Depraved 2

  Depraved 2

  Depraved 2

  Midpoint

  EPILOGUE

  DEPRAVED 2

  By Bryan Smith

  First Digital Edition

  Copyright 2014 by Bryan Smith

  All Rights Reserved

  www.bryansmith.info

  Cover design copyright 2014 by Kristopher Rufty http://lastkristontheleft.blogspot.com

  Formatting by Denise Brown www.maydecemberpublications.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the permission of the author. All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  For Vito

  1.

  Consciousness returned with glacial slowness, whole ages of man seeming to pass between that first moment of dim awareness and complete cognizance. At first her sense of things was rudimentary, starting with the fundamental fact that she was still alive. Otherwise she wouldn’t be in this much pain. Her head felt like a giant weight was crushing it. Her jaw was sore and her knees were throbbing. These things indicated she’d either lost a fight or taken a tumble down a flight of stairs. She felt some level of discomfort in all her extremities, but this had an upside—it told her she was relatively whole. She was beaten up and bruised, but nothing was broken.

  Her face was pressed against something cold and hard. She hoped like hell it wasn’t the concrete floor of a holding cell. When she forced her eyes open moments later, the ache in her head increased by a factor of about a thousand, but this was alleviated by what she saw. She had slept on a hardwood floor in someone’s house or apartment. Not being in jail was good news. But there was also some not-so-good news. The floor was filthy and she could see drifts of dust in her peripheral vision. Also nearby was a table with wrought-iron legs, the underside of which was particularly revolting. In addition to the dust drifts, she saw bottle caps, bits of various kinds of food, several unopened pieces of mail, and a used tampon. An orange tabby cat was gnawing on the tampon as it eyed her in the usual detached feline way.

  That she had apparently passed out on the floor of some wretched hovel wasn’t the full extent of the bad news. Waking up disoriented and confused in some strange place was nothing new. It had happened more than once. This was bad enough for all kinds of reasons, but what made it extra worse this time was something that remained just beyond the reach of her memory.

  Something important.

  She was supposed to…

  She frowned.

  What? What am I supposed to do?

  Jessica Sloan groaned in misery as she struggled to recall what it was.

  She had been in a deep tailspin ever since her discharge from the military just over a week ago. Her time in the service had ended on a rotten note and she was having trouble readjusting to civilian life. A lot of that was driven by a deep sense of disappointment over how utterly she’d fouled things up. Only the most judgmental piece of shit could blame her for blowing off some steam.

  Except that she had promised her army captain father she would try to stay sober for a day or two when she got home. That was what she’d forgotten. Jessica groaned again. Jesus. He wanted to help her sort some things out and figure out her next move. Jessica wasn’t sure there was much to be done, at least in the short term, but humoring her father for a short while was the least she could do. The man had pulled some strings for her on multiple occasions, saving her ass more than once. She had let him down. He loved her too much to ever come out and say it, but the truth was he was disappointed in her.

  And now it looked like she was intent on disappointing him some more.

  Fuck.

  Jessica braced her palms against the dirty floor and pushed herself up with a loud grunt of exertion. Sweat appeared on her brow and her arms shook from the physical strain. This shamed her. All that hardcore army training meant little in the face of a hangover this epic. Her stomach fluttered and made sounds that filled her with foreboding. The touch of nausea at the back of her throat did nothing to lessen the feeling. Whatever shitty bar food she’d shoved down her gullet in the wee hours would not be staying down, most likely.

  After getting to her knees, she reached out and gripped the edge of the table. The table’s surface was as debris-strewn as the floor beneath it. Empty and partially empty beer bottles filled much of the space not occupied by unopened mail. A paper plate bearing a microwave burrito was perched precariously at the edge of the table. Someone had taken a whopping total of one bite from a corner of the burrito before abandoning it The sight of it made her stomach rumble in that portentous way again.

  Before getting to her feet, she wondered what kind of sterling example of manhood she’d hooked up with this time. She could deduce a few things already. His mama hadn’t raised him right, for one damn thing. There was probably some kind of super sad broken home story in the guy’s background. Mama was a meth addict whore and daddy was a convict, that sort of thing.

  Not that it mattered.

  She wouldn’t be getting to know this fellow any better. As soon as she could purge the rancid contents of her stomach and make herself semi-presentable, she was getting the hell out of this shithole. And the asshole who’d seen fit to let her pass out on the floor rather than moving her to a bed or sofa would have to get on with the rest of his downward spiral of an existence without the pleasure of her company.

  She still felt frail enough to fear the consequences of physical exertion, but the prospect of a restful sleep somewhere else provided sufficient motivation to get moving again. Gripping the edge of the table as hard as she could, she pulled herself upright. The force required to do this caused the table to totter. The paper plate flipped over the edge, dumping the cold burrito on the dirty floor. The orange tabby stopped chewing on the bloody tampon long enough to inspect the dubious morsel. One of the empty beer bottles tipped over and began rolling toward the table’s edge. Jessica reached out and grabbed it before it could fall and shatter on the floor.

