Rooftops

This is a reworking of The Brothers Grimm's 'Little Red Riding Hood' - it is part of 'The Grimm Tales of Vertigo City' series.

     There is a world above Vertigo city, hidden by the smog and under lit by the blazing neon signs of the strip bars and porno theatres below. Precarious and labyrinthine walkways criss-cross the tangled buildings cutting through the night and casting fractured moonlight onto rain lashed brickwork. A place where gangs vie for districts, life means s**t and the law is a simple code: survive or don't.

 

     This is the world of Rooftops.

 

 

 

     Swindle pushed back his cap and scratched at the Maori tattoo that curled round his eye socket; he stared out across Rooftops and pressed his lips into a grim line.

     "It's a long way," he muttered half to himself. "I'm not sure you can make it..."

     The girl crouched beside him; her violet eyes swept the ragged skyline as she pushed back her red hood. "I can make it."

     She turned her eyes upon him. "What choice do you have?"

     Swindle spat and reached into his pocket. "Tell Grandma there is more where this came from and I'll take nothing less than fifty."

     The girl ran a pink tongue over the silver ring that pierced her lower lip as Swindle plunged the package into her hands. His expression was fierce. "You know what this means to the group."

     "Of course I do," the girl said pushing the package into the shoulder bag that hung to her waist. "I wont let you down." She stood up, drew the red cloak about her and tugged the hood up over her features, "...any of you."

     She began to move away.

     "Haylo?"

     The girl in the red hood, half turned.

     "Good luck." It was a once a voice in the darkness and nothing more.

 

     Haylo ran out across the greasy rooftops, her boots clunking against the slates as she lengthened and shortened her stride as the terrain dictated. It was the responsibility of all born and raised in Rooftops to know their own districts implicitly. Knowledge of safe routes, short cuts, dead ends and traps was the only way to prolong survival. Few lived beyond their mid twenties here, the maxim was:

You get slow, you get dead.

 

     It was not unusual for interloping rival gang members to make forays into other districts looking for drugs or food and when this happened, when faced with an interloper there were only two things you could do: fight or flight.

     Haylo was different, she was a Bagman, a courier, fleet of foot and sharp of eye, she knew most of the surrounding districts almost as well as her own. She frequently moved drugs or messages between Swindle's gang, the 5 Percenters, and Grandma's Regulators on the far side of the city. Tonight though, was different, tonight everything hinged on one score. A score that would allow the 5 Percenters to leave Rooftops for good, to go below. She paused on a ledge staring about, her heart pumping and her mouth dry. Rumour had it that news of Swindle's new drug had reached other districts, everyone wanted to quit the Rooftops and everyone would want Swindle's new drug.

     Shadows flickered across walls and in the distance a siren wailed, the sound rolling up from the streets below. The cops never ventured into Rooftops, they knew better, they had better things to do than get themselves killed. Haylo stood with her toes on the precipice and stared across at the bar that stood out fifteen feet away, seemingly hanging in the night air. A few buildings behind, a bottle smashed and more shadows leapt and sprung up at the walls.

     Retreating one pace, Haylo launched herself forward into the night air, heedless of the drop below. For a brief moment it was if the girl hung, frozen in the air, before her grip fastened on the bar and she swung through a neat arc, landing in a crouch on the gravely roof beyond. She moved purposefully through the myriad abandoned aerials and antennas her dark eyes fervent and shimmering. She sensed the movement before she heard them or saw their shadows stealing through the broken down chimney pots to the east. Flattening herself into an alcove, her heart punching at her breast she watched them slink wordlessly by, communicating by finger signals and gesticulations. There were a lot of gang members out tonight; it was as Swindle had feared.

     Taking to her heels she fled across the roofscape jinking to the left and then the right offering would be pursuers little in the way of an easy track, her red hood fluttering about her cheeks. Pausing for breath, Haylo leaned against a disused chimney stack and reached for her canteen of water.

     "Out late tonight aren't we?" A voice said.

