Brink by Mikel Parry

CH-BEARS AND TIGERS

The murky waters of the ill kept shipyard sloshed about, churning up a healthy froth of white from its depths. Old wooden structures, weathered and worn by time, dotted the edge where water met land. It was late in the evening. The last rays of sunlight were rapidly thinning into nothingness. The eerie chill from the water was whisked through the air like a silent ghost. Many dark places hiding many dark secrets loomed about. Amidst it all stood Thomas.

He puffed in and out a few breathes of the chilled air. His nerves hummed like overcharged electric lines. He had been to many loathsome places, but the docks always topped his list of most hated. Proximity towards the water created a myriad of dark possibilities that could easily drown-out thought. All one had to do was give a push, and a world of details would be lost to the sea. How many secrets lay at its bottom? How many questions unanswered?

What the hell am I doing?

Thomas looked around, suddenly feeling the urge to turn around and dash home. But he stood his ground. There wasn’t time to indulge his selfish, human nature. To succeed he had to pause his concerns and replace them with reasons. But the docks proved to be a formidable opponent to his courage. He knew just as well as any what despicable things lurked in the shadows. It was a watering hole for evil.

You can do this, Tommy.

He looked around until he was content that he hadn’t been followed. His demands had been explicit. He needed to walk this part alone. The killer had seen Thomas, which meant he was more than likely already studying him too. If this was the case, he needed to cease being who he was, and quickly. Pulling up the collar of his coat, he inhaled the crisp air. Cautiously, he proceeded into the unseen places in the dark.

At first he was largely disappointed. Apart from a few homeless wanderers, the area was dead. Nothing but empty beer cans, cigarette butts, and garbage dotted the scene. Perhaps all the hype truly had been overstated. That was, until he found himself walking towards a peculiar looking building. It was just another tossed-together example of the make-shift architecture popular here. It reeked of stale fish and rot. But on its only door was a handmade sign with three triangles tightly locked together; three triangles that he had seen many times before in his thoughts. Now more than ever, he wished he would have seen Roslin. There was something he needed to know; something deviant in nature he suspected was being played out masterfully.

Walking up to the door, he ran his fingers over the frail piece of paper that had been intentionally placed there. With little effort it fell into his hand.

Three triangles . . . three triangles . . . what does it mean? Come on, Tommy. What is this?

As hard as he tried, no answer appeared. The odd symbol meant nothing to him. Its cryptic meaning was a mystery. But one thing was now becoming certain; the killer had a purpose. It was finding this purpose that now consumed his thoughts. Balling the paper up, he tossed it roughly to the ground. Reaching down, he tugged on the door handle. It didn’t budge. Frustrated, he tried again. It was locked. But why would the killer lead him to a locked door? What was his plan for Thomas?

Letting loose a few lines of exasperated profanity, he threw himself into the door. It creaked slightly against the force. He repeated the process again. This time he put everything he had into his shoulder and heaved forward. With a sudden crack and a pop, the door flew open, sending him flying inside. He slid onto the ground and rolled into a few barrels that held miscellaneous tools. The impact sent some of them whirling through the air, making a ferocious racket when they landed.

There goes the element of surprise.

Putting his hat carefully back on his head, he dusted himself off and got up. His body was beginning to feel more and more like a crash test dummy. How much more could he possibly take? He felt down his thigh towards his gun. At least he had remembered his weapon. Without it he had felt naked and vulnerable. He felt it helped him slightly level the playing field.

What’s that?

Suddenly a flickering stream of light dancing its way up a mysterious flight of stairs appeared before him. This oddity seemed to be sourced from somewhere down below. This was obviously very out of place. Looking around the room, he realized that there was only one choice left to him. He would have to go down and meet whatever was waiting for him head on. For better or worse, he wanted it to end. He was ready to do whatever was necessary, even if the thought of it petrified him.

