The Mountain - II

II.

                “Mama, where are we going?”

                “To see your Uncle.”

                “In the city?”

                “Yes dear, now be quiet.”

                “Yes mama.”

                Misty felt her stomach groan as she was ripped from sleep. Another restless night, another dream. This time it was when her mother left her to her ‘uncle’ in the city. A payoff and a transfer. She had come to find out years later that her ‘uncle’ wasn’t actually her uncle. He was a wealthy man who liked to purchase children for working. Her mother needed the money, she didn’t need Misty. Misty never saw her again after that trip. The memories of her life had been coming back to her in waves as the hours ticked away. Still no sign of the Butcher, still she was kept company only by the corpse being eaten away by the rats. Misty would closer her eyes, willing herself to sleep to help with the crushing weight of reality but her hunger, and pain in her arms kept her waking over and over again.

                While awake she tried to push the memories away but it was a futile exercise. Her brain, knowing that she was going to die sooner rather than later, decided to replay all her triumphs, which were few, and her mistakes, which were many. Like a film reel rewinding and playing from the beginning of a marathon show. It was constant, in dreams or awake she was being shown her life. If she had more tears to cry she would have shed them for the lost opportunities of youth. For the false steps she took that she could plainly see in retrospect were wrong. Like the man she met when she was twenty years old, having left the home of her uncle, whisked away to a ‘better life’. That lead to the first whorehouse she had to take refuge in, the first ‘master’ she had to know. The damage wrought upon her by the two men that she had to service before stealing herself away in the night, cold and broken and weeping. The feeling she felt that first night echoed in her flesh now as the darkness enveloped her. The faint rays of daylight moving away without a trace as they had done four times already.

                She wasn’t sure she deserved this fate. She wasn’t sure that anyone ‘deserved’ anything. “Victims of circumstance” was a phrase that felt etched into her bones. She first heard it when she was still a child. Her uncle had said it to her mother when she was being dropped off. “Don’t worry about this, I’ll take good care of her. We are after all victims of circumstance.” At the time Misty didn’t know what that meant. Now she did. Being thrown into the vortex that was existence, never truly finding solid ground, more akin to being swept up in the ocean waves, you were pulled back and forth without your say so. A victim of the world that swallowed you once you left the womb. Thinking back on her life as the film reel played on she traced all the actions, her own and of others, that led her to this dark little room. Before her was a straight line from birth to her encroaching death. No deviations, no turns or forks. A straight line. Each decision, each falls step, each ‘choice’ was already made, telegraphed like a film playing out before an empty theater. Misty now, sitting alone, being the only witness to these events in their entirety.

                The rats squeaked, having achieved their fill of the day and moved off. She had trained them to leave her alone, kicking them when they got to close or tried to nibble at her legs. For now they gave her a wide berth but she knew once her life expired she’d too turn into a meal for the fat mongrels. Another circumstance she would be victim too. Another frame in the reel set to play. To her, having exhausted all hope, the idea that things were planned as such gave her a small comfort. It took the blame off her own head and placed it somewhere else, somewhere higher. She wasn’t one to believe in god, especially after the horrors she saw in her youth, but thinking and feeling now as she did she thought that maybe something had laid out her path, god or something else, and was to blame for this. The guilt she had built up in herself for years of strife and mistakes was washing away as the realizations come through. This wasn’t my fault. I am living my destiny. I am a victim of circumstance. This isn’t my fault. Repeated in her head.

                She forced herself to close her eyes and attempt sleep again. No matter the dream or the nightmare she would fight being awake. Better she experience death in her sleep then be a witness to it with her own two eyes. She hoped for that much. Perhaps, if her destiny permitted, she’d pass in her sleep. Her body would give out owing to fate and she wouldn’t succumb to the horrors that befell her companion. Well, she wouldn’t be witness to those horrors, at least she hoped. Though her ‘hopes’ were weak. Life would play out as it was always meant to. Whether she liked how it went or not.

Dejected, defeated, and frazzled Thorne rode back to the station with PO Wilson. The younger man didn’t say anything to him as they traversed the city streets. It had been hours since the beginning of the chase, Thorne radioed it in to end the pursuit. He’d leave Greed to finish the task, the old bastard didn’t need his help. For a long time Thorne looked up to Greed, they had been ‘friends’ for years but Thorne could tell that Greed was colder to him than the others. Greed had always been an abrasive man, even before the death of his wife and child. Frankly there was no apparent change to his personality, if Thorne wasn’t told, he’d assume things were always the same. There was a desire inside him to live up to Greed’s expectations. He hated to admit it to himself, something that passed his mind time and time again while staring in the mirror, looking into his own eyes, Throne knew he was inadequate. He’d never lived up to his father’s expectations, he was always failing, but kept afloat by his father’s name. Now when Greed needed him most to step up and be there he was a mess. The car chase, which ended with him shaking on the side of the road, took the wind out of his sails. Being bested by a woman, he felt a tinge of the contempt he was sure Greed had felt when he was assaulted. He had played along at the station with the others, playing macho trying to win points but he knew that it was futile. He was tearing down the only person that gave him an ounce of respect.

