JOURNEY OF SOULS

Ricky stood on the clifftop, surveying the horizon. She watched him, feeling a strange mix of emotions: love, fear, admiration, jealousy, loyalty… mostly a blind devotion. She would do anything for him, overlook any transgression, no matter how much it hurt. Trouble was, he knew it; and the question she often asked herself was… would he do the same for her?

Taking the high-powered binoculars away from his face, he commented, “No sign yet, but it won’t be long.”

“I still think we should’ve gone to Tunisia, we could still go now, it’s not too late.”

“You can go if you want; I’ll get Gino to take you.”

“No, Ricky, I’m not going without you. You have to come too. Please? Will you come?” she took his hand.

“Sorry, Sonja, I can’t. Not even for you,” he shook her hand away; “I can’t just keep running, they’d find me wherever I went; and, besides… I need to finish this business with Di Angelo, once and for all.”

“Do you? Do you really need to?” she stared into his eyes; “he outnumbers us more than ten to one, what chance do we stand? They’ll hunt us down, kill us, all of us. It’ll be slaughter, you’re condemning us to death.”

“More like twenty to one, I’d say. But they won’t kill us that easily. We’re gonna put up more of a fight than they could possibly imagine. Di Angelo may have the numbers, but he’s made the mistake of coming to me, to my ground; and he’s in for a few nasty surprises when he gets here. But you can go, if that’s how you feel. Just leave me, desert me like all the other bitches I’ve known. I can do without you.”

He turned and strode across the clifftop, coming to a halt twenty feet away, gazing out to sea through his binoculars, his back to her. She stared after him, wanting to cry. But she didn’t dare show any weakness here. Ricky could be so cruel sometimes, but she couldn’t leave him, she just couldn’t; not after everything they’d been through.

*

It had been on the news for years: the empty generation, soulless outbreaks, the wars in Asia and America. They’d suffered shortages, rationing, power cuts, but, beyond that, it hadn’t touched their town; her life had largely been unaffected… until the morning the police had come.

She’d been having breakfast with her family, everything had seemed completely normal. The knock at the door had been so loud it made her jump, she’d spilled coffee on her top. Her father had gone to answer the door.

“Isaac Goldblatt?” asked the more senior of the officers standing in the hallway.

“Er… yes.”

“You have two daughters residing on these premises: Goldblatt, Sonja, aged nineteen; and Goldblatt, Magda, aged fifteen.”

“Yes, so?”

“They are to come with us at once.”

“Why?”

“Just routine. Everyone aged seven or more born after the origin date is being tested. They’ll be allowed home as soon as they’re cleared, nothing to worry about.”

They’d gone willingly, certain they had nothing to fear: after all, they’d done nothing wrong. It was only when they got to the town hall that they learned the vigilantes had come in the night, quickly taken control of the town, and ordered the local police to round up the children and young adults. They were to be made to take the Russian psychometric test: it only worked on subjects aged seven or more, hence why the youngest children were spared. Even for older subjects, it was notoriously flawed, but it was still the best method anyone had for identifying the soulless.

They sat the test in batches, her sister was taken in first, she was told to wait outside. An hour later, her sister emerged, wearing that smug, emotionless smile she hated so much. “I passed,” she said, then simply walked away, heading back towards their apartment, without sparing Sonja a second glance.

When her turn finally came, she was escorted inside, and taken to the main hall. She joined the others, sitting at desks arranged in rows, like students sitting an examination, except they were watched over by armed police who, in turn, were watched over by one of the vigilantes. They were given half an hour to complete the test, then told to wait for the results.

After what felt like an age, the mayor began reading out the names of those who’d passed. As each name was read out, that person was allowed to leave. She sat listening to the mayor, waiting anxiously for her name to be called. The mayor kept speaking, listing the lucky ones who were free to go, but still she didn’t hear her name. Finally, the mayor stopped, waited for the last of those who’d passed to vacate the hall, then announced, “The rest of you have failed. You are under arrest on suspicion of being soulless. You will be taken to the police station for further observation and additional tests. I urge you to co-operate as the officers move among you to take you into custody. Any resistance will be met with the harshest measures, the officers are authorised to shoot if necessary.”

She was horrified, she couldn’t believe it. How could she have failed the test; she knew she was normal, she knew she had a soul. How could this have happened?

