Just Another Day

0159 Tuesday 16th April

It was a time when darkness ruled and people sold their souls in the shadows. It was a time when the powerful ruled through fear and the peacekeepers were bought by the highest bidder. It was a time when the currency on the street was death and murder was an art. To walk the streets at night was a death sentence and the day was only marginally safer. It was in this forsaken world, on the death-ridden streets, that Kalika grew up. And it’s on these god-forsaken streets that I’ll die, she thought bitterly. From her vantage point in the dark behind some crates, Kalika watched Aischa’s goons searching for her. That bastard Taqui had set her up for ambush. Slipping from behind the crates she shadowed the wall, headed towards the door that would mean her freedom. Turning the handle she ran out into the night relieved to feel the cool air on her face.

It didn’t last for long as voices and footsteps echoed around the deserted streets of the Pacour warehouse district, the Aischa gang’s territory. Her boots thudded against the pavement as Kalika rounded the corner trying to evade her assailants. She ducked into an alley just as the first shots were fired. “Damn it!” she breathed, looking around for some place to hide it out. As the next round of bullets came, Kalika grabbed her gun out of the holster at her back and let off some shots of her own. A grin crossed her face as two of the men fell to the ground. Rounding another corner, she noticed an open door in the building just up ahead. The men let go another lot of shots before following her through the doorway into the building.

“Come out and face us, you stupid bitch!” the voice boomed through the silence. “Things will only be worse if you make us come and get you. We’ll deal with that pretty little face in the same way you messed up our friends out there.”

The odds were against her, five to one, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Kalika shot at the men to cover her while she ran into an adjoining room. Pain flared through her body, the answering fire from the men hitting her back and leg.

“Fuck!” she stumbled against the wall, a resounding thud resulting from the impact against the concrete. The lights started to dim around her as she struggled to maintain consciousness. The last sounds Kalika heard were more bullets and she was thankful that she couldn’t feel anything as the darkness took over.

1217 Monday 15th April

The harsh light of the sun stirred Kalika from her dreams into the dingy one bedroom flat that was her home. Yawning she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. God I look like shit she thought, gazing at the dishevelled image in the mirror. Her long auburn hair was dull, matted against her face and body with sweat. There were bags under her eyes, a legacy of her late night work. Turning on the shower, Kalika’s thoughts turned to her work. She was a hired gun, but she considered herself as more of an artist. Yet despite her chosen line of work, she did not enjoy killing people. It was merely a means to an end, it payed the bills and put food on her table. Most importantly, it put food on the tables of the few families living in her complex. Stepping under the frigid water that was typical of the neighbourhood, Kalika thought about the Casman family down the hall. Mrs Casman’s husband was shot during a store holdup; he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Without her husband’s measly paycheck, Sarah was having trouble feeding her three little ones. But her story was not unusual; most of the families in the two storey building complex had little or no income with which to keep their families. Kalika had taken on, unwillingly at first, the role of guardian angel in the complex. The majority of the money from her night job was distributed among the families; it eased her conscience a little to know that something good could come out of the death that she dealt out.

Turning off the water Kalika towelled herself dry and pulled on some clean clothes. She glanced at her watch, noting the time. She had an appointment with Taqui at 2pm that she could not be late for. But there was still plenty of time to check in on Sarah and the kids before she left. Grabbing a calico bag draped over the end of her bed, Kalika started shoving her dirty clothes into it. Sarah was a very proud woman who refused to take her charity. So in return for the money that Kalika supplied to her, Sarah would take care of Kalika’s washing, ironing, mending and occasionally bring her a home cooked meal. Kalika had taken a special liking to the stubborn woman, and kept an extra careful watch over the family. In her free evenings, she would sit on the windowsill in her bedroom and listen to the sounds of laughter and merriment coming from their flat. It made her feel that there was still something good in this world that really mattered, that there was some purpose to her nightly wanderings if it meant that this young family would stay safe and secure.

