off for
blaming you, wouldn’t shut up all night.”
Cassie giggled, “You never
were any good at keeping a secret, daddy.”
“Why bother? If you like
him enough to behave like a mental patient all night, he can’t be all bad.”
Cassie took Raff’s hand and
squeezed it tightly, “Yeah, I think I’ll keep him.”
Raff spent the rest of the
afternoon getting to know Cassie’s father, and when he finally did leave, he
felt at peace once more.
On the road,
approaching the harbour
ight had fallen once again,
and it was almost time for Blackjack to pull another shipment raid. This time
though, his contacts warned that there might be some guards on it, so he had
called in the whole crew.
Tonight they were in a
large panel-van, driven by Dylan Ramirez. One of Joe’s oldest friends, Dylan was
just a year younger than him, and quite beautiful. She had long raven hair,
soulful brown eyes, and a toned and physically fit body. A running joke about
Dylan was that she could drive anything, from a mo-ped to a military assault
vehicle. It was due to this that Blackjack considered her essential for any and
all sizeable jobs. There was nobody better in a high-speed pursuit.
Hugh sat in the back of the
vehicle, along with Ramirez’ teenage brother, Tobias. Everyone called him
Twitch, because he had the nervous habit of talking too much, too quickly.
However, when it came to locks, be they electronic or old-fashioned, Twitch
could break through anything. This almost made up for his awkward nature and
sometimes strange behaviour. Although it intensely annoyed him, Dylan was very
protective of her little brother, and kept him out of as much trouble as she
could. Both their parents had died many years earlier, caught in the crossfire
of one of The Haunt’s most brutal riots, and it had fallen to Dylan to raise
Twitch. Blackjack had found them and given them shelter when their need was
dire, and they’d been close ever since.
“So Joe (Dylan never called
him Blackjack) what’s the score tonight?”
“Well, as far as I know,
it’s a load of computer equipment.”
“Sweet!” Twitch piped in.
He was skinny and fairly weak, but his understanding of machinery and
electronics was innate, and far above average.
“Easy there, Skippy,”
smirked Hugh, “don’t get all worked up.”
Dylan turned to feign a
glare at him, “Watch yourself Kilpatrick.”
Hugh smiled toothily at
her, “My apologies, Ramirez.”
“If there’re new Zentex
systems, I’m keeping one.”
“I think we can swing
that,” said Blackjack.
The group arrived at the
entrance of the harbour. A large iron gate, secured by a length of heavy chain
and a formidable lock blocked their path. Blackjack, Hugh and Twitch got out,
while Dylan kept the motor running.
Hugh shook the chain
vigorously, “I don’t think I can break this, Joe.”
Twitch rolled his eyes,
“Just because it’s called breaking and entering, doesn’t mean you always have to break something, Hugh.”
One of Twitch’s
eccentricities was that he always wore cargo pants and filled the pockets with
many tools and gadgets. He reached into one and pulled out a long, thin piece
of metal with multiple grooves cut into one end. He inserted the tool into the
lock and rotated it. After just a few seconds, the lock clicked open. Twitch
turned and grinned triumphantly at Hugh.
“You’ve got to admit
Kilpatrick, the boy’s got some skills,” said Blackjack.
“Oh alright, well done
little fella.”
They got back into the van
and drove to the berth where the target vessel was docked. A large cargo ship,
it had a golden wolf’s head and the name Cruz Incorporated painted on its bow.
“Cruz Incorporated is the
biggest company in the city. We better be careful. If they find out who ripped
them off, it could be bad, they could come after us. I was born with all the
right body parts, and I wanna keep it that way,” said Twitch.
“Calm down little brother,
a big company like this won’t even notice one missing shipment,” Dylan
reassured him.
“Well, okay, but I’ll wait here,
you don’t need me for this part anyway.”
Blackjack closed the van’s
sliding door before Twitch could get back in, “Hold on little buddy, there
might be some locks in there we need opened. The dock crew left the entrance
ramp down, but that’s all.”
Reluctantly, Twitch agreed
and followed the other three up the ramp and into the ship. Usually, Dylan
stayed behind, ready to speed away like a bat out of Hell if need be. But this
time she went with, because they weren’t sure how much merchandise there would
be to carry.
The ship was dark and
eerily quiet, the only sound being the faint creak of the ship’s hull. The
group used flashlights to make their way through the corridors and finally,
found a thick steel door marked “Cargo Hold”. Blackjack turned the handle and
found it locked tightly, but there was no keyhole to be seen, “Great, it must
be locked from the inside.”
“Wait Blackjack, look at
this,” said Twitch.
He was talking about a
rectangular panel mounted on the wall next to the door. At the top was a narrow
screen and a large numeric keypad. The rest of the panel was covered in sockets
and ports of various sizes.
“Well at least it’s not
locked from the other side,” Joe said sarcastically.
“I think I’ve got something
that’ll get us in,” Twitch said, pulling a gadget that looked like a small
calculator out of another of his many pockets. Attached to the device was a
long, thin cord, which ended in a cylindrical plug. Twitch examined the door’s security
panel for a moment, then inserted the plug into one of its sockets and punched
in a complex key sequence on his code-breaker. When the sequence was done,
nothing appeared to happen, but after a few seconds, the panel’s screen glowed bright
green and it emitted two high-pitched beeps, “Try it again, Blackjack.”
He did so, and the heavy
door swung open easily on its well-maintained hinges.
“Where’d you get that
thing?” he asked incredulously.
“It’s just a little something
I’ve been working on for a few months, it makes breaking through this kinda
lock much easier.”
“You know Tobias, you
really are a nerd,” said Dylan, playfully punching him on the shoulder as they
walked into the hold.
