Beauty in Repose

This is a retelling of The Brothers Grimm tale 'Sleeping Beauty' and is part of 'The Grimm Tales of Vertigo City' series...

     To dream in Vertigo City is to stake your life on the cast of a die or the loyalty or whim of another. Vertigo City can propel you to a lifestyle beyond your wildest fantasies where everything has a price and nothing is taboo. It is also a place that can swallow your dreams whole leaving you shattered and hopeless. This is a tale of one such dreamer�

     Donovan Moon laid down his glass and snatched up the phone, speaking coarsely into the receiver as the bikini clad girl gyrated and swayed in front of him.
     �What.�
     �Donnie it�s me, we�ve got a problem� it�s Delilah, she�s in a bad f*****g way man, real bad.�      The voice was distant and panicky, barely audible over the throb of the music.
     �What do you mean?� His eyes narrowed and he switched the match from one corner of his mouth to the other with his tongue.
     �I�m in the safe house on Crescent Street. She�s found some of the stuff man, I� I don�t know how but I think she�s taken some, Christ, she�s in a bad f*****g way��
     �Who else have you called?� Moon shoved the dancer out of the way and stood up, scowling.
     �No one��
     �Where�s the stash?�
     �I � I don�t know, I looked but she must have hidden it-�
     Moon cursed under his breath. �Right, I�m on my way, don�t touch that phone again.� He drained the rest of his drink and tossed the glass onto the bar top; it spun about on its base and then toppled over and smashed. He clicked his fingers hastily at the barman, �Gino, get me that little black case.�
     Moon gunned the V8 of his Dodge Charger and slammed his foot down hard. The tyres squealed and then finding purchase, bit hard into the tarmac; the vehicle roared out onto Main Street and tore up the roadway.

     Perrault sat hugging his knees to his stomach with one arm, his right hand was outstretched, the fingers interlinked with those of the girl on the bed. Delilah�s face was deathly pale, the skin waxen and faintly grey and her lips touched ever so slightly with blue. A thin streak of caked vomit trailed away from the corner of her mouth to her neck and the nostrils were encrusted with blood. Perrault held a small mirror to her mouth and watched for the faint misting that belied her cadaverous state. Already she had no pulse at the wrist and the movement of her breast was so shallow that he had to rely on the mirror alone.
     Donnie would know what to do, everything would be all right.
     Perrault squeezed her hand and whispered to her, �please, please wake up�� He had found her collapsed shortly after midnight, almost an hour ago now. Initially, he had called the Paramedics but their dispassionate response to another potential drugs overdose was simply, �sir, we�re very busy tonight� we�ll get there when we can��
     He stared back over to the two bodies that he�d covered over with blankets, one half out of the doorway, the other slumped behind an upended chair. He caught sight of a blue-black mottled hand, puffy and swollen with death�s toxins. The room was starting to stink. Delilah had been lucky, or so it seemed.
     �Just wake up��

     The Charger shrieked to a halt in the parking lot below the tower block, the tyres kicking up sharp stones. Moon thrust himself from the seat, his lips pressed into a grim line. Opening the trunk of his car, he retrieved a baseball bat and tucked it as best he could under his full length coat. Already there were people on the move, shapes lurking and prowling within the shadows; gang-bangers.
Moon skirted the building and located the fire door. With a well placed kick the lock splintered, the door flying inwards; no alarm sounded, this wasn�t the sort of place that cared too much for its occupants. A figure scurried behind him, keeping low and dodging behind a dumpster, hushed voices drifted on the light breeze.
     �F**k,� he muttered. He knew he�d already been made and word would be around the block within minutes. Donovan Moon: Vertigo City�s very own fallen son, ex-cop and drug pusher was here and here was not a good place to be.
     Moon started up the staircase, taking the piss-stained steps three at a time. The door clattered behind him and booted feet could be heard thumping up the stairs in pursuit. There were voices ahead too, urgent and hushed. He slipped the baseball bat from the confines of his coat, curling his fingers round its shaft and continued up the stairs. Silently he cursed the stupidity of leaving his gun at home.
     Shadows darted on the third floor landing as he arrived and the barest scuffing of shoe leather on concrete betrayed the ambush ahead. Intuitively, Moon lofted the bat and swung the moment the assailant sprung from his position in a darkened alcove. There was a sickening thud and the youth dropped with the faintest of grunts, his features pulped and the blade tumbling from his twitching fingertips. Moon did not attempt to stop as his momentum carried him forward swinging the bat back the other way and catching a second attacker across the ribs. The man sank to his knees, groaning and clutching his side. An explosive kick to the jaw snapped his head back and took him down. Moon was quickly on the move again, hearing shouts from below and more heavy footfalls behind him.
There was a huge crash and his ears began to ring as a wayward gunshot reverberated around the stairwell. Fragmented concrete exploded beside him as he zigzagged and pounded up the stairs. F**k, should definitely have brought my shooter!
     He hefted a bin loaded with rubbish and hurled it down the stairs; it found its mark crashing down upon on of the pursuers. Cursing, the gunman struggled to get to his feet. Two wild gunshots roared around the interior, one ricocheting off the metalwork of the handrails and raising a flash of sparks. Moon pressed himself into a graffitied doorway and licked the sweat from his upper lip, his heart hammering.
     The gunman charged up the stairs, his left hand pressed against a deep laceration in his scalp. As he turned away to gain the next flight, Moon stepped out and brought the maple wood bat crashing down upon the man�s skull. There was a foul crack and the man�s crown caved in like a boiled egg. He crumpled to the floor without a sound, a pool of thick black blood spreading out beneath him. Seizing up the man�s weapon, Moon spun and fired instinctively. The 9mm round slammed into teeth of the dreadlocked man who followed, smashing them to white chips and exiting in a bloody spray. The man�s eyes widened and he dropped to his knees, dead before he touched the ground.