Kalika picked up her shirt from the previous night and hurled it across the room with all the anger and disgust that was in her. The bloodstained shirt thudded softly against the wall and came to rest on the floor, the dark stain seemingly mocking her in her reverie. She sank to her knees on the floor, the outburst sapping her of strength. Kalika may have excelled in her work, but she took no joy in it. She often tried to fool herself that she was doing society a favour by ridding it of the scumbags that she routinely knocked off. But it was a lie. She was no more than a robber of families and a destroyer of lives. Last night’s job was still fresh in her memory. Taqui had sent her to a back alley to do a number on one of his contacts, a man whom he had heard was not only taking more than his slice of the pie, but also doing work off the books for some of Taqui’s rivals. Now Taqui was not the type of man that one wants to piss off. He was a shrewd man who, although quite well built and perfectly capable of holding his own, preferred to let someone else do his dirty work. While not particularly handsome, he had a charming and charismatic persona that hid his rather nasty streak quite well. Taqui was the big boss around town; he owned the peacekeepers, had several contacts in the higher echelons of government and kept the surrounding street gangs in check through fear. He was a smart businessman, well respected, but more for his money than his brains. Everyone knew that he was in charge of the underworld, but no one dared make the connection public; around Taqui, people had a habit of disappearing. So he was not a man to cross.

Kalika had taken the job, just like all the other times, and followed Taqui’s instructions, just like any other job. It seemed it was a habit of this particular man, Taqui hadn’t given him a name, every Friday night to get himself some action in the only way underworld men knew. Kalika arrived just as a pretty, young blonde in a too brief skirt climbed from the car and, shoving the payment down her bra, disappeared through a dark doorway. Approaching the open passenger door, Kalika flashed a smile at her dead man walking.

“Hey there gorgeous, come to give me a second helping?” His eyes travelled over her body in a way that made Kalika sick to the stomach.

“Perhaps we could go somewhere more private, you know down near Montrose Lane?” He had agreed eagerly and started the car as she slid into the seat beside him. Driving through the dark streets, he had initiated the conversation.

“You gotta name, sweetheart, or shall I just call you lucky?” She had seen no reason to lie to him, considering his fate.

“Kalika.”

“That’s real pretty-like, and unusual too. Sounds similar to what my wife wanted to call our daughter, Kally or Kaki or somethin’ like that. She has this fascination with weird names.” He laughed, looking over at Kalika. “It doesn’t make you uncomfortable to discuss my wife, does it? I mean, it’s not like we’re startin’ a relationship here, so I doubt it really matters. Guess all your type thinks about is the money, and since I’m paying I believe I have the right to talk about whatever I want.”

“It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

“Oh well good, yeah, good to hear. You know, I think my wife would like you,” he pointed to her necklace, “You got good taste in jewellery. My wife loves expensive jewellery…” He continued to talk about his wife and kids while they drove to Montrose, an area well known as a popular haunt of streetwalkers. Kalika tried to tune out, wishing he would stop talking about his family. It was a part of the job; she didn’t let emotions interfere. She tried not to think about the lives of the people she killed. How many of them had wives and children, brothers and sisters? What about parents, perhaps pets? Did they have normal day jobs? Or perhaps they, like her, helped out the people in their neighbourhoods, leading double lives, making up for their immorality by playing guardian angel. Knowing this man had a wife waiting with his dinner on the table, and a daughter who needed help with her algebra homework made her job a little more difficult. Kalika thought about Sarah Casman and her children, the way they had been shattered to find out that Mr Casman was never coming home.

She sighed, banishing them from her thoughts. She had a job to do; otherwise she would end up as dead as this man was going to be. He moved his hand to her knee.

“What’s the matter there, Kalika dear? Geez, I guess I musta made you jealous talkin’ about my wife and kids when you got nothin’, no family or nothin’ to love you. Ah well, we’re there now, you just do what I’m payin’ you for and I’ll leave you alone.” Kalika pointed to the alley.

“Wouldn’t want to make a mess in your nice car now would we? Your wife might get suspicious.” He grinned and climbed out of the car, following her into the shadows of the alley.

Taking Kalika by surprise, he grabbed her and pushed her up against the wall.