“And I’m grateful for that
every time we do a job,” Blackjack said as he flipped the light switch. Blackjack’s
information was accurate; the room contained at least twenty rows of large
cardboard boxes, each printed with the large purple Z that served as the Zentex
Computer Corporation’s logo.
“If there’s a heaven, it
must be something like this,” Twitch said, sounding just like an excited child
on Christmas morning. He rushed forward and tore open one of the boxes, “Guys,
these are the new Z-220 Platinum Core computers! The latest thing in
technology, do you know what these are worth?”
“I’m guessing a lot? Now
calm down, we need to figure out how we’re gonna get these back to the van,”
Blackjack replied.
At the very back of the
hold, Hugh found several two-wheeled trolleys, which meant that more than one
box could be moved out a time. The crew took enough units to fill the van, as
well as a few more, which they strapped to the roof.
“See man, what’d we tell
you? No problem.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” said
Twitch.
But Blackjack was wrong
about that.
When they turned back
toward the harbour’s entrance, a black van with the Cruz Inc. emblem on the
hood sped through the gates and blocked the way.
“I don’t like this, Joe,”
said Dylan.
“Just relax, Ramirez,
Kilpatrick and I’ll take care of this.”
The van stopped and four
men in riot suits got out. From this distance, it was hard to tell what weapons
they carried. The men lined up and stood stoically in the distance between the
two vehicles. As Blackjack and Hugh walked toward them, the door opened once
again and a tall, lean man in a long coat and heavy boots strolled over, eyeing
them predatorily. The man’s name was Eli Morgan, and he was the most feared
criminal in The Haunt. A brutally violent psychopath, Morgan took pleasure in
slowly dismantling his victims’ sanity before viscously killing them, and whether
intentionally or not, his appearance exuded terror and dread.
Morgan saw the world
through steely blue eyes, set into a gaunt and heavily scarred face. He kept
his silvery-grey hair in a crew cut. Not much was known about Morgan’s life
before he’d shown up some two decades before, but the rumour was that he had
once been a highly decorated military officer, but was dishonourably discharged
when his superiors discovered that he was torturing prisoners at the base where
he was stationed. This rumour was supported by his favourite weapon, a huge,
double-edged combat knife. One edge was serrated, while the other was straight.
“Nice night for a raid,
isn’t it boys?” he said in his characteristically and unnervingly emotionless
voice.
“We don’t want any
problems, Morgan. We’re just trying to make some cash,” replied Blackjack.
“Of course, I understand,
but you really shouldn’t have tried to steal from my employer.”
He blew a loud two-fingered
whistle, drew his knife and thrust it at Blackjack’s torso. Joe jumped back and
tried to draw Delilah, but Morgan was too quick, and knocked the gun from his
hand, sending it sliding away along the ground. Hugh wanted to help his friend,
but the black-clad guards were headed straight for him, brandishing clubs and
nightsticks. Hugh pulled the shillelagh from his belt, put his hand through the
leather strap and ran forward to meet the four men.
They weren’t as large as
him, but they were broad shouldered and muscular. Hugh knocked the first man
down with a savage blow to the front of his helmet, but faltered as the other three struck his chest and
stomach, finally causing him to fall to his knees, while they continued to
strike his shoulders and back. Through the haze of pain, Hugh tightened his
grip and swung the shillelagh at one of the guards’ legs. The man fell to the
ground, groaning in pain and clutching his shin. One of the two remaining
guards tried to connect with Hugh’s jaw, but he caught the club, yanked it
away, and hit the man in the gut, doubling him over. Panicking as Hugh regained
his feet, the last uninjured man delivered a hard right-cross to the Irishman’s
face. Roaring in anger, he lashed out with a bestial uppercut that sent the
man’s helmet soaring into the air, as he fell, unconscious, to the ground.
Before the winded guard could react, Hugh grabbed him by the throat with both
hands, hoisted him above his head and slammed him down to the ground with all
the force he could muster.
All the while, Blackjack
had continued to battle Morgan. He had drawn an extendable baton from his
jacket. So far, it’d been an even fight, each man had scored several hits, but
neither was able to end the confrontation.
“Get your men out of here,
or I’ll, uh, shoot!”
Twitch had gotten out,
found Delilah and was pointing her shakily at Morgan.
“Isn’t that cute?” Morgan
growled, as he slashed a deep cut in Blackjack’s left forearm. Joe grunted in
pain, but swung the baton and connected with Morgan’s cheek, knocking him to
the ground. He turned and shouted, “Get back in the van, Twitch, it’s under
control!”
But when he turned back,
Morgan stuck his blade deep into Blackjack’s gut. For an instant, Blackjack
just stood where he was, staring blankly. But then he staggered back a few
steps and fell. Twitch screamed “Blackjack!” so loudly that his voice cracked,
while Ramirez watched, hands clenching the steering-wheel in a death grip that
left her knuckles white, horrified. Morgan stood, wiped his mouth with the back
of his hand and walked over to where Joe lay.
Kneeling, he pulled the
knife out slowly, savouring the sound of pure agony that tore from Blackjack’s
lips, “Gabriel Cruz sends his regards. Goodbye Joe.”
Immediately, blood began to
flow freely from the wound. Morgan smiled and waved at Dylan and Twitch, but
before he could turn around, there was another roar, and Hugh dealt an inhuman
shillelagh-shot to the back of Morgan’s head, which made a sickening crack.
Hugh lifted Blackjack
carefully, but he was already losing consciousness. Once in the van, he kicked
the boxes aside and lay Blackjack on the floor, pushing his hands directly onto
the wound, “Get us to Deacon, quick.”
Without a word, Ramirez
slammed down the accelerator, sped past the slowly recovering guards, rammed
their van out of the way and barrelled through the gates in a storm of dust.
=============================================================
[Return next week for Part 7.]
