Dependent Days

by Chris Sapp

  “That’s funny. I was just about to say the same thing,” Roe retorted. Attila towered over the bounty hunter. If Roe was scared, he was doing a good job of hiding it. Izabel wished she could be as brave. Attila smiled. He had two diamond studded teeth that sparkled in the darkness. The two slaves from the hallway darted up the staircase. The male was carrying a pole with a large net on the end of it.

  “Lady Zane said you needed something from me,” said Attila.

  “Yes,” Roe answered. “We’d like permission to talk to two of your slaves. The ones that were previously owned by Phaelan Lennox.”

  “Why?” Attila asked.

  “Ma’am,” Roe said to Izabel, indicating that it was her time to perform.

  “Izabel Barnes of the San Andreas Times, pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Graves,” said Izabel as she extended her tiny pale hand. Attila didn’t take her offered hand and she was grateful. She plunged forward with the lie, “I’m writing an article about what happens to the slaves after their wealthy owners die.”

  “Uh…come again?” asked Attila after exchanging brief glances with his entourage. Izabel could hear them snickering. She didn’t know what to do or say. So, she just started her spiel all over again.

  “I’m writing a story about-

  “Yeah, I heard you, bitch. Is this some kind of joke?” Attila scolded. “I’ve got a fight in less than half an hour and you’re gonna waste my time with this bullshit.”

  “It’s not a joke. I swear,” Roe said.

  Attila snarled and then in one quick motion he pinned Roe against the wall with his massive foot.

  “Swear now motherfucker!” challenged Attila.

  “No! Stop!” yelled Izabel.

  Roe cried in agony as he was crushed under the strength of Attila’s powerful leg muscles.

  “You better tell the truth elf or I’ll stomp him to ash.”

  Izabel didn’t know what she was supposed to do. There was no way she could tell Attila the truth. If he was acting like this when he only suspected them of lying. What would he do if he she admitted that they were lying to him? The wisps of smoke billowing out from between Attila’s toes made her decision.

  “We’re telling the truth Mr. Graves. Please stop hurting him,” she pleaded.

  “Okay, I’ll play. What’s the title of your article?”

  “Oh…it’s titled Life after Detox,” she stammered.

  “You really expect to me to believe that? What part of the literate population cares about the life of a damn slave?” Attila pressed his foot harder against Roe. The bounty hunter groaned and a fresh wave of fire embers swirled into the air. Crushing a fenixborn with your bare foot had to be equivalent to walking on burning coals. But a lifetime of fighting had dulled Attila’s pain senses. Izabel knew she had to do something and fast. Skye Duffy’s kool-aid hadn’t been a big seller but Izabel Barnes’ kool-aid had to be or they were both as good as dead. Izabel remembered a proverb she heard somewhere, If you’re going to lie to a Giant, make it a Giant sized lie.

  “I’ve been commissioned by the President of San Andreas,” she blurted. “The detox rate on San Andreas has doubled in the last year. My article will serve as a warning to all those that scrape by week to week, barely avoiding the detox list.”

  “People know what happens when you detox. Why do they need to read about it?”

  “Because I plan to chronicle every last detail of what it means to be a slave. From their initial shock of realizing they’ve been added to the list, their capture by a bounty hunter, the horrors of detox, everything. I’ll even write about them carrying dead mermen out of Attila Graves’ dressing room.”

  Izabel saw the corners of Attila’s mouth curl upward and she prayed that her appeal to his pride was helping sell the lie.

  “Alright elf,” said Attila withdrawing his foot. She exhaled in relief and Roe’s smoldering body slid to the floor. Izabel rushed to his side. He was in bad shape but not as bad as when she’d found him in the alley behind Spanky’s. This time he had enough strength to light his own Fenix Tail.

  “I’m so sorry, Roe,” Izabel said.

  He nodded and took a long drag and exhaled slowly.

  “Vera and Markus,” Attila hollered at the slaves that were still trying to pull the dead syren from the tank. “Come down here!” Izabel glanced back when she heard the slaves’ obedient feet pounding against the metal stairs. Both slaves were standing at the bottom of the stairs with their eyes pointed at the floor.