He had to move forward. Time wasn’t going to safely abide at his side for long. If someone was being targeted, the current of motion in time had already begun ripping them apart, one tiny detail at a time. Going down the flight of stairs, the light began to grow until it completely enveloped him. Along with it came the rowdy voices of a large group of men. He now realized that he was moving into a potential pit of vipers. Releasing his gun from the side of his hip, he gripped it tightly in his hands.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Step after step, he cautiously worked his way down. The intensity of the clamor below grew and grew. It was now deafening. Drunken slander, contempt, and joyous overtures filled the passage to capacity in equal measure. Realizing he was just a few steps away from leaving his concealed position in the stairway, he paused. Now more than ever he regretted coming alone. But he had done so for a reason. If he was being targeted, he was going down alone. There was no sense in dragging someone else into the claws of death.

Feeling his finger slide over the smooth edge of the trigger, he peeked around the corner. What he found left him utterly amazed. A massive room opened before him, crudely lit by a jungle of connected lights. Men stood shoulder to shoulder in the thick smog of cigarette smoke. Their faces were shrouded in shadow. Cackling demons dressed in their fancy suits.

What is going on?

Looking around it soon became clear that the epi center of activity was the middle of the room. From where he was he could make out a large recess with high, towering walls filled with men cheering loudly. Tables filled with guns, knives, and all other manner of contraband lined the walls. Scantily clad women moved seductively through the crowd serving drinks. A true den of vice.

Taking one last deep breath, he carefully hid the gun in his coat, concealing its threat. The last thing he needed was to draw any unwanted attention. If he was discovered, a bullet square between the eyes would be the last human interaction he would ever have. He moved forward, feeling the immense heat from the packed-in bodies in the room rubbing up against him. The fowl air made him choke and cough. This drew the attention of a few onlookers who looked him over suspiciously. Each looked as if they had been inside a cage for most their delinquent life. They dismissed Thomas quickly. Amongst such a diverse group of underbelly scum, he was just another odd face.

Pressing his way through the crowd, he could sense the tension in the room. It was almost palpable. The alluring scent of debauchery passed by him, its wearer brushing against his side. He glanced over to catch her eyes.

“Looking for a good time, honey? I’d run a special for you.”

The raspy voice came from a slender, part Asian-looking woman. She winked at Thomas as she continued on her way, sensually presenting her goods. Her scent lingered behind, making Thomas’ normally sharp wit dull slightly. It appeared that no matter one’s intellect, women always held the carnal keys.

Turning back around, he rammed face-first into the broad chest of a very large man. A large fist quickly snatched Thomas by the collar of his coat.

“You have a problem with walking?”

Looking up at the mountain of flesh, Thomas shook his head.

“Sorry, I’ve had one too many tonight. Left my good leg at home.”

The man released him and burst into gleeful laughter. He moved on past Thomas pursuing the slender woman who had propositioned Thomas with her bold touch. Relaxing his body, he felt his hand shift beneath his coat. He had been clenching his gun tightly in anticipation. His heart sank. He needed to be more careful. A gun fight in a place like this would not end well. Moving forward, he came across a beehive of underworld activity.

Tables were filled to capacity with illegal arms and imported explosives. Stolen government goods, top-secret documents, and other damning items were on open display as if it were a flea market. This was all hidden quietly in the dark, far from the view of those with a legal interest. In his entire career he had never seen anything like it. All of the details in the room were zooming through his mind, connecting dots to faces. It was a literal treasure trove of potential for resolving unsolved cases. But he wasn’t here for that. He was here to stop a madman from altering time; something more dangerous than any of the weaponry embellishing these tables.

“You placing a bet?”

Thomas was caught off guard. His mind came to a screeching halt, when a moment ago it had been whizzing around a race track. A wiry man with clouded eyes gazed blankly at him. He held one of his hands out before Thomas like a beggar, his eyes remaining intently focused on him.

“I’m sorry?”

The man blinked slowly. From behind his yellow stained teeth came a gurgling reply.

“The fight—are you betting or not?”