“I like things a bit rough.” He grunted, fumbling with the zip on her pants. Reservations pushed aside by his actions, Kalika shot a knee swiftly into his crotch, breaking his nose as she elbowed him in the face. “You fucking bitch!” he attempted to stop the blood flowing down his face. “I’ll fucking kill you for this!” She pulled out her gun, his eyes widening with fear at the sight of it.

“I’ll be doing the killing tonight.”

“Look, I’m sorry! Please, you gotta believe me! I’ve got $1000 in my wallet you can take, just put that damn gun away! What kind of whore are you anyway?!”

“I don’t want your dirty money. And I never said I was a whore. Sometimes I think this,” Kalika tapped her gun, “is the only language that your kind of scum understands.”

“Who the hell are you? Who sent you? Listen, if it’s Boomer, tell him I’ve got his money, I swear to it! Please, I’ve got a wife and kid; you can’t just kill me like this! Please!”

“You are a dirty bastard who deserves everything that’s coming to him. I’m sure your wife and daughter will be better off without you. Taqui is not a man to cross, but you, my man, have done just that. This is the consequence.” Without waiting for his reply she pulled the trigger. A single shot to the head and he fell back to the ground with a thump. Lifting his head off the ground, she retrieved the chain from around his neck: Taqui’s trophy. Wiping her bloody hands on her shirt she left him as he was.

It was that same shirt that she now stared at across the room. Her watch beeped angrily at her, announcing the time. 1330. Kalika shook herself out of her rememberings, she hadn’t realised she’d taken so long. Grabbing the rest of the clothes, she bolted out the door, dropping the bag outside Sarah’s door and heading off to her meeting with Taqui.

1400 Monday 15th April

Kalika brought her motorbike to a stop beside the club that served as Taqui’s headquarters. Removing her helmet, she shook out her long ponytail and started towards the door. Inside was cool and dark, Kalika waited for her eyes to adjust to the shadows. Glancing around the club, mostly deserted, she waved to Aaron behind the bar before heading up the back stairs to Taqui’s office. The door opened just as she went to knock.

“You’re late, Kalika.” Taqui’s stern voice hardly ruffled Kalika.

“By my watch, I’m not.” She closed the door behind her and took a seat in front of his desk.

“Aischa has some photos of a rather… sensitive nature. They are being kept in Pacour, warehouse 42, I’m sure you would be familiar with it?” Kalika simply nodded. “At 0100, my sources tell me that it will be deserted while Aischa is… otherwise occupied.” A grin spread across Taqui’s face that made Kalika feel as though she’d somehow missed the joke. “You will have exactly 30 minutes to retrieve the photos and get out of there. The safe they are in is located in a back room on the second floor. It is a straightforward job, I trust you can handle it?”

“I can handle it. But why such a simple theft? Wouldn’t my talents be put to better use on something else?” Taqui’s grin had made Kalika a little uneasy. She was puzzled as to why such a simple theft couldn’t be handled by Stoney or Dazza, two of Taqui’s little weasels.

“This is a special theft, my dear. It is something only you can handle. Do you doubt my judgement, Kalika dear? Or perhaps you doubt your ability to perform this job for me? Is that what it is?” Kalika pushed her uneasiness from her mind as she stood up and walked over to Taqui’s desk. Placing her hands in front of him, she leaned across the desk, her face only inches from his.

“Doubts are for the weak, right Taqui? I can handle it.”

“Good. Here’s the combination.” He slipped her a piece of paper, and Kalika left the room, that uneasy feeling still niggling at the back of her mind.

0112 Tuesday 16th April

Kalika held in her hands an envelope containing the photos that Taqui had instructed her to find. The warehouse had been deserted, just as Taqui had told her. The safe had been in the room and the combination was exactly as Taqui had advised. She hadn’t seen a soul. But still that feeling continued to gnaw at the back of her mind. Why did she feel that there was something askew with this job? For reasons that Kalika did not quite understand at the time, she opened the unsealed envelope and took out the photos. Alarm bells went off in her head as she saw what the pictures held. A tall figure dressed in a long, black coat held a gun to a man’s head. The succession of photo’s showed the figure pulling the trigger then leaving the body, and driving away in the man’s car. The figure had a long, auburn ponytail.

