Redemption of Blood

by Michel Prince

  “KK, you still puking?”

  “It appears so." Her voice echoed from the toilet bowl. One more heave and she flushed. She looked as pale as a sheet as she stood up and rinsed out her mouth in my sink. “I was going to get some mint tea. Nye’s worse than me.”

  The joys of being an Other. Nye had married Kiriana a little over a month ago. Besides a few bumps and scrapes, she hadn’t been sharing too many physical things with him. But somehow they had caught a stomach bug that was knocking them both out. She was always grabbing her stomach and puking somewhere.

  She was sitting on the floor of my bathroom now. I had to feel sorry for her. She looked so pathetic as she slid down so her face could be cooled by the tile.

  “You know being an Other makes the orgasms better,” she croaked as her eyes drooped while her hand stayed on her stomach.

  “Are you looking for a silver lining?”

  “Grasping at straws. He should be taking care of me, not joining me.”

  “You don’t think it’s your HIV, do you?”

  “It’s not really a puking kinda disease, plus Gabriel said that would stay dormant. Maybe I’m expelling it from my system. Right now, I think…fuck it, I can’t think.”

  KK had a vast grasp of the language. Only around Nye did she try to keep her mouth to that of a sailor in his first year of duty as opposed to his tenth.

  “There must be a lot this last week. You’ve prayed to the porcelain god more than I ever had.”

  Her middle finger told me I was number one. She placed her arm over her eyes.

  “Can’t move. Just put a sheet over me and leave me for the ferryman.”

  “No such luck. Mint tea?”

  “Oh, I’ll love you forever if you’d get us some. There are some gingersnaps in the cupboard.”

  “Hot water and a tea bag, right?”

  I could boil water, but Nye and Kiri had started running the kitchen too. Maybe they were just exhausted from running everything. They seemed scared to let anyone take on a single responsibility.

  The upcoming closing of the local Hell’s Mouth was going to mark a change in the way we do things. That is, if KK and Kiyoshi were right in their theories. If they were wrong in their beliefs then I don’t know what KK would do.

  I heated up enough water for two and pulled out a serving tray. It was silver with etchings of locking circles along the edge. Made me wonder if this was something Kiyoshi chose when he used to shop for us or if this was something Gabriel put here for a reason. I had been noticing more and more items around the house having double meanings. Maybe I was just reading too much into things.

  That was my job though. To catch trends. Prior to a closing, the air itself changes. Little seeds of hatred start to drift through the skies.

  The whistle from the teakettle woke me from my over-analysis. I filled two oversized cups with the boiling clear liquid, then placed the tea bags in. I found the ginger thins Kiriana must have been thinking of.

  I set the tray on the end of the bed. Kiriana was still lying on the bathroom floor, but passed out now. Well, here’s a dilemma. Do I carry her back to her suite or get Nye to do it? If Nye is in the same condition as her he won’t be able to lift her.

  Ah, fuck it.

  It’s amazing how light she was in my arms. I was used to Trish; she was a real woman. Felt like a woman should. Not that KK didn’t have curves, but to me she was still too much of a child. I liked the feel of a woman. Always had. The matured body of experience. One I could hold on to.

  I tapped the door to the suite she shared with Nye with my foot and heard a thump as Nye came to the door. He looked as bad as KK.

  “What happened?” Nye asked, suddenly awake and reaching for KK.

  “I got her.” I pushed past Nye and placed her on their bed. She rolled over—searching for him, I assume. Her face scrunched up, but she didn’t wake.

  “Why were you carrying her?” There was that tone again.

  “Long story. Hey, I hope you start feeling better,” I said as I walked out the door. Nye’s hand gripped my shoulder hard. I grabbed his hand and twisted it behind him before I knew what I was doing. “Don’t overstep yourself, Nye.”

  “I know you. Don’t think I don’t. I used to be a Closer myself. It’s not alcohol you go out for.”