  “Answer all of this reporter’s questions and then finish cleaning the tank,” Attila ordered.

  “Yes, master,” they answered in unison.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with the four Mermen of the Apocalypse,” said Attila. This caused his entourage to erupt into a fresh wave of cheers and excitement. They followed the Giant as he disappeared through another set of black velvet curtains. Izabel couldn’t believe it. They had fooled Attila. Roe and her were alone in the room with the two slaves. Izabel glanced at the waiting slaves and then back at Roe, who was still healing.

  “Go ahead,” he told her. Izabel nodded and slowly approached the slaves.

  “Vera and Markus it is?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” they answered again in unison. Izabel wondered if that was something they had adopted after years of working together or if was something they were taught by Terra Gigas slavers.

  “In the hallway you called me Izabel. How do you know my name?” Izabel asked.

  Vera cast a five-eyed glance at Markus. Clearly, she was worried about answering truthfully.

  “Forgive us ma’am,” said Markus. “Vera was mistaken. She thou—

  “No, she wasn’t. My name’s Izabel Ramsey and I’m Phaelan’s daughter.”

  Markus and Vera shared a glance and the tension in their muscles seemed to relax a little. Roe must’ve felt better because he was standing next to her now.

  “Did he talk about me?” Izabel asked.

  “Often,” Vera said.

  Often. Her dad talked about her often? What did that mean? They hardly saw each other.

  “Especially in the weeks leading up to… uh, before his passing,” said Markus.

  Weeks leading up to his Passing? Did they know that Phaelan had hired a kameleon to fake his own suicide, wondered Izabel. She glanced at Roe. Apparently, he’d heard the slave’s odd phrasing too. She didn’t know how much time they had and she was tired of playing games.

  “We know that my father hired a kameleon to fake his own suicide and we were hoping you could tell us why?”

  Vera and Markus shared another glance and the tension seemed to return ten-fold.

  “Your father did hire a kameleon but it wasn’t to fake his own suicide,” said Markus.

  “Then why?” asked Roe.

  Markus glanced around the room to make sure they were still alone before he answered.

  “So he could detox in secret.”

  “What?” Izabel stammered, “Isn’t that the same thing as suicide?”

  “Your father was convinced that he could detox without dying or becoming deformed and mutated…like us.”

  “That’s impossible,” said Roe.

  “I don’t understand. Why would he think something like that?” asked Izabel.

  “Because of the Harbinger-vid,” said Vera.

  “That’s just a myth,” Roe declared.

  “No, it’s real. Master Phaelan bought it from a black market dealer,” said Markus.

  “What are we talking about? What’s the Harbinger-vid ?” asked Izabel.

  “It’s a vid that’s hundreds of years old and it shows the invention of morphagens by a scientist named Harbinger,” Vera said.

  “What happened? Is my father still alive?” asked Izabel.

  “I’m not sure. The last time I saw Master Phaelan he was in a detox cocoon,” said Markus, “I assume the Morphagen Order discovered what he was up to because two days later we were told that he h
ad committed suicide and then we were sent here…to Terra Gigas.”

  “What happened to the Harbinger-vid ?” asked Roe

  “I don’t know,” said Markus.

  “The Morphagen Order probably took it,” said Izabel.

  “No, they didn’t,” said Vera. “Master Phaelan hid it.”

  “Where?” Izabel asked.

  “In a private storage unit on Arktikus,” answered Vera.

  ROE

  “DO YOU THINK it’s possible that we could actually detox without becoming mutated?” Izabel asked. She was practically skipping through the halls of Crystal City’s Spaceport. The moon, having replaced the sun long ago, hung low and was a bloated orange. “No,” Roe answered. “But I think whatever your old man saw in that old vid was persuading enough to make him believe it.”

  “So we’re going to Arktikus?” she asked, smiling from pointy ear to ear.

  “You know it’s 20 below on the surface right?” He asked.

  “I’m sure someone as experienced as you has a couple of thermalskins laying around.”

  As matter of fact he did. They were hanging in the galley closet on his ship.

