Para prajurit

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Membunuh atau dibunuh
Saya cukup yakin dia sudah mati, roadie sialan yang bodoh. Menendang tubuh pria yang tertutup debu di depanku, aku menunggu. Ketika dia tidak bergerak, saya ambil tasnya, menumpahkan semua isinya ke tanah di sampingnya. Dengan menjarah, saya menemukan sebotol wiski, parang dan beberapa benda aneh. Membuka bagian atas wiski, saya menenggak setengah botol, sepenuhnya sadar bahwa itu bukan ide yang baik. Sambil menyeka mulutku dengan sarung tangan kulit tanpa jari, aku melirik ke arah tubuh itu. Dia tertelungkup di tanah, celananya di sekitar pergelangan kakinya. Cara yang berkelas untuk mati, meskipun aku tahu lebih baik dari siapapun bahwa mereka tidak peduli ketika mereka mati.
Si idiot itu mengira saya adalah mangsa yang mudah, seorang gadis kecil yang lemah lembut yang akan membungkuk dan menerimanya. Raut wajahnya yang terkejut ketika aku menancapkan pisauku padanya sangat lucu. Sambil membungkuk aku menyeka pisauku di celananya, memastikan untuk menyingkirkan semua darah. Ketika Anda tidak memiliki banyak pakaian, noda adalah gangguan yang Anda coba hindari, dan darah adalah hal yang menyebalkan untuk dikeluarkan. Saya mengangkut barang temuan saya ke tas bahu saya dan mengangkatnya kembali, mendengus karena beratnya. Seharusnya aku tidak memaksakan pengintaianku terlalu lama, seminggu di lubang neraka yang tertutup debu ini terlalu lama.
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Sambil melindungi mataku dari terik matahari, aku tahu sebaiknya aku pergi jika aku ingin menjual barang ini tepat waktu. Gorky akan rewel jika aku menggedor-gedor tokonya saat dia tertidur dan aku suka kepalaku menempel di pundakku, terima kasih banyak. Sambil terus memegang wiski, sesekali menenggaknya, aku berangkat ke kota di kejauhan. Puncak-puncak bangunannya yang hancur dan gerbang besarnya nyaris tak terlihat di atas bukit pasir. Pasir menendang saat saya berjalan membuat saya meringis saat merasakannya di kulit saya. Sudahkah saya sebutkan betapa saya benci pasir dan debu? Debu itu ada di mana-mana, dan maksud saya di mana-mana. Terakhir kali saya keluar selama seminggu untuk mencari informasi, saya harus membakar celana saya ketika saya kembali, mengirimkan partikel-partikel kecil Setan langsung ke kematian yang berapi-api.
Tidak butuh waktu lama bagiku untuk mencapai batas kota, tapi cukup lama hingga aku menghabiskan wiski, sayang sekali. Sambil menghela napas, aku membuang botolnya ke samping saat aku berjalan ke arah penjaga yang ditempatkan di gerbang. Tanda di sebelahnya dengan bangga menyatakan 'The Rim', dengan 'Perhentian Terakhir ke Neraka' yang dicat semprot di bawahnya. Keteduhan yang disediakan oleh gerbang baja besar itu hampir membuatku mengerang dalam ekstasi, aku lupa betapa melelahkannya bekerja di siang hari. Biasanya, saya sudah pingsan sekarang, atau sedang dalam perjalanan menuju ke sana. Penjaga di sebelah kiri melangkah ke arahku, dia kurus kering, masih lebih tinggi dariku tapi kurus. Aku mendaftarkan ketiga senjata yang dia pegang dalam sekejap dan aku memaksa diriku untuk berdiri diam saat dia menjilat bibirnya yang pecah-pecah sambil mengarahkan matanya ke atas dan ke bawahku.
Dia mulai menepuk-nepuk, melirikku sepanjang waktu. Dia baru, jika tidak, dia tidak akan berani menatapku seperti itu, mengingat orang terakhir yang melakukannya akhirnya kencing ketakutan saat merasakan pisau bajaku pada kejantanannya saat aku dengan tenang mengatakan kepadanya bahwa itu akan menjadi umpan liar yang bagus. Pemula, atau greenhorn sebagaimana para roadies menyebutnya, akan segera belajar. Pikiran itu membawa senyuman ke bibirku yang segera mati ketika dia mencoba untuk merasakan payudaraku. Sebelum rekannya dapat memperingatkannya, meskipun melihat matanya aku tidak berpikir dia akan melakukannya, aku menjentikkan kepalaku ke depan dan menyambungkannya dengan dia sebelum dia dapat bereaksi. Ini bukan langkah yang paling cerdas tapi efektif, ada baiknya kepalaku sekokoh hatiku. Dia melolong kesakitan sambil memegang hidungnya yang sekarang mengeluarkan darah. Saya menyaksikan dengan penuh kekaguman saat dia mencoba berbicara di sekitar hidungnya yang patah hanya untuk kembali berteriak tanpa kata.