The police began handcuffing the suspects, moving down the row towards her. She was terrified, she’d seen what the vigilantes did to the soulless on TV. She thought about making a run for it but, before she could move, she heard a shout behind her, “You’re not taking me, I’m not one of those freaks.” Turning around, she saw a teenage boy jumping to his feet, rushing for the door. One of the police officers shouted, “Stop!” The boy kept running and the officer shot him in the back. The boy fell, sprawling on the floor, a crimson puddle slowly spreading around him. A voice behind her said, “Put your hands behind your back.” She did as she was told and the officer fixed a pair of handcuffs around her wrists.

Grabbing her arm, the officer led her from the town hall to the police station, the other side of the square, together with the others who’d failed the test. The police took them downstairs to the basement cells, took off their handcuffs, and locked them in with the dozens of other suspected soulless already there.

It was crowded in the cells, standing room only. Most of the prisoners stood in silence, waiting, some were crying. She wanted to cry too. This was a nightmare: only a few hours ago, it had been just another day, nothing more to worry about than her college exams. Now, here she was, accused of being soulless, locked up like a criminal when she hadn’t done anything. She tried not to think about what she’d seen on TV. Surely, they’d soon realise they’d made a mistake, they wouldn’t do that to her… would they?

After a few hours, a young guy, around her own age, came to speak to them. Although young, he spoke with authority, it was clear from the way his colleagues deferred to him he held a senior rank.

“My name’s Ricky, I’m deputy boss of this group; I’m the one who’s gonna interview you. You’re all here ‘cause you failed the test. But that ain’t the end of the story, we know that test don’t always work. Some of you are innocent, you got souls, I’m the one who can tell. There’s no point you soulless tryin’ to fool me, I can read you like a book. But the rest of you, the ones with souls, you should be as honest with me as you can, that’s your best shot. Who wants to go first?”

Right from the start, from that very moment, she saw something in his eyes. There was nothing soft or innocent about him; he was hard, he was tough, he wouldn’t baulk at anything. But there was an honesty to him, she got the sense that, if you were prepared to deal with him on his terms, he would be straight with you. Quickly, she put her hand up.

“That one,” he pointed at her, “the girl with long dark hair in a ponytail. I’ll take her first.” He turned around and walked away.

Two police officers opened the cell and grabbed her roughly by the arms. They pushed her down the corridor, into a small interview room, manhandled her into the chair opposite Ricky, already sitting at the metal table holding a computer tablet, fixed the handcuffs attached to the table around her wrists, then withdrew.

“Name?” asked Ricky.

“Er, Sonja, sir… Sonja Goldblatt”

“Jewish?”

“Er, yes sir.”

“You don’t need to call me sir. How old are you, Sonja?”

“Nineteen, sir, er, sorry, I mean nineteen.”

“You a virgin?”

She blushed, “Do you really need...”

“Weren’t you listening? I said be as honest as you can.”

“No, I’m not. I did it once with a boy at college, I didn’t really want...”

“A simple ‘no’ will do.”

“Er, no, I’m not a virgin.”

“Good,” he tapped the computer tablet; “any siblings?”

“Yes, my sister, Magda.”

“What do you think of her?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what…”

“Does she have a soul?”

“Well, er… I don’t really know, I…”

“Again, I must remind you: be as honest as you can. It’s your best chance… your only chance, Sonja.”

“Oh, er… well, I mean, I think she’s er… er, no, er… no, to be honest, I don’t think she does have a soul.”

“Hmmm, a lot of the soulless try to fool me by betraying their siblings, happens all the time. Why should I believe you?”

“I dunno. She’s just strange, she never seems to care about anyone.”

“Doesn’t prove anything, she might be perfectly normal, just selfish. Did she sit the test?”

“Yes, she was in the batch before me. She passed.”

“Bet you think that’s unfair. You think she’s soulless and she passed, but here you are, locked up in the cells ‘cause you failed. Must be tough?”

“I suppose so,” she shrugged, “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Do you want to swap?”

“Swap?”

“Yes, swap. I let you go, we lock her up with the other soulless, a simple swap. What do you think?”

“What would you do to her?”

“Why do you care? You said she has no soul.”

“She’s still my sister, I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“OK,” he tapped his tablet again. “Who else do you think has no soul?”

