Chapter 35
WAREHOUSE OF SHAME
It’s almost midnight, and here we are waiting outside a warehouse door to be allowed in to see a local crime lord. Though lord might be an exaggeration, considering the size of Revenant. It’s giving me extra time to contemplate the meaning of what I did to Hailey back at the cabin.
Why do I like scaring her, threatening her with a knife, mindfucking her by hinting I could fuck her with one? Is it because she likes it, too—the pretend threat? Is it that simple?
“Did it have to be midnight, Esau?” Hailey whispers.
I get why she’s whispering. This alley is so quiet and poorly lit. You might summon something demonic if you make too much noise or tap dance the wrong moves. A red pentagram graffitied on the wall reinforces that possibility.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s Zedder for you.” Esau smooths down his ponytail, then settles into standing with his hands clasped at the front.
Dustin Zedder of the Shredders. It rhymes. It’s a curious name for his gang of criminals.
“Zedder and the Shredders. Makes me think of a band name,” I murmur out loud in idle conversation. It’s getting boring here.
Esau chuckles quietly. “He likes his music and his drama. Be careful though. I’m kinda a friend, but he does have power in Revenant, and he’s good to have on your side. Rasmus read this all wrong. The man would not be shipping in bodies for the institute.”
“Got it.” I tuck my hands into my pockets. Black pants, dark gray hoodie with a white skull sketched on the back—my usual when I walk around where randoms might see me. Hailey is dressed in all black, while Esau wears a red sweater and jeans.
Some machinery powers to life inside, accompanied by a series of clangs. Someone shouts.
“He knows we’re here?” Hailey asks.
“Yep. Be patient.” He advances and knocks on the door. Second time lucky.
Hailey eyes him. “Where does your surname come from? Wrath seems unusual.”
“British, I was told by my parents. I looked it up once. Means angry.” He shakes his head. “Imagine me, British.”
The three of us stand outside the side door of Warehouse Four, with the walls of another warehouse rising to our left. Only a few overhead security lights shine their meagre light on our alleyway.
“Tempting to get my flashlight out,” Hailey says to no one in particular.
The door swings open, a triangle of light flares across us, the noise level increases, and a man steps out and gestures at the door. “In. Zedder will see you.”
We file in past him and he shuts the door. The tang of oils, gasoline, and sweat smacks me in the nasal cavity. Grottos of darkness clash with pools and shafts of bright yellow light.
Most of the space in this warehouse is occupied by stacked containers, crates, and cars being pulled apart, painted, or tormented by men buried in their engine bays.
Crates are being transported by forklifts, or swing from hooks that dangle from chains.
The air above is murky with drifting pollution and cluttered with the voices of men and a few women.
It’s shredded with angle grinder screams and metal clashing on metal.
It…
Triggers something…
Inside me.
I stand riveted in place, fading away from here and now, remembering other scents, other colors, other screams. Women being dismantled by a blade, naked, hanging from chains.
Coils of blood slide down their bodies as they writhe and sob.
Their hands are bound, as Hailey’s were. Their feet are bound.
I shut my eyes, clench my hands into fists.
Damp hair sliding under my hands and the give of flesh.
Muscles wrench into contortions as they try to dodge the weapon I hold.
My hand. My fist. My fingers curled about a hilt or a gun.
Warm living bodies, and dead ones. The susurration of erratic and diminishing breathing then the complete silence when they cease to breathe.
Complete silence, if not for the squeak, squeak, squeaking of chains.
Good times, someone says.
I wake from my trance, head swinging up, refocusing on the now. On this warehouse. The others are walking away from me and talking.
What was that?
My memories? Or some other man’s?
That was not me or mine. I would never kill women for the pleasure of it. Yet my cock stirs and evil chitters somewhere, back there, in the depths.
I’ve had scenes like that play in my mind too often now to dismiss them.
The possible reasons are nearly all terrible.
I had something like that occur while I stood and watched it happen, and I did nothing.
Or? Or I watched too many horror movies.
The last and worst reason? I did those hideous things.
That would make me a torturer. Perhaps I worked for a government agency in the worst kind of country.
In my heart, I doubt that could be the reason.
Or I was simply a murderer. Or both torturer and killer.
Both is not good. And I would never do those things.
If I’m to ever tell Hailey what I am, I need to figure out why I am remembering acts I would never allow myself to do.