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The Rim, mereka menyebutnya, surga bagi yang tersesat dan terkutuk. Tempat ini dipenuhi dengan pelacur, pengamen, dan pemulung atau pemulung seperti yang saya sebut mereka. Tempat ini berada di ujung batas antara kota-kota lain dan sampah. Perhentian terakhir peradaban dan kemanusiaan sebelum Anda memasuki tanah tak bertuan. Hanya ada tiga alasan orang datang ke sini; mereka tidak punya tempat lain untuk pergi, mereka melarikan diri dari sesuatu atau mereka adalah penjahat. Tebak yang mana saya?
Jalanannya kecil dan kota ini pada dasarnya adalah sebuah lingkaran raksasa. Jalan-jalan luar adalah rumah-rumah bagi orang-orang yang ingin tinggal, campuran bangunan tua yang rusak yang digabungkan dengan kayu buatan tangan yang buruk dan struktur besi tua. Semakin dekat Anda masuk ke dalam lingkaran, semakin terbuka, dengan pusatnya adalah pasar tempat Anda berdagang, bercinta, berkelahi, atau minum.
Jembatan kayu yang tergantung di udara dari daerah yang lebih tinggi bergoyang tertiup angin di atas kepalaku, berderit familiar dan meyakinkan. Lampu merah dan putih yang digantung di setiap bangunan hanya menambah suasana The Rim. Tanahnya merupakan campuran dari tanah, pasir, dan puing-puing yang dibuang. Pria-pria pingsan di sepanjang dinding gubuk sementara anak-anak mengais-ngais saku mereka. Sambil menggelengkan kepala, saya membiarkan mereka, jika mereka cukup bodoh untuk pingsan, mereka cukup bodoh untuk menghadapi kesalahan mereka.

Saya merunduk di bawah tanda untuk pandai besi dan merasakan sebuah sikat terhadap saya. Saya meraih tangan itu sebelum tangan itu bisa menarik diri. Mataku mengikuti tangan itu ke wajah anak kecil kotor compang-camping yang mencoba merampokku.
"Terlalu lambat nak, kau harus cepat atau kau akan terbunuh." Dengan itu, saya dengan lembut mendorongnya pergi. Dia lari tanpa sepatah kata pun mungkin mencari target berikutnya. Seorang pemabuk tersandung di jalanku dan kemudian pingsan di tanah, tanpa melewatkan satu langkah pun aku melangkahi tubuhnya yang tidak sadarkan diri. Pasir di bawah, saya suka tempat ini.
Musik semakin keras ketika saya semakin dekat dengan bazaar, pusat kota. Para pelacur berjejer di pintu-pintu sambil berteriak pada para pria dan memamerkan payudara mereka. Apa pun untuk menarik perhatian, banyak orang idiot kehilangan uang mereka kepada mereka. Mereka tidak merampok penduduk setempat atau siapa pun yang mereka kenal, tetapi para pemuda dan orang luar kota adalah permainan yang adil. Setelah mereka meniduri mereka, mereka cenderung tidak memperhatikan ke mana tangan mereka berkeliaran. Idiot. Saya melihat pakaian kotor mereka. Anda akan berpikir dengan penghasilan mereka, mereka akan membeli pakaian baru, tetapi tidak, pakaian mereka sudah tua dan kotor, tidak serasi dengan apa pun yang bisa mereka temukan. Saya melihat ke bawah pada diri saya sendiri, menyadari bahwa saya tidak jauh lebih baik. Celana jins robek hitam yang kotor. Atasan yang dulu tidak dipotong sekarang robek menjadi satu, hitam dengan hanya sedikit noda darah di atasnya. Sarung tangan tanpa jari hitamku yang selalu hadir, jaket kulit hitam dan satu-satunya hal yang aku pedulikan tentang menjaga kebersihan, sepatu bot tentaraku.