     Haylo's heart lurched and she reached instinctively into her boot for her stiletto knife.

     "Oh you won't be needing that, I wont hurt you..." The man stepped from the shadows close by and offered her a wolfish smile. Haylo's knife glinted in the half-light and she pressed the canteen to her lips as she watched him.

     The man leaned casually against a wall and folded his arms staring at her intently. "What's your name?"

     She swallowed and tucked her canteen away, her eyes darting about seeking an exit and finding none. "My name is Haylo," she said, "from the 5 Percenters."

     "You're a long way from home Haylo from the 5 Percenters," the man observed drawing one foot up underneath him. "It's not a particularly safe night to be out and about; a lot of players out tonight."

     "I'll be okay," Haylo replied twisting the flat bladed knife in her palm. "I do this sort ofthing a lot."

     "Really? You a Bagman?" The man seemed almost impressed. "So where are you heading Bagman?"

     "Grandma's," Haylo answered, knowing that the man would have already guessed the answer. "I'm going to collect a stash for our boys, we're running low," she lied smoothly hoping that the attachment of truth and untruth would appear seamless.

     "'Zat so? Your boys must be pretty desperate to send you out all the way to Grandma's just for a pick-up on a night like this..." The man commented calmly.

     "We are. A couple of our boys are coming down hard from some pretty harsh Chems..." She studied the man attentively; he was dressed differently from Rooftops inhabitants, from his snakeskin trousers to his fur coat, he was an outsider.  He even smelled clean. "You're not from here."

     He smiled easily; his lips peeling back to reveal even, bone-white teeth.

     Shouts and whoops from foraging gang members rose close by punctuated by shattering glass and a cut-short scream. Haylo twisted her knife in her palm and pressed herself to the damp brickwork, her eyes probing the shadows. Three gang members loped through the darkness and moved away to the west, the last of the three paused to sheath a wicked looking machete that gleamed crimson and slick.

     Haylo turned to readdress the man, the words catching in her craw. He had disappeared. Gathering her thoughts, she slid the blade back into her boot and moved off. She could still feel the fiery surge of Adreno in her veins, the drug keeping her senses tuned and her movements precise. Haylo moved sure footed and catlike, the roofscape blurring as she dashed past, vaulting and springing between blocks and traversing seemingly impossible gaps.

     Before long she became aware of a dark figure shadowing her movements to her right, hurtling between buildings and crossing vast expanses of night air with ease. The figure alternated between sprinting on two legs and bounding on all fours like some great dog, powerful, fast and relentless. Haylo burst to her left, dodging across a rattling catwalk and zipping through narrow fissures of collapsed structures. With her lungs afire and her breathing coming in ragged gasps she flung herself out into the starlit night air and landed awkwardly, tumbling onto a gravely precipice. Scrambling to her feet she pressed herself into a blackened alcove. She remained there gasping for breath, the knife grasped in her trembling hand and the drug furious in her system.

     What the f**k was that?

     No-one, nothing, on Rooftops could match her for pace and agility; it's what made her the best. Whatever was tracking her not only matched, but exceeded, her speed and was clearing spaces between the buildings that she would never even contemplate. She noiselessly withdrew a second, longer blade from her left boot and remained in the pitch of the recess, her heart pounding at her ribcage.

     Long moments passed in the darkness and Haylo fought to control her breathing and the racing in her veins. An unnatural silence had settled across Rooftops and neon under lit smog hung, half curled like dead fingers in the heavy air. Steeling her resolve, Haylo stole from the shadows, her eyes guarded and her boots crunching on the gravel. Perhaps Swindle had been right; perhaps it was too dangerous a mission. She gave a shake of her head; any doubt clouding her thoughts would almost certainly spawn disaster.

     Focus. Focus.

     Grandma's was just two more blocks, salvation was two more blocks, a new life was just two more blocks. Haylo sheathed her weapons and kicked on, a flash of crimson cutting through the coiled fog.