Thomas took a glimpse around the large pit surrounded by the drunken gathering of deviant men. It was clear as to what he was referencing.

“No, no, not tonight. Got money to spend elsewhere.”

The man looked confused. He looked Thomas over carefully, only stopping on his hat.

“How much for the hat? Haven’t seen one like it in an age. I like it.”

Thomas pointed up towards the burnt, red feather stuck in his cap.

“Sorry, can’t part with this one.”

The man scowled and moved on, heading toward the darkest shadows in the room.

The fight, it’s got to be there.

Moving even further into the mob of vile men, Thomas began questioning his resolve. He had obviously been led here by the killer—a killer who had cleverly crafted the murder of numerous professional agents—agents trained in how to stop men just like him. There was no chance that this was accidental. No chance that he didn’t already know that Thomas was there. He would be watching from somewhere in the darkness. He must be there, his sinister plan unfolding, one passing moment after another. In a deranged way, Thomas looked forward to finally capturing him. He felt there was much he could learn from such a brilliant, yet destructive, mind.

Pressing through the remaining outer edges of a packed circle around a large pit was like maneuvering through a fleshy maze. His progress was suddenly halted by a mind numbing roar. It rang through the room with blood-thirsty ferocity. It didn’t take long for imagination to anchor into reality. He had found his missing tiger. Now he had to see it. He needed to validate his intuition. Finally making some headway, he could see the wicked marvel in front of him.

You can’t be serious . . .

A massive pit, dug into the very foundation of the room, opened below him. A tiger was pacing back and forth, panting heavily. The same tiger he had met face-to-face in his glimpse into the past. But instead of the horrific but still statue, it was now an animated mass of deadly prowess. Another blood curdling growl came from the horribly abused animal. It was obvious what type of set up this was. The thought of it sickened him. What kind of people found joy in such primitive behavior?

Scoping out the edge of the pit, his eyes came to an abrupt stop on one area of interest. In their own private booths sat a select few men, all dressed in their finest garb. Each was surrounded by a few of their constituents who looked into the thrashing crowd, tempting someone to try. Some of the city’s most repugnant leadership was in attendance, and Thomas was a mere stone’s throw away from them. He suddenly quietly hoped that he had been followed; that Vaun or Banks would come storming in, armed to the teeth with a swarm of backup. They could accomplish more in five minutes here than they would ever accomplish in years out on the streets. The killer was here. He had to be. But where was he? He hated the idea of being watched by someone he knew nothing about. He hated playing the puppet.

“Last bets are being called! Get them in!”

A rumbling voice blasted through the air from a large man holding tickets. Thomas eyed the audience carefully as a few remaining men returned to the man, adding to his supply. Thomas looked over his way. He looked at the man’s grisly features. Then he noticed something else—standing just behind the ticketholder was the outline of something that struck him as oddly familiar. He had seen that body before. It was a shot in the dark, but perhaps he was on to something. Forgetting his place, he tried desperately to wiggle his way towards the other side of the pit. As he made his way, he did his best to focus on the dark silhouette. It was still. It appeared the man was also watching, waiting. Perhaps his inclination had been correct. But he needed a face. He needed a face on which to pin all of the atrocities that had been committed.

“What’s your problem?” questioned a snake-eyed man, practically hissing as Thomas squeezed by.

“Mind your business!” hollered Thomas, looking back.

He was growing weary and impatient. If he was going to catch the killer, he’d need to kick things up a notch. With a few more strides he was within striking distance of the man. But to his utter dismay, the man was gone. Somewhere along the way he had slipped out of view. Now finding him seemed completely out of the question. He had undoubtedly blended back into the humming cesspool in the room.

This can’t be happening!

Frustrated beyond belief he let out a growl. The growl was suddenly amplified by the growl of the tiger still pacing in the pit. Everything for a moment began to mix together. All of the profanity and banter slid into his mind like poison. His thoughts were clouded. With no clear direction, he was suddenly feeling himself slip into a brief moment of madness. Just why had he come here? His thoughts shattered into a million horrifying pieces as the body of a man caught up in a fight was thrown into him.