"THLeviX WWo(rth, IkuIpikSir *kGaXu. RakkhPirHnya pmtepmgutOuZskaDn iuntuAka BmeledafkkaunO szeQnkdiv itni.é" Sji, ramóbFutp mWeranhQ gdi( zdaepuanó g$ubFupkP téeNrltwatwóaK SsYaatQ Sa_kYu bernke!dikp, kDeléuahr Xdari imnspBeLk&sikRu,w daUn menawar,kxan^ )sebny$uÉm* gehn,it OpaFdanéyhaM.)
"Aww, tapi kemudian aku tidak akan bisa melihat wajah cantikmu," Aku mengedipkan mata saat aku berjalan melewati mendapatkan beberapa tawa dari yang lain.
"Ini gratis untukmu kapan saja sayang!" Si rambut merah berteriak mengejarku. Saya menggelengkan kepala dan melanjutkan, fokus saya menyempit untuk mendapatkan minuman dan ke tempat teduh.
Saya berjalan melewati kerumunan, teriakan para roadies yang sedang beristirahat mengalahkan musik. Saya mendekati gubuk Gorky dan membanting temuan saya di atas meja kayu yang retak. Saya tidak mengatakan sepatah kata pun, hanya melihat pria itu; saya berjuang untuk menyembunyikan kerutan di kening saya saat giginya yang kotor dan bengkok bermain-main dengan tusuk gigi. Rambutnya perlahan-lahan rontok, tidak ada orang yang akan mengatakan apa-apa kepadanya. Lemak menutupi setiap inci tubuhnya, yang merupakan prestasi tersendiri seperti dunia sekarang. Pakaiannya lebih bernoda daripada pakaian saya, satukan semuanya dan Anda memiliki Gorky, pedagang terbesar dan paling kejam di The Rim. Bahkan geng-geng tidak mencoba untuk tawar-menawar atau bermain-main dengannya dan untuk alasan yang baik. Orang terakhir yang menawarnya berakhir digantung di luar gubuknya dengan usus yang terjatuh. Baunya sangat mengerikan tetapi tidak ada yang berani mencoba menyuruhnya untuk menurunkan peringatannya. Itulah yang terjadi setelah semua itu - sebuah peringatan. Dia tidak menanyai saya, hanya melihat-lihat temuan saya dan kemudian memberikan uang saya. Saya kembali ke bazar dan berjalan ke meja gratis tanpa repot-repot mengatakan apapun.
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Dia mengayunkan pinggulnya saat berjalan ke arahku. Saya berhasil menyembunyikan gulungan mata saya, saya benar-benar ingin mengatakan padanya bahwa itu tidak akan terjadi, tapi saya masih ingin dilayani jadi saya menonton pertunjukan yang dia lakukan. Dia meletakkan botol di depanku memastikan aku mendapatkan pandangan yang jelas dari dadanya yang besar. Saya ambil botol itu dan membuka tutupnya dengan gigi saya, meludahkannya ke kerumunan. Aku meneguknya dan melihat sekeliling, membuat katalog siapa saja yang ada di sini.
"Tidak melihatmu dalam beberapa hari, sayang," dia mendengkur. Aku tidak menatapnya, karena tahu dia memberiku wajah genit terbaiknya. Siapa namanya... Candy? Gadis-gadis bergerak cepat di sini. Mereka datang berlari dari fuck tahu apa atau ditemukan di jalan. Mereka pikir itu adalah surga, pasir mereka salah. Hanya yang kuat yang bertahan hidup di dunia ini, dan kota ini adalah selokan motherfucking. Pepatah kotoran di atas sepatu, tidak seburuk di rumah. Bahkan, rumah lamaku membuat tempat ini terlihat seperti surga. Tangannya mendarat di selangkanganku di atas celanaku membuatku melirik ke bawah dengan alis terangkat. Aku suka keberaniannya, tapi aku ingin sendirian malam ini dan dia terlalu membutuhkan.
"Aku merindukanmu. Apakah kau ingin menunggu shiftku selesai?" Aku mengambil minuman lagi dan bersandar menatapnya, tidak repot-repot menggerakkan tangannya saat mulai berputar-putar.
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"Maaf, sayang, tidak malam ini." Dia menjulurkan bibirnya, mungkin mencoba untuk bersikap manis.
"Lain kali," katanya dengan cemberut. Beberapa orang bodoh berteriak padanya dan dia melesat pergi. Dia ditangkap sebelum dia sampai dua kaki jauhnya, anak malang itu akan dimakan hidup-hidup. Saya menyeringai saat melihatnya ditarik seperti sapi yang berharga. Saya tidak ingat sudah berapa lama dunia menjadi kacau. Ini sudah menjadi cara hidup kami sekarang. Anda mengais dan berjuang untuk bertahan hidup. Mereka yang lemah disimpan sebagai hiburan atau mati. Aku dicuri dari keluargaku beberapa minggu setelah semuanya terjadi. Saya berusia dua belas tahun pada saat itu. Beberapa tahun berikutnya adalah neraka, tetapi sekarang mereka adalah satu-satunya alasan saya masih hidup.
