State of Decay (25 page)

Turning the lock, I stormed back into the bedroom and grabbed the bottle. It took five shots to calm me down again; then I took a deep breath and sat down on the bed next to the photographs.

I meant to look at the one with the big-headed woman again, but I didn’t see it on top of the stack. Pushing the photographs off to the side to spread them out, I saw one underneath that I hadn’t looked at before, and stopped short.

The image looked like a video still of a woman. In the picture she was kneeling down in the snow, holding what looked like a body in her lap while a truck burned a little ways away from her. She had short dirty blond hair, nice cheekbones, and a strong jaw. I recognized her immediately.

I picked up the photo to get a better look. It was the woman from the green concrete room, the woman who carried the split heart. It was the dead woman.

The picture started to shake in my hand. Why did he have a picture of her? What did she have to do with anything?

“It’s how I was,” a woman’s voice said from behind me. I jumped, dropping the picture, and turned to see that she was actually standing there. The woman from the photo, the dead woman from the green room, was standing three feet away. She wasn’t dead this time, though. Her skin and her eyes were normal. She looked sad.

“You know Nico?” I asked. She didn’t answer. She just turned suddenly, her eyes opening wide like she was startled by something only she could hear.

“He’s here—” she started to say, then clutched her chest with one hand.

I waited to see if she would continue, but her eyes just bugged out and her mouth opened and closed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

A second later, blood began to run between her fingers as she held it to her breastbone.

“Hey!”

Jumping off the bed, I stood in front of her, but there was nothing I could do. She wasn’t even really there. She looked down, her face terrified as blood pumped out of the hole that had appeared in her chest. As it did, a black spot grew on her forehead and I watched it form the number 3.

“Help me,” she whispered.

“I can’t,” I said.

“Help me,” she whispered again; then her eyes went out of focus. She began to fall; then she was gone.

Standing there in the candlelight, I waited to see if she would come back, but she didn’t. After a couple minutes, I realized she wasn’t going to. Had whatever happened to her already happened, or was it going to happen? Was it happening right at that moment?

Scrambling, I began searching for my phone so I could call Nico. I couldn’t help her, but if he knew who she was, then maybe he could.

Not long after I saw the bloodbath on TV, I knew what I was going to do. It took a couple beers and some sweet talk, but Luis dropped the attitude. The fact was he was screwed, and I think he knew it. He decided to stick around until I at least got him out of no- man’s-land, which was what I wanted.

Luis was the kind of guy you didn’t want to take your eye off of. He was a sneak, and was too good at palming shit not to be a thief. Not that I had anything to steal, but any guy that could walk in and find his family dead on the floor, then look in your face and act like nothing was wrong could probably do a lot of things. I had to change, so there was a door between us for two minutes, but that was as much time as he got out of my sight.

When I came out, he was still in the can, getting pretty. He messed with his hair in the mirror.

“You all set?” I asked.

“All set.”

“Go warm up the seat. I’ll be right down.”

He put up his hands, but he went. When he was out the door, I threw on my jacket and zipped up. I checked the pockets, but it was all there: the ID, the knuckles, the keys, my phone, and my black lipstick.

The door downstairs slammed shut and I saw him step out and hang near the building. I stepped back and punched up the number from the TV bulletin that came on right after they showed the bodies.

The phone rang twice, then picked up.

“Federal Bur—”

“I can deliver Luis Valle to you,” I said. The voice on the other end stopped for a second, and the line clicked but didn’t go dead.

“Do you still want him or not?” I asked.

“Hold on just one moment, please,” the guy said. The line went quiet.

Through the window, I saw Luis put his hands in his pockets and pace, shoulders hunched.

The line picked back up.

“This is Agent Wachalowski,” a new guy said. “You have information regarding Luis Valle?”

“I can give him to you.”

“Give him to me how?”

“There’s a reward for this, right?”

“Is he alive?”

“He’s alive.”