     And then, almost as if viewed through a dream, it was there. The erratic flickering of the blue neon sign that blinked above the reinforced entrance signified that she had arrived: Grandma's place, the gateway to Streets. Haylo rapped urgently on the metalwork, her violet eyes glittering with tears as she scanned the unusual quiescence of the Rooftops.

     Shadows moved again, soundless against the backdrop of sloping roofs, vents, chimney stacks and jutting antennae. The gangers were on the move again and it would not take long before everyone knew that Haylo had made it across the city. News travels fast in Rooftops.

     Haylo's pulse throbbed excitedly and her mouth was parched as she pressed her cheek against the cool steel, listening, hoping, praying. She reached into her cloak and produced a purple capsule which she secreted gingerly into the moist pouch between her cheek and her back teeth. She knocked her knuckles against the graffiti daubed doorway again, tears rolling down her cheeks as she fought the rising knot of panic in her stomach.

     Please, please...

     She withdrew her long knife and pounded her fist on the metalwork. She twisted to press her back against it, the weapon point hovering in the darkness. In the distance she could see more figures looming between the crooked structures and heard the clink and rattle of chains and other weaponry. Haylo cracked her boot heel against the doorway repeatedly hearing the hollow echo beyond and turned the blade in her hand.

     "F*****g open!" She screamed.

     The gangers started to move, perhaps sensing that redemption was at hand. Hoots, shouts and catcalls arose. A hurled bottle exploded into shards on the ground ten feet away. Then they were running, from all directions. Desperate men, grim-eyed killers bristling with weapons, who would stop at nothing to own Swindle's drug.

     The world reeled suddenly and Haylo crashed rearward through the portal as it opened behind her. A hand fastened on her red cloak and dragged her backwards as the flash-crack of a gunshot filled the passageway. The steel door slammed shut and bolts clattered into place. Haylo scrambled to her feet flourishing the long blade. The man leaned heavily on the steel bars, levelling a handgun at her. "Put the knife away, you'll have someones eye out," he said grinning roguishly.

     A wicked looking scar ran through a useless eye socket and curled down to his upper lip.

     "I've come to see-"

     "Yeah no s**t..." The gunman stated waving his pistol. "Grandma's been expecting you." He brushed past her to lead on down the corridor as she sheathed her weapon. "Oh, and if you think about pulling that out again..." He paused, half turning. "...I'll f*****g kill you where you stand."

 

     Grandma sat in a high backed chair staring out across the smoky interior of the room through black glasses. A Negress of indeterminable age, Grandma, as she was affectionately known by those in Rooftops was a Mambo, a priestess of the Vodou religion. She resourced and trafficked the drugs, weapons, w****s and pornography that acted as currency in Rooftops. Without her gang, the Regulators, all-out war would tear Rooftops from the skies.

     Haylo stepped into the room, her senses prickling as she saw the man in the fur coat leaning casually against the back of Grandma's chair. He greeted her with an even smile. Grandma's ebony features were taut as she stared at the girl in the red cloak who moved cautiously into the centre of the room.

     "I'm Haylo of the 5 Percenters," she said by way of introduction, pushing back the hood, cold sweat streaking her features. "Our chemist, Swindle, has a developed a a new preparation that he thinks you will be interested in producing."

     The man behind Grandma was staring at her intently, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.

     "The new prep is called Jack; it has the boost of Adreno, the kick of Blaze but provides the user with the clarity Clearwater and has a smoot come-down. The hook is, that it is very, very addictive..."

     Grandma stared silently ahead, her expression unreadable, her thoughts indecipherable.

     Haylo reached into her pouch and fished the package from its confines, her fingers trembled. "Jack's extreme addictiveness, coupled with the captive market that Rooftops offers, presents a very lucrative business opportunity." She licked her lips nervously, hearing movement around her. "I have here a sample and its chemical formula for mass production. The 5 Percenters are willing to sell you the prep for fifty thousand and safe passage to the Streets."

    

     Grandma said nothing.