  Once the table stopped teetering, she carefully set the bottle down and staggered away from the table. The little dining room was directly adjacent to a living room that looked just as dismal. A ratty blue sofa sat against the far wall. In front of it was a scratched-up and pitted coffee table that looked like a thrift store reject. Next to the sofa was a large radiator. A massive A/C unit filled one of the windows above the sofa.

  An unconscious woman was sprawled face-down on the sofa. She was a tall brunette with a lean but shapely build. Her hair was in disarray and she was wearing only blue panties and a cropped T-shirt. One of her long, toned legs was hanging off the sofa, painted toes deep in what looked like a pile of cat vomit.

  Jessica frowned.

  Who the fuck?

  Moreover, what the bloody fuck?

  Stomach lurching, Jessica wheeled away from the living room and staggered through an archway into a short hallway. There were doors at either end of the hallway and another one right in front of her. The door in front of her and the door to her left were both shut. A small bathroom was visible through the open door to her right. The tide of bile surging into her throat suggested she should hurry on into the bathroom at the fastest possible speed, but something about the closed door in front of her compelled her attention. It was a plain white door. There was nothing at all distinctive about it. Yet just the sight of it set her pulse to racing and exacerbated the sense of nausea. At last she could stand it no longer and bolted into the bathroom. The mystery of the door would have to wait until her stomach was done trying to eject itself from her body.

  She dropped to her knees and got the toilet lid up just in time. Her hair fell across her face, getting in the way o
f the stream of puke. Before she could begin to brush it out of the way, someone behind her gently pulled her long blonde locks back and made soft sounds of reassurance as she continued to spray vomit all over the bowl. She felt a reflexive jolt of fear at the unexpected intrusion, but the waves of sickness racking her body remained too intense to hold onto the feeling.

  Her stomach kept heaving for a while after it was empty, but the spasms soon lessened in intensity and she was at last able to catch her breath and wipe some of the sweat from her brow. The person holding her hair was still making those low sounds of reassurance. It was almost like the way you’d coo at a baby. Jessica felt simultaneously shamed and grateful.

  She put the toilet lid down and reached for the handle to flush it. As the water whooshed and carried the sick away, she turned around and saw the brunette from the sofa smiling. The woman was stunning. She had the bruised lips, high cheekbones, and big eyes of a runway model. Others had made similar comments about Jessica’s looks, but this woman’s features were more delicate than her own.

  “Feeling better?” she asked.

  Jessica wiped spittle from her mouth with the back of a hand. “A little.”

  The woman opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. She started sorting through the array of boxes and vials on the little shelves. “I bet you could use something for that ache in your head. I know I could. Let’s see if our host has anything suitable.”

  “Our host?”

  The woman glanced at Jessica. “How much do you remember?”

  “Not much. I remember…bars. Drinking with you. That’s about it.”

  The woman shrugged. “Not surprised. We partied pretty hard last night. I tried to get you off the floor, but I couldn’t budge you. Sorry about that.”

  Jessica sighed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve slept in worse places.”

  Like in the goddamn deserts of the Middle East, but we’re not gonna get into that…

  The woman smiled. “Right. Like in the desert. You told me.”

  Well, shit.

  “What else did I tell you?”

  The woman laughed. It was a lovely, lilting sound. “Something about killing a lot of people and being doomed to burn in hell. But you were hammered. I assumed you were confused, like you were trying to tell me about a movie instead of something real.”

  Oops.

  Jessica’s cheeks reddened as she groaned. “Uh…yeah, that must have been it.”

  The woman closed the medicine cabinet and handed Jessica some pills. “I’ll check the kitchen for a water glass. Be right back.”

  She walked out of the bathroom before Jessica could say anything else. In another moment, she heard the water tap running in the kitchen. The woman returned shortly thereafter and handed her a glass filled to the brim. Jessica accepted it gratefully and washed the pills down. Until that moment she hadn’t been quite conscious of how dry her mouth was. She greedily swallowed the rest of the water in the glass in a few big gulps. The woman took the glass from her and filled it again from the tap at the sink. She handed it back to Jessica, who again made quick work of its contents.

  She heaved a big sigh. “Jesus.”

  The woman smiled. “Better?”

  “Yes. Thank you again. Um…look, I’m real sorry about this, but I can’t remember your name.”

  “Zelda.”

  “Of course. Now I remember.”

  Zelda was smiling as she shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. Shit.”

  Jessica set the glass on the edge of the sink and got shakily to her feet. She cringed when she looked in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged and her hair was a mess. She pushed her hair back, sliding her fingers through it as she tried to shape it into something presentable. Her reflection didn’t improve much. Jessica was normally very self-aware and had taken her above-average looks for granted for a long time. Maybe too much so. There were hollows under her eyes that had never been there before and very faint lines that were disturbing. She knew she would still clean up nicely given the chance, but right now she looked like a homeless person—a hot homeless person, but a homeless person nonetheless.

  “Fuck. I look like shit.”

  Zelda nodded at the tub behind Jessica. “You could take a shower.”

