Koda

Odaise Gaelach

I wrote this back in June 2005. It's a thriller, I guess, and it's only 1932 words long.

If you have any comments or criticisms, please leave them behind. I'd apprecite it.

Hope you enjoy it.

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Koda

The silence was profound. Even when she lived to be sixty Koda never forgot the silence that she heard as she walked through the maze of alleys and streets that made up the slums of Rio de Janeiro. The echo of her own slow footsteps was the only sound that she could hear. The grey slum buildings were lit faintly by a few remaining street lights. Pure darkness enveloped the narrow alleys.
The tropical night was warm, so Koda opened the thin coat that she was wearing. Nevertheless she was still hot and sweaty underneath. When she was planning for tonight in her small motel room she considered not wearing it at all. But it neatly concealed the knife at her waist and, more importantly, the gun holstered to the back of her shoulder.
Time and time again she took a small note out of her pocket and stared at it. On it was an address that was given to her by one of the locals. Koda had already memorised the note but her nerves were jittery and she was too scared of forgetting it. She couldn’t afford to forget it.
Not now. Not when I’m so close.
Occasionally there was a noise from around her. She would tense up, poised to fight anyone that tried to attack her. But it was usually a just cat or a dog or something. She knew that Rio de Janerio was a very dangerous city, and she never took any chances.
She would murder him. She would murder the racist that killed her husband two years ago. A holiday on the west coast of Ireland ended in his death. All because he was Japanese. Koda became a widow at 23 years old. The Irish fled to Brazil to escape justice. Koda returned to Japan and began to plan. She cut her hair and dyed it black. She gave up smoking and became fitter and stronger. Quicker.
Tracing the Irishman was a tough challenge, but Koda could charm, seduce, bully and flatter anybody for the information that she sought. In the end it was a drug dealer that gave her the address that she was going to now. He wanted someone clean to deliver a small sample of cocaine. Koda was up for the job.
And he’s going to be there she thought firmly to herself. I will find him and I will kill him.
She looked at the note again, whispering the address out loud to herself, and her mind was distracted from the danger that lurked all around her.
Suddenly someone rushed out from the shadows beside her. He crashed into Koda and knocked her to the ground. Before she could even breathe he was on top of her, pinning her arms down and pulling her coat open. There was an overwhelming stench of alcohol. Koda was surprised but she was not weakened. She felt the guy trying to pull her shirt off her body and she viciously slammed her forehead into his face. He yelped with sharp pain and let go of one of her arms. Koda didn’t hesitate to pull the knife out from her waist and thrust it in between his ribs.
He gasped and choked, unable to speak. Blood trickled down the knife’s handle onto Koda’s fingers but she held firm. He coughed violently and took a long, ragged breath before his quaking body relaxed and he gently slumped down onto the ground.
Koda laid there, feeling sick at what she had done. She was prepared to avenge her husband, but this was the first time that she had to kill an innocent person. Was she really willing to kill in order to achieve her goal? Was she really able to do this?
Yes I am.
The nausea diminished and Koda shakily stood up, pulling the knife with a sickly slurping sound out of the corpse. Then she noticed that his blood was on her hand. It was warm. She shivered before wiping her hand and the knife clean again off his clothes.
And then she replaced the knife back into its sheath and continued on.