     The man in the fur coat stepped forward laying a hand on Grandma's shoulder, his smile broadening. "How about I take that taster off you there, Haylo?"

     "The proposition is for Grandma." She steeled herself.

     "Well, I speak for Grandma now, angel." The man said accordingly.

     "You're not a Regulator."

     The man cocked his head slightly. "Not exactly," he replied smoothly. "My name is Lupo and I represent... someone else..."

     "I deal only with Grandma."

     "Grandma doesn't really feel up to deaing at the moment, so why don't you pass that pretty basket of fruits over here instead?"

     Haylo took a step back, her keen eyes raking Grandma's taut countenance; it was still, almost serene.  She had not moved since Haylo's entrance. Her chest did not rise or fall and the pulse at her throat did not throb.

     The man's features darkened and his voice dropped an octave to an almost guttural, alien pitch. "I see your eyes are keen..." With one hand he tugged on Grandma's shawl, the old woman toppled from her chair and slumped to the ground. A wolfish smile curled his lip and his teeth gleamed beneath.

     The gentle sound of a boot heel scuffing the concrete floor scraped behind her.

     Haylo closed her eyes, her perception widening and picking them out, five of them; two from her left, three from behind. Their scent was musky, unwashed, alcohol fused and drug powered. These were not Grandma's Haitian Regulators.

     Lupo spoke again, his voice sepulchral. "Listen child, you are in my district now. We will take what we want, if we have to. But, rest assured it will be all the worse for you. We will kill you, but it will take days and days for you to die and it will be the worst pain you could possibly imagine." The man fairly glowed with animalistic vehemence.

     "We just want the prep kid," one of the men said from the rear. "But I'll make sure I take that little a*s right after."

     Haylo flicked the small purple capsule from the side of her mouth and placed it between her teeth. Her indigo eyes glittered fiercely.

     "You fuckers are out of your league." She bit down on the capsule.

     Fury, bitter on her tongue - the last resort drug, the do or die drug, mean, harsh, potent - destructive.

     The drug coursed into her system, flooding her limbs and burning her eyes. Haylo rolled to her right as the gun behind her roared; the stiletto knife sang through the air and lodged into the eye socket of the gunman with a sickening thud. She sprung forward, her long bladed knife whistling as she opened the throat of another in a ragged spurt of crimson. Leaping and twisting in her dance of death Haylo crashed her boot into the jaw of one of Lupo's henchmen and felt the satisfying crunch of bone beneath her heel. Spinning, she rammed the long bladed knife into a man's chest, feeling the blade slide inwards and upwards, separating his ribs, tearing into the lung and puncturing the thick muscular wall of his heart. Blood bubbled up into the man's gullet and burst forth in a gargled spray.

     With an bay of unparalleled savagery, Lupo launched himself across the room cannoning into Haylo and slamming her into the wall. His teeth were bared, curved and at her throat. She sank her fingernails into his face seeking the soft pulpiness of his eyes. Grasping her by her blood splattered cloak, Lupo thrust her away and hurled her against the wall. Her head snapped backward and her skull cracked against the rough stonework, lights exploded before her eyes. He was on her again before she could struggle to her feet, his jaws slavering as he sought to rip open her throat. Even with the effects of Fury surging through her veins, she could not keep him at bay. She could feel his foetid breath fanning her face and his teeth scraped painfully at the soft flesh of her exposed throat. The strength in her arms was fading fast.

 

     Three loud blasts lifted the man from her and sent him sprawling to the ground. He struggled to his feet, his face pale and slack. The gun exploded again, a round ripping into his cheek, another tearing into the hollow of his throat and exiting in a bloody mist. Choking, stumbling and drooling thick lifeblood Lupo staggered forwards, his hands furled into claws and his ruined face a rictus of pain and rage. He crumpled to his knees, his dark eyes staring, sightless, before pitching forward and slumping into a pool of blood.

