Requiem for a Mouse (9 page)

GUNTHER

By the time Gunther awoke, Lissandra was already gone. He stepped out of their bedroom to see their mother in her usual place. He sighed and shook her awake. “Mom, go to your room, don’t let Leon wake up to this.”

His mother groaned and rolled away from him. “Just let me sleep.”

“Mother,” Gunther said as if scolding a child. “I’m the man of the house now, go sleep in your own bed, not on the couch like this.

Elizabeth turned toward him, “I will, just give me a few minutes.” Her words brought out a nauseous gas of alcohol and morning breath.

“I don’t have a few minutes. I need to get going to look for a job.”

Elizabeth gave no response. She pulled her blankets up higher so that it covered half her face. Had this been a few days ago, Gunther would’ve tried coaxing her, but he was sick of this game. He grabbed a clump of her blankets and yanked it off of her.

“Either way, you’re going into your room.” Gunther said. “I’ll either carry you there or you can get up and walk there yourself like a god damn adult.”

This caught his mother’s attention. She jerked awake and stood up with a fierce scowl. Gunther straightened his back and returned her glare. He stood a whole head taller than her.

“I’m the man of the house now,” Gunther repeated. “Go sleep in your room.”

“I’m your mother.”

“So go to your room, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth slapped Gunther, grunting with exertion. The slap resounded throughout the living room before dying down into a tense silence. Gunther didn’t even blink, he continued glaring.

“Go.” He ordered Elizabeth.

Elizabeth stumbled away shaking her head. Gunther followed her the entire way with his gaze. It was only when her door had slammed shut that he allowed himself to look away. He sighed and left the house.

The Riverside Tavern was deserted, save a single table. The men around it wore facial hair tangled with dirt while the women wore dirty tops that revealed more than it covered. They hollered at Gunther, screaming nonsense and laughing. Gunther ignored them and proceeded to the bar.

The bar itself shone brilliantly. Gunther could see his reflection through the polished wood. Even the stools by the bar stood without wobble. But besides the bar itself, cobwebs infected every corner of the Riverside Tavern. Old stains splashed across the rotting wood of the surrounding tables and chairs.

“Do you have any work for me today?” Gunther asked the bartender.

The bartender had a thick head of graying hair. The dim lighting of the bar glinted off his glasses as he looked up at Gunther. “I don’t.” His voice was deep and scratchy.

“Please, I really need the money. I’m willing to do whatever, just give me enough for some food and I’ll work all day.”

“Gunther, no matter how many times you ask me, I still won’t have work for you.”

“Do you know of anyone that might be hiring? I’m strong and I work hard. I can do anything.”

“I don’t have anything for you to do.” The bartender responded. “Look, I heard about what happened to your dad. I knew him back when he was working in Hawk’s Lair. So consider this a favor. I know somebody who’s looking for workers, I can pass on your name if you’d like.”

“Please!”

“Well, perhaps ‘favor’ is the wrong word to use.” The bartender took off his glasses and looked at Gunther with an icy blue eye. His other eye was a faded grey, the pupil completely useless. “These aren’t the type of people you can say no to, Gunther. If I do this, you’ll do whatever is asked of you to do.”

Gunther gave the bartender a curious look. “What kind of work is this?”

“It’s whatever is asked of you.”

Gunther gave him a fragile smile. “You’re not giving me too much to go off of.”

The bartender’s frown deepened. “Come back once you decide to accept, otherwise, don’t.”

The bar fell to silence. Gunther looked around, for the first time noticing that the rambunctious table had completely quieted. Everyone at the table now stared at him.

Gunther gave them a small nod before retreating out of the bar.

BOLT

I can’t fail again.

Bolt recited his speech in his head. Usually, if the sun was up, Bolt was out and about. He would climb on top of buildings and use their roofs as his own personal highway. But today, Bolt had spent his hours of sunlight rehearsing what he would tell Sasha. He hid from her until most the sun had vanished. Now that they were in the midst of preparing for their final drop, he could avoid her no longer.

“Sasha,” Bolt called out.

Spread out under Sasha was a map of the city. It was the only help Project Persist had given them. Sasha looked up, nibbling on her thumb. “Yeah Bolt?”

