Barcode: Cavern of Youth (33 page)

Both ladies are carried into rooms away from the crowd. The men laugh at each other before opening doors on opposite sides of the dark hallway. They carry the girls in and lay them on beds. The guys undress themselves, speechlessly.

My blood becomes a poison that feels as though it could melt my flesh.

Carmen’s captor eases his hand across her cheek. The other goes directly after Angie’s dress, tearing it and laughing demonically.

They both lean down to kiss the girls and I black out. From the darkness I hear people screaming, windows exploding, and cars crashing through buildings or skidding across the cement.

When my sight returns, both men’s blood spills across the girls’ beautiful dresses. I inhale deeply and exhale a long and dragged out breath.

I’m in Carmen’s room and my clothes are painted red.

I wave my hand to see if I’ve regained control of my body. My vision is blurred. I continue moving my arm until the surreal feeling vanishes. Then, I rush to Carmen and carry her out of the room.

I run through the dark hallway and place her in the dimly lit lobby directly outside of the party. Because the area is empty, I temporarily leave her alone and run back inside to grab Angie. I can’t throw her over my shoulders because of her short dress. Therefore, I cradle her in my arms and move swiftly. While laying her against the wall next to Carmen, I hear two guys yelling over the loud Punk Rap music.

“Did you see little man carrying the tall chick?”

“Yeah. He had Monte’s other girl a second ago.”

“Should we go get them?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s in on it.”

“Yeah. It looked like he had their blood on him. I hope he didn’t kill them already. I want one.”

“Check him at the door.”

I could drag these girls into the stairwell and hide them until it’s time to go. I could. I can get them out safely and not cause any issues for Dennis.

Lay low Kay.
That’s what he would say.
Lay low.

But as the men approach us and I analyze the faces of the two women I love so much that it hurts, my chest tingles and I nearly black out again.

Carmen lifts her head and smiles. “See. You love me, papi. I kept praying you’d save me anyway.” She sobs a bit, but I can see the determination to withhold her tears. “I knew you loved me.”

Laughing through my burning eyes, I utter, “I do.”

Angie’s head falls on Carmen’s shoulder. She’s really gone.

“They’re coming. Get us home safely.” As I hold her hand, and the blood on our skin links us together, she ignites her lips and reads my thoughts. “No baby. Don’t. We can get home without any problems.”

Carmen’s head drifts before she passes out. I stand up, releasing my hold, and consider my options. The worst one is dominating the fight.

No. I’ll just drag them to the stairwell and run like she’s telling me. Plus, the Block 22 girls are in there. I could lose inside of these bandages and they’ll still get their hands on Angie and Carmen.

The two men watch me from the door for what feels like an eternity. The largest one walks right behind me and removes my hood. When he sees my closed eyes, he smiles. “You with Monte?”

My silence causes him to fidget and rub the back of his neck. He even looks back at his friend. If I take any longer to reply, they may attack me.

“He didn’t tell you his little brother was coming?”

The big guy steps back. “Oh. His brother? My bad. It’s good bro. It’s good. It’s just, I really like the girl in the black. Pass her on when you done, if you can.”

He races back to his friend as the other says, “Man. I want one, but I’m not mad. Let little man get down and we’ll move in once he’s done. Where you think he’ll take them?”

I sold out. I’m so afraid of being attacked while being trapped in these bandages that I can’t face some thugs from East Los Angeles.

My legs won’t move besides the minor trembling. I eventually grab Angie’s arm in order to drag her to the stairwell. I haven’t touched my best friend in a year. I recall the oath we made, to always protect each other.

“Fuck it.”

I reach inside of my coat and remove the glass bottle. I twist it open and drink the entire twenty-four ounces.

As I increase in size, Angie cries, “Kode?” with her eyes halfway open.

“Yep.”

Twenty Four

Later that night, Angie’s violent screams wake me from my sleep. I’m sulking in the tub with my clothes on. The water is completely red.

I called Dennis over an hour ago to get Angie a place to sleep. I told him I didn’t want her to go back home and gave him minimal information about the situation. I purposely left out my knowledge of Vincent’s prostitution, Monte’s manipulation, and Malik’s blissful ignorance. But Dennis is half-detective. I’m sure he figured out the details before arriving at my place.