I’ve been following our group on auto pilot, and Hailey turns to look at me.
She holds out her hand.
“Kail?”
“Coming.” I take her hand, shove the evil into the back of my mind.
I will sort that out later, along with the other crap churning like rotten soup inside my head.
We’re being led toward a small well-lit office, off to the side, past two high-performance cars being pulled apart.
I doubt these cars belong to anyone in this establishment.
We’re treated to suspicious stares by the men working on the vehicles.
Inside the office, two men are conversing over something we can’t hear through the glass door and windows. A young man stands before an older man.
Having been dismissed, the young man holds the door open for the four of us. He nods at the man who brought us. “Oscar,” he says, to the man with us, then he leaves.
Once we’re inside, with the door shut, the noise from the outside is muted.
The room holds an old-fashioned filing cabinet, a table with a pair of laptops and two phones lying on it, and an office chair.
The older man is in his fifties, with steel-gray short hair and a cropped beard.
He sits on the edge of the desk and has waited for us to enter.
His face is expressionless, his blue-gray suit is rumpled, and he has no tie, but otherwise, I judge he might fit into a corporate environment.
Judge? How do I judge or know this? Fuck, more random knowledge.
I stand behind Hailey and Esau, listening as Esau introduces us and shakes the man’s hand. If this Dustin Zedder runs an illegal car-stealing gang, he’s managed to do it in what Hailey says is a corrupt town. Meaning he pays someone off.
“So, Esau.” He nods at him. Esau is looking relaxed, so the pair know each other well. “You wanted some reassurance for your friends. I know of you, Hailey, due to your father. Sorry about his death. My condolences.”
The politeness doesn’t fool me. He gives off an assurance, an arrogance, and considering we just watched stolen cars being ripped apart…
“Uh. Right. I—” Hailey begins but is cut off.
“Tell me exactly what you want. As you can see, we are not importing…bodies? Human ones. Is that what you were told, Esau?”
“Yes. Rasmus thought there were indications. I told him that must be wrong. We are, let’s say, investigating anomalies to do with a company in Revenant.”
Though I haven’t been introduced to Zedder, a third man has arrived through the door and takes a place behind me where Oscar also lurks.
I suppose hiding in a hoodie looks a little odd to these men, considering my size.
I turn back the hood and show my face. Which will of course reveal my many scars. I’m not pretty.
Zedder hasn’t replied to Esau, and his mouth tightens as he sees me.
This is good. I prefer to be considered a force and not someone to be stomped on, when in the company of men like this. I nod to him, and he turns back to Esau. How a tattoo artist came to know Zedder is a question I could have asked. Esau probably wouldn’t have answered me.
“You mean the Revenant Institute.” Zedder smiles. “I know things. Events swirl around this man you brought with you.” I’m the target of a vague wave of his hand. “There are rumors of a gray man prowling Revenant. A man who has come to wreak vengeance.” He sounds amused.
A gray man?
Hailey looks to me, and I shrug. “He’s safe, Mr. Zedder. Kail is good person.”
“Good? No one is all good. As I said, I don’t import bodies.
Rasmus is wrong. He’s not the expert hacker you think he is, though he may have found a weakness in our systems. You want a good hacker?
No, no. Don’t tell me the details of what you want.
This man I’m using is discreet. I brought him in to help tighten our IT a few days ago.
The price for an introduction might be more than you wish to pay. ”
“Price?” Esau grunts.
“He has his needs. I was going to take him to the Blue Abyss for some fun. Your favorite club, Esau?”
“Was, until Niamh vanished a year ago.”
“I remember that night. She was on stage and then just gone. The news stories went on and on.”
“Same.”
He and Zedder simply regard each other while Zedder pretends sympathy, I guess. I cannot tell. Esau, though, his hands are clenched. This Niamh meant a lot to him.
Hailey frowns but waits, as do I.
“So, back to what I was saying. This man, Dawid Nowak, he was recommended to me. Computer language is like a symphony in his hands. And people don’t lie to me.
Want him on your side? He loves his kink.
I used to visit the house your friends are taking care of for sex parties.
The Laramie House. So, I know what’s there. ”
Esau shakes his head. “This has gone in a strange direction.”
“Sir, that seems—” Hailey starts.
“You’re the Weirdos, right? Not a name I’d choose.”
This man likes interrupting women. Not a trait I love.