Kalika grabbed the doorframe to steady herself. Taqui had sent her specifically so that she would see the photos. What did that mean? Was Taqui giving her a warning? ‘Be careful Kalika, you’re getting sloppy’? But it was not in Taqui’s nature to give second chances. How many times had the people she’d killed begged for a second chance? How many times had she answered their pleas with a bullet to the head? Her instinct kicked in and before her mind could catch up, Kalika was flying down the stairs. Halfway down she froze, all her previous fears realised. Across the warehouse floor, a group of black clad men were making their way towards her. Taqui didn’t tolerate imperfection, and she was no exception. A round of bullets forced Kalika to leap off the stairs, taking cover behind a stack of crates along the back wall. But not quickly enough. One of the bullets had grazed Kalika’s right shoulder as she fled. Sitting in the shadows, holding a hankie to her bleeding shoulder, Kalika wondered who would take care of Sarah and her children if she were not around.

0127 Tuesday 16th April

Mykal walked into the warehouse with six other men. Taqui had sent them to take care of some business. He didn’t quite understand why Taqui had sent so many of them to handle just the one girl, but it wasn’t his place to question the Boss. He wondered what this girl had done to deserve Taqui’s wrath. Perhaps she had double crossed him, or ripped him off? Knowing Taqui’s temper, Mykal theorised that the poor girl only had to refuse his advances. But he was nonetheless intrigued to see this girl who had made Taqui so angry. He didn’t have to wait long. Across the warehouse floor a figure that had been running down the stairs suddenly stopped midflight to face them. As they moved closer to her, Mykal was somewhat awed by what he saw.

She was tall and lithe, her presence, he was sure, would intimidate any man. Underneath a long, black trench coat, she wore knee-high, black combat boots, green and brown camouflage pants and a green tank top. Around her left thigh was strapped a gun in its holster, but Mykal knew that was not her only arsenal. Her black gloved hands tightly gripped the stair railings and he knew that she was aware of their purpose. But Mykal’s gaze was drawn to her face. She was rather plain looking, but in a way that made her quite attractive. Auburn bangs skimmed her eyebrows and framed a clear, pale face. The bottom half of her hair was shaved off, dyed a dirty blonde and the rest of her long hair was pulled into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. The woman’s mouth was a tight line of determination, but her grey eyes betrayed her thoughts. Mykal felt pity for what he saw; a woman who knew she was going to die this very night. As the men around him started to shoot at her, she leapt with catlike grace over the rails and behind the cover of a stack of crates that ran along the back wall.

The men fanned out and crept around the crates where she had disappeared. Mykal noticed a shadow moving along the wall away from the crates, and followed it. One thing was for sure; this young woman was going to fight them to the end. He followed her to the door, hidden in the dark of the wall. Yelling for the others to follow him, he bolted out the door chasing after her. She ran along the footpath and turned left around a corner, Mykal and the others not too far behind her. Mykal pulled out his gun and pulled the trigger, the shots resounding in the dark street. The woman ducked down an alley to the right of them, dodging their volley of bullets. As they followed her down the alley, she turned and returned fire. Her aim was impeccable as two of the men behind Mykal fell to the ground with sickening thuds. As she reached the end of the alley, she turned left into the street and Mykal watched her disappear in the dark doorway of a nearby building.

They entered the dim building, Butch calling out to her, taunting her.

“Come out and face us, you stupid bitch!” his voice boomed through the silence. “Things will only be worse if you make us come and get you. We’ll deal with that pretty little face in the same way you messed up our friends out there.” As if in answer to his shoutings, a spray of bullets came from the darkness and Mykal shot at the shadow that was disappearing into the next room. He heard a ‘Fuck!’ followed by a heavy thud in her direction. Leading the men into the room he was faced with a saddening sight. The woman, who had put up such a valiant fight, lay crumpled on the floor. There was a puddle of blood forming around her, oozing from the bullet wounds in her leg and back. Her face was marred by a deep gash to her forehead that was leaking crimson liquid over her strong features. With a heavy weight in his heart at the demise of such a creature, Mykal raised his gun and fired a single bullet into her head.