Saya membuka jaket saya dan memperlihatkan tato-tato saya, yang melingkar di bagian atas lengan kiri saya, ke atas tulang selangka saya dan kemudian ke bawah tulang belakang saya. Bukan berarti Anda bisa melihatnya. Mereka bukan tato dalam pengertian tradisional; masing-masing memiliki arti dan tujuan dan mereka dengan susah payah diukir ke dalam kulit saya, tidak semua karena pilihan saya. Bagian bawah lengan kiri saya memiliki bekas luka lama dan baru yang telah menjadi terang, jadi kecuali jika anda melihat lebih dekat, mereka menyatu dengan kulit saya. Bekas luka, putih dan pudar karena usia juga mengotori bagian tubuh saya yang lain, kecuali wajah saya. Keheningan menyelimuti meja-meja di dekatnya ketika mereka menyadari siapa saya.
HanryjaJ sAatQu waCniItiaw di d.unXiaN Xyyakn&g) maUtWid inni 'yaWng !mreTmniliOkciL bekÉaps !luka, yprtajuyr'iytukZu, rHamfbkut. hcokRlaRt pan!jfagng _gelahp OdengVaGn ék)epang yYangó meCl(ewastinyaP,A ^pedHang ZbesPar Uyang diZi^kéa(tkan dRit p^uNnDgguFnVgny!a^ wdOamn sikfaTpX t$iwdMapk pneduélrir. SXaIya T_azaLnOnaQ WHor_t(h atTau Pyayng hmve*r&ekUa yk^enalR, *'Sganvgt Ju(ara' tSeta_péi AnPdpa ObGirsNa PmemanJggLijlW sGayIa WPorrptDhF.)

Tempat Nan
Sambil menyeruput botol saya, saya menunggu hal yang tak terelakkan dan itu tidak butuh waktu lama. Seorang pria bercelana jins kotor dan tanpa kemeja berjalan dan duduk di kursi di depanku. Batang yang menembus puting susunya berkilauan di bawah lampu seperti halnya kepalanya yang botak. Wajahnya yang lebar berubah menjadi cibiran kotor saat dia mengibaskan alis hitamnya padaku. Seperti yang dikatakan ayah saya, dia memiliki wajah yang dibuat untuk radio.
"Saya pernah mendengar tentang Anda." Matanya turun ke dadaku dan kemudian kembali ke dadaku. Saya memperhatikan gerakannya, siap untuk menyerang jika diperlukan. Ketika saya tidak berbicara, dia melirik kembali pada teman-temannya sebelum berpaling padaku dengan tekad yang baru.
"QKaÉu Kb^iUsu? ^Ja.ndganO k$hafwatirC itJu tsiadwakg *mNeyngmgZangguAkju', akuD dbCi_sa mJeGmiki,rkuaqn hAaél qlIasin yHaOng bisa d.ilarkcuWkakn mHulOuntm$uK." MteAnXgDhellaV rnra_paDs(, Daku( men!gaYmbilX mwinvum.
"Aku hanya akan memberimu satu peringatan. Pergilah dan aku tidak perlu menyakitimu." Suaraku sama impasifnya dengan wajahku tetapi itu hanya membuatnya semakin bersemangat.
"Kau tidak setangguh itu, kau hanya perlu bercinta dengan baik." Dia meraih penisnya seolah-olah aku bisa salah mengartikan maksudnya. Aku mengedipkan mataku ke arahnya, dia besar-aku yakin salah satu tangannya bisa menutupi seluruh wajahku. Itu berarti dia lambat dan dengan satu parang kesepian yang diikatkan padanya, aku bertaruh dia mengandalkan kekuatan kasar. Di sinilah kecepatan saya akan berguna, Anda menyerang dengan cepat dan bergerak keluar dari jangkauan pukulan bahkan sebelum mereka menyadari bahwa Anda ada di sana. Jika aku tidak begitu lelah, aku bahkan mungkin menikmati pelajaran dari terompet sialan ini.