  “Are you sure you were a Closer? I knew Cleo.”

  Cleo, the only Frozen I ever fucked with. I’m glad I waited till I knew the hole was about to close. She begged me to seal before being reassigned. Our little affair had lasted too long—a whole week.

  “I know your type of Closer. Living for the moment.” The scowl on Nye’s face was worse than his accusing growl. “Taking what you want when you want it. If you don’t let go of me right now…”

  Just then KK rolled out of bed on her way to the bathroom. I let Nye follow her. Guess I better go get the tea for them.

  They were still in the bathroom when I set the tray on the end of their bed.

  * * * *

  Trisha O’Driscoll

  Pulling up to my trailer I could see the lamp was on in my son’s room. The yellow light glowed against my white trailer with rust red stripes. The trailer park was still very awake with teenagers riding bikes down the middle of the road. Music blared from various trailers. The worst was the guy down at the end of my row trying to get his car going for the four thousandth time.

  Rrrr…rrrr…choke. At some point you’d think he’d just chuck it.

  Reality had returned. I entered to see the sagging couch with its denim slip cover trying to hold tight. My babysitter-slash-roommate, Stacy, was passed out on the couch. My tips tonight would have just covered her costs, but she had been kicked out of her house two weeks ago and we were trading services. She could crash here as long as she stayed when Colin needed babysitting.

  The fleece quilt I had made one night in the hospital when Colin had his last surgery was wrapped tightly around Stacy as she dug down more into the cushions. Walking down the faux wood paneled hallway, I went into Colin’s room.

  Colin had been born with a rare condition, Barth syndrome. Currently he was on the transplant list because his cardiomyopathy had gotten worse over the last year. I was in a no-win situation. For my child to live, another would have to die. How could I not feel guilty when I prayed for a heart to save my son? The worst part was with his condition rejection is so high that even getting the transplant could not only take his life, but the life of another child who could have used the heart.

  I sat on his side of the bed. His mousy brown hair was too much like his father’s. He had been a soldier too. Now he was a civilian contractor still living in Iraq. After Colin was diagnosed he left. Told me his son would never be so weak and frail.

  I know that until Colin receives a transplant or, God forbid, passes on, I can’t want anything more from my soldier boy. Part of me thinks the only reason Colin was staying and fighting so hard was because he doesn’t like seeing me cry. He was four now. Most kids with Barth syndrome die by the time they are three. Infections mostly. I was torn as a mother. I wanted my son to live, but the pain…the chance of rejection…I couldn’t let him go, but I felt horrible about the quality of his life.

  It seemed as if a dream ran across Colin’s face as his little nose scrunched up under his CPap mask, and I brushed away a few stray hairs from his forehead. I remember bringing him home and Dustin being so proud of his boy until he started missing development goals and we learned of his diagnosis. It took Colin a year until he was able to sit up on his own. Yes, it was late, but it was such an accomplishment. Dustin hadn’t stuck around to see it. I have a broken picker, I guess.

  I checked Colin’s oxygen tank to make sure there was enough for the week as I adjusted his CPap mask.

  “Momma.” His voice was muffled by his mask.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Why you crying? Is Stacy sick?”

  “No, Stacy’s fine. I ju
st missed you tonight.”

  “It’s okay, Momma. I played hippos.” A smile came to his face and his gray eyes shined.

  “Were they hungry?”

  “Mine were. I won.”

  “That’s my boy. Now go back to sleep.”

  “Can you sleep with me?”

  “Yeah, baby. I’ll sleep with you.”

  I lay on the floor beside his bed with my hand on his stomach and his hand curled around my fingers. I couldn’t pull him to me and hold his body close, but at least I could feel his chest rise and fall. He was still with me.

  * * * *

  Kiriana Kladshon George

  My body felt whole again. Hunger noises rumbled inside my gut. I wanted food and I wanted it now. The warmth of Nye’s body had returned. He must be feeling better too. I let my hand glide over his smooth chest and I knew the world was better in this moment.