     Perrault jumped violently as the door thundered on its hinges, Delilah�s hand slipping from his. The hammering came again and a voice. �Open the door you f*****g idiot!�
     Moon, thank God!
     Perrault flung open the door, tears in his eyes, his throat tight. Donovan Moon ploughed through the entrance, his face a bleak and bloodied mask. �Where is she?�
     �Over by the window, in the lounge,� Perrault gasped ashen faced. He quickly pushed the door shut and followed the tall man. �I didn�t know what else to do�� he said.
     Moon fell to his knees beside Delilah and ran a hand over her porcelain face. Lifting an eyelid with his thumb he cursed under his breath and rummaged in his coat. �Okay and who the f**k are those two?�
     �I � I don�t know, friend�s of Delilah�s I think. They were here when I got here. I think they�re dead.�
     �Well they�re starting to rot, I think that pretty much proves your theory,� Moon spat.
     �Of course, of course�� Perrault muttered. �I wasn�t sure if you were the Paramedics or not, I-�
     �I thought you said you hadn�t called anyone else�� Moon�s eyes narrowed and his voice was sepulchral.
     �Well, well� initially I called the Paramedics of course but� but��
     �Jesus f****n� Christ! And you told them you had a chick OD�ing.�
     �Well yeah� I -�
     Moon turned and levelled the gun at him, thumbing the lever. �I should kill you right now but the cops will be all over this place before long. We�ve got to work quickly.� He lowered the gun and tucked it away. �Your luck�s in. Help me with her.�
     Perrault held her pale arm, clamping his fingers around her bicep and restricting the blood flow as Moon drew a needle and syringe from the black case.
     �What is it?� Perrault whispered his eyes large, his wet mouth open.
     �It�s called �Kiss�, a derivative of Naloxone Hydrochloride, used in the reversal of Opiates, I�ve titrated it with adrenaline, atropine and�� he glanced at the younger man, �a few� other things.�
     �Will it work?�
     �You had better f*****g hope so,� Moon murmured as he pressed the bevelled point of the needle into the vein. He drew back on the syringe watching for the ink swirl of blood before slowly depressing the plunger. �This is meant to be administered in stages but we don�t have the luxury of time.�
     Moon felt for Delilah�s pulse, it was thready and quick but it was there. �Wake up damnit� wake up��
     He stared down at his watch, clicking his teeth impatiently, �Christ she�s deep, what the f**k was she thinking?�
     He reached into his case, �hold her again, I�ve got to double the dose.�
     �Isn�t that dangerous?� Perrault said.
     �Listen, you make porno, I make drugs. If I want to f**k a girl in the a*s in a City basement, I come to you � you have a girl that�s OD�ing on my f*****g stuff, you come see me, right?�
     �Okay, okay��
     Moon administered the second shot, sweat beading his furrowed brow.
     It took just a few seconds for Delilah�s eyes to snap open, her back arched and she gasped a deep and ragged breath. Her hands clawed at the sofa, a nail breaking in the process. She threw her head back and cried out as the convulsions twisted her muscles. She dropped back, her eyes fluttering.
     Moon reached over and took her face in his hands, speaking slowly and deliberately to her. �Delilah, it�s Donnie, listen to me. The drugs you took were very bad� very strong��
     Her head lolled to one side, her eyes rolling and her mouth working.
     �Listen, the drugs were very strong, you remember?�
     She nodded, her eyes focussing briefly on his face.
     �Good, now I need to know where you hid them. Do you remember that?�
     She nodded again, gesturing weakly and murmuring. Moon dipped his head, his lips moving soundlessly. He stood and headed for the small kitchen. Kneeling at the side of the cooker, he ran his hands down until he felt a loose plate at the base. He pried it free and reached inside, his fingers coming instantly into contact with soft plastic. He retrieved the package and stuffed it hurriedly into his pocket.
     Perrault was kneeling beside Delilah again, stroking her forehead, his expression fearful. �She�s unconscious again,� he said without looking up, �we gotta get her to a hospital...�
     Donovan Moon stared down at the two of them and raised his gun. The cocking mechanism made a familiar click.
     Perrault turned slowly.
     �Sorry kid, somebody�s got to take the rap on this one.�
     He fired.

