August Affliction

Prologue

By Benson Langat

Life begins at conception. It ends when you decide to cross the wrong people.

The moon stood there above the beings below shining its rays in the night. Darkness engulfed and advanced fast like a developing disease. Stars twinkled and others too far away from the Milky Way just watched in awe as those of their kind made life colorful.

Within the darkness, appeared a figure, faint but stealthy. Moving from the dark alleys to the sidewalk in momentous calculated steps, it watched for onlookers. Nobody dared step out into the dead of night without accompaniment. Illumination from the street lighting beamed upon the figure, and it was a girl. She walked on assured that no eyes were on her trail. Dressed in pure black, she looked as dangerous as a cornered cat would be, only she was too free to roam about.

Her intentions were set to the origin of the night's music. The sound of rhythmical instrumentals tore into the dark with a compelling allure. She moved from the streets to the back of the pub in a creep. There was a back door rarely watched and lit, and that was her target entrance.

Her back on the wall adjacent to the unclosed door, she glanced at her ticking wrist watch and looked back one last time before driving her stealth into the pub.

She made her way straight to the lavatories, knowing her way well around. She shook her head as she opened the door to the bathroom as slow and silent as she could, lest she came across a more sober drunkard. The music was okay, but the old josser's laugh was so annoying. She had been through worse anyway, and in bed with actual monsters. This would be a piece of cake, she thought. But even cakes can have an awful taste, though.

Beneath the centered sink was a black case which she bent over to grab. She pulled it out and opened it, marveling at her night's prize taker. She took the contents out and ushered herself into a certainly empty bathroom while closing the door behind her. She dressed up as a waiter, folded her night clothes well then left the room. She replaced the case's contents, closed it and put it back where it was.

Ida then slid her right hands into the skirt's pocket to confirm the presence of her 'power potion.' She smiled when her fingers felt the cold, tiny bottle.

She then made her way to the counter where she stuffed a note into the bartender's pocket. He winked at her and went towards the lavatories and off out of the club through the backdoor. His night duties had been rewarded ten times what a monthly pay would feed him. He would then take an off for some time, rest his legs on a footstool and back on a recliner at some posh resort at the coast as the dust from the coming sandstorm settles.

She made quick little steps to the bar counter and smiled rather broadly to Ida. Ida took a bottle of Johnny Walker and another of Tequila from the ledge. With her first two fingers, she grabbed glasses from below the counter, where a revolver smiled back at her, and a shotgun rested. "Whisky," the smiling Rose from across the counter, said. She was a beauty that would grace every moonlight. Her short stature made her a perfect charmer and her ever-smiling face decorated by a beautiful cheekbone and a pair of dimples would drive anyone insane. Ida looked at her best friend from across the counter with a simple grin as she passed the napkin close to Rose and placed a gin-filled glass. Her friend simultaneously passed Ida a scribbled note from her left side, "fill me another." And she emptied the glass passing it back to Ida. The bartender filled it and turned as if to get a bottle while stealing a glance at the note which read, "It's time."

Ida half-filled the glass and topped it with a flavor of her making. She then took a tray and walked calmly towards the only occupied table. Music kept playing, making the brooding chaos less horrifying and more exciting. The occupied table rang with noise which hit blocks and over, even more than the now smooth instrumentals. The stench of consumed alcohol hit her nostrils as she approached to pick the emptied bottles. A cloud of exhaled cigar smoke is welcomed her as she bent down. She paused, a bottle on her hand.

"I have not seen you all night" the old josser roared as he turned to one of his female night companions who were paid to laugh for his silliest of jokes, "Isn't she pretty?" He giggled looking beside him while his hands spanked her lass. She rose and forced a brief smile. "I have been busy," she said.

"Wait, what?" He paused with a dying butt slowly self-consumed by the red flames within it. "You said you hadn't seen me all night. I have been busy." With that, she turned to make back for her post. Two strides away and the awkward silence enveloping suddenly returned to musical ecstasy, but he did not quiet.

"Come back here pretty face..." He called. She looked back, placed her tray carefully on the nearest table and smiled her way back. "Ida. My name is Ida."

"So, Ida whoever-"
"No last names sir, just Ida." She cut him short as she displaced one of the club girls, fixing herself just a heartbeat away from his foul breath.

"Ida...have you seen me before, heard of me maybe?"
"The famous cop who busted a couple of drug dealers and is all over the news and just parted with some good money to have an uninterrupted night? Of course, everyone has."

She took a glass for herself, half filled it with Beer and drained it in a gulp.

"She drinks beer, huh?"
"An old man's drink best suits a beautiful lady, wouldn't you agree?"

He laughed heartily until the disruption of his long cough stopped the fun.

"I would agree..." Cough, "but that would suggest that I am an old man, won't it?"

She looked at him in the eye, moved closer as if to press her lips on his, then retired back to a refilled glass, her left hand clearing off the contents of her little potion into it.

"You just coughed like a 90-year-old," she dared say, "are you not old?"

He looked at her expressionlessly, shook his head lightly and said," Insulting a policeman is a federal offense."

Silence.

"Once to rid of with another drink!" He roared in laughter as even the music came back to life. "We should find out..." She said handing him the drink in her hand.

Unaware of the added ingredients of the night he drank on to prove a point, one that would be the end of him. "I have a badge and a gun, you know," he went on boasting until he retired with one of the girls when Ida refused to leave with him, saying she had a night to serve her duties. "How old are you?" He remembered to ask before leaving.

"Old enough to be on this side of the bar," she said lightly patting her hands on the counter and waving him off with a fake smile. "Finally," she sighed.

A chemical genius, she had designed a poisonous drug that takes time to replicate the cells and eventually, turn them against one another. The result would be chaos in the bloodstream, and the body would feed itself up from within. The final thing to slip from a victim after the skin shading and blood oozing from every opening is life and breath.

"Officer Richard Jones was found dead in his apartment last night. This happened soon after the..."

"Life is too short if you do not realize the preciousness of each second and if you do not master the art of taking every opportunity to see tomorrow, as not a choice, but rather a gift. The sun sets on everyone. But never let the sun go down with your breath; do not let the lights to your life go out too soon before you reap the fruits of self-fulfillment." She held on to these words, inscribed on her heart by someone she would, for eternity, hold dear.

-B.L.