"Er, I dunno, it’s hard to say. They all seem normal, they don’t usually hurt anyone. There was a boy in my class at college last year went a bit crazy, but they took him away.”

“Name five people with no soul and I’ll let you go.”

“But I don’t know.”

“Three then, surely you can name three?”

“You still haven’t told me what you’ll do to them, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“We burn them. That’s what’ll happen to you if you don’t give me the names of at least three soulless.”

Her blood ran cold, terror coursed through her veins; was he serious, would they really do that to her? She’d seen it on TV, but she never imagined…

“Come on, I haven’t got all day… three names, that’s all I need,” he demanded.

“I… I… I can’t, I... I don’t know. I mean, if I was sure, maybe, but I… I can’t tell… no-one can tell.”

“I can,” he smiled, tapping his tablet once more; “well done, Sonja, you’ve demonstrated empathy and compassion, you’re...”

The door behind him burst open, a young man rushed in, “Ricky, you gotta come now. It’s Lewis, he’s ordered us to burn the lot straight away, no interviews or nothin’!”

“What?” Ricky jumped to his feet; “that’s crazy. The Russian test’s unreliable, there’s always loadsa norms get caught up. Got one here, first one I tested,” he waved at Sonja.

“Lewis don’t care, he wants’a burn ‘em quick, move on. Says we can cover more ground that way. He wants’a impress the family, show he can clear more territory than anyone else, get made up fast. You know how ambitious he is.”

“Well, sure, I’m ambitious too. But these are just civilians. Come on, Gino, we’d better go and stop him.”

“He won’t listen, Ricky.”

“I’ll make him listen,” he pulled open his jacket to display the pistol he was carrying.

The two men headed out the door. “Hey,” she shouted after them, rattling the chains holding her to the table, “what about me?” But they were already gone.

*

Ricky marched back to the cells, where he found a mixed group of vigilante gunmen and police herding the prisoners upstairs a dozen at a time. Once outside in the courtyard, the gunmen tied the prisoners to posts, soaked them in petrol, and set them alight. Lewis Di Angelo, boss of their group, was supervising proceedings, a huge grin on his face as he watched the screaming victims being roasted alive. He saw Ricky approaching, “Good, you’re here, you can help organise the groups coming up from the cells, make sure we don’t miss any. We can get ‘em all done by midnight if we keep up the pace. We’ll move on to Pilsen overnight, get started again first thing in the morning.”

“You can’t do this, Di Angelo, we’re supposed to conduct interviews, extra tests. There’s over one in five are normal, innocent civilians. The Russian test’s meant to be stage one, I gotta do the interviews; I can get it down to two percent, the Vatican studies proved it.”

“You’re too soft, Carlton. I never wanted you for my deputy, but the bosses insisted, just ‘cause you’re supposed to be good with those fuckin’ pointless interviews. Two to five percent’s acceptable, the families can live with that, they say. What a load of crap, I say. We’re at war, no-one’s innocent, they’re just collateral damage. We haven’t got time for pissing around. Now go and get the next batch. I heard you got one in the interview room, a real beauty they said. Make sure you bring her, think I’ll fuck her before we burn her.”

“No,” he pulled his pistol from his jacket, pointing it at Di Angelo’s head, “you’re in breach of the families’ orders, I’m relieving you of command.”

“This is mutiny, you’ll burn with the prisoners.”

“Stop the burnings ‘til I’ve done the interviews or I’ll shoot.”

“Go ahead, let’s see if you got the stomach for it.”

“I’ll shoot.”

“And I’m calling your bluff, you pussy. You’ll never make a boss, you’re too soft.”

“I’m not soft, I just like to give people a chance… even you, you scum. So, this is it… your chance. Stop the burnings now.”

“No”

“Fine, have it your way,” he pulled the trigger. The gun clicked as the hammer fell on an empty chamber.

Di Angelo snatched the pistol from his hand and clubbed him across the side of the head. He fell to the ground, dazed by the blow. Di Angelo pulled his own gun from his jacket, pointing it at Ricky’s chest, “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Shaking off his stupor, he pulled a knife from his boot, and threw it at Di Angelo’s neck. The boss fell to his knees, blood spraying from his throat.

Getting to his feet, he stood over the dying man, “Yes, I do.”

