Robert Tanenbaum - Counterplay

They continued until reaching the archbishop’s apartment where Kane led the way to the sleeping quarters where he shoved Lucy down on the bed. “Leave us,” he ordered the bodyguard, then turned to Lucy. “Sheesh, I am so tired of true believers. Don’t you find them taxing, Lucy?”

“At least they believe in something worth dying for,” Lucy replied calmly.

“At least they believe in something worth dying for,” Kane mimicked. “How droll. I hope you’re a better fuck than you are a philosopher. We have a lot of years ahead of us.”

Lucy furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I told your daddy,” Kane said. “I’m taking you with me when I leave here, and you’re going to spend whatever years I decide you have left bearing my children and servicing me whenever I feel like it.”

“I’d rather stay here,” Lucy said.

“What? And die when I blow this place into so much rubble?”

“If that’s the choice, then yes, I’d rather stay.”

Kane shook his head. “Sorry, not part of the plan. It is too bad that your dad is going to die here, and your mom and your brothers won’t be around much longer, either. I’d give almost anything to see their faces when we send them baby photos. But like I said, almost anything. Fact is, I really can’t be bothered with them anymore, I have a world out there that’s just waiting for me to take over. I’ll just have to get my kicks tormenting you for as long as it amuses me.”

“You’re insane,” Lucy said.

“Well, duh,” Kane responded. “But I really hate it when someone says that to me. So I guess we better get started. Take off your clothes, bitch.”

Lucy launched herself at Kane, surprising him with the suddenness and ferocity of her attack. A year earlier, and she might have taken his gun. But his training in Kali paid off as he sidestepped and struck her in the solar plexus with the extended fingers of his right hand. She collapsed gasping for air on the floor.

Kane took his gun out of its shoulder holster and pointed it at her as he unzipped his pants. “Take your clothes off,” he demanded.

“Fuck you,” she replied.

“Exactly, but if you don’t make this easier, I’m going to send for your boyfriend and blow his brains out all over the archbishop’s nice quilt and then fuck you in the gore,” Kane snarled.

Lucy got to her knees and nodded. “Okay, you win,” she said.

“Good, now-” Kane stopped talking and grabbed his head with his free hand. “Ow, that hurts!”

“Good, maybe it’s a stroke,” Lucy said.

“Oh, oh,” Kane cried out in pain, then he looked up as if frightened and held the gun out to Lucy. “Here, quick, shoot him.”

“What?” Lucy looked around wondering who “him” was.

“Take the gun and shoot Kane,” he said, shoving the gun toward her as she backed away.

“What’s with the sick joke, Kane? And what’s with talking like a little boy?”

“I’m not Kane,” he replied. “I’m Andy, and I’m twelve years old. Now, take the gun and shoot before he comes back.”

“You are one sick puppy, Kane.”

Kane stopped offering the gun for a moment, his face a mask of sadness as tears welled in his eyes. “Yes, he is…we are.” He tried to offer the gun again. “Please, Lucy, I’m a good boy, but I can’t do it myself. Shoot us. I want to die.”

Lucy stood up slowly and approached. The way Kane was holding the gun, she could have easily taken it out of his hand. “Wow, a complete schizophrenic break,” Lucy said in awe and in spite of herself.

“A what?” Andy asked.

“Most so-called split personalities aren’t really complete personalities within one body,” Lucy replied. “Just variations or idiosyncracies that surface in one main personality. But sometimes the personalities are complete and distinct. Andrew Kane, the psychopath. Andy, the twelve-year-old boy. Of course, I happen to believe that it has something to do with the existence of good and evil in every person. My dad and I could debate this forever.”

“There are others in here, too,” Andy offered. “Some worse than Kane. They are getting stronger and someday will take over even from him if you don’t shoot me. Then the world will be in real trouble.”

Lucy looked at the gun. “I…I don’t think I can, Andy, not while it’s a twelve-year-old boy I’d be shooting, not Andrew Kane,” she said.

“Please, Lucy, I’m scared,” Andy cried. “I don’t want to live with the others. They are mean to me and hate me. You have to do it. You’re the white queen!”

Lucy’s mouth fell open. “You sent the chess pieces,” she said.

“Yes, yes, I was trying to warn you,” Andy said. “Whenever I could get away from the mean people, like that Samira. I sent them to a friend. He’s a bicycle messenger. He gave two to a janitor who works where your daddy does. He also brought them himself. He’s my friend.”

“What about Aspen…the pawns?”

Andy smiled. “That was me when he ran by the mailbox. He didn’t see you coming down the driveway, but I did. I thought I could get you to look inside.”

“Why not write a note?” Lucy asked.

“They wouldn’t let me,” Andy pouted. “I tried. But the inside Kane thought it was a fun game to send the pieces.”

“He did know, then?”

“Not when he’s the one in control,” Andy said. “I can’t explain…but sometimes we’re all in here together, and it’s all stirred up. He knows about the chess pieces only when he’s back inside with the rest of us. So he let me send them when I was out, but nothing else.”

“But why am I the white queen? Why not my mother?” Lucy asked.

Andy looked at her like she was kidding him. “You’re mom’s too old. Geez, I’m just a kid.”

“Are you saying you have a crush on me, Andy?” Lucy asked.

Andy blushed. “I don’t like girls. But you are good and nice. Once I tried to get out when your daddy and Kane were at a party, and Kane got a bad headache trying to keep me in, you asked if I was okay…or really, if Kane was okay. You felt my forehead to see if he, I, had a temperature…like a mom is supposed to.” Andy shook his head sadly from side to side. “Like my mom never did.”

“And that’s why I’m the white queen?” Lucy said. “Because I’m nice?”

“Sort of…but mostly because the white queen is the most dangerous piece on the chessboard.”

“Me? Dangerous,” Lucy said. “Now, I do think you have me mixed up with my mom.”

“No, I don’t,” Andy said. “Why do you think Kane brought you back here and wants to do bad things to you? He’s afraid of you, and it’s because he knows, deep down, that I would want to help you stop him. Now, will you please shoot me?”

Lucy shook her head. “I probably should, but I can’t murder an innocent boy.”

Andy stomped his feet. “Girls are so dumb.”

Lucy smiled. “Sugar and spice…now what is he planning to do?”

Andy looked sad again. “He’s going to leave here with you. He has a boat waiting for him at the Columbia University boathouse. Then he’s going to take you to some place called Spite and Divel and meet a bigger boat to take you and him up the Hudson River to a safe place. But the others are going to stay and kill everyone.”

“Spuyten Duyvil,” Lucy said.

“What?”

“Spuyten Duyvil is the name of the place you just mentioned,” Lucy said. “My dad once told me a story about it.”

“I like stories,” Andy said. “I wish my mother had read me stories. I…uh oh, he’s coming back. Good-bye, Lucy, find a way to make him stop.”

“Good-bye, Andy,” Lucy replied.

Kane scowled. “I hate being called Andy. And I thought I told you to take your fucking clothes off.”