Aku menenggak sisa botol dan dengan tenang meletakkannya kembali di atas meja. Sekarang sunyi senyap. Burung nasar sedang menunggu pertunjukan, dan setiap kelemahan berarti kematianku. Gadis-gadis bar telah pergi bersembunyi karena tahu itu akan terjadi. Semua orang menunggu dan saya membiarkan mereka. Ketika dia mencondongkan badannya ke depan, baunya mengenai saya, saya harus melawan keinginan untuk muntah. Hanya karena ini adalah akhir dunia, bukan berarti Anda tidak bisa mencuci diri. Meskipun melihat ke bawah pada diriku sendiri dengan cepat, aku mungkin bisa melakukannya dengan satu setelah seminggu keluar di limbah.
"KiaKuW 'denSgaQrZ akDu,d égirrMlyiet?" Lsuaralnmya, saPm.aP jr$uFsaqkXnyÉa dejngatn ggKiginy*am.T MeanuyéehnanQgFkan. Itvu Vmem&bnuatknul tsaenaJngi pa)sAt.a _gTigKiY adawlqaThq Fsalahy KsKatTu haln TyQatng kuktsemnu_kaKn dualuam pqenzgzint&aiCa)nkuu&. "KPerZsetanJ, aku Ihjany)aI nakSanY menwekuukWmu YsneQpRerti p_elBa.cMurHmNu.f"
Sebelum dia bisa bergerak, saya mengambil pisau yang tersembunyi di pinggang saya dan mencondongkan tubuh ke depan. Secepat gigitan ular, saya telah meraih kepalanya yang tebal dan mengirisnya. Dia berteriak saat dia jatuh ke belakang, itu bergema di sekitar bazaar yang sekarang sunyi. Darah mengalir melalui tangannya saat ia menutup lukanya. Saya dengan santai melemparkan telinganya yang sekarang hilang di atas meja dan meletakkan pedangku dengan pengingat pada diri sendiri untuk membersihkannya nanti. Lagipula, aku tidak tahu kemana saja dia pergi.
"Aku sudah memperingatkanmu."
Wajahnya memiringkan rasa sakit saat dia berteriak dengan kasar. Bazaar meledak dalam tawa dan saya tidak bisa menahan senyum saat dua pemulung besar maju dan menyeret pria yang masih berteriak itu tanpa melakukan kontak mata. Memberi isyarat untuk botol lain, saya membiarkan mata saya berkeliling. Semua orang kembali ke apa yang mereka lakukan sebelum pertunjukan kecil saya, dan hanya empat orang yang melakukan kontak mata dengan saya. Bukan penduduk setempat atau siapa pun yang saya kenali. Mereka duduk di sudut jauh dengan mata tertuju padaku, botol bir berserakan di depan mereka namun mata mereka jernih dan tubuh mereka tajam.
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Para pelacur masuk ke area tempat duduk bar, mencari pelanggan berikutnya yang membayar. Mereka berputar-putar di sekitar meja sambil mendengkur ke arah para pria, mengelus-elus mereka melalui pakaian kotor mereka yang compang-camping. Seorang pria meraih salah satu gadis dan mendorongnya menghadap ke bawah di atas meja dan menarik roknya sambil melemparkan uangnya ke bawah di sampingnya. Sesuatu bergerak ke dalam garis pandang saya dan saya bersandar ke belakang sambil mengerang. Mengapa orang tidak bisa mengambil petunjuk?
Keempat pria yang tadi berdiri di sekitar meja kecilku, semuanya dengan ekspresi yang tidak terbaca. Entah mereka bodoh atau berani, saya belum bisa memutuskan yang mana. Mereka saling melirik satu sama lain dan dengan anggukan, yang di tengah melangkah maju. Dia membuka mulutnya tetapi saya mengalahkannya.
"Persetan," suaraku keras dan dingin. Itu membuatnya goyah dan berkedip keheranan padaku, jelas tidak mengharapkan itu.
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Aku membiarkan mataku mengembara ke teman-temannya tanpa menghiraukan tatapan penuh tanya. Dua orang di sebelah kirinya terlihat hampir sama, saya kira kembar. Mereka berdua memiliki tengkuk, bukan jenggot. Yang satu bermata abu-abu dan yang lainnya hijau, tetapi mereka berdua memiliki rambut pirang - mungkin lebih terang dari matahari - lebih panjang di bagian atas dan kencang di bagian samping. Kulit mereka kecokelatan, tetapi tidak terbakar dan mereka berdua tinggi dan tegap. Otot-otot yang ramping dan terdefinisi dengan baik terlihat saat mereka bergerak, menyoroti tubuh perenang yang mereka sembunyikan di balik pakaian.