  “Shit,” he said when they turned the corner and saw Vi and half a dozen armed centaurs standing in front of his cruiser.

  “Who are they?” Izabel asked.

  “Slade’s men.”

  “Is this about me?” she asked.

  “It’s about one of us for sure. Let me do the talking,” he told her, displaying a calmness he didn’t feel.

  Deadline’s up, Driskell,” Vi said as they approached.

  “Nice to see you too, Vi,” Roe said. “What’s all of this?” he asked, gesturing at the entourage of armed centaurs standing behind the vampyr.

  “Just a precaution,” Vi said.

  “A precaution against what?” Izabel asked. Damnit, Roe cursed silently. Had he not told her that he would do the talking?

  “Bad decisions my dear,” Vi answered.

  “What constitutes as a good one?” Roe asked.

  “Accompanying me to Centropolis,” Vi said. “The Boss wants to see you.”

  “Fine,” Roe agreed and then to Izabel he said. “Take my ship and continue as planned.”

  “Oh, I guess I wasn’t clear,” Vi said, “I need both of you to accompany me. One of my men will fly your ship back with us.”

  “I don’t let strangers fly my ship.”

  “Then your ship stays here. I’m easy to work with,” Vi smiled, her enlarged incisors gleaming in the moonlight.

  “Why do you need me?” Izabel asked.

  “I don’t. Drug lord Slade does and what he wants. He gets. Now move,” Vi gestured toward the large cruiser docked next to Roe’s.

  Roe reached into his pocket for his smokes.

  “Damnit, this is my last one,” he said, showing the empty package to Vi. “I’ve got two cartons back on the ship.” He started forward but Izabel stopped him.

  “Wait, I’ll get it,” Izabel said. “It’s on the table, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah, here,” Roe said, tossing her the keys. He really was down to his last Fenix Tail, but what he was really trying to do was buy some time so he could think of a way out of this. But the real question was did Izabel know that?

  “You have sixty-seconds, elf,” Vi said. “Flynn, go with her.”

  Roe watched as Izabel lowered the ramp and then disappeared inside his ship. Flynn, Magnus’s pet, followed her. If he thought something was amiss Flynn wouldn’t hesitate to use his shotgun. He hoped Izabel knew what she was doing.

  Roe glanced at Vi and saw that she was staring at him. The vampyr wasn’t buying the last Fenix Tail cool-aid. Not that Roe had really expected her to. Which meant that whatever Izabel was going to do, she had better do it fast. He got his answer forty-seconds later when one of the escape pods on his cruiser jettisoned into the air. The escape pod soared high into the sky and nearly collided with a passing freighter.

  “What the hell?” Vi snarled, baring her fangs.

  Roe knew he wasn’t going to get a better chance to catch Vi off guard. He elbowed her in the face and was rewarded with satisfying crack and equally satisfying spray of blood. Then he reached into his coat and withdrew his gun. But by the time he had the barrel aimed at Vi, the vampyr was on him. He fired but his shot went wide and then the gun was kicked out of his hand. It sailed through the air and clattered noisily against a stack of cargo crates. Vi’s next kick was aimed at his beak. Roe dodged it, barely. He retreated several paces and the two began to circle one another.

  “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time Driskell.” Vi unsheathed the twin daggers that were resting on her hips.

  “I’ll do my best not to disappoint,” Roe said.

  Suddenly, the guns located on the front of Roe’s cruiser roared to life, blasting holes in Slade’s men and the hangar alike. Cries of agony followed the rapid firing of the guns. Roe quickly glanced back and saw that at least three of Slade’s men were down. That a girl, he thought.

  Then Vi came. Her first slash was aimed at his stomach and if it had connected it would’ve disemboweled him. Next, she slashed for his head and he ducked and swiped his claws across her back. It was deep enough to draw blood and warrant a groan from Vi. Roe moved in to deliver a more damaging blow and Vi surprised him with a vicious back-kick to the chest. He fell to the ground just as the thrusters on his ship roared to life, kicking up a large dust cloud. What was left of Slade’s men scrambled to get out of the way. Instead of running away from the cloud, Roe ran into it. He intended to use it as cover until he reached the ramp. Through the haze of swirling dirt, he could make a figure standing on the ramp. It was Izabel, she was waiting for him. He lengthened his stride and pumped his legs and arms faster.