                Thorne didn’t understand why Greed treated him differently. Maybe he was attempting to cut through to something deeper to show that not every man was a failure no matter their upbringing and that with the right mentor they could be better. Greed had no reason to treat Thorne as a friend, even if that friendship was more about tough love and less about sharing a beer or a laugh. Thorne knew deep down that’s what he needed. A steady hand and a stern voice. That was why he kept looking to Greed. He had to step aside. He had nothing to give and would only get in his way.

                “Unless…” Thorne whispered.

                “Hmm?” Wilson looked over from the driver’s seat.

                “Nothing. Just thinking.” Thorne said. He had no cases currently and he couldn’t officially get on the case but he knew that Greed hated that Doctor. Perhaps he could work with him to find a different lead. Help Greed out from the sidelines in a way.

                “We’re here, want to have some time?” Wilson said shutting the car off.

                “No, I have work to do. Can I borrow your car?”

                “I don’t see why not, just…” Wilson said stammering.

                “I’ll have it back to you, just keep this between us. If the captain asks tell him it was damaged in the chase and is getting repaired.”

                “I don’t know if that’s…”

                “Just do it Wilson. If you help me on this, you’ll be on the fast track to be a detective. I’ll make sure my dad hears about this.”

                Wilson sighed.

                “Alright Thorne.” He handed over the keys and slid out of the car.

                “Thank you.”

                Thorne pulled the car away and went for the doctor’s apartment. He had to make up for today if he could. Hopefully he’d have better luck with this man than Greed. The doctor didn’t actually make Thorne’s skin crawl like he had lamented to Greed before. In fact he was more intrigued by the doctor than the others. Thorne had a fasciantion with intelligent speakers and actually read two of Cairn’s books already. He had to hide his enthusiasm towards the man while around the others since the general consensus was that an alienist would only get in the way of their work. Thorne had to put up the charade of feeling the same but he was more than willing to work with the man, if only it were one on one. Now that he was taking the initiative, outside orders, he could do just that.

                The doctor’s door was unlocked when he arrived and he let himself in. The apartment was dark and musty as if air hadn’t flowed through it in a few days.

                “Doc? It’s Detective Thorne. Are you here?”

                Thorne traversed the small living room riddled with books and papers, the polar opposite in appearance from the first time he was here.

                “Hello?” a voice came from the back rooms.

                “Doctor Cairn, it’s Thorne. Are you decent? I didn’t mean to intrude.” Thorne said moving down the hallway.

                “Oh Thorne, let me put something on.”

                Cairn emerged from the back room in a house robe, hair frazzled as if he was just waking from sleep even though it was getting close to noon.

                “Napping doctor?” Thorne said with a chuckle.

                Cairn didn’t find it amusing. He moved to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee.

                “I’m doing research.”

                “I noticed the papers.”

                “Are you hear to fill me on the case?”

                “No, well, in a way. I’m here to help you.”

                “Help me? This isn’t your case, where is Greed?”

                “Greed is busy running down his own leads, I’m here to assist you. I’ve been reassigned to the case.” Thorne lied.

                Cairn didn’t seem to pick up on it but his face lit up.

                “Really? That is great news! That Greed is such a tough code to crack, I wasn’t sure our partnership would amount to much sadly enough. But you, I can tell are more conducive to a partner.”

                “Yes sir, and between you and me, I’ve read two of your books.”

                “A learned policeman?” Cairn did chuckle at that.

                Thorne blushed.

                “Well detective I’m glad to have you. Let me freshen up and I’ll fill you in, if you think you’re ready to hear what I’ve learned.”

                “Absolutely.”

                “Great. Take a seat I’ll be right with you.”

                Throne poured himself a cup of coffee and started to thumb through some of the papers on the table. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Symbols, languages he hadn’t seen, archaic pictures. What kind of research is this? Thorne thought.

                He flipped through a few more and saw a fresher sheet of paper with fresh ink. it was largely scribbles but one word jumped out to him “mountain”.

                “Mountain?” Thorne said aloud.

                Cairn entered the room and retrieved the paper from Thorne’s hands.

                “Yes. Now let me explain.”

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