He turned to face the rest of the group, “The burnings stop ‘til I’ve finished my interviews. Gino, get a message to Rome, tell them I’ve taken command. Then go and get that girl from the interview room, bring her to my office. Di Angelo was a stupid cunt, but he was right about one thing… she is a real beauty.”

*

“So, Sonja, we meet again.”

She looked down at him, sitting behind his desk, feeling helpless and vulnerable with her arms handcuffed behind her back. She watched him looking her up and down, knowing he could do what he liked with her. Shivering in fear, she expected the worst, but tried her best to stay calm.

“Er, yes. Your man told me you saved me from getting burned.”

“Not just you, but, yes, I did.”

“Oh, well, er... er, thank you.”

He stood up, walked around the desk, and stood in front of her. Reaching out, he put his hand on her neck, softly caressing her throat with his thumb, “You’re welcome.”

She gazed down at the floor, shaking slightly, afraid of what he would do next. “Thank you,” she said again.

“I don’t burn innocent girls if I can help it, especially girls as pretty as you.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed, then asked in a whisper, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Well, my predecessor was going to fuck you before he burned you. But I’m not like that, I’m not going to burn you. I would still very much like to fuck you though.”

He moved behind her, taking his hand from her neck, slowly running it down her back to her buttocks, squeezing them softly. After a moment, he moved his hand away, she heard him fumbling with something. She began to cry.

Suddenly, there was the clink of metal on metal, a click, and her hands were free. He pulled the handcuffs away, threw them to one side, then softly rubbed her wrists where the metal had been biting into them. He moved his hands back up her sides until they were gently cupping her breasts. She was crying, shaking with fear, she could feel his manhood pressing into her back. Although he’d released her from her bonds, she felt powerless to stop him, whatever he wanted to do to her, as if still bound by the force of his will.

But, alongside her fear was something else: desire. A part of her wanted him, even though it seemed so wrong. He was a gangster, a vicious killer. Sure, he was better than some of the others but, in the morning, he would be condemning dozens of people to death.

“P-p-please d-don’t hurt me,” she stammered.

He released her breasts then walked around in front of her again. “I won’t,” he smiled; “I like you, Sonja, I like you a lot. I’d like to spend the night with you, make love to you. I’m quite good at it actually,” he shrugged.

“Through that door,” he pointed at the outer office door, “Gino is waiting. If you walk out there, he will escort you home safely, I give you my personal guarantee.”

He pointed towards the other door, leading off the office, “I’m going through that door. It leads to my bedroom. It would make me very happy if you followed me, but…” he leaned forward, placed his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her long and passionately before releasing her and stepping back again, “… the choice is yours.” Turning away, he walked through the door.

She stopped shaking, sniffing back her tears as she fought to get her emotions under control. Standing there, in the middle of the office, she wondered what to do. Could she trust him, was this some kind of cruel trick, another test to prove whether she had a soul? But, if it was genuine, why was she even hesitating? She should leave now, while she had the chance. She closed her eyes; his face swam in front of her. Gangster, killer... but those eyes, he had the most amazing eyes. And his touch was so gentle, so dreamy... she knew he’d be an amazing lover.

No, this was mad, ridiculous, she should go now, get out of this awful place while she could. She opened her eyes, walked to the outer door, and reached for the doorknob.

*

Lying awake, staring at the ceiling, she thought about her decision. She knew it was crazy, but she didn’t regret it, she would never regret it.

Ricky muttered in his sleep, pulled her closer, nuzzling into her, kissing her softly on the neck. She smiled; it had been wonderful, truly wonderful. He was right, he was good at it. Fucking good at it, in fact; or fucking good at fucking, to be precise. She chuckled softly to herself. To think, she’d almost walked out. But standing there at the door she’d suddenly thought how he’d offered her a choice, told her it was up to her. He could have done anything he wanted with her, but he’d offered her the choice. And the way he’d softly rubbed her aching wrists, caring about her suffering. And, of course, those eyes... my God, she was almost creaming again just thinking about them.

She knew he would send her home in the morning, or maybe in a day or two if she was lucky. He’d move on, find someone else, she knew that, she accepted it. But she had him tonight, and she would have the memories of this night forever. That was enough.

