667: Issue #2 "Activation"

Adam Baudin

The gloves Henri had made for me seemed to be working. He said they were made out of a combination of Nomex and leather and had been inscribed with some sort of veve to keep the heat contained within me unless I chose to use it—I never chose to use it.

It may have been the beginning of June in my city, but I was cloaked in a heavy jacket and gloves, just so I could go DJ at some night club that hired me for the week. I could actually touch the vinyls now and not have them warp and melt in my hands, but the heat inside of me was getting worse.

I could have taken my bike to work, but I decided to walk. Walking always did my head well when it was in a bad place.

I couldn’t wait to get away from Bourbon Street and back home.

Henri had taken me in. He didn’t like the apartment I was living in any more than Nate did, and offered me a room above the shop. I was more than glad to take it.

Since I decided to walk, it meant taking the ferry back home in the dark. It didn’t usually run this late, but I knew the boat captain and he was out at the terminal most of the night.

I was getting ready to cross on to Canal Street when I heard it: a woman screaming in the distance. Sadly that wasn’t uncommon in the city, but something about this one made my heart skip a beat.

How could a random scream sound so familiar?

I needed to save whoever this was from whatever was hurting her, and I felt a sense of urgency to get it done quickly.

There was just the one scream, but I felt like it still echoed off the buildings and I followed the frantic panic that was palpable in the air.

I crossed the street finally and was coming down the road pretty quickly when I saw her.

The street lamp cast just enough of a glow where she was pinned against a picnic table, making her vibrant red hair almost neon in the dark.

Then I saw the glint of the knife as it ran down her chest.

I didn’t have time to mull the situation over in my head; I had to act—and I had to act now.

Bounding down the hill to the pavilion as quietly as I could, I came up behind the man that was about to harm an innocent woman.

My hand shot out to his shoulder and incapacitated the arm that held the knife. He spun around as quickly as he could, but he wasn’t fast enough. I took ahold of his neck to remove him from her lap, but I apparently didn’t know my own strength.

I felt the bones in his neck crumble and his windpipe collapse like someone crushing an empty water bottle. He made a wet gurgling noise before sagging over the picnic bench when I instinctively released my grip.

The woman abruptly dropped the hands that were covering her face and her large green eyes popped open. She caught sight of me in the shadows and I thought she was going to scream by the way her brow furrowed and her lips peeled back from her teeth.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay.” I tried to calm her before she alerted anyone else. The man was dead and we certainly didn’t need to draw unwanted attention to ourselves.

I reached my hand out to help her climb over the now very deceased man that lay partially across her right leg.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but we need to go.” I urged her to come with me, but she just stared, dumbfounded.

“Is he—is he…dead?” She stuttered, reaching for my hand even though she didn’t know me from Adam—but I guess she would.

“Considering I crushed his windpipe, I would say so.” I took her hand and led her back out to Canal Street.

I could finally see her full figure now. She was a tiny thing, probably no taller than five feet, with the brightest orange hair I had ever laid eyes on. It looked as if it had been braided back in pigtails, but the right side had been yanked free and draped her shoulder in waves. Her clover green eyes studied me under the street lamp, probably evaluating whether or not I was safe to be around. She fumbled to keep her red flannel closed over her chest: all the buttons were now missing.

I watched as her gaze wandered from my heavy jacket to the gloves on my hands. She probably thought I was on my way to a robbery.

“Aren’t you hot?” She blurted, her brow still knit in concern. I assumed she was in shock.

“Miss, I’m always hot,” I responded, fanning myself with my jacket. If she only knew how serious I was.

“Sorry—that was rude of me. Thank you. Thank you for saving me.” Her words trailed together as she averted her gaze from mine and favored her clunky booted feet instead.

“No problem. What the hell is a girl like you doing out on Canal Street at—” I checked my wristwatch, “Almost midnight?” It was rather odd that any woman was out at this hour all alone with nothing for protection.

“Does it sound like I’m from anywhere around here? I have no idea what this city is like.” It was then that I really heard her accent. She was not from around here and oddly sounded a lot like the guy that ran the Irish Pub down the street.

“Touché. We don’t need to stand around here talking, though. If someone sees us and a dead body, they are going to ask a lot of questions.” I took her hand once again.

“We can’t just leave the scene of a crime.” She protested, trying to take her hand back.

“You really want to wait for the fuzz to arrive and then have to answer a bunch of questions as to why that man’s throat is crushed? Because I won’t stick around for them so they can arrest me. Besides, one less scummy fuck on my streets—he was going to rape you.” The last part of my sentence caused her to draw in a sharp breath. I don’t think it had even occurred to her that he was trying to do such a thing. Based on the look of the knife and the fact that I could now see blood running down her partially exposed chest: he wasn’t going to leave her alive.