  Jessica only wanted to get out of this place. On the other hand, a chance to wash away the grime and sickness would be nice. “Hmm, maybe. Do you mind stepping out a minute? I really gotta pee.”

  Zelda winced. “Yeah. Me, too. Don’t take too long.”

  “Okay.”

  Then the woman was gone and the door was shut.

  Jessica lifted the toilet lid, pushed her jeans down, and lowered herself to the disgustingly stained seat, realizing too late she should have lined it with strips of toilet paper. A shudder of revulsion rippled through her. It was worse than if she’d plopped herself down on the nastiest gas station toilet ever, another point in favor of opting to take that shower prior to her departure. As she relieved herself, however, her thoughts turned again to that door out in the hallway.

  Just a plain white door. Nothing special about it. So why did just the thought of it set her nerves on edge?

  Only one way to find out…

  Jessica pulled up her jeans as she rose from the toilet seat and walked out of the bathroom without flushing or washing her hands, that was how anxious she was. She stopped in the middle of the little hallway to stare at the unassuming door. She squinted hard at it, straining to probe her still-foggy memory for information about what might be on the other side of it. Her heart thumped harder as some dark shadow seemed like it was about to emerge from the mists of her subconscious, but whatever it was faded away in the next moment. Her hand went to the doorknob and grasped it. Rather than opening the door right away, she paused as she recalled the vague reference Zelda had made to their “host” a few minutes ago. She held onto the doorknob a moment longer, concentrating furiously as the memory fragment that had eluded her seconds ago struggled back to the surface.

  And then it was there, an image of a shiny blade catching the light. And then the blade cutting into quivering pasty-white flesh…

  Jessica turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The room was an office of sorts with a lot of crap crammed into it. A bulky old computer monitor sat atop a cheap desk. Boxes of random junk were piled against the walls. A bicycle that looked like it hadn’t been used in years was wedged into a corner next to the desk.

  Also, there was a dead man in a grimy wife-beater shirt duct-taped to a chair in the middle of the room. His big belly strained the front of the blood-stained shirt. His head was tilted back, allowing for a sickening view of the interior of his throat. The blade from her memory fragment had been used to cut it open. The man’s face was frozen in a twisted expression of agony. His flesh showed evidence of torture. Cuts and burns on seemingly every inch of bare flesh.

  It was an appalling, horrifying tableau, but Jessica did not scream, nor did she whimper or shrink away from what she was seeing. She had seen dead bodies before. And she had killed people before, so many she’d lost count long ago, in the war zones overseas and right here in the states. Some of them had been guilty of nothing other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was a morally compromised person on just about any level you could name. This meant she didn’t shock easily. But one thing she had never been was a thrill killer. She had only ever done it under orders or when she felt like she had no choice. What she was seeing here, however, was something else altogether.

  This man had been brutally tortured and then executed.

  She turned around as she heard footsteps behind her.

  Zelda was fully clothed now, wearing jeans and a dark, form-fitting top. She also had a gun in her right hand, an automatic with a suppressor. It was aimed at Jessica’s stomach. “I see you found our host.” She smiled. “We had a wild night.”

  Jessica made herself look the other woman in the eye.
“What happened here? Who is this guy?”

  Zelda smirked. “Good job staying calm. They told me you had nerves of steel. I had my doubts last night, but you’re starting to live up to the hype. As for what happened here, we had ourselves one hell of a party. Isn’t that obvious?”

  Jessica noticed some things now. Zelda’s eyes were clear and bright. She didn’t have the haggard look of a hungover person. Jessica still didn’t recall much, but she began to intuit some of the larger picture. This woman might have had a drink or two last night, but she had nursed them while goading Jessica into drunkenness. She might even have slipped her something to heighten the effect.

  “You drugged me, didn’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  Jessica’s veneer of calm slipped some, anger showing through the cracks. “You got me so fucked up I couldn’t do anything but watch while you tortured this man.”

  Zelda nodded. “That’s right. Want to guess why?”

  Jessica thought she already knew, her intuition rapidly filling in the blanks Zelda was being so coy about. “You’re an assassin. Someone hired you to kill me for something I did in Kabul. But that’s not all of it, is it? You were told to discredit me, too.”

  The woman—by now Jessica knew her real name wasn’t Zelda—nodded again. “You’ve already done much to discredit yourself, but I was paid to ruin what little of your reputation was left. I took many pictures of you with our friend here, pictures that will soon be in the hands of law enforcement agencies around the world. In your condition, it wasn’t difficult to coax you into posing with the body and the murder weapon. It will be obvious you had an accomplice, but no one will ever know--”

  The woman gasped in surprise as Jessica launched herself at her, the gun going off as she slammed into her at just below waist level. She drove the woman back through the open doorway and down to the floor in the hallway, getting a hand around her wrist before the bitch could bring the gun to bear on her for another shot. The woman tried to chop at her throat with her free hand, but Jessica deflected the blow and drove the heel of her hand straight down into the center of her face. The blow was hard enough to bloody her nose, but this was not the intended effect. Delivered hard enough, it should have shattered the cartilage, resulting in a moment of intense, paralyzing pain.