Snowburn

by E J Frost

  Kuseros, so she’s just that smart. I want

  those smarts at my side, in my bed. Despite

  the baggage she comes with. Despite our

  recent tiff. She may not know it yet, but I’m

  keeping her. My smart kitten.

  Ma Quaak’s malevolent eyes follow each

  movement. Kez keeps hold of the kukris as

  she scoots back over to her friend. She

  watches me almost as intensely as Ma

  Quaak. “Ready,” she says.

  “Door,” I tell her. I want her clear before

  I begin to move. That’s the most dangerous

  moment. When my attention’s divided

  between holding the gun on Psycho Granny

  and navigating the hallway. When Ma thinks

  I’m far enough away that I won’t shoot her if

  she goes for another weapon.

  Kez nods and beats a fast retreat down

  the hallway. I can’t hear the door over the

  fucking fighting robots. I give it a slow count

  of ten. The hallway isn’t that long, but she’s

  dragging her friend. Time stretches. One

  slow breath. Two. Longer than the minute I

  stood in the hall, listening to the beautiful

  girl getting fucked, listening to Kez trying not

  to cry. They must be out by now.

  I start moving, circling the couch towards

  the door. Movement in the hallway brings me

  up short.

  Junior Pimp staggers through the

  archway, wearing only a short tank, limp

  dick dangling between his legs, holding the

  back of his head. I bet he’s got a hell of a

  headache.

  I back up a step and keep the cannon

  trained on Ma. “Go sit with your mother,” I

  tell him.

  He gapes like a fish, first at me, then at

  the gun. He’s probably not a bad-looking kid

  when he’s not gaping. His face has a certain

  softness to it, though. No question who wears

  the pants in the family, even when he has

  some on. He raises his hand towards me. Ma

  Quaak makes a strangled noise. “Skylar,

  don’t be a fool,” she says.

  Junior Pimp drops his hand to his side,

  but stays standing in the archway, looking

  dazed. The path to the door takes me directly

  between the two of them.

  “I don’t actually need the gun to kill

  either of you,” I tell Ma.

  “I believe you, son.” The gray curls bob

  sharply. “I’ve seen your kind before.”

  I give her a slow, feral smile. I bet she’s

  seen a lot of predators. She probably ate a

  few when she was younger. “Age’s a bitch,

  ain’t it?”

  “Comes to us all, son. Even you.”

  “Yeah, but not today. So clear your boy

  outta my way, or I will.”

  “Skylar, move your ass,” she snaps.

  Enough of our conversation finally penetrates

  Junior’s Hex-and-concussion haze. He

  weaves across the floor and collapses onto

  the couch.

  Path clear, I move towards the door.

  Keep the cannon trained on Ma and Junior.

  She watches me go without moving, but those

  black eyes track my every move.

  Just before I slide down the hallway, out

  of sight, she says, “Son, there’ll come a day,

  not so long now, when you’re not so fast

  anymore. And on that day, someone’ll have

  you. Thinka me then, boy. Thinka me.”

  I doubt I’ll forget her any time soon. And

  if I keep hanging around Kez, there’s not

  going to be anywhere on this fucking planet I

  can go without looking over my shoulder.

  But I’m not going to let her see any of that.

  I give her an evil grin. “Until then,” I say

  and slide down the hallway.

  I catch up with Kez and her friend in the

  stairwell. Without a word, Kez and I trade

  burdens. I sling Nev up into my arms,

  wrapping the sheet around her. She rests her

  head on my shoulder. She weighs less than

  Kez. Way too little for someone so pregnant.

  It’s tempting to run. To take the stairs two

  at a time. Get the hell away from those

  malevolent eyes and the bullseye I can feel

  on my back. But if I drop Nev on the steep

  stairs, the rescue will have been for nothing.

  I grit my teeth and take the stairs one at a

  time.

  I don’t linger, all the same. My boots ring

  on the stairs. Loudly enough that I don’t

  immediately register the girl speaking to me.

  “ . . . I’m pretty?”

  “What?” I ask, tilting my head towards

  her to catch her words.

  She strokes my chest. Her fingernails are

  long. Shiny. Patterned and jeweled. I

  remember Kez’s hands straining against the

  headboard of my bed. Her fingernails were

  bitten down to the quick.

  I know which I’d rather have digging into

  my back.

  “We could party later,” Nev says. “If you

  think I’m pretty?”

  Her come-on is as forthright as Kez’s

  was. But it leaves me cold. She’s beautiful,

  without a doubt, but there’s nothing attractive

  about her. Hex has destroyed her spirit, the

  thing I want most in a woman. And I’ve

  never been interested in another man’s

  leavings. If I shift my hand a little, I could

  probably find the wet spot on the sheet from

  Junior’s come. If my nose wasn’t clogged

  with that acrid green shit, I could smell him

  on her. The idea of touching the skin he’s just

  touched makes my balls shrivel.