“Where is he now?”

“I’m not saying where he is right now, but I can tell you where he’s going to be. Am I getting paid for this?”

“Yes. Where is he going to be?”

“You know where the Arena Porco Rojo is?”

“I’ll find it.”

“That’s where he’ll be.”

“Where in the arena?”

“In the audience. I don’t know.”

“When?”

“In a half hour.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Wait, don’t you need my name?”

“I have your information, Ms. Flax,” he said. “Keep your phone on. I’ll find you.”

The line cut.

I headed out and locked the door. It was best anyway. Luis was in deep shit whether he knew it or not, and the Feds might pinch him, but at least they’d let him live. He’d live to fight another day, and that was the best he’d get at this point. Fuck him. He got himself into this mess. He put me in it too. Fuck him.

When we got to the fights, he called his cab, then sat in the bleachers to wait. With luck, he’d get grabbed before I even got in the ring.

By the time I put my gear on and got back out there, I’d lost track of him. In the octagon, Eddie waited in my corner while the other bitch tried to stare me down.

“You seen her before?” Eddie asked.

“No.”

The canvas had blood on it, but she just sat like she didn’t see it or didn’t care. She was skinny and tall, with skin black as night.

“She wants you,” he said. “Because of the last fight. Watch out for her.”

When I climbed up, there were cheers, but more boos. A lot of them hoped I’d get stomped after last time. I’d knocked that bitch off the roster for the rest of the season.

“You ready?” Eddie asked. I rolled my shoulders.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

The bitch looked up then. She looked like she could stick a knife in my neck and twist it.

“In the left corner,” the judge barked into the amp, “weighing in at one hundred forty-two pounds, a new-comer to the arena . . .”

The crowd started stomping the bleachers and I wondered where Luis was.

“. . . here to replace the injured Brick- House Bonnie Bast ...”

That kicked things up. The canvas shook with all the stomps and screams. They were geared to rush the fence already.

“Skinny . . . Minnie . . . Botma!”

Minnie?
The bitch’s name was Minnie?

“And in the right corner,” the judge said, “weighing in at one hundred fifty-one pounds, undefeated this season in her class . . .”

More boos. More stomping. I stuck up both middle fingers.

“The Bitch from Bullrich . . . Calliope Flax!”

We met in the middle of the ring, and the more she stared me down, the more I could not wait to force those big teeth of hers straight down her bitch throat.

“Shake hands,” the ref said, and we did.

“Guard up!”

We put them up, and waited for the buzzer.

The second it went off, she threw a hard punch at my throat and almost caught me. If I was a hair slower, she’d have put me out. As it stood, she just clipped my neck on the left side. She was quick too, and blocked me when I whipped an elbow at her face. For two beats, we both backed off.

She had a long reach, so I came in like I meant to throw a punch but threw a heel right at her ear at the last second, and I almost had her. It would have dropped her too, but that bitch was quick. She went down flat and scooped my other leg out from under me with an ankle sweep.

My back slammed down on the canvas, and as soon as I looked up, I saw her big black foot coming down on me. I rolled, and it stomped down right where my head had been with a loud boom.

“Point!”

I got up quick, but she didn’t try to pounce when I was down. She didn’t want it to go on the ground, so first chance that’s where I’d take it.

To do that, I had to get in close, past that reach. I lunged in at her, throwing a flurry of punches and getting my knee up in her gut. She got some in too, but by then we were face-to-face. She tried to pull back and I grabbed on, trying to get hold of a leg while pushing her back. I thought she was off balance, and steered her away from the fence. . . .

Right then, a face jumped out at me from the crowd. Luis was there, cheering and waving his fists. A row back, a big guy in a dark coat was going for him.

I saw the fist just before it connected, dead on my right cheek. Sweat and blood sprayed in a burst of white light, and all at once I was falling.

“Ten points!” the judge screamed. “Minnie Botma! Ten points!”