He felt himself weightlessly cutting through the air. The impact of the force had sent him flying towards the bottom of the awaiting pit. He let out a shriek of terror when he realized what had happened. With a massive thud, he landed in the pit, letting out a groan of terrible pain. The chaotic room above him looked on curiously. With a bit of a racket, his hidden gun burst free from his coat, clattering across the floor. But the calamity and racket was further amplified by the soul-piercing growl of a tiger that was already on its way to pouncing. A surge of adrenaline blasted its way into Thomas’ veins, propelling him back to his feet.

His first instinct was to retrieve his weapon, but the tiger was almost directly on top of it. Out of sheer panic, he leapt to one side and backed into the wall. From somewhere in their midst came a voice of accusation.

“He’s a cop! I know I’ve seen that face before!”

Suddenly his odds of survival had been weighted with an even more unpredictable element. If things had been bad before, they were now plummeting quickly to hell. The tiger let out another mind-numbing roar as it approached Thomas, testing the boundaries. The hushed room erupted into elated cries of joy. What else could they possibly ask for than a suspected snitch falling dead weight into a pit with a tiger? The set up was nightmarishly perfect.

“Looks like the game’s got another contender!” said the leathery looking man holding the tickets.

He looked over at the powers-that-be sitting comfortably in their chairs. One of them gave him a silent nod. Things had been approved to move forward, so Thomas’ life was in jeopardy. Rolling to one side, he watched as the tiger’s movements became more and more bravado. Its bloodlust was overcoming its fear of its captors. It eyed Thomas as it would prey stuck lower on the food chain. It lunged. The chase was on—a chase that Thomas stood zero chance of surviving—the adept predator would rip him limb from limb.

Panting like mad to keep himself moving, he dodged the tiger’s lunge, letting it crash into the side of the pit’s wall. He sprinted away doing everything he could to put distance between him and the beast. The mob went wild. They had been awoken by the potential blood frenzy. But there was only one thing on Thomas’ mind—his gun—if he could at least get to his gun he stood a minute chance of survival. He was now on the opposite end of the pit. The tiger was repositioning for another life-ending pounce. It followed his every movement as a cat would a mouse. Its long, flesh-puncturing fangs dripped saliva, driven by its insatiable urge to feed. Taking in a long drag of air, it tensed its body and leapt. For Thomas, it all passed in slow motion. The outreached claws of the tiger slashed through the air on their path towards his exposed throat. Soon the powerful jaws of death would clamp around his trachea and squeeze what little life was left out of him.

Do something, Tommy! Do something now!

Not knowing what else to do, he whipped off his coat and threw it at the face of the leaping tiger. It landed well and temporarily blinded the animal. It promptly slashed the coat to pieces. But it had bought Thomas just enough time to get to the other side of the pit. He snatched up his gun and pointed it at the tiger. His finger quivered in anticipation, he aimed to make the kill. Just as he did, a loud roar of cheering arose, as a large panel was opened.

The panel was embedded in the wall of the pit. It opened to reveal yet another horror that burst free from the shadows, thrashing at the air as it moved; Thomas found himself facing a massive bear. It rolled into the pit in a direct beeline towards him. Without hesitation, he blasted a few rounds into its thick hide. But it kept coming. Its fury was unchecked. Its only desire was to end his life. Feeling the hairs on his neck prick up, he threw himself out of its path. As he did, the bear met the tiger head-on. The two behemoths clawed at each other ferociously, spittle flying, pushing each other into a corner. Large electric prods lowered from above pushed them back towards each other and the vulnerable Thomas. Large crimson drops of blood ran from the bear, leaving a trail as it paced around the middle of the pit.

“Stop! This is insane!”

But the blood thirsty crowd roared for more. They were relishing every moment of the drama before them. No one was going to put an end to the madness. Looking towards the two animals that were being forced back on him, he felt his heart sink. He had finally come to his end. The path towards it had been laced with the obvious. Any minute now, two dynamic forces of nature would be on top of him. His pistol, holding just a few more measly rounds, would be his only defense.

