Kidnappers and Kebabs
I GOT KIDNAPPED!!!
Midnight Snack: Meals from the Nightward
Anna Okkes
Fans of Midnight Snack (who I’ve decided will be called “Snackers”) have been leaving comments about how this publication is becoming more of a blog than a food review.
Sorry—not sorry.
The fact is that when you’re reporting on the elusive, speakeasy-style eateries of a haunted borough, things get real. You meet new friends, friends who are part of a minority race that only comes out at night. You get involved with the Yakuza. You eat seahorses on your pizza.
This edition of Midnight Snack will be no different.
Because this week Veedat and I got kidnapped!
Let me start from the beginning.
The Understory is set up in the shadow of old Sterns Bridge. The surrounding area looks like a place the city tried to bury but failed. The massive four-lane highway passes overhead and connects Opal Point Borough to the Nightward—or used to, until it was demolished. Still, huge metal girders stick out and hold up slabs of highway: a canopy of concrete over brutalist ruins.
Veedat met Kami and me in the crowded lot beneath the overpass. Rain came down in sheets on the outskirts of the market. It was loud and full of smells. Stalls were set up helter-skelter on concrete berms and between brick-and-mortar bodegas and pawn shops.
“This is it,” said Kami, stretching her arms above her head. “The last of Boss Tsushimia’s investments. Review this one and our business will be concluded.”
She frowned and dropped her arms. Above her moths orbited streetlights the color of cigarette filters.
“Where is it?” asked Veedat.
We pushed through the crowd, past coffee roasters and folks selling handbags, hot dog stands and fruit vendors, to a small kebab shop nestled between a RadioShack and a conbini (see FN1).
Speaking of which, this episode of Midnight Snack is brought to you by RadioShack.
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Readers of Midnight Snack get 15% off their purchase, but they must sign a waiver promising not to disclose where they got the products. Thanks and remember, no matter what you hear, we’re still in business!
Gehazi & Sons Kebabs & More offers an array of spiced and shaved meats. It’s a simple proposal, and it works. Wall-to-wall grills crackled and spit smoke beneath industrial vent hoods. Bundles of meat-laden skewers were passed out to paying customers, piping hot. Rotating racks of lamb and chicken, layered with onion and pineapple, turned slowly as cooks carved off steaming portions and piled them softly onto flatbread or crisp iceberg lettuce and tomatoes, then drizzled them with a sauce that was not quite mayonnaise, not quite yogurt, but absolutely delicious.
In the middle of the meal, Kami’s phone rang, and she left Veedat and I sitting on upturned milk crates in an alley between two shops.
I was licking juice from my fingers when, all of a sudden, everything went black.
I heard Veedat struggling beside me. We were jostled and corralled. I felt skratchy canvas on my face and fingers dug into my arms. I heard the beep of a car unlocking, and we were rudely shoved into what I assumed was the trunk of a vehicle.
I lost all sense of time in my fear.
When the bag was finally pulled from my face and I saw who was responsible, I nearly screamed. But I kept it together. Come one.
Standing before us were two large men wearing familiar masks. The same men who had been canvassing the Ward with my wanted poster.
“Listen, little girl. You and your vamp friend here need to stay out of the Ward.”
The voice sounded more like it was trying to be menacing than actually being menacing.
The other leaned forward into my face.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a borough full of criminals, and we have plans to take it off the map. No reason for a little girl to go down with th—”
The man speaking was interrupted and suddenly and violently flung forward between Veedat and I.
The lithe silhouette of Kami took his place.Her nunchucks flashed around her in tight figure eights. She ran her tongue over her jagged canines.
The injured thug recovered quickly and hobbled over to his partner. Lifting his mask halfway, he pulled an oily rag from his back pocket and pressed it against his broken nose.
They exchanged nods and rushed her.
She attacked the Scare-pair with her nunchucks. Actually, it would be more accurate to say she danced with her nunchucks, and broken kneecaps and wrists were simply the price you paid for cutting in.
Realizing they were outmatched, the thugs produced pistols.
“Hold it right there! If you make another move, we’ll do you like we did that Spoon freak!” The Scare-pair put their backs against the roll-up garage door.
Kami switched her weapon to one hand and placed the other reassuringly on my trembling shoulder.
“You creeps have made a big mistake,” she called out. “These two are under Boss Tsushimia’s protection.”
As if in response to the threat the roar of an engine and squealing tires could be heard from outside. They had no time to react before there came a sudden explosion and the garage door burst inward.
I screamed then.
After the dust and smoke cleared we could see that the front of a black sedan had ripped through the corrugated metal and trampled our kidnappers.
“Time to go,” grunted Driver. Kami untied our bonds and led us to the car. We stepped over the battered forms of our captors and sped off into the night.
Our abductors’ hideout was on the outskirts of town. Driver pulled over to check on the car. We sat in the grass and watched the dawning of a dream-sickled sunrise.
Needless to say, Snackers, this story has become more than a simple food review.
It has become, in fact, a matter of life and death.
Yours Allways,
Anna Okkes
