Beauty in ReposeA Story by HoWiEThis 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 its me, weve got a problem its Delilah, shes 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. Im in the safe house on Crescent Street. Shes found some of the stuff man, I I dont know how but I think shes taken some, Christ, shes 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 Wheres the stash? I I dont know, I looked but she must have hidden it- Moon cursed under his breath. Right, Im on my way, dont 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. Delilahs 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, were very busy tonight well get there when we can He stared back over to the two bodies that hed 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 deaths 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 wasnt 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 hed already been made and word would be around the block within minutes. Donovan Moon: Vertigo Citys 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 mans skull. There was a foul crack and the mans 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 mans 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 mans eyes widened and he dropped to his knees, dead before he touched the ground. Perrault jumped violently as the door thundered on its hinges, Delilahs 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 didnt 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 dont know, friends of Delilahs I think. They were here when I got here. I think theyre dead. Well theyre starting to rot, I think that pretty much proves your theory, Moon spat. Of course, of course Perrault muttered. I wasnt sure if you were the Paramedics or not, I- I thought you said you hadnt called anyone else Moons 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 ODing. 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. Weve got to work quickly. He lowered the gun and tucked it away. Your lucks 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. Its called Kiss, a derivative of Naloxone Hydrochloride, used in the reversal of Opiates, Ive 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 dont have the luxury of time. Moon felt for Delilahs 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 shes deep, what the f**k was she thinking? He reached into his case, hold her again, Ive got to double the dose. Isnt 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 thats ODing 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 Delilahs 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, its 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. Shes 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, somebodys 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 mans arm, her face sober. Please, dont expect much; whatever your sister took severely damaged her central nervous system. Shes blind, partially deaf and finds communicating very, very difficult most of the time shes incoherent. She shook her head. Just try and prepare yourself. I doubt shell 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 wasnt she? Yeah, the man nodded, yeah she was
Music courtesy of Plain White T's © 2008 HoWiEFeatured Review
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Added on February 26, 2008AuthorHoWiEPlymouth,, Devon, United KingdomAboutWell, I'm back - it only took 8 years to get over my writer's block! Now 47, older, wiser and, for some reason, now a teacher having left the Armed Forces in 2012. The writing is slow going but .. more..Writing
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