Dents

[+] Empire Ants

I was guided to a creaky wooden pier with chipped yellow paint. Evening crept ever closer. The sun became invisible behind the clouds, placid from the morning shower. The air was briny and wet. Though the storm had calmed to a faint drizzle, I could sense that it was merely an intermission for a much worse storm to come.

2D followed beside me in silence. He wouldn't even look at me.

He knew, too.

It hadn't occurred to me in the midst of all of this that I still held on to his harmonica. If I were to die, he shouldn't have to rifle around my dead body for one of his most beloved possessions.

"2D."

He looked at me, scared that Murdoc had heard. When he was sure he hadn't, he nodded his head slowly, urging me to continue.

I held the small wooden instrument out to him and smiled, trying to give him some reassurance. I hoped he couldn't sense how afraid I was. I didn't want to make this worse for him.

Strangely, a brave urged washed over me. He needed my protection, too. He was in just as much danger as I was. I swallowed. By fair means or foul, I was going to have to get us out of this. I began to rethink my earlier dismissal of fighting it out with Murdoc and the girl.

Meanwhile, 2D's eyes flickered from dread to a small glint of hope.

"Murdoc, yew know, Saoirse said she would help us wifth the new album."

Murdoc snapped his head back at an irregular angle as soon as he heard 2D speak. He was ready to bite his head off at the slightest provocation. Then, as 2D played on his trigger words, his expression turned to one of intrigue. It seemed I wouldn't have to come to blows with anyone after all.

"Mmm, is 'at so?"

His eyes ran over me, sizing me up like predator to prey. I felt violated.

"Damn shame she ain't got a bloody instrument. S'pose we won't eva know if she was any good now."

"Bu' Murdoc, I heard her play. She's exactly the raw sound yew've been lookin' fo'."

I had to give 2D credit. He knew his captor extraordinarily well. He was saying all the right things. Murdoc ate up every bit of it. Eventually, he agreed to see me perform. 2D had done half the job of saving my life.

Now it fell to me.

2D passed his harmonica back into my hand. When his fingers grazed against mine, I didn't flinch away from his touch.

I cleared my throat and started to play.

Murdoc's gnarled maw twisted into a gut-wrenching grin. With every note, it grew wider and wider until the corners of his lips met his ears.

"Alright, faceache. She'll stay. Ain't that right?"

"Yes," I bowed, caressing the instrument in relief, "I look forward to working with you."

"Fo' me," he corrected.

The drizzling rain calmed to nothing more than a cold breeze. The icy air did well in disguising the smell of garbage and plastic, though the putrid stench lingered so long I could nearly taste it. The storm subsided. We were greeted with the first rays of twilight.

So then why did I feel so hopeless?

Mistreatment was commonplace here. 2D was thinner than I was and undoubtedly more bruised up. The light of his eyes and the soul dwelling in the blackness beneath was only a small match, burning slowly and fading away. Even if I were to survive, my heart may not.

Yet, this was cause for celebration, was it not? I lived another day, a privilege denied to many.

"Thanks," I whispered, trying to keep my voice low enough so as to not be heard.

"You really saved my tail back there."

"Et's nofink, Saoirse."

He looked off to the coast line as we approached the studio. We didn't speak the rest of the way, though that didn't stop Murdoc from running his mouth. He was a one man act and a one man audience to his own antics. Truly, I felt a little pity toward him. He was a pathetic, drawn out sod, long past his glory. Maybe he was dying in some way, as well. Maybe we all were.

Murdoc and the girl eventually took us back down the lift, reaching the small pit-like room where 2D was confined.

I supposed it was my room now, too, since Murdoc left in a hurry, locking the lift doors behind him. I hadn't realized that I passed the point of no return. I was stuck here now. Possibly for weeks, months, perhaps years...

"How long have you been trapped here?"

"Dunno. Maybe a year or so, bu' I'm not really sure enymore."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. I remembered Essex.

Within mere days of finding my freedom, it was again pried from my desperate hands.