The Woman They Kept

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Authors: Andrew Krause

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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

Prologue 5

Chapter
One 6

Chapter
Two 19

Chapter
Three 24

Chapter
Four 31

Chapter
Five 43

Chapter
Six 53

Chapter
Seven 65

Chapter
Eight 70

Chapter
Nine 78

Chapter
Ten 81

Chapter
Eleven 86

Chapter
Twelve 95

Chapter
Thirteen 98

Chapter
Fourteen 108

Chapter
Fifteen 116

Chapter
Sixteen 126

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?

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