Becoming Honey
One

“Any last requests?”

Slumped in the chair with her arms bound behind her back, the redhead looked up at the man. He was heavyset and rather rough around the edges, in stark contrast to her slight yet curvaceous frame. She grinned a bloody grin, allowing him to see the gap where he had yanked out one of her front teeth with a pair of pliers. A sickly mixture of blood and saliva dribbled over her chin and down her ample cleavage.

Her right eye was swollen to the point that it was unable to function but the other was in perfect working order.

“I’ll have a shot of that whisky,” she said, peering around the wall of a man towards the rickety table pushed right against the wall a few feet away. “A smoke wouldn’t go amiss, either.”

With a shrug the man turned and covered the short distance to the table in a couple of strides, whereupon he poured a generous shot of the single malt.

“Think yourself lucky,” he said as he made his way back to her and held the glass to her lips. Grabbing the hair at the back of her head he yanked her head back and as he tipped the liquid into her mouth, he said, “This is the good shit.”

The earthy, amber liquid rolled over her tongue and she gulped, swallowing it in one.

He released her head and went to his pocket from which he produced a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Slipping one of the smokes between her lips, he flicked the lighter and held it to the tip as she sucked hungrily upon the tab, inhaling deeply.

“You messed with the wrong motherfucker this time, Honey,” he said, and she looked him straight in the eyes.

“Best get it over with then,” she replied with the same grin fixed upon her face, watching as he nodded and pulled a gun from his belt.

“Know this,” she said as he cocked the weapon and held it to the underside of her chin. “You’ll get yours. Mark my words, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

The shot was incredibly loud in the small room and he replaced the gun to his belt before he put his boot upon Honey’s chest and pushed hard enough to tip her and the chair backwards. He then took a mobile phone from his jacket pocket and quickly dialled a number with the precision of one who had dialled said number on many an occasion.

“It’s done,” he said the instant the call was answered.

The voice on the other end of the line was muffled but he could hear it clearly enough.

“Good. Get to the next one before she’s called. We must be ready for their arrival.”

***

“Enjoy,” she said as she placed the drink upon the bar, taking the cash. The till drawer was already open as she keyed in the correct amount, dropped the ten pound note into the tray and removed the correct amount of change. Turning to give the patron what he was owed, she discovered that he had already made his way back to his table where his female companion, attired in clothes more suited to hooking than anything else, was waiting. She shrugged and as she slid the note and small amount of change into her bra, muttered happily, “Well, thanks.”

Tuesday nights were never particularly busy at the Dog and Bone, in fact it was generally the quietest night of the week. Monday was pool night, Wednesday featured plenty of astronomically bad karaoke. The disco on Thursday meant that was a pretty busy night whereas on Fridays and Saturdays, the landlord insisted on having a couple of unsigned bands play. The busiest night of them all though was Sunday – quiz night.

It was already ten in the evening and her shift had gone reasonably quickly considering she had poured so few drinks and by the time eleven o’clock came around the place was empty. She had not even had to call last orders which was generally her favourite part of any shift... There was something incredibly satisfying about ringing that bell and then listening to the punters as they bitched and moaned about how early the hour still was.

“All done for the night then, Amber?” The Dog and Bone’s landlord lived in the flat upstairs with his kids and German Shepherd. He didn’t talk about it much but she knew from one or two of the locals that his wife had died a few years prior, after fighting cancer for several months.

“Yeah, all done, Dave,” she replied with a smile.

“All right then, I’m off upstairs. Turn the lights out and lock the door when you’ve cleared down.”

“Sure, see you tomorrow night.”

Once he was gone she took one of the few ashtrays from beneath the sink and placed it upon the bar. Smoking was banned in pubs, of course, but Dave had always said he had no issue with her enjoying a smoke as she cleaned the place up after her shift. She found her bag and the cigarettes within, and lit one as she made her way over to the jukebox. Removing the fiver from her bra she slotted it into the machine and selected a few tracks. Then, to a soundtrack of dirty, filthy heavy metal, she proceeded to clear down. Dirty glasses into the dishwasher, paper napkins into the bin and bar menus into a pile beside the hot nut dispenser.

It took her longer than she would have liked to replace the disinfectant spray but eventually, with the bottle and a cloth in hand, she made her way quickly around the few tables that had been used during the night and gave them a good wipe down.

With a satisfied glance around, viewing her handiwork to ensure she had not missed anything, she rinsed the ashtray and put it back beneath the sink.

Placing her bag over her shoulder, she reached for the light switch, however a loud and obtrusive banging upon the door interrupted her from dousing the Dog and Bone in darkness.