  “I’m with Kez,” I grunt.

  “Oh.” She rolls her head on my shoulder.

  “She won’t mind. We share everything.

  She’s my best friend.”

  Kez said the same thing. I hope she didn’t

  mean it the same way.

  “Have you known her a long time?” I ask,

  to keep her diverted.

  “Since we were kids. She’s my only real

  family, Kezzy.”

  Another orphan. Only her abandonment

  issues are hanging out in the open for

  everyone to see. “You’ll have your own

  family soon.”

  She nuzzles her face into my neck. “I

  know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Not if she keeps poisoning the kid with

  Hex. I turn onto the landing for the first floor

  and start down the final flight of stairs with a

  sense of profound relief. The risk of

  dropping her is becoming greater with every

  step, and not because my arms are getting

  tired. “Baby got a name?”

  She giggles. “Sky, if it’s a boy. For his

  daddy.”

  Well, at least she knows whose it is.

  “And if it’s a girl?”

  Another high, sweet giggle. “Sky.”

  Moron. I should have left her with him.

  What does Kez see here worth saving?

  “Great,” I growl.

  A few steps ahead of me, Kez turns out of

  the stairwell. I follow her at a trot. Careful

  over the broken and pitted floor tiles
.

  Through the hanging plaz and out into the

  atrium where I can finally breathe a sigh of

  relief. Kez seems to feel it, too, and takes off

  at a sprint past the fountain. I haven’t really

  seen her run. My breath catches. She glides

  over the ground, long legs scissoring. It’s

  effortless, the way she runs. Beautiful.

  She hurdles the broken airlock. Even

  carrying the plasma cannon, my kukris and

  the money-bag, she seems to float in the air

  for a moment before she lands and races

  down the incline to the skimmer. Gig holds

  open the skimmer door for her, but she

  doesn’t climb in. She hands him the plasma

  cannon and turns back. “Come on!” she

  shouts.

  I feel her urgency. We’re almost there,

  almost out. I want to toss her friend over my

  shoulder and bolt. But that would defeat the

  purpose. I maintain my steady, ground-eating

  pace. It takes longer than I want to cross the

  atrium, duck through the airlock and skid

  down the little hill, but at last I’m there,

  handing Nev off to Kez and Gig. Taking back

  my kukris and tucking them into my boots.

  Finally feeling the memory of those black

  eyes and the bullseye between my shoulder

  blades fade.

  Once Nev disappears into the dark maw

  of the skimmer, Kez turns to me. “I should go

  back with her. She’s going to be a mess

  when she comes down.”

  I nod. I’ll take a pass on the mess.

  “Would you—” She hesitates.

  “Would I what?” I catch one of her

  dreads. Give it a gentle tug.

  “Would you come back to the Warren

  with us? I mean, it’s dinnertime. We all have

  to eat—”

  I consider it for a moment, decide I’m

  okay with a little mess. It’s nothing I haven’t

  seen before. And I might be able to persuade

  Kez to leave some of the mess to someone

  else. Get some rest. Or at least, spend some

  time in bed.

  “Yeah. And I’ll get dinner. But not

  noodles. We’ll save that for another time.”

  She gives me her full mischievous grin. I

  wasn’t sure when I’d see it again. Didn’t

  realize how much I missed it. “I was going to

  get Makan,” she says. She snaps together her

  viewie and scrolls to a picture of chopsticks.

  “There’s a place down the street. We have a

  standing order. What would you like?”

  It’s not a cuisine I’ve tried. “Whatever

  you’re having. Let’s talk while we’re

  walking.” I cock a thumb towards the

  habitable. “Ma Quaak might have another

  plasma cannon lying around.”

  Kez grins at the name, but nods. “Are you

  okay following us?” She glances towards my

  trike and a longing almost as strong as when

  she asked for another ride in the Marie fills

  her eyes.

  Gig, so quiet that he’s gone unnoticed

  during our conversation, suddenly says,

  “You could ride with him.”

  Kez and I both turn to look at him in

  surprise.

  Gig glances from Kez to me. Scratches

  under his cap uncertainly. “In case he gets

  lost.”

  “Yeah.” I wink at the kid. “I don’t want

  to get lost.”

  Kez shakes her head, her expression wry.

  She can probably tell that I’ve never been

  lost in my life. “Are you sure you’ll be okay

  with Nevie?”

  “Sure,” Gig says. “She’s still high. She

  won’t be a problem until she starts

  crashing.”

  “Okay.” Kez glances at my trike, and her

  eyes light the way they did on my ship. “I’d

  love to ride with you. If that’s okay.”

  I offer her my hand and, when she takes

  it, lead her to my trike.

  Beauty. The wind in my face and on my

  bare chest. The thrum of the powerful engine

  between my legs. Total freedom. No guards.

  No mission. Just the wind and the trike and

  the road.