Looking at the empty champagne bottles lying next to the bed, she remembered drinking them between their bouts of lovemaking: was it four or five times in the end, she couldn’t quite remember. Unfortunately, seeing the bottles seemed to remind her of something else. She tried to put it out of her mind, but it was no good, she’d never get back to sleep unless she attended to it. Carefully, she eased herself out from under him, trying to disturb him as little as possible, then tiptoed towards the bathroom. She was almost there when she tripped over one of the empty bottles. Picking it up, she placed it on the small table next to the bathroom door, then slipped inside. She closed the door behind her and sat in the dark, not wanting to risk waking her lover by putting on the light.

She heard someone moving outside. Had Ricky woken up? Why was he creeping about like that? She almost called out to him, but something held her back. It wasn’t him. Someone else was in the room.

*

Ricky woke up and reached for Sonja. She’d gone, where was she? She must have slipped away without him noticing. He was normally a light sleeper; you had to be in this group. But too much champagne and sex could knock you out. He smiled. She was good, one of the best he’d ever had. Maybe he’d ask her to tag along for a while. It might be fun to have her around for a few weeks.

He looked up, sensing a figure standing over him in the dark, “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” hissed the figure. His blood froze as he recognised the voice. It was Tony, Di Angelo’s old buddy from Naples, the man everyone expected to be made deputy boss before Ricky had been sent by the families instead.

“You shoulda been expectin’ me, motherfucker,” Tony pressed the cold steel of a silencer into his forehead; “if you’d been proper family, a true soldier like Di Angelo, you’da been watchin’ your back ‘stead o’ fuckin’ some soulless whore. Now you’re gonna pay, motherfucker.”

He closed his eyes and waited to die. There was a loud thud, then the sound of a body collapsing to the floor. His eyes snapped open and he scrambled for the bedside lamp, squinting at the surprising scene it illuminated as it burst into light.

Tony was lying in a heap on the carpet, blood streaming from the back of his head. Standing over him like an Amazon warrior was Sonja, still holding the heavy champagne bottle in her clenched fists.

“I’m not a fucking whore,” she spat at the comatose man at her feet.

*

Sonja smiled as she walked across the clifftop and put her arms around Ricky’s waist, “I didn’t desert you the first night, and I’m not going to desert you now. You’re stuck with me, Berwick Carlton, I love you.”

He tossed his binoculars into the long grass, and spun around in her grasp. Staring deep into her eyes, he grinned, “I know you do, Sexbomb.”

She recognised the look in his eyes, “Not here, Ricky, it’s dangerous. Di Angelo could be here any minute, you said it yourself. We could get shot while we’re... er, you know, while we’re busy.”

“No chance, you’re my lucky charm, remember,” he grabbed her blouse, ripped it open, then pulled down her bra and bent his head to suck on one of her nipples, gently rubbing the other between his thumb and forefinger. She put her hand on the back of his neck, “Oh God, you’re the best.”

He pushed her down into the grass and lay beside her. He moved his hand slowly up her thigh, under her skirt, smiling when he discovered she wasn’t wearing anything beneath. He laughed, “And you acted so surprised.”

“Well, I like to be prepared,” she laughed back; “come on, I want you now.”

He rolled her over onto her stomach and climbed on top, “Like this?”

“Oh God, yes please.”

She squealed in pleasure as he entered, loving every moment of it. When she climaxed, she felt she would just burst with ecstasy. She came once, twice, then he was flipping her over onto her back and she was coming again, just as he too burst within her.

“Oh God, Ricky, how do you do it,” she lay there, panting with exhaustion.

“It’s easy, ‘cause you’re a sexy Sexbomb,” he smiled down at her. He started to bend forward, pursing his lips ready to kiss her, but he suddenly stopped and frowned, cocking his head to one side.

“What is it?” she sat up, hastily pulling her clothes on.

He jumped up, pulling his trousers on as he moved. Snatching up his binoculars, he looked out to sea, “Helicopter gunships, four of them, coming straight for us; it’s time, let’s go.”

Bending down, he pulled her up as she was tying her torn blouse around her waist. Hand in hand, they ran down the landward side of the cliff, heading for a small hole at the base.

“I still don’t understand how you found this place; never mind how you know it so well.”

“I have many memories of it,” he responded.

“But you said you’d never been here before?”

“I haven’t, they’re not my memories.”