I didn’t think it would end like this. Is this really why you lead me here?

Feeling his back press forcefully into the pit’s wall, his eyes watered. The two enraged animals were now within mere footsteps. Their thrashing bodies were sweeping in like a tornado of tooth and claw. But there was something else. At the rim of the pit. Upon its safe embrace sat a man; a man with the same outline and shape of the one he had pursued so foolishly. His face was shrouded in a dark mask staring down at him. It was the killer. The very same man from the glimpse that had left his bloody print on him.

“You did this!” screamed Thomas, looking up at him.

The man put out his hand and pointed directly at Thomas. He then disappeared mysteriously back into the throbbing crowd.

So it’s true. He wanted me to come here to die. Why were you so stupid, Tommy?

At the sheer precipice of no return when the frenzied beasts were upon him, there came a crash of thunder. From somewhere above him, a wave of energy blasted through the room. Suddenly, a giant rafter broke loose, and plummeted down into the pit. It struck the center with a dreadful thud. It was soon joined by another rafter that fell just outside the pit, squashing a few of the spectators where they stood. The world around him erupted in chaos. The building appeared to be falling apart. Now, practically chewing on his own heart, Thomas searched for an escape. Miraculously, the first fallen rafter had provided the miracle he so desperately needed. Its long stretch of plank gave him an exit at the top of the pit. There was a way for him to get out, but there was still a more prevalent issue—the bear and tiger. Forgoing his quick escape, he looked ahead, expecting the worst. To his great relief, the two apex predators had forgotten all about him. In the acute moment of chaos, both seemed to have opted for a rapid escape.

He watched in terror as the two enraged animals sprinted up the rafter past him into the panicked crowd. A few gun shots were heard as the tiger pounced on top of a fleeing man, easily ripping him to pieces. The man’s screams were suddenly dampened by another thunderous wave of energy. This sent a piece of the building plummeting directly down towards Thomas’ head. Just in the nick of time, he rolled out of its trajectory, letting it smash itself to pieces on the pit’s floor.

Time to go, Tommy. Time to go now!

Doing his best to only focus on the exposed beam, he ran for his life. The world around him was literally falling apart. Pieces of falling debris were pouring from the air. The screams of fear and panic were ear-splitting. His feet struck the beam hard, throwing his body into a contorted effort to balance itself. He carefully scaled toward his salvation at the top of the pit. Once there, he immediately leapt forward, leaving it all behind. With a massive crash, another beam from above ripped its way through his exit, smashing down into the pit. He had made it out without a moment to spare. Not willing to test his fate any further, he pushed himself to his limits. Propelling himself through the buzzing hive of bodies, he slammed his way through. The stairs leading towards the only known exit were just a few leaps away. But progress was painfully slow. The tension was eating him alive.

“Get off of me!”

He screamed at a man who had looted one of the tables now collapsed on the floor. The man flung himself into Thomas’ path, holding a long, serrated knife. It looked as if his intention was to rob Thomas, but suddenly a bullet blasted its way through his chest. The man fell limp to the floor, lifeless. Thomas’ eyes bulged open like two giant bubbles, ready to burst. Punishment in the underworld was dealt with promptly, apparently.

I’ve got to get out of here.

Another powerful blast from somewhere in the room tossed him forward. He fell to his knees, feeling the impact rumble through his body. With what little energy he had left he rose to his feet and fought valiantly to get back to the stairs. His efforts were rewarded when with a few more labored steps he reached them. Rushing up the stairs as quickly as he could, he burst into the tiny room, and threw himself through the open door. He collapsed onto the ground, groaning in pain. With another deafening roar from somewhere beneath him, the small building folded in on itself. Somewhere in the distance the echo of sirens wailed in the darkness. But his body had reached its limits. His mind was in a paralyzed stupor. Was he going to make it out of this alive?