Angie’s still crying for Kode. Dennis holds her tightly as she fights against him.

“I saw him. I saw him!”

“It was a dream, Angie.”

“Then who saved me? Who? Tell me. Who saved me?”

“Kay.”

Her cry evolves into a belligerent howl. Her tears carry on for a brief moment. With all of her energy exhausted, she finally holds Dennis back and sobs into his shoulder.

There’s one thing I know about Angie. She hates feeling weak. Not only was she nearly taken advantage of by someone beneath her, I came to her rescue for the second time.

Releasing Dennis, she angrily asks, “Why would he save me if he killed Spencer?” Angie coughs several times. Her voice is damaged.

“He’s Carmen’s security. She was with you.”

Dennis leans away and removes a small tablet from his pocket. It’s a visitor’s key for the building. He holds out his hand for nearly a minute. Angie clenches her jaw as her eyes torch a hole in his hand. Dennis sighs with relief when she finally snatches it away.

“You know where your room is. Kay doesn’t want you going back home.”

“
You
don’t want me to go back.”

“I don’t either. Just get some rest, Angie.” She fights to keep her balance, slapping Dennis’ hand away as he tries to assist her. She’s still a bit nauseated and it shows all over my floor. She vomits on the wall directly next to my door. “I’ll have someone clean that. I called Stacy and she said she’ll have her best suit delivered especially for you in the morning, but you don’t have to participate in the finals if you don’t want to.”

Angie glares at Dennis over her shoulders.

“Malik wasn’t there.”

“Where?”

“At his banquet. The one that he set up. That’s strange. He wasn’t there.”

“Maybe he had business to attend to.”

“Call Stacy back and tell her I want the same suit with the bugs fixed for the G-Force in my boots. And I want the same
exact
black and green.”

Smiling to brighten the situation, Dennis asks, “Why that color?”

“Kode’s favorite.”

The second she’s out of sight, Dennis dashes through my hallways. He rushes into my bathroom, stopping at the door.

Using the voice command Seth had set up, he empties my bloody tub and replaces my water. He cautiously approaches me.

“Open your eyes.” I don’t comply. I reduce the energy transmitting to my codes and turn my entire world black and white. “Kay! Open them.”

I move my lips slowly to ask, “Why?”

“I want you to know that I didn’t know about the banquet.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then why are you acting distant?”

Carmen sits up from her bench and hugs her knees into her chest. Because her skirt is torn, she’s showing a bit too much skin; Dennis only glances in her direction before looking away. The blood has settled on her dress, but I cleaned her face and arms over an hour ago.

Her hair is wild and her eyes are just as savage. She’s had the roughest night of her life and that says a lot, with so many people out to kill her.

She weakly murmurs, “Because of me.”

“This has nothing to do with either of you,” I snap.

I use my phone to activate the jets in the tub. Carmen and Dennis turn their heads towards the television playing near the door. Stupid thing turns on with the lights.

Dennis removes his phone and turns up the sound. A reporter articulates, “That’s correct Edgar, an entire building with prostitutes, known gangsters, and a few Colt Academy students.”

A split screen shows with Edgar, a peppered haired older male and a woman in a long red jacket. Edgar slightly shakes his head and says, “It’s such a shame Janet. Colt Academy has really suffered some serious losses over this last year.”

“Indeed. Many people are still suspicious about Spencer’s disappearance. With him gone and Helios’ attack last year, Dennis Colt has struggled to fill the stands. But this makes things much worse. Two seniors ranked in the top ten percent of their class...”

As the woman continues, Carmen interrupts, “Can you turn it off, Mr. Colt?”

“No,” he fumes. His response makes me shift in the tub uncomfortably. “You need to hear this. You and Angie should have stood up to Vincent, or reported this to me. If Kay had to shoulder the weight of your mistake, the least you can do is listen.”

“...and Block 22 women.”

With a concerned expression—the fake kind that all reporters display to seem more human-like—Edgar asks, “Has the Louisiana Block Party Association made a response?”

“Yes, Edgar, but not much. They claim to have no prior knowledge of the Black Widows’ choices and say they did not approve their trip. They do not want to point any blame, but openly stated there are some individuals with high powers capable of moving the women as they please.”