Amber would not normally have gone to the door. It was gone half eleven after all, and she was a young woman on her own. Besides, it was probably one of the locals who thought it was their right to get a drink at any time of night. The banging was so insistent however, so loud, that she felt she had little choice.

She did, however, treat herself to a glance out of the window first, and peering through a slight gap in the curtain, she saw a girl not much older than herself? The insistent female appeared to be in quite the state so without further hesitation, Amber knocked the bolt across, opened the door and let her inside.

Rather than entering in a traditional manner though, the girl stumbled and fell. Had it not been for Amber’s presence she would most likely have crashed face first to the floor. However Amber caught her, surprised at her lack of weight, and helped her to the closest seat.

“Are you OK?” she asked, instantly realising how ridiculous a question that was. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Whisky,” she replied, gasping, holding her right arm tightly across her abdomen.

“Sure,” Amber replied. “Whisky it is.”

She hurried to the bar, grabbed a couple of tumblers and an open bottle of Islay, then returned to the table at which she had placed the girl.

“What happened to you?” she asked as she poured a large glass, then a smaller one for herself.

“Long story,” she replied before she took the whisky back in one. She then looked Amber straight in the eyes and with her free hand she flicked her long, peroxide blonde hair out of her face. “The name’s Honey and I’m sorry to do this, but I’m about to die on you.”

“What?” Another stupid question but it was all that Amber could manage to say. She knocked back her own drink and then poured another for herself and Honey. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” Honey’s voice was strained and drawing breath was most definitely not an easy thing for her to do. “Look.”

Amber did just that as Honey eased her arm away from her abdomen to reveal an unbelievably dark patch upon her already dark clothing.

“Is that, blood?”

“Yeah, I should say,” Honey replied with a painful chuckle, wincing as she lifted the hem of her T-shirt. “Three shots at about... fifteen yards. Didn’t even see the bastard coming.”

“I’ll call an ambulance.” Amber quickly fished her mobile phone from her bag and went to dial but a cry from Honey stopped her in her tracks.

“No!”

“What do you mean, no? You’re badly injured, you need to go to hospital.”

“If I go to hospital there will be far too many questions that I’m not permitted to answer.”

Amber reluctantly placed the phone to the table in front of her, still within easy reach.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” she said. “Tell me honestly why you don’t want to go to hospital.”

“I’d like nothing more than to go, but I can’t.”

“Tell me why or I’ll take you there myself.”

“I like you, and that’s why I’ll tell you what I’m about to tell you.”

“OK,” said Amber, knocking back the second glass. “Spill.”

“As I said my name’s Honey, but that’s not my real name. What that is doesn’t matter. I took the Honey name when I accepted the responsibilities that go with it. For hundreds of years, Honey has existed. Many different women from just as many different walks of life have taken on the role. We’ve never had any special powers, we’re not superheroes, but we do what needs to be done to protect humanity, mostly from itself.

“Normally, the next Honey knows that she will be the next Honey. There’s a place where we’re trained to fight, trained to be stronger and faster than your average bear but the thing is, that place was burned to the ground three days ago. I only just escaped with my life but someone wants the Honeys out of the way and they’ll go to great lengths to accomplish that goal.”

Amber listened with open-mouthed interest. It all sounded like something out of a nineties television show to her, yet she could think of no other viable explanation why Honey would not be willing to go to the hospital.

“There are no Honeys left,” Honey continued. “You need to take on the role, and defend the world. If you don’t then everything will fall into chaos.”

“I can’t even throw a punch! How am I supposed to defend anyone?”

“Find a way, please.” Honey’s voice was growing weaker, and she knew that she did not have long left. “There’s a car wrapped around a tree on the main road about half a mile from here. You’ll replace everything you need in there.”

“But...”

“No buts,” Honey interrupted, coughing violently. “I can’t force you to do anything, not in this state but I’m asking you, please... at least replace the car and have a look inside.”

“OK, OK,” she replied with a sigh as Honey drained the glass, placing it back to the table. Amber immediately filled it, along with her own.

“Thank you,” said Honey, weakly. She raised her glass and then put it to her lips. She did not get around to drinking it though. Instead it fell from her hand and smashed upon the table as she finally bled out, dying where she sat in the chair.

Amber stared at the dead body for several moments before she finally reached a decision. She raised her glass to Honey and then downed the whisky in two long gulps.

Completely forgetting about turning the lights out and locking up, not to mention the dead Honey, Amber slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried out into the car park. The sky was dark with thick cloud cover and the air was warm. She silently berated Dave for not getting around to replacing the bulb in the car park spotlight, as she rushed to the far corner where she had parked her car.