 

     Swindle lowered the gun, his face blood smeared and pallid and his chest heaving. Haylo stared at him, uncomprehending, her mouth opening and closing, her mind shredded by Fury's potency.

     Her eyes fell to the package lying on the floor beside Lupo's inert form, torn open and empty. She had brought Grandma exactly what Swindle had wanted, Jack.

     Swindle by name...

     The chemist lurched across to Haylo and fell on his knees beside her, stroking the hair from her eyes and folding her into his arms. Breathing hard and shaking against him, Haylo waited for the drug to dissipate and closed her eyes.

 

     "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It couldn't have been any other way... we need a decoy and you were th best. We're safe now, all of us..." He closed his eyes against the tears and tried to push down the bitter ball of guilt.

 

     "You did it. It's going to be all right, you hear?" he croaked. "I promise..."

 

 

Reviews

[Yira Simone]

Damn...this was extremely good. I loved the ending and the twist you snuck in on the reader. This was well written. Your wording and imagery was on point. I loved the way you did not make her innocent and naive, but a beautiful, street savvy girl. Loved this! This was certainly a twist on a old tale!-Catrina

[Doreen]

Holy crap that was good! The imagery was excellent, the pace amazing, the characters perfect, the dialogue natural, the suspense awesome. It hooked me and kept me glued to the screen. Very well done, sir!

[Annie29]

You're very descriptive (:

[Flo_writer]

A twisted depiction of red riding hood. Brilliant and detailed with action. Guns, Gangs, and Drugs! What more do you need in a turmoil city.

[Michael Carr]

howie this is one of my fav works from you. I still might enjoy rhapsody a tad, but not by much, to be honest the 1st and 2nd places ur getting will be a tough choice.
majestic work, the dialogue and characters brim with originallity.
excellent.

[Susan M]

Howie, you never fail to please! What an excellent story! Jack ... heh ...

[Alice Bliss]

Very entertaining! I always love a story with a fictional society that is so well-detailed. The details about Rooftop's gangs as well as how they interact, and the various drugs they use make it more "real" in a sense. The characters are also fabuloulsy illustrated and multi-dimensional. One thing I wondered about was why you didn't portray the huntsman from Grimm's "Little Red Riding Hood". I thought Swindle might have been him at first but that wouldn't make sense since he was the one sending Haylo on her errand in the beginning. It would have been nice to see a parallel for the huntsman fit in somehow. Just a thought!

[Celtic Cat]

Wow, Little Red Riding Hood? I love it!! This was a captivating read from the start. It's edgy, has excellent descriptions, much anticipation = great stuff!!

[Katie B]

That was a really interesting story. I especially loved the idea of how high above the city things are taking place that no one down below has no idea about. I can really see you expanding this story and making it a great fantasy novel.

[Sammypookins]

Bow down before you ! I am so jealous and I may not speak to you ever again........ok so I will but i'm still incredibly envious. This needs publishing I would so buy it, I read a book ages ago called the hollow chocolate bunny of the apocalypse which did for nursey rhyme characters what you are doing for fairy tale ones and with the same great writing. Howie rocks pass it on.. Sam x

[Chantal-lise Mirman]

Whoa! That was some roller coaster ride! And did you commission that image for the story? It's perfect! You set up an extremely believable world, if a dank and desperate existence on the "Rooftops." There are definitely areas even now in big cities that the police overlook for their own good! The twisted machinations of the drug subculture are exposed with a sense of gritty reality. I'd forgotten all about the woodsman's rescue by the climax of the tale, and was needlessly fearing for our heroine's life! You sustain the Red Riding Hood theme throughout, with clever images and word play, yet Haylo emerges as a real character, not just a caricature. Grandma and Lupus make their transformed appearances on cue. The action scenes and your powers of description are at their excellent best! There is, of course, your trademark quirky ending with the new drug being "Jack!" And the story retains the heart of a Fairy Tale with it's promise of a better life for all...

Nice theme song, too!

More kudos to you, Sir, and more fodder for my Favorites!