Desert Bound

3: Deva

3: Deva

Deva

Deva didn’t have a plan, just a vague idea. Intel said there were three enforcers in the building, all male. Away from the city, they’d be low-level. Wasn’t like they had to do much more than watch the locked cells, was it? They’d be thugs, the kind superiors could boss about. Tough, but stupid.

Summed up far too many of the meat-heads Deva had crossed. No way she could compete physically, so she’d have to use other methods.

Before she reached the compound gate she undid her light jacket and pulled her top free from her belt. A couple of buttons flew off, and the night air chilled her skin. She bent down, grabbed a handful of dust, ground it into her hair and clothes. She balled her fists into her eyes, rubbing and pushing until her vision blurred and her eye-sockets stung. She grabbed a pocket in her trousers and ripped it, letting the material dangle.

She pulled the comms from her ear and stowed it in a back pocket. Then she patted her jacket, felt the comforting bulk of the tool.

“You can do this,” she told herself. “Only three of them. They’re i***t lads. Not monsters.”

The gate towered over her, built into the fence that encircled the compound. There was a call-terminal to one side, and a sensor high up. Deva threw herself at the terminal, slamming one hand on it while the other grabbed the gate and shook. She sniffed, blinked moisture from her eyes.

“What?” The voice erupting from the terminal’s speaker was cold.

Deva panted. “Please,” she said, her voice raspy, on the edge of cracking. “I need help.”

“Yeah?”

“They‌…‌they tried to…‌I had to‌…” Deva swallowed, shook her head for the sensor. “I got away, but my friend…‌Please. I don’t know what to do. You’ve got to help me.”

She let the words choke off and rested her head against the gate.

“Okay.” The enforcer on the speaker sighed. “Come on in.”

The gate clicked. Deva pushed away from the terminal, staggered for the watching sensor, then leaned into the gate, squeezing through the opening.

The moment she stepped into the compound light exploded. She lifted an arm to shield her eyes, and wove across the dusty track toward the building. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness she focused on the door.

Wasn’t like there was much else to see, was it? The building, like so many others out here, looked like it had been carved from the rocky ground, all rough surfaces and weather-rounded edges. And no windows, just a door.

A second door round the back, though. Something to do with regulations.

And sensors. One to each side of the door. The enforcers must’ve been using them to monitor her approach, because the door opened when she reached it.

She stepped into a warm, fuggy atmosphere.

The room contained three desks, each with a fitted terminal and countless mugs. Some steamed. There was a door at the rear, closed, had a terminal to the right. A door to the left sat ajar, and Deva caught a tang of urine from that direction.

“Yeah, you don’t look so good.”

The voice‌—‌the same one she’d heard at the gate‌—‌belonged to the man who leaned back in his chair to her left, boots resting on his desk. His charcoal-grey shirt pushed against his gut. There was a geometric logo on the breast pocket, like the one on his wide-brimmed hat. The man’s jacket‌—‌same colour as the rest of the uniform‌—‌hung on the back of his chair, and he wore a holster around his waist.

The holster was empty. He held the gun in his hand, used it to push the hat slightly higher. His eyes travelled over Deva’s body, finally resting on the ripped top of the shirt.

So predictable!

She rushed over, stumbled, threw her hands down on the desk and leaned forward. Pushed her shoulders in, gave him a better view.

“Oh, thank you!” she said. “I‌…‌I didn’t know what to do.”

The enforcer smiled. “You in some kind of trouble, girly?”

“Yes. No. I mean…‌We were minding our own business. We didn’t want any trouble, honest. And‌…‌my friend.” Deva looked away, sniffed loudly and wiped her face with the back of a hand. The dust stung her eyes.

The enforcer stood. His boots squeaked as he walked around the desk. “Hey, hey. You don’t need to be afraid now. We’ll look after you.”

“Sure we will,” said another voice, and a second man appeared by the open door, accompanied by the sound of a flushing toilet. Deva noticed there was no water on the man’s hands.

He was tall and thin, wore similar clothing to his colleague. The holster around his waist was empty, and it jiggled as he crossed the room.

“What’ve we got, Jud?” he said. “Damsel in distress?”

“Seems that way. Keeps mentioning a friend.” He raised his eyebrows in a way Deva didn’t trust at all.

“Don’t see anyone else,” the thin man said. He leaned in, and his breath stank of coffee. “She not with you, your friend?”

Deva shook her head. “I had to‌…‌to leave her. Nothing I could do.” She shook her head, shut her eyes. But she listened hard, heard footsteps beyond the room.

Three enforcers. And Ryann, in a cell at the back of the building.

“What’s she like, this friend of yours?” the second man asked. “She cute as well?”

When Deva opened her eyes he was closer, peering down her top. He grabbed his crotch with one hand.

Deva backed away, as if she suddenly realised what they wanted to do.

“Yeah, I reckon I know how this went,” said the first man. “You and this other tease in some bar, right? Have a few drinks, out for a bit of fun. Come on to some of the locals. Good lads round here, but not sophisticated. Easily led, especially when some cute girl’s flashing eyes at them. Young. All those hormones slopping around. Yeah, obvious, right?”

The second guard grinned. “Bound to rise to the occasion.”

Deva shuffled back until her heel hit the wall. The overweight man approached from her left. His colleague moved to cover the exit. And the door to the rear of the room opened. The third enforcer walked in.

He grinned, white teeth shining in a dark face. He pushed his hat further up his head, then tucked his fingers into his belt, let his hand brush his holstered weapon.

Deva slid toward the main door, but the thin enforcer reached out, his hand resting on her shoulder. Deva flinched.

“You don’t want to leave, girly,” he said. “Bad lads out there, right? You’re better off staying here with us.”

“Yeah,” said the new man, approaching. “Kids don’t know squat. You want a bit of fun, you need something special. The real thing. Right, Jud?”

Jud, the first enforcer, nodded. “Yup. Real thing. Reckon you need a special. Three times the enjoyment.”

Deva held a hand against her stomach, fingers inside her jacket. She let them move of their own accord, reaching for her trusty tool.

The thin enforcer’s fingers dug into her shoulder. One stretched out, seeking bare flesh. “Couple of ways we can play this,” he said. “Jud here likes a bit of struggle. Personally, I go for compliance. You lay back and take your medicine. And Rank over there, he takes it however it comes. That right, Rank?”

“So long as I get my fun.” Rank’s left hand slipped over the bulge in his trousers, and he gave himself a squeeze.

“So what d’ya think?” the thin one said, those spindly fingers massaging hard. “You want to start mellow, or go straight into a bit of rough?”

Deva screamed, as loud as she could. She bent her knees, as if trying to escape from the man’s grip.

She twisted, thrust her hand up. The screwdriver ploughed into the enforcer’s armpit.

His scream was higher than she expected. He jerked back. Deva yanked her sticky weapon free, pushed away from the wall. Saw the look of surprise on the first enforcer’s face, noticed that he didn’t even have a finger on his gun’s trigger.

Deva took the advantage. She slammed into him, used her slight weight to force his wrist against the edge of the desk, hard enough that the gun fell. She kicked it away and spun toward the door.

The third enforcer‌—‌Rank?‌—‌ran. But he wasn’t close enough. Deva was small and fast. She dived for the door, thankful that it was still open, and ran into the cold dust.

Her legs burnt. She grabbed the comms from her pocket, rammed it into her ear. Ignored the shouting from behind. Jumped at the gate and climbed, still grasping the bloody screwdriver.

“Brice!” she yelled. “Need you to get me now.” Gulped for air, reached the top of the gate, swung her legs over. “Piran, do your stuff.”

She jumped down as the first shot rang out.