Page 142 of Judas

“Care to elaborate?”

“Nope.”

“Figures.”

Pissed-off snakes are something I can deal with. The issue lies with my own anger. Knowing what he did to Nadia, and seeing the residual damage to her face? Which he also did to Sadie?

You know what, I could shoot him right between the fucking eyes and Nadia would never know the difference. The beat down I’ve given him isn’t enough, if it wasn’t for her, and Carnifex’s transport requirements, I’d send him off as a bloody goddamn heap of flesh.

Thirty minutes after we left, we finally roll up to an old train tunnel. Looks like it hasn’t been used in a good ten or fifteen years by the overgrown trees and wildlife. Vines, grass, and downed tree limbs litter the rest of the rocky path Babel took when we pulled off of the main road. Part of me wonders how in the hell he figured out this place was here or why he took Lucien this far out of earshot. He could have escaped, someone could have been tailing Babel the entire time and helped Lucien get free. These thoughts fuel my frustration when he slams the SUV in park and starts to head out.

“Are you careless or something? Why the fuck would you bring him this far out, and not have one of us sitting on him? Who taught you this shit?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

“United States military, asshole. Shut the hell up and stop questioning my methods or you can handle the rest of this shit on your fucking own.”

“Forget who’s paying your damn check for this job?”

“Don’t give a shit. You wanted the job done right, no one said a thing about it making sense.”

Shutting my door a little too firmly, I follow him into the tunnel. Forcing myself through small gaps of foliage that has one too many damn sharp objects attached to it. I end up with a few scratches but I will survive, heh.

“Better hope his ass is still in here. If he made off—“

“I suppose you’ll be paying for another contract. My job was to get your daughter back and keep her safe, not dispose of the trash.”

I grunt, following behind him as he leads the way. We’re both too far gone in our lives to be bickering back and forth like a fucking married couple. We need to get to Lucien, hand him over, and then we will never have to see one another again. Nothing against the guy, he’s done well in his contract, Jarhead needs to get back to Oregon and out of my face though.

Light begins to fade once we get fifteen or so yards into the tunnel which makes the temperature drop. Pulling out my phone for the in-app flashlight, I see a short message from Nadia telling me they’re only waiting on Sadie’s discharge papers now. That’s a sigh of relief. Swiping my thumb across the screen, I can respond later, I pull up the flashlight and turn it on. Illuminating our path that’s thick with dirt, overgrowth, and garbage. Can only imagine what type of shit has taken place in a shaft like this, I know what I’d do under normal circumstances

Our boots crunch over gravel, and at other times are silent when we step through something with a little more give. Assuming, well hoping, that it’s moss or something, and not a dead animal. Eventually we make it to where he says Lucien is locked away. About half way down, we come up to a metal door and it’s one of those with the large wheel on the front of it and what likely used to be a padlock. Not very secure, but it’s enough to ward off people who are not as into crime as the rest of us.

Babel spins the wheel, and pushes the door open with a rustically-loud whine. As he does, a gust of humid air bellows out and fucking hell, the stench is gut wrenching. My face screws up in a look of disgust when I get a big whiff of whatever has died down in this hole. Doesn’t seem to bother him when he pushes forward into the open space and goes on like nothing is the matter.

Stepping over the threshold, we come to a metal grated landing with stairs leading off to the left. When Babel starts to head down them, the low thud of his boots filling the hollowed out space along with a slight vibration through the platform, I follow. There are exactly twelve steps from the top down to the bottom. At the end, concrete. I pan the flashlight from my phone around to give me an idea of where the hell we are at. Definitely some sort of control room as off on the other side, across a watery-crossroads is a series of panels that look as if they haven’t been touched in years. Covered in dirt, cobwebs, and framed with scattered animal remains.

Found where the smell is coming from.

Turning back the opposite direction, I come face to face with a silent and slumped version of Lucien.Pathetic. His arms are suspended out beside him, head hung low, feet barely holding him up. Actually, it looks like the bulk of his weight is pulling on his wrist. If it wasn’t for the transport, he wouldn’t be in a clean pair of clothes right now either. Utter filth.

What if I just leave his ass here? He can hang and rot like his savior. Let the creatures that come in here for shelter, for food, find him and send him back to the dirt in which he came. Munch a gnaw on his body, scavenging, disposing of him.

Stepping to his right, Babel grabs him by the hair, tilting his head back where we both can see him clearly. What we are met with doesn’t surprise me in the least. Blood is pouring from his mouth and hanging from his lips? The psychopath bit off histongue, of course. Suppose he thinks he is headed somewhere where they will torture him until he talks, which he couldn’t be more wrong. My boots carry me closer where I lean side to side, getting a good look at him and can’t stop the chuckle that starts to shake my chest.

“You’re a piece of work aren’t you? In here abusing yourself, biting your tongue off, like it’s going to save you from what you have coming. At least you didn’t get blood all over your damn clothes. Babel, you got a rag on you, so I can wipe his fucking face off, like an infant?”

“Yeah, figured he’d do something stupid like this.” He answers, pulling a rag from the apartment out of his back pocket. Making his way over to one of the waterways, he leans over and dips it in, soaking the fibers until the fabric darkens and he wrings some of it out. I watch him, not too worried about our captive next to me—he deems subdued enough. Once he is back, we both hold Lucien steady as Babel wipes his damn face off and tries to shove his bitten tongue back into his mouth. Not that he will need it. I just secretly hope he chokes on the thing and dies.

We sit and wait for transport to arrive for hours, the smell of rot has faded by the time two bulky guys that put me to shame start coming down the metal stairs. I heard them before they stepped through the open door, the shift of gravel and the slide of their pants legs brushing past one another gave them away. Looking up from where I’m leaned against a wall, to the right of Lucien's hanging body, I make eye contact with one of the men and follow him closely. He’s too familiar, like I have seen him before, and I can’t place his face at the moment. The other guy? Unimpressive, probably won’t remember him beyond today. Then, behind them is someone I wasn’t quite expecting.

“Havok,” she coos.

“Sister.” I reply, letting my eyes cast over her from her veil down to the black of her dress and the gaudy rosary that hangs at her waist. Not what I expected at all. Dark eyes, slightly round face, straight and confident posture. This must be why captives are required to be clean. As not to dirty her habit. Or why everything must be held in secret, having someone as revered as a nun move human-cargo would be a shame on the church.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be shocked, it’s the church after all.

“This is Hank and Collins. They will be taking over from here.” She informs us. As she finishes their introductions, they move swiftly. Babel hands over the keys to the handcuffs he secured around Lucien’s wrists when he locked him down here, then steps beside me. Shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jacket. He stands with an edge, as if this is uncomfortable for him. Suppose it is, mister Semper Fi.

Holding Lucien under his armpits, they start to drag him off as the Sister stands by and oversees. Following their movements with an air of holier than thou about her. My gut tells me there’s something wrong here. A religious woman being the face of an institution like Carnifex? It’s off putting. They carry Lucien up the stairs and slide out of the open door, leaving Babel and I with the Sister. Silence lingers over each of us, outside of the trickling and slight rush of water that’s filled the underground crossroads.

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