     His gun hand trained on the stairs, Moon swiftly made his way back down to the car lot. A haunting wail of sirens cut through the early morning drizzle. Moon gunned the engine and twisted the wheel.

     �Delilah, someone here to see you, my love,� the woman said smiling. She took a step back and placed a hand on the young man�s arm, her face sober.
     �Please, don�t expect much; whatever your sister took severely damaged her central nervous system. She�s blind, partially deaf and finds communicating very, very difficult � most of the time she�s incoherent.� She shook her head. �Just� try and prepare yourself�. I doubt she�ll even remember you, there is little memory of anything now.�
     The young man nodded his face pale and drawn.
     The nurse stared back though the door to the huddled shape in the wheelchair. �She was an actress wasn�t she?�
     �Yeah,� the man nodded, �yeah she was��

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Reviews

[Kody Boye]

And you're not Stephen King in disguise, right...

I lie...

Your stories are more entertaining than King's.

Seriously, I'm trying to write and then I come on the cafe and see your icon on the front of my page and I HAVE to read the story you wanted me to read. I start, think, 'This is Howie, it's gonna get crazy...'

It got crazy.

Seriously, I only saw two typos in the whole thing. GREAT JOB, HOWIE! And you're not submitting to markets yet? I'm messaging you a market I know right off the bat, all right? I think you submit a story to this market and they'll take it. It's a market I submitted to as well, so I think that you'll get in.

Seriously, that story BLEW ME ALL THE WAY TO THE OCEAN AND BACK AGAIN. Keep up the GOOD work!

absolutely amazing rewrite. It was very powerful. I enjoyed it tremendously. Looking forward to reading more!

[Andrew Dunham]

Harrowing rendition of an OD. I wonder, the antidote you mentioned, does it actually exist? Is there something which can counteract the effects of an opiate? Nice crisp action writing and not too heavily played. Now I'm off to read your Cinderella story.

[T. Blake Braddy]

The best thing about this story - well, there are a lot of good things, but the thing I liked the best - is the clipped, stripped, razor-thin prose. You've got a good hard-boiled voice in you. Very reminiscent of hmmm, I can't think of any one person in particular. Maybe Lawrence Block. Raymond Chandler a little, too, I think. Good stuff.

Length was definitely not a problem. I think you kept everything to where it should be, which is always pleasant, and something which you're always good with.

The opening conversation made me think of the scene in Pulp Fiction with John Travolta and the red-headed guy, what's his name? Eric Stoltz. Yeah, that's it. Very good. And, surprisingly, the gore was scaled back in the gun fight, which was good, too. I definitely like this story. I've been reading a lot of crime fiction lately, and 'Beauty in Repose' fits right in with the type of fiction I've been into.

I promise I'm going to try to read some more of your stuff soon. I've started working on the fourth novel and I never have time for the internet. Believe me, I wish I had more time to read!

[Greg the Bard]

Vertigo City is a great story and the different direction and the purpose of the flow is Great. Like the other reviwer I feel this is a re-write of sleeping beauty. The images flawless and in tune with flow that moves up and down with the image. In other words it read slow when necessary and fast when needed. Great job

[Michael Carr]

it may be a retake on sleeping beauty but this is almost a complete rewrite of Pulp Fiction at certain places. the first lines are almost exactly like the needle scene intro. That aside it's a rocking piece my man. great detail and hard action. the characters are spectacular.
well done howie, you've proved again that ur at the top of the class.
(keep in mind I'm taking the class next door lol)

[Michael Anyanwu]

Howie my homie, you've done it again with another wickedly twisted tale from the depths of Vertigo City's brutal streets. Donovan Moon is just the sort of hard nosed b*****d you dont want to do business with but he's compelling nonetheless.

Poor Delilah, trapped in a never ending looped nightmare of half glimpsed memories as her beauty fades into the oblivion of nightmare deferred dreams.

[Phillip J Clayton]

killer bro! your one fo those writers that get me all excited when i read your stories lol, like i feel so anxnious of what to expect, and this was liek the others i read pure brilliance m/

cheers!

[Sunny]

Damn. Pub by pub, Howie. Pub by pub.

[Spiritscript]

Howie,
You are a genius author. I'm not sucking up, so to speak. You truly are. I couldn't stop reading this. There are Vertigo cities everywhere, in reality. You write/tell/show what it's truly like.