Bolt looked around to make sure that nobody else was within earshot. “I don’t want to be last.”

Sasha frowned and looked back down. “Okay.”

Bolt stood over Sasha, waiting for her to say more. The longer he waited, the more restless he became. He jammed his hands into his pockets and stood like a statue. “Okay then. Let me know which leg of the drop is mine, and… thanks.” He turned to leave.

That was it?

“Stop,” Sasha said.

Bolt turned and watched her stand. He clenched his hands into fists. This was the talk he had been preparing for.

“Bolt, I know what you want me to say and if I had more time, I’d sit you down and tell you proper, but I don’t. So let me ask you one thing: are you really okay with this?”

Bolt had imagined Sasha to be a lot less tame. He nodded. “It’s better this way. We can’t fail.”

With a sigh, Sasha stood up and closed her eyes. “Bolt.” When her eyes opened again, her words held the edge he had expected them to. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. You don’t even have to go on this last drop. But if you’re going to decide not to, don’t use me as your excuse.”

“I’m not,” Bolt replied. “I just want to do what’s best for everyone.”

“It was everyone that decided you would finish our drops. Everyone believed in you, they still do. It’s only you who’s changed. Do you see Prince and Maverick here trying to switch the order of the drop? Only you’re here.”

“No.” Bolt had prepared all morning, but now that he was actually talking to Sasha, all the words he had recited disappeared. Instead, he found new ones that brought tears to his eyes. “I can’t do it. I barely slept last night just thinking about what would happen if I failed again. Especially as the last leg of the drop. You don’t know what it’s like to finish a drop. There’s the most Hawks. They’re the most desperate. And for all I know, one of you could’ve died getting me the medicine! If I fail, then what would any of that mean?”

Surprisingly, Sasha responded with a gentle smile. “I know it’s hard and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry that we ever asked that of you, but it’s not because we expect you to shoulder everything on your own, it’s because you’re our best bet.”

“That’s a lie! Any of you would make a better choice than me.”

“Then why did we all pick you? We need you, Bolt. That doesn’t change depending on your mood.”

“I can’t,” he whispered.

Sasha walked up to him and gripped his shoulders. “Okay Bolt.” She mimicked his volume. “Switch spots with me, you go first.”

“If I can do it, one of you can probably do it better. I’m not strong like Maverick, or smart like Prince. And for how brave you are, I’m a fucking coward. It’s like God only made me fast to run away!” Despite his best efforts, Bolt couldn’t hold back his tears. He stared at his feet, watching his shame rain down onto the floor.

“Bolt.” Sasha gave his shoulder a small squeeze. “Grit your teeth.”

“What?” Before Bolt could look up, he felt Sasha’s fist ram into his cheek. He stumbled into the side of the wall and fell onto the ground.

“What was that for?” he screamed, his mouth throbbing through every syllable.

“Nobody talks about my family like that.” Sasha stood over Bolt with a proud smile.

Bolt winced as he massaged his cheeks. He always knew how ridiculous Sasha was, but sometimes she still managed to surprise him. “You didn’t have to hit me,” he finally said.

Sasha gave him an outstretched hand. “Yeah I did. If you ever have doubts, I’ll always be here to help you through them. And if you ever start giving into those doubts, you can always count on me to knock some sense into you. So get up off the floor, Bolt.”

JAKE

Dust coated the room. All the windows held decaying planks of wood in front of them. Only slivers of sunlight made it through. The sunlight did very little to brighten the room. In the corner were two boys nearly passed out and in the middle, a table with Jake and Bryce.

Jake’s leg shook. His chair rattled like a snare drum. Occasionally, his knee would hit the tabletop in a deep percussive note. The room lacked any color save for a single yellow package with a knife stuck through it. Jake yanked the knife and watched it bleed white powder. He brought the knife up to his nose and snorted the powder off of it.

“Aghh shit!” he screamed. His chair creaked, complaining about his sporadic movements. “Fuck!” He stood up and sent his chair crashing toward the ground. “I can’t believe that bitch got away!” He slashed the air at the imaginary Mouse in front of him.

“Careful Jake.” Bryce was also shaking. But unlike Jake, he was at least able to remain seated.