  He never made it.

  A sharp pain in the back of his right thigh followed by a similar pain in his left calf, dropped him to his knees. He screamed. He looked down at Vi’s knives protruding out of his legs. The pain lancing through his thighs was much worse than usual. Those were no ordinary blades. Most people would not have been able to see anything in that dust cloud. Damn Vi and her superior vampyr vision.

  Roe looked up and saw Izabel step off the ramp towards him.

  “No!” He yelled. “Go! Get out of here!”

  She stopped, hesitated a second, and then turned around and fled back up the ramp. Seconds later the ground rumbled beneath them as the powerful engines worked to lift the large cruiser into the air. He shut his eyes until the dust settled and then he looked up in time to see Vi’s boot catch him under the beak. He sprawled on his back in agony. He opened his eyes just as Izabel was leaving the atmosphere. At least she was safe for now. He could be thankful for that. But the pain in his legs was excruciating.

  “God damnit,” Roe moaned. “What’d you stab me with?”

  “Oh, just your everyday run-of-the-mil throwing knives. Laced with the gangrene toxin. Prototype from Slade Enterprises,” Vi answered. Then she grabbed both knife handles and broke the blades off inside his smoking flesh.

  “Jesus!” he moaned.

  “There! That should persuade you from trying to pull any more fast ones. Because those wounds won’t heal until you pull the blades out. Good luck,” she laughed.

  “What do we do now, ma’am?” asked Petro.

  “We take Driskell to Centropolis,” answered Vi.

  AFTER IZABEL’S STUNT at the hangar and the odor of his festering wounds, Roe was forced to ride to Centropolis inside a steel cage in the cargo hold just like one of his strays. He didn’t mind. He needed time alone with his thoughts so he could sort out what he was going to say to Magnus. Plus, he needed to dig the blades out of his thighs. Despite the immense pain, it was a rather unique experience. He’d never had injuries that refused to heal before. Every time the skin attempted to grow back, it would just turn gray and then dissolve into flakes of ash. Fenixborns learned to adapt to the smell of charred flesh the way
Merfolk adapted to the smell of seawater, but the odor of burned decayed flesh was worse than smelling a werewolf funeral pyre.

  Normally the healing abilities of his addiction would just push the knives out of his body as if they were no more than a splinter. But that wasn’t going to happen with these blades. These bastards needed to be surgically removed. Seeing how he didn’t have a surgeon sitting next to him or even a pair of tweezers in his pocket, he’d have to settle for his claws. He tried to think about his upcoming conversation with Magnus while he sank his claws into his smoking and festering wound in search of the blade. Izabel was no longer on the detox list. Hadn’t been for a week. But Vi and her merry band of centaurs had been sent to collect Roe and Izabel as if they were strays themselves. Which meant that the Vera and Markus were probably right. That either Magnus or the Czar had probably discovered what Phaelan was up and now they wanted to eliminate anyone and everyone that was involved.

  He felt the tips of the claws on his thumb and index finger clink against the metal of the blade. He pinched the infectious piece of steel and slowly began to pull it out of the damaged meat of his thigh. It hurt like a motherfucker and he cried out in agony twice before the blade was free of his body. Incredibly the blade began to infect his claws with gangrene. He threw the blade across the room. It bounced off the hull and disappeared into a dark corner. Smoke billowed away from his hand and the wound in his thigh. But both were on the road to recovery. One leg down…one leg to go. Using his other hand, he gritted his teeth and dug in.

  He honestly didn’t know what he was going to tell Magnus. The Druglord would want to know why he was helping her and what exactly he was helping her do? He could tell the truth but if Magnus did in fact know about Phaelan then that would put Izabel in more danger than she already was. He needed to come up with a feasible lie that would clear her from the Morphagen Order’s wrath for good. But Roe wasn’t a good liar…never had been. The best way for him to protect Izabel was to be by her side. Not lying to men of power. He never should’ve let her go off alone, not to Aquila and not Arktikus.