My Kind of Town
Don Chapman
Violence happens
>> Above Kahuku
Shauny Nakamura was just coming out of her drug-induced stupor, and as her senses drifted back she knew she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be. This place was dimly lit. And air-conditioned. She lay on an inflatable mattress. Covered with a light blanket. Beneath it she was naked. Except for the collar around her neck.
She heard a metallic clank then, a heavy door swinging open, and the sound of voices, and her senses moved beyond her own body. The mattress lay on a stainless steel metal grate in a cubicle not much bigger than the mattress. Three walls and the ceiling were also stainless steel. The fourth wall was a gate, stainless steel bars. She rose, clutching the blanket, tried the gate, but it was locked tight.
The voices grew nearer. Male voices, in a good mood, and Shauny could sense their growing excitement.
"Excellent specimen!"
"Where'd you find this one?"
"The university. Anti-war chap." Aussie accent, and the comment drew a round of laughter.
"Well, boy, violence happens." Texas accent, and more laughter.
The voices were quite close now. Shauny backed away from the gate until she felt the chill of metal on her bare backside. She was just wrapping the blanket around her when she heard a Japanese accent. "And this would be Victor's prize quarry ..."
Victor? Yes, her blind date from the Internet. They'd ... she tried to remember ... they'd had lunch at Turtle Bay ... and she'd gotten smashed ... but on just three glasses of wine ... how did that happen? And how did she get here? Shauny heard footsteps, and suddenly a Japanese man was peering in at her, moving back, and a group of men, there must have been eight or 10, all holding cocktail glasses, were staring in at her. And there was Victor! "Victor! Help me!"
He smiled a tight smile, shook his head, winked. "No can do, my dear."
"Beautiful, indeed," a swarthy, bearded one said. A Middle Eastern accent.
"But we can't appreciate her true measure this way."
"The blanket," Victor said, "drop it."
Shauny pulled it tighter around her.
The Japanese man pointed a large pistol at her, motioned with it toward the floor. "Drop it."
Head reeling, heart racing, Shauny dropped the blanket, the group made approving sounds. "Enjoy that one," the Texan said.
And they moved on, following the same pattern, commenting on various "species" and "examples," then retreated back down the hall outside her cage. They all stopped to look at her one more time. As they left, Victor said, "Tomorrow."
What did that mean?
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com