“I’m not gonna fucking hit anything.” He continued slashing into the air. His left hand stung which only served to anger him more.

“I mean don’t take too much, The Boss will notice.”

Jake stabbed his knife into the package once again. “Who the fuck cares. I’m not scared of him. It’s not like any of us has ever met him in person. He’s too much of a wimp.”

Bryce frowned and scratched his bald head. “He’s willing to go up against The Dragon. Someone like that has to be pretty strong. I can respect that.”

Thick red lines twisted and intertwined into some strange circle on Bryce’s head. They were painted as if part of some ritual, but Jake had never heard Bryce speak of religion. It was probably a tattoo just to distract from his baldness.

“Fuck!” Jake snorted another line of powder. His body yanked itself up as if having seizure. He picked up his chair and slammed it back upright. “I know, I know. I’m not that stupid. It’s just that she was mine! I had her!” He fell into his chair.

“Who?”

“The fucking Mouse that got away. She was face flat on the dirt and then that red-eyed bitch came along to fuck everything up!” He paused to look at Bryce, “If I ever find her again, she won’t get so lucky. What do you think Number One?”

“My name’s Abrim.” Number One sat in a corner on the ground with Number Two. His eyes were closed as he pushed a needle into his arm. He let out a slow moan.

“Fucking Stickers.” Jake shook his head in disgust. “Much better to do the powder, doesn’t get your mind so fucked up. Isn’t that right Number One?”

“I have a name.” Number One barely whispered. Already he was drifting in and out of consciousness, following Number Two’s example.

“Like I’m going to give fucking Stickers a name. Right Number Two?”

Number Two murmured something inaudible. Both Number One and Number Two had small frames that still managed to stretch their skin. If not for the occasional twitch of a toe, Jake could believe that they died. Not that it mattered.

Jake sighed and looked back at Bryce, “I swear to God, these replacements keep getting worse. I liked our previous Number One and Two better.”

“All they ever do is send us more fucking Stickers. Worthless pieces of trash, can’t run for shit either,” Bryce said.

“Good thing they’re such excellent conversationalists!” Jake shouted at Number One and Two. “Especially when they’re sticking!”

There was no response.

“Fucking Stickers. I hope The Slasher rips your throat out,” Jake said as he drove his knife back into the package. A small white cloud puffed up.

“Have you heard?” Bryce asked Jake. “Apparently The Slasher took out The Boss’s number one Hawk, Jericho.”

“Him? He was a piece of shit.”

“Yeah, but pretty strong.”

Jake chuckled. “I guess that makes us the new number one. More money to us then. I bet you that The Slasher’s just some Mouse with a grudge.” Jake shook his head. “He should really be careful what enemies he makes.”

Bryce laughed. “Maybe we should be the ones being careful. We might be next.”

Jake spit on the ground. “I bet he’s not so tough. If I ever meet him, I’ll cut his fucking balls off.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

“You scared?”
Bryce shook his head. “I just don’t want to be disappointed.”

Jake opened his mouth to retaliate, but three sharp knocks on the door interrupted him. The conversation came to a halt. In two quick strides, Jake was out the door. He found the bag he was looking for, carefully sealed as always.

“More orders?” Bryce asked.

Jake ripped open the bag and took out a neatly folded piece of paper. “Yep.” He tossed it to Bryce to read. Though he would never admit it, he had never learned such a skill.

“It looks like he wants us to hunt tonight.”

“The Boss said… not to go out tonight,” Number One slurred from the corner. It sounded like his tongue had numbed. His head fell forward as if his neck couldn’t support its weight. “He said…, he said it’d be… danger… ous.”

Jake was impressed Number One even had the ability to even respond. “Well, we got new orders now,” he snapped, but Number One had already fallen asleep. Jake watched him drooling on himself.

Stickers are pathetic.

“Shit,” Bryce whistled. “Jake, I think today might be your lucky day.” He held out the letter for Jake to see. “How was it you described that green-eyed Mouse?”

Jake stared into a pair of familiar emerald eyes. Without all the sweat and tangled hair, this girl was beautiful. He ripped the picture off the letter, staring at it more closely. Without a doubt, this was the Mouse he had lost.

Jake smiled. Life was truly wonderful.