  The only pain I felt was the stiffness in my back. Sleeping on a tile floor will do that to you. Nye started to stir as his hands rubbed my back.

  “Is it over?”

  “For now,” Nye replied as he kissed my hair. “Shower?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Or bath?”

  “Will you wash my hair?”

  “Either way, but if you’re half as stiff as me…” Nye stretched out his legs, splashing the water a bit when he did.

  “Half. Always half.”

  “Regretting becoming my Other?”

  “Never.”

  I pulled myself up and went to brush my teeth. Nye was having trouble moving as he filled the Jacuzzi. From what Kiyoshi said before he met me, Nye’s room was little more than a cot and shower. I’m still trying to figure out how the house moves and adapts. It’s almost alive the way it expands for each new member that shows up.

  Our bathroom was beautiful, with slate tile on the floor and lining the double wide shower. The shower stall had six shower heads including one long rain one along the top. Now it was time for the bath with the jets going, to massage our aching bodies. Thankfully, Nye had made sure the floor was heated, which was probably the only saving grace on us as we spent half the night sprawled out afraid to be too far from the toilet last night.

  Nye repeated my behavior and brushed his teeth.

  I pulled off my T-shirt and felt a large hand come almost instantly to my stomach. Nye was flush against my back with his lips on my neck. My arm reached back to hold his head.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered as his soft lips continued to explore my neck and chest. I scoffed only to have him curl his body more into mine until, if it wasn’t for his dark skin, I’d never know where he ended and I began.

  “You’re delusional.” Nye swept my hair away to my right side so he could continue his travels around to the back of my neck. Shivers were going up and down my spine. “Stay that way so you don’t regret sealing with me.”

  “Never.”

  The water was just below scalding as I slid in and Nye lay behind me. His hands held tight to my stomach while his lips were softly going between my shoulder and neck.

  “Hey, last night?”

  “Yes.” Nye replied while pouring water over my head.

  “Were you fighting with Schmitty?”

  A blast of iciness shooting through the water told me everything I needed to know.

  “Why were you fighting?” I grumbled.

  “It’s nothing. Just a difference of opinion.”

  “You fight with him again and we’re going to have issues. You won’t let me touch your so-called partner Berlin.”

  “Berlin’s getting better.”

  I flipped around in the water so I could look him in the eye.

  “Lie again! See what happens.”

  “Kiri, you need to go under the bubbles or I’ll never be able to concentrate.”

  I used my left arm to cover my chest and my right hand to grab his chin.

  “Nye, has the little socialite princess even gotten out of the car?”

  He looked down so I jerked his face up. “She likes her car.”

  “I like my Other. If we die so does the end to Hell’s Mouths. We actually have a chance to end the fighting. This is bigger than your stupid chivalry. Women can and do fight.”

  “Are you going to give me a personal demonstration?” He smiled, holding my hips.

  “I already have,” I growled, released his chin, and snatched a towel.

  “Come on, Kiri,” Nye whined as I left the tub and headed for the shower. He sloshed out of the tub and followed me. “Kiri.”

  I kept my back to him as I rinsed my hair.

  “Kiri.”

  “I’m not talking to you until you get the bitch to fight and allow me the same courtesy.”

  “I don’t want you to fight.”

  “Well, you ain’t too old for your wants to hurt you.”

  “Quit stealing my lines.”

  I turned and shoved him against the wall. “You know I’m a better shot than you, my reflexes are quicker than your slow ass, and I wouldn’t let a goddamn demon within ten feet of you without him being incapacitated.” I kept my hands pressed hard against his chest. “Can she say the same? I can’t even look at her without wanting to smack her face.”

  He grabbed my wrist and spun me around hard against his body. Then he walked me across the shower with me kicking all the way until I was up against the wall. Uncrossing my arms, he held them tight to the wall and whispered in my ear.