The lights spun in front of me. I was going down.

“Calliope Flax is down!”

I hit the canvas on my back as that big foot came down again.

“Flax is d—”

There was no time to think. I rolled back and got the balls of my feet on the ground as her heel left a dent in front of me.

I sprung from a squat and blasted my elbow out like a jackhammer. It dug deep in her solar plexus and she choked. She had one arm out and I grabbed it, clamping down on her wrist. Blood poured out of my nose. I was in a rage, and she was going to get it.

When I rolled her arm, I put my full weight on and it came out at the shoulder. I heard it. She showed me her ribs, so I fired a side kick and broke those too.

Her eyed bugged out and her jaw dropped. Her legs gave out, and when I let her go, she dropped like a stone.

“Ten points! Calliope Flax!” the judge screamed.

The ref came out into the ring and ran over to her, but she wasn’t getting back up. He looked up at the booth and made an X with his forearms.

“That . . . is . . . the . . . fight! Winner, Calliope Flax! She takes it again!”

The ref had a needle and stuck her with painkillers so she could breathe. Two other medics came on to take her out back so they could put her shoulder back in. She stood—I’ll give her that—but she didn’t stare at me anymore. She didn’t even look my way.

“In round one, Minnie Botma is out of the fight!”

The crowd screamed so loud it hurt my ears. They spit and threw trash, stomping on the sides of the cage. I felt something cold on my back and something brown and sticky splashed down my leg as a paper cup hit the fence. Chew spit, by the look of it. A bottle skipped across the top of the cage; then another one smashed on the corner.

“Okay, settle down, people!”

It was a mob scene. I tried to see if Luis was getting picked up, but I couldn’t see shit. Something was wrong; I knew when I saw the guy going for him. That guy didn’t look right.

“Flax! Flax is number one!”

“Flax, you bitch, rot in hell!”

I was getting dizzy. Christ, that bitch rattled my cage. . . .

There was blood all down the front of my tank top, and when I grabbed a towel and wiped my face, there was a lot of red. One of my front teeth was gone. I grabbed my water bottle and poured it over my face, letting it run down my neck and chest.

I had to get the hell out of there. Maybe Luis would try to meet up with me. He might try the locker room or the lobby. I climbed out of the ring and shoved past Eddie.

“Hey!” he yelled. “Where the hell do you think you’re—”

I pushed through the crowd, heading for the lockers. My hands were shaking as I got my padlock open and took my jeans and sweatshirt out, pulling them on over my fight clothes. I threw on my boots and jacket and made a run for the lobby. That’s when I heard the scream.

It was a guy, and it was loud, but it came from outside. I slammed through the doors and out to the sidewalk. No one was there. The fights were still on, and most everybody was still inside. I looked left and right; then I heard the scream again, real low, like it was from the gut. It gurgled and stopped.

I stood there, listening. My breath came out like smoke in the cold, and every time I sucked in air, it stabbed my broken tooth. A second later I heard another grunt.

The bathroom. There was a public can that filled up after the fights, but now there was no one hanging around them. I moved to the door and looked, but it opened so you couldn’t see in from outside.

“Hello?” I called. No one said anything.

I reached into my jacket and pulled out the brass knuckles, just in case. Blood still dribbled down my lip as I squeezed one set into each fist.

“I’m coming in!”

I gave it another second, then marched down and turned into the men’s room.

It took a second for it to sink in. A guy was in there, wearing a dark coat with the hood up. He stared at me when I walked through the door. On the floor in front of him was Luis, or what was left of him.

“It’s you,” the man said.

I didn’t see a knife, but Luis was cut up bad. One arm was hacked off at the elbow and was on the floor next to a toilet. His other hand was short a thumb, and the other fingers just dangled there. His guts were in a pile under him where he lay facedown, with his ass still in the air like he was trying to get up. The floor was wet with blood. It was fucking everywhere.