By the time she had got into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition it had started to rain lightly. That rain became much heavier very quickly and she had not even exited the car park before her wipers’ intermittent setting was not enough.

It was only a few hundred yards down a winding, narrow lane, before she turned left onto the main road. Amber had no idea whether she was going in the correct direction but as Honey had said the car was only half a mile away, she figured that she would have plenty of time to replace it and told herself that if she had not located the vehicle after a mile, she would hand a U-Turn and head in the other direction for a mile beyond the turning that led to the Dog and Bone.

***

Having had to turn around and head in the opposite direction, Amber eventually found the car. Just like Honey said, it was wrapped around a tree a little over half a mile from the turning. There was a problem though; a car, pointing in the same direction as Amber’s vehicle, had pulled up to investigate the crash. As best Amber could tell it was not a police car, or at least it did not have lights upon the roof. It could have been an undercover car, of course. There were signs every two or three miles stating that such vehicles patrolled the main road that ran for fifty miles or so, connecting one motorway to another, but the way she saw it she had little choice but to take the chance that those investigating were not police officers. She had made a promise to Honey after all, and even though she had only known the woman for a grand total of about ten minutes, she felt that she owed it to her to keep that promise.

She pulled up behind the parked car and clambered from her own, regretting the fact that she had not got a jacket with her for she had only been out in the rain for a matter of seconds before she was soaked to the skin.

“Hello?” she ventured, her voice loud above the wind and rain. Once again she fished her mobile phone from her bag, this time to utilise the torch function with which it came equipped. She shone the light towards the car and saw two men, motionless in the bright light, who appeared to have been in the process of removing the vehicle’s wheels before she had interrupted them.

Caught in the act of theft, both men rose simultaneously and ran, barging past Amber and nearly knocking her over in the process. She spun around and watched as they leapt into their vehicle and accelerated away. It was at that point she realised that she had been holding her breath and thought it best she release that, lest she be found unconscious beside a crashed motor vehicle.

Her heart was racing as she trod carefully over the uneven ground towards the car. She shone the light around it and could tell that it was most definitely a write-off. Honey had done a very good job of making sure that was the case. She had hit the birch head on, clearly at speed, and the trunk of the tree was only a few inches from the shattered windscreen.

“Lucky girl,” said Amber, quietly.

Peering inside, she could quite clearly see that the steering block was almost a foot out of place, which meant that Honey must have leapt from the vehicle seconds before the collision.

Still marvelling at how lucky the woman had been, apart from the whole dying in a country pub from multiple gunshot wounds side of things, anyway, Amber opened the driver’s door. Shining the light inside there was nothing that she could see that she thought was any use to her, so leaving the door open, she tried the far-side rear door with much the same result. In fact there was nothing at all in the back of the car, save for the seat that was supposed to be there.

The boot was next so she made her way to the rear of the vehicle and fumbled for the latch. Much to her surprise the interior light activated as she opened it, but she slowly shook her head as she saw that the boot was, in fact, empty.

She was about to slam the boot lid closed and make her way around to the near-side door when something in the empty space caught her eye; a slight bulge towards the rear of the lining.

Reaching to the rear she slid the tips of her fingers down the gap between the back of the rear seats and the lining itself, and pulled it back. With wide eyes she stared at what she found there. Guns; lots of guns. Knives, too. Without removing her eyes from the arsenal, she pulled down the material that lined the rear of the back seats to reveal yet more weapons. Three swords to be specific. To Amber they looked as though they had come straight out of an old samurai movie.

With a glance first to her left then to her right, just to ensure that no one was looking, she quickly covered the weapons over and made her way around the car to the passenger door. Opening it, she struggled to release the catch to the glove box. The steering column had probably knocked it out of place slightly, but with no small amount of effort she managed to get it open. Inside was nothing but a book and a pencil. Closer inspection revealed that book to be a diary of some kind. Flicking quickly through the first few pages, Amber saw list after list of names, each and every one crossed out, all apart from the last name; Ryan Smith.

Granted, that was a pretty common name but Amber knew a Ryan Smith. She had not seen him for a few weeks but the Dog and Bone was his local watering hole.

She closed the diary and slipped it into her bag, then headed back towards her car. She stopped in her tracks about half way there though, as a thought struck her.

Slipping and sliding over the rough terrain she ran the rest of the way to her car and opened the boot. It took several trips before the written-off car was empty of weapons, but ten minutes later Amber slammed the boot closed, thus hiding her cargo from prying eyes.

