Maurice Broaddus - King's War

But then there were the bad days. The days when he woke up, alone, and had time to think about his life. The days when he suspected he was ultimately without anyone who cared about him. A boss who despised him, a partner who tolerated him, and Omarosa, a woman who expressed nothing but open disdain for him, fucked him as if he were beneath her — all but held her nose while doing him — and if she had two kind words for him, they were never strung together in the same sentence.

Omarosa slowly twirled before him, her hips moving in full controlled circles, each muscle knowing exactly what it was doing. All Lee could do was stand there like a grinning idiot hick — what she often reduced him to — simply happy to be in the same room as her. She gyrated close to him, her ass rubbing against his crotch and then pulling away. He reached out to grasp her, but she eluded him, while staying on beat to the music. She danced close again. He raised his hands, but stopped short, fearing she might abandon him again. With a tantalizing slowness, she peeled his shirt off of him, lifting it over his now-raised arms. His thin chest and muscled arms had a wiry strength to them. He thought better of wrapping them around her.

"How come we never go to your place?" Lee asked.

"Because I don't want you to know where I live." Omarosa took a half-step back. "What's the matter, too on point? Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Would you care if you did?"

"Would you want me to? Besides, you wouldn't survive in my world."

"I'm up to my shitter in your world now."

"Lovely. Anyway, despite where you think you are, you're not. You couldn't… swim in the waters I do." It was said that when the angels fell, the ones who fell on land became fairies and the ones who fell into the sea became selkies.

"I'm a pretty good swimmer."

"Not that good."

"Why you gotta be that way?"

"You need to know, all things come to an end."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning this is our last time together."

"Just like that?"

"How did you think it was going to end?"

"I…"

Omarosa pressed a lone finger against his lips. "It ends the way all stories do. With bloodshed. And anger. And pain."

"What are you talking about?"

"There's a thing tonight."

"What sort of thing?"

"King. Dred. Maybe the Mexicans."

"Fucking beaners in the mix? Where?"

"Camlann. The new site."

"Over by the zoo."

"Yeah."

"How are you mixed up in this?"

"Do you really want to know? Have you ever? Or would you rather do what you came to do?"

He knew much more than he let on. He could be a clever "cracker-ass cop" that way. It wasn't as if she were his only ear to the streets. He heard the whispers of the street thief called Omarosa. Talked about like she was a legend. By the time he realized he was sleeping with her, there was no way to bring her in and explain away that he'd been banging her for months. "When?"

"Everything will be over in the morning. One way or another, the story ends tonight."

"Shit, Omarosa…"

"You've got a decision to make. I won't be back again. There's too much blood on my hands. It may take decades to wash clean."

"Blood?"

"Tick tock. Me or the crews. You can't have both."

"Damn it, Omarosa. I ought to take you in."

"You could try."

A steeliness hardened in her voice. He'd heard it before though she attempted to keep it hidden beneath the velvety lilt of her voice and honeyed measure of words. But it was always there, sharp as a sword's edge. Just once he wanted to test her. To take her full measure. His weapon lay on his jacket in the chair, never far from him, especially when he was with her. Just once. Not that he knew what he'd do with her. Shit. Maybe Cantrell would know. He couldn't let her walk away. Not like this. He wanted to taste her one more time. Just once. He turned from her and scooped up his gun in the same movement.

When he turned back around, she was gone.

"Camlann," Lee said, hoping she could still hear him. "I'll see you there."

Rain drizzled, splattering on the oily surface of the street. They were within eyeshot of the Indianapolis Zoo, its trees lit with blue lights. Wayne turned the van off of Washington Street onto a little used drive under the bridge along the White River Parkway. The White River itself created a zone of relative peace, separating one world from the next. A nexus point, a natural ley line as Merle had once explained to them. The overcast sky drove a miserable chill into their bones. A mural decorated the wall, in a faux children's painted style. Blue, pink, and violet stick figures held hands while walking along grassy knolls toward a crude cityscape. On the other side, similarly painted rainbow-colored figures hung outside the windows of a school bus under a picturesque blue sky lit by a bold yellow sun.

The abutment of the bridge formed a concrete shelf littered with bags of trash and Styrofoam cups and plastic bottles mixed among the scattered leaves. The number 1516 etched into the concrete had eroded to the point where it read more like ISIS. The words "eat you good" had been spraypainted higher up along the embankment. And Wayne thought about trolls as a train rumbled above them.

Overgrown bushes obscured the trail beside the bridge, a leaf-strewn path of brown and yellow. Little more than ragged scruff known mostly to those who lived in the other Indianapolis. Away from the gleaming buildings of downtown and the bright light of tourist attractions. The invisible Indianapolis. Beneath bridges. Under the city. In abandoned lots. A wire fence provided an illusion of security, but the links on one side had been severed and it was drawn back as easily as a curtain. They entered a mini wilderness of brown grass, scattered bushes, and vine-choked trees. They weaved their way between the trees until the path opened up into a field. Then they came to a second ley line as the railroad tracks created a buffer, cutting off the outside world from the secret things kids enjoyed exploring and fantasizing about. Magical things. A world which made perfect sense to those still able to wonder and dream. This site was well chosen. Secluded. Cut off. The city fathers planned on dumping low-cost housing according to the Not In My Back Yard crowd. For Dred, it was an abandoned warehouse of stored magic.

A dull thud reverberated as Percy beat the train track with a tree branch with each step. Part of him wanted Had and Kay with them, but he knew they were better off with Big Momma. Safe. Despite how they had proved themselves, this was no place for so young a kid.

Plus, it was a school night.

In the distance, a train whistle blew as if conjured by force of will.

Standing at the convergence of the footpath and the train tracks, King stopped. A sea of rocks separated one stretch of woods from the more foreboding underbrush. He scoured the trees, the skyline, the railway. He brushed his forehead with the side of his hand, wiping away the sweat, and closed his eyes.

"Now's probably not the best time to catch a nap," Merle said.

"Merle." King's heart rejoiced at the familiar voice. "Are you a dream?"

"I've been called that."

"I've been tormented by dreams before." The dreams of he and his people were too coincidental. They harried their nerves and frayed their temperaments. His whole group was on edge for months. During that time, King had joined forces with Dred; Lott and Lady G… It was yet another thing King needed to pay Dred back for.

"Torment is being trapped in a barrel of eels without any soap."

"You're crazy."

"As are you. The story's about to come full circle."

"I can't tell anyone else, but I'm scared, Merle," King said. "They're all looking to me as if I know what I'm doing."

"You'd be a fool not to be scared. You don't really have much of a plan beyond marching in there and saying 'I'm King. Boo!'"