Odaise Gaelach

The deeper Koda walked into the slums the darker it became. Fewer and fewer street lights were working now and she had to squint through the gloom to see ahead. The night was as black as a raven’s wing. Her body tensed; if someone else struck her here it would take her dangerously by surprise. Her hand strayed back to the handle of her knife...
And she turned a corner and before her was a tall building with faint lights on inside. A filthy, rotten tenement block that had fallen into bad disrepair. Bricks were chipped, windows were cracked and rubbish piled up around the drains off the pavement. Koda checked the tainted metal plate beside the door. It matched the address that the drug dealer gave her. She prayed for her heart to keep still; she could almost hear it beating.
“Shh...” she cooed as she gently pushed the door. It was unlocked. She carefully opened it wide and walked inside.
A dim, naked light bulb hung from the roof and it sufficiently lit the corridor that Koda was in. Softly she paced down the hall, passing the numerous small flats and listening intently for anything that might be a threat to her. The floorboards creaked underneath her feet. The wallpaper was a stained yellow colour. The doors were made of thin, dark-brown wood. There was a fetid stench from some of the apartments.
Koda continued on until she came to room 33.
Here.
She carefully felt the door with her hands and gently put her ear up to it. Inside she could hear some people talking and there was music from a stereo. Koda bit her lower lip. She had arrived here at around 2:30 am, she simply assumed that he would have been asleep and could have just killed him with a knife in the dark. But she still had a plan and her handgun.
Koda breathed deeply and braced herself, and steadily rapped on the door. Inside someone whispered, “Quiet,” and the music was turned down. A man in his late twenties opened the door. He was tall and bulky with muscles bulging under his shirt. He looked like he could easily snap Koda in half.
Not him.
“Yeah?”
“Ricardo sent me. I’m one of his girls,” Koda answered. Ricardo was the drug dealer that supplied Koda with the cocaine and the address.
“Prove it,” the man answered in his deep gruff voice. Koda reached into her pocket and produced a small bag of fine white powder. The man nodded, and he stood back to let Koda in.
Immediately Koda knew why he was there. The inside of the apartment was full of boxes of all shapes and sizes, and with all different brand names on them, from alcohol to kids’ toys. There were another two men in the apartment, and they were carefully inspecting the contents of one of the boxes, filled with bags and bags of drugs.
Both of the men turned and looked at her.
Him!
Koda turned her sights to the white male sitting nearest to the door. He was the one that killed her husband two years ago. She had trained and waited and prayed for two whole years for this moment, and now she finally had it.
But he was eyeing her suspiciously. He knows, Koda thought. She would have to choose carefully the right moment to move.
“What’ve you got?” he asked her in his Irish drawl. Koda handed the small bag of cocaine to him, hoping desperately that he would not recognise her. He tossed the small bag to his accomplice and sat forward as the contents of the bag was being sniffed.
And suddenly-
“Naoki!” he snapped.
Before she could restrain herself Koda gasped and raised a hand to her face. The name he had said was that of her murdered husband.
Suddenly the Irish flew from his seat past the muscleman and out of the flat. Koda tore out after him, ripping her gun out of its holster and squeezing the trigger. Shards of plaster flew from the walls but the Irish was unhurt.
He ran out through the doors of the building and sprinted down a street. Koda chased after him, firing at him and screaming. Her nerves were on fire and her heart was pumping and her aim was inaccurate.
He sprinted faster and Koda was afraid that she would lose him in the murky alleyways.
She chased him down another winding street but he was getting further away from her. He was faster and stronger. Koda had no hope of catching him-
-and then suddenly he yelled with intense pain and collapsed to the ground, twitching and sobbing. Koda jogged to his side, still wary of him like a hunter is of a wounded animal.
He laid there on the ground gasping heavily for breath. Koda stood over him and stared down into his pained face.
“Hiretsukan!” she swore and spat at him. “You murdered my husband two years ago in Galway. And now I murder you.” She made sure that there were still a few bullets left in the gun before she calmly, mercilessly aimed it at his head.
“These bullets are for the two, long years of grief that I’ve endured. All because of you.”
Cautiously she knelt down beside him and slowly touched his right shoulder. Her fingers felt something wet. His shirt was glossy with liquid. The shot must have shattered the bone and come out through the other side. His right arm was limp, his left hand was still convulsing painfully. Koda stood up, and her fingers wrapped tighter around the grip of the handgun. She paused... and relaxed. The night held its breath.
“Do you have any last words before I avenge Naoki?”
The Irish coughed and spluttered. Koda knew that he would die soon unless he was helped. He looked up straight into her unforgiving black eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”
Koda was stunned. He had murdered her husband in cold blood, but she never for a minute thought that he felt any remorse for his crime. Her black eyes softened. Did she really want to add another soul to the legions of the dead? Was she really able to do this?
And then she caught sight of his left arm quivering and twitching. She felt the pity rise inside her... and then it disappeared back down again. His hand was moving purposefully and intently. His fingers fell against a cracked brick that was lying on the ground. But he couldn’t get a good grip on it. His desperate fingers pulled and squeezed at it to try and hold it. If he managed to hit her with it-
“No you’re not,” Koda replied coldly as she pointed the gun over his heart and pulled the trigger. He shook violently as she shot him again and again and again until finally the gun clicked empty and his body laid lifelessly on the ground. The sound of the shots echoed off into the still, inky night. Koda finally felt tranquil in her young, tired bones.
She threw the smoking gun down on the ground at him. As for the knife... she decided to keep the knife. She still might have a need for it. She glanced behind her to make sure that she wasn’t being followed, and then Koda turned and ran down an alleyway, quickly disappearing in the engulfing darkness.

The Bollox

I must say, you have real talent for writing short stories, you captivate the audience and leave them on knife-edge

Odaise Gaelach

Thanks for reading my story Marts. I'm really glad that you liked it. Cheers!