Leaning her back against the car, she took several deep, long gulps of air. Adrenaline surged its way through her veins, she had never felt so alive but more to the point, she did not remember ever being quite as wet as she was outside of a shower cubicle or a swimming pool. She cared not though, as she considered the pissing rain to be the least of her concerns.

She lit a cigarette and cupped her hand over it to protect it from the elements. Amber took her time to smoke the tab, trying to calm herself down as best she could which was not an easy task considering the escapades of which her evening had thus far consisted.

The nicotine slowly worked its magic and Amber could feel her pulse as it slowed to a much more normal pace and thinking clearly, she realised that she desperately needed two things; a soak in a hot bath and at least eight hours’ sleep. After both of those events had occurred, she would give Dave a call and replace out if he knew Ryan Smith’s whereabouts.

***

Amber lay back in the tub, allowing the bubbles and warm water to caress her naked body. The scent of vanilla bean from the candle she had lit filled her nostrils and she gently closed her eyes, relaxing into her own perfect, pampered world.

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew the water was merely tepid and the bubbles had dissipated to a thin anaemic foam. More to the point, her mobile phone was seconds away from vibrating itself over the edge of the bath and into the water. Taking it in hand she glanced at the screen; it was Adam, her boyfriend. That was a rather loose term though, as it was rare that they did anything other than copulate together, and as she really was not in the right frame of mind to have him drunkenly fumble as she tried to get off, imagining that he wanted her for more than her ′smoking hot body,′ as he had described it on many an occasion, she silenced the call and replaced her phone on the edge of the tub.

Normally she would have jumped at the chance to get her rocks off, even if it did mean Adam going through about six or seven names before he finally remembered that she was Amber but tonight, things were different. Apart from anything else she needed a clear head come the morning and with Adam around, her head was likely to be anything but clear. Besides, it was three in the morning, and he would probably forget that he had called her, anyway.

With a sigh, Amber teased the plug from its hole with her big toe and then pushed herself to a standing position, allowing the water to drip from her body for a few moments before stepping from the tub and onto the mat.

The towel on the rail was blue, fluffy and warm, and after drying herself off a little she wrapped it around her waist, put out the candle and headed through to her bedroom.

Once there she hung the towel on the back of the door and gently closed it, then padded the few feet over the carpet to her bed.

She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow, laying atop the covers because despite the rain it was a rather warm night.

Amber was not normally one to dream but considering the night she’d had, it should come as little surprise that she did. Her brain had an awful lot of information to process after all, not least the fact that a girl only a few years older than she had asked her to take on the mantle of Honey, to save the world and to save humanity from itself in the process.

***

She awoke to sunlight streaming through the tiny gap between her curtains. In those brief moments when she was not sure whether she was actually awake or still fast asleep, Amber considered that what she had been through the previous night was nought but a nightmare, that a woman named Honey had not come to her whilst she was in the process of closing up the Dog and Bone and bled out before her very eyes.

No such luck though, for as she roused herself to full consciousness it all became too clear to have been a dream. As she lay there atop the covers, she could recall every single detail starting with the chap who had tipped reasonably well, to dancing and singing along as she cleared down the bar, to Honey bleeding out and the arsenal of weapons in the boot of the vehicle.

Rolling out of bed, she went to the curtains and opened them fully, squinting slightly due to the bright sunlight and the brilliantly blue, cloudless sky. The hour was still early, if the lack of activity she could hear outside was anything to go by, and Amber suspected she had only had five hours’ sleep at the most.

“Well, I’ve had less,” she muttered as she made her way through to the bathroom. As she sat upon the toilet she saw that she had left her phone on the edge of the bath overnight which was not really an issue, other than the fact she highly doubted the less-than-stellar battery would last all day. Regardless, she picked it up and checked the time. Sure enough, she had slept for a little over five hours.

She chuckled and shook her head, calling Dave as she did so.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, cheerfully as he answered the call.

“Morning, Dave,” she replied.

“Not calling in sick, are you?” he asked. “Only I really do need you on the bar tonight.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m fine,” she replied, knowing full well that things were most definitely not fine and that judging by the tone of his voice, Dave was yet to venture downstairs. “Hey I have a question. Have you seen Ryan lately?”

“Smithie?” There was something odd about the way Dave said those two syllables, but Amber was unable to put her finger on exactly what that oddness was.

“Yeah, Ryan Smith.”

“You’d better come here now.” Dave’s voice was stern, an unusual tone for the man for whom Amber had worked, on and off, for about five years. She couldn’t remember in fact, the last time he had sounded anything but jovial. “Come in, and I’ll tell you what I know.”