“You coming?” I waited while she let everything sink in. I just hoped she made the right decision and I wouldn’t have to try and force her to come with me.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” She let me take her hand again and lead her back up Canal Street the way I had come. I needed to get her back to a well-lit area where she was safe. I could tell the magnitude of the situation had just hit her and she began to shake.

I took my jacket off silently and draped it over her shoulders as the tremors increased.

“You’re going to be okay. You’ll realize soon enough that this city isn’t always forgiving. But good people do exist.” I reassured her.

I don’t know if she believed me or not, but I wanted her to understand that I would keep her safe. I felt compelled to. For whatever reason, I had to make sure that she got home in one piece.

(*)

“Awesome. Another bar.” She scrunched her nose up as I held the door open for her.

“A safe bar. My friend Nate owns and operates it.” I followed her through the door and took her to a table in the far corner away from everyone. I held my fingers up for two beers as we passed Nate bussing a table; he returned shortly with two ice cold stouts.

I offered her one and she studied me for a minute before taking it from me.

“I wasn’t going to drink tonight. Avoided tequila for over an hour. Though, I feel like I need this right now.” She talked past me as she cracked her bottle cap up against the side of the table and took a long swig.

“Maybe it’ll calm your nerves.” I uncapped mine and started to drink. I was going to go home, but this seemed like it was more important.

“Maybe. Thank you again—” She paused in her gratitude and gestured her hand towards me. I wasn’t sure what she was waiting for, but then I realized I hadn’t given her my name.

“Adam. My name’s Adam.” I would have extended my hand to shake hers, but I figured she had had enough of my lava hands for one night.

“Violet.” She smiled slightly, taking another swig of her beer. She seemed like she was warming up to me.

“Well, Violet—this your first night in The Big Easy?” I finished my beer and threw my hand up for another.

“Yeah, fresh off a plane just a couple of hours ago.” She nodded, finishing her own beer. I changed my number of fingers in the air to two.

“A couple of hours ago? And you were wandering down Canal Street after midnight, why?” She hadn’t been here long and she had already almost been killed. Welcome to the dark side of the city, Violet.

“I just moved here. Got in tonight and met my friend at the Cat’s Meow. I wasn’t really up for partying after a goddamn nineteen-hour flight, so I got her keys and address and was going to take a cab home. Only I got caught up in my stupid head and before I knew it, I was almost at the ferry and figured it would be a waste of time to go back and find a ride.” She sighed as Nate brought over two more beers. He unsubtly winked at me as he wandered back off to the bar.

“I guess it was lucky I was out there.” It really was luck—or something of that sort. I cracked open our brand new beers and slid one over to her.

“It was. You saved the Damsel in Distress.” She had a funny look on her face as she locked eyes with mine for a moment.

“I always wanted to be a Knight in Shining Armor.” I laughed and she laughed uneasily.

“Missy is going to be worried about me.” She was talking past me again as she drank.

“Is that your friend?” I asked, trying to keep her calm in the conversation.

She looked at me warily for a moment before responding, “Yes. We were friends back in Belfast since we were eight. She moved out here ten years ago and I finally decided to follow.” She answered me, finishing her second beer.

“Let’s get you home then.” I finished my own and stood from the table.

“You don’t have to take me home. I’ll just get a cab.” She denied my help as she slung her bag across her chest and stood up too.

“No, no—let me get you home safely.” I urged her, but she still looked undecided.

“How do I know that you won’t hurt me?” She asked, pulling her bag closer to her body.

“I mean—I did save you once already. Not the type of guy to play with my food.” I responded and quickly regretted it.

Her eyes were wide, one eyebrow arched as she stared at me.

“Poor choice of words—what I mean is I went out of my way to help you, why would I do that if my plan was to hurt you? I could have done that back down at the ferry.” The wording of this sentence wasn’t much better, but she didn’t seem as tense.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll leave my phone and wallet here with Nate, I’ll take you home, and when you get in safely you can call up to the bar and let Nate know. I can get my stuff then and all is well.” It was a bit of an unnecessarily long-winded plan, but I wanted Violet to trust me.

“Okay. I guess you can—take me home.” She caved, but she still looked scared. I couldn’t blame her.

I took my phone and wallet up to Nate behind the bar and explained what I was doing. He thought it was a rather elaborate plan for trying to sleep with someone when I explained to him why I was taking her home. He felt like a dick, which he was, but I didn’t hold it against him.

“Okay, everything is set. Nate has my things and now we can get you home.” She handed me my jacket and I helped her outside.

“I don’t know if I have enough money for a cab now. We’re a good bit further away from Missy’s than before.” She spoke up as we stood by the curb.

“I do.” I held up a few twenty dollar bills, “Address?”

“667 Seguin Street.” She recalled.

I held my hand out as a cab slowed and a man stuck his head out of the window. “Where to?”

“667 Seguin Street,” I responded, opening the door for Violet. She climbed in, still visibly shaken and I entered behind her.

The cabbie set the clock and we headed off towards the other side of the Mississippi River.