  And the soft warmth of a kitten against

  my back.

  She presses her body against mine. Shifts

  with me as I lean the trike into a turn. Totally

  relaxed. Totally trusting. I can’t see her face,

  but I’m sure it’s lit up with the same wide-

  eyed delight that I saw during our flight over

  Hemos. Thrill-seeking kitten.

  My thrill-seeking kitten. I’m sure she’s

  mine again. I don’t have to ask. Don’t have to

  wait for her to offer herself to me again. She

  wouldn’t have asked me to come home with

  her if she didn’t want to be with me. She

  wouldn’t press her body against mine if she

  didn’t know what was coming as soon as

  we’re alone. If she didn’t want it.

  I grin into the wind.

  She directs me to a tiny storefront in a

  dirty alley a few blocks from her house. It

  doesn’t even look open, but as soon as we

  pull up, the opaque glaz shutter rises and a

  man leans over a high counter. He hands two

  plaz-wrapped bundles to Kez.

  “Gimme your digit, Kez-zy,” he drawls,

  holding out a print scanner. Kez presses her

  thumb to it to verify whatever payment she’s

  given him. The scanner beeps. “You’re

  golden.”

  “Thanks, Yag!” she calls as I gun the

  trike’s engine and roar away, plaz flapping

  in the wind. She laughs into my ear. “Now

  that’s what I call take-out.”

  Giddy kitten. I think she likes the trike.

  I race through the side-streets, a trickier

  proposition now that they’re filling with

  evening traffic. But the trike is built for

  maneuverability as well as speed, and it

  weaves between skimmers and pedestrians

  alike with fluid ease.

  I pull up behind a familiar skimmer,

  parked in front of the ramshackle building I

  remember from this morning. Hand Kez off

  the trike before I power down the neg cells. I

  landed on my ass the first time I shut the trike

  down. I don’t want anything bruising Kez’s

  fine ass. Nothing but my palm.

  I take the trike’s remote out of the control

  panel, climb off and click the lock. The

  protective cover unfolds and I secure the

  locking pins through the wheels. Even if the

  locals get excessively curious, the trike’s not

  going anywhere.

  Kez waits for me on the curb. I take one

  of the bags from her and follow as she

  climbs the steps to the front door of the

  house. “Thought I was getting dinner,” I say.

  “It was easier for me to pay. I have an

  account. And I ordered for everyone.

  Doesn’t seem fair to ask you to get

  everyone’s dinner.”

  Her sensitivity is sweet, but it does make

  me wonder how many people I’m dining

  with. The larger the grou
p, the more assholes

  to be endured. I’ll put up with some level of

  assholism for my one percent, but not

  overwhelming amounts. “Who’s everyone?”

  “You, me, Ape, Gig. Ape’s girlfriend,

  Chiara. Duncan should be back from his run

  by now. Nev might eat if she’s started

  coming down. I got enough for everyone.”

  Five other mouths to feed. Not an

  inconsiderable number, particularly on what

  she probably makes as a runner. A few

  pieces click into place, like why she was so

  desperate to complete the run. No matter

  what the cost.

  “This medicine your friend takes, what is

  it?” I ask as she puts her hand on a touch

  plate beside the house’s front door. At my

  question, she hesitates and looks up at me.

  “Naltrex? It’s a substitute for Hex. It

  gives her a mild high and keeps her from

  going into withdrawal, but it doesn’t hurt the

  baby.”

  “How long’s she been an addict?”

  She sighs. “She started using when we

  were kids. Fourteen. Fifteen. We were both

  living at the House then. It was just the

  occasional derm. At parties. Nothing

  serious.” She bites her lip. “After I moved

  out, she met Skylar. He got her using. Hex

  and D, too.”

  “She’s a death-head?” That surprises me.

  Substance D-users are zombies, emaciated

  from the acceleration the drug causes in their

  metabolic rate, nearly mindless from the loss

  of fatty acids in their brains. Nev’s an idiot,

  but she’s not a zombie.

  Kez shakes her head. “She got clean. Six

  years ago. She kicked everything. She got a

  job. She didn’t even touch alcohol for years.

  She made us all into vegetarians for a while.

  That was hard to hack, let me tell you.”

  I smile. I bet. Kez strikes me as a girl

  who likes her meat. “What happened?”

  “I, um, I had an accident. I was out of it

  for a long time. Nevie tried to hold things

  together, but, I don’t know, I guess the

  pressure was too much. She lost her job.

  Started using. By the time I got out of the

  tank, she was hooked again. She’s been

  fighting it ever since. Nearly three years.

  She’s okay for a while and then something

  happens and she disappears. She goes back

  to Skylar or one of her other dealers and it

  starts all over.” She hangs her head. Takes

  her hand off the door and rubs it over her

  face. Without seeing her eyes, I can’t be sure

  if she blames herself for her friend’s relapse,

  but I’m guessing she does.