  “I don’t care what you want to do in the bedroom. I’m not going to let you fight with that drunk.”

  I could feel myself warming at my core, wanting him inside me. No matter how mad I got at him he still turned me on just by breathing. Damn if love didn’t suck sometimes.

  “His drinking’s gotten better.”

  “This week. Next week it may be bad again.”

  “I’m working with him.”

  “Kiri, what do you know about addicts?” He started to loosen his grip so I turned around, causing my arms to be crossed above my head.

  “I’m learning.”

  “Until you know…” he licked his way from the nook of my neck to my ear. “How about a few days off.”

  “Unless you’re there, I’m not interested.” My cheek rubbed against his rough skin with his five o ‘clock shadow.

  His hands glided down my arms to my hips. He pulled me up and I wrapped my legs around him.

  “Why do we have the best conversations in the shower?” he growled.

  “You’re naked. It helps me focus on the important things.”

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I got a few suggestions.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Always.”

  With a sigh, Nye smiled and gave in. “I’ll rotate the positions between the three teams.”

  “Good. I got some rotating I want to do now.”

  “Are we going to have to leave the shower?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good, ’cause I gotta wash your hair.”

  “Wash my hair,” I joked. We fell against the corner kissing all the way.

  * * * *

  PFC James Schmitt

  “Stop!” I held my rifle up.

  The woman advanced even further.

  “Stop,” I repeated, this time in Korean.

  Wrapped tightly in a warm coat she looked larger than most women from the nearby village. A scarf covered all but her eyes. With the snow whipping around I couldn’t see into her irises. I couldn’t tell if she was safe or dangerous.

  Her steps did not falter as she continued her approach toward me.

  Calling out one last warning, I prayed she’d stop.

  Sitting up, I woke covered in sweat. I brought my knees to my chest and gathered myself. My room was dark with only the flicker of my TV to light it. Over fifty compounds and not one with a window. I needed a window to open and breat
he. Then again we had the greenhouse. My stomach grumbled and as much as a bottle of Jack would be my first choice for breakfast, I knew better and headed to the kitchen.

  “Hey, sickly, how you feeling this afternoon?” I talked while scarfing down pancakes.

  “Ferryman forgot to stop by.” Kiriana slumped into the kitchen, spying my pancakes. “Did I miss the day shift?”

  “Yes, they left an hour ago.”

  Kiriana started to pull out some pots from the cabinet. “Guess what, I talked Nye into moving us up on the rotation so we may get to see some action finally.”

  “Yippee.”

  “Don’t sound so excited.”

  “KK, why do you want to fight so much?”

  “I need to contribute in some way.”

  “What about the therapy sessions?”

  “What about them? Even when people show up they’re not there.”

  “Maybe you’re coming at them wrong. Take you and me. How many times have we sat down and had a good heart to heart over a frozen pizza?”

  “Nye’s not supposed to know about those, remember?”

  Kiriana’s trying to learn to cook, but starving when her food flops is not the way she’d like to go.

  “I get it. But you and I are different. We see the world similarly.”

  “No, we don’t. I’m a child of the forties that matured in the fifties. When I was a kid I would have probably beat Nye and run you out of town.”

  “You don’t think that way now, do you?”

  “No. I’ve been around the world a dozen times since then. I’ve seen and done things that would have put my mother in an early grave. Women fighting is against my morals as much as it is Nye’s. Probably more because white women when I grew up only worked when their man was away at war."

  I took a breath and continued. “What I’m trying to say is you connect with people better individually. You have a natural way of getting people to talk. But with the whole group there you get distracted and can’t focus on one person.”

  “If I do individual sessions then I’ll never have time to fight.”

  “Is that such a bad thing?” I played with the salt shaker on the table. “KK, I know you can kick ass. I’ve seen it a couple of times, but you’re not trying to work off a debt.”