“This is such a shame. For those of you just tuning in, Janet Moreno is standing outside of a multifunctional skyscraper in Griffith Park. A student party was crashed and taken over by gangsters and prostitutes. Though many fled the premises, those that stayed were murdered by an unknown militia. Some say that about thirteen fully armed men entered the building and slaughtered the ravers. The death toll is at three hundred and nineteen, but is steadily rising as officers find more limbs and fragmented bodies. Janet, I don’t know if you’d agree, but this definitely sounds like a setup to me.”

“Indeed. The sheer power in that room was unprecedented. The fact that thirteen soldiers could take out that many barcodes is outrageous. Not to mention the carnage on the street. I’m currently standing outside of a crater where some believe a powerful bomb was dropped leaving several bystanders seriously wounded. After speaking with residents and employees in the building, many believe the gangsters and prostitutes were brought here...” Dennis lowers the volume.

Carmen mouths, “Three hundred and nineteen?”

“Did you have to kill everyone?” Dennis’ voice is cold and dark. I imagine he already knew the details. He obviously paid off someone to give up that militia information in order to protect me from investigators.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I was pissed.”

“Anger is good enough to make you murder both good and innocent?”

“Looks like it.”

Carmen squeezes her knees even more and she cries, “But we could’ve gotten out. I saw you. We were right there. Why didn’t you just leave?”

“What the fuck are you both drilling me for? I killed people. So what? If you’re upset that I’d mercilessly murder rapists, prostitutes, and a few weak gladiators that would die in war one day, why don’t you do something about it?”

“Are you saying we should kill you?”

“Why not? Kill me to stop the murders. Then go do something in society instead of whining over innocent blood. Good people die everyday. Several of the men I killed today would shoot, stab, and rape a good person tomorrow if they could. The Block 22 girls are known as the Black Widows for a reason. There’s a collection of the heads they’ve chopped off in Louisiana. And just in case you’re curious, I’m not talking about the heads on your neck.”

Carmen jumps up and stands erect, showing more courage than I’ve ever seen. “That doesn’t give you a right to become a murderer. You’ll be just like them.” Her chest heaves up and down. It’s only natural that she’d be this upset with death when her entire purpose is to save lives.

“It’s better than being like you. Weak and crying for help. Oh. And that fake clumsy act you play to get attention from me and other guys, not flattering.”

She slaps her hand against the wall, causing a loud thud to sound in our small space. “You want me to be strong! Okay. I love you with all my heart! And I’ll make you love me.” She dramatically whips her hand through the air, but I’m not moved and don’t care. It’s great to be loved and all, but she still made me feel like an idiot. Carmen watches me closely, possibly expecting some reaction. “Mr. Colt. I want a divorce.”

Dennis points to himself. “From me?”

Carmen fumbles over her words, but eventually clarifies, “Your brother.”

Dennis swiftly pulls a phone from his pocket and clicks three buttons. Leisurely holding the device in his hand, he projects, “Carmen Colt, do you hereby acknowledge without provocation or influence of any kind, your willingness to choose to remove yourself from the Colt family line?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand that you will be stripped of all rights and privileges, will have no access to your trust fund or fortune, and you will be provided no form of security after this annulment?”

“Seriously? My trust fund? Ugh. Yes.”

“You’ll have to say that one louder for the recorder.”

“Yes!”

The phone beeps three times and he continues, “I, Dennis Colt, under the witness of...”

He dangles the phone right in front of my face. It beeps twice because I haven’t responded and don’t plan on it. Dennis forcefully jerks it towards my lips. Hardly moving my mouth, I drone, “Kay.” He thumps me with his index finger. The pain is so intense, I see three of everything for a few seconds. “Okodemah Payne.” Carmen’s eyes nearly leap from her head and they begin scanning the entire room. She looks confused, as though she were trying to figure out if she heard the name before.

“Acknowledge Carmen Moreno-Colt’s withdrawal from our family name. I accept full responsibility for all events that occur hereafter as the signing official.” Dennis plants his thumb on the screen. Three more beeps confirm his identity. Then, he slides the phone across the floor and Carmen does the same. “Carmen, because marriage into the Colt family is a different type of contract, you must choose a new last name to start your new family. Though you were a Colt originally, rules are rules.”