Chapter 8 – To Rebuild Paradise
The morning following my drinking binge with the mudder gin proves surprisingly pleasant. The obliterators have poked an IV needle into my arm, which works wonders to rehydrate my inflamed brain and release the pressure on my skull. Nor do my eyes ache so badly as to force me to wear my darkest pair of sunglasses to avoid the sting the slightest bit of light can deliver to a mudder-gin hangover. Instead, my eyes look unobstructed upon a medicine as potent as any of the electrolytes the obliterators’ supply to my blood.
Suspended in the nutrient-rich, amber fluids of a healing canister, Marlena blows a kiss in my direction, and I do my best not to stare at her naked body floating within the liquids. Though her father Teddy stands right next to the wheelchair that supports me while the IV helps me recover from my intoxication, it’s very difficult to resist the urge to lean upon the healing canister and press my palm to the glass while Marlena does the same. Marlena’s dark hair lifts in the canister’s healing currents that caress her skin and heal all the bruises and scrapes the mudders delivered upon her the previous night. The swelling has vanished from Marlena’s face, and I’m amazed by how quickly the healing canister erased those streaks of purple and yellow that blossomed upon her cheeks after the obliterator doctor straightened her broken nose. Her eyes are no longer black and closed, and even that playful glimmer has returned, though it’s been no more than twelve hours since the mudder fists delivered such harm to Marlena’s visage.
I’ve made love with Marlena during many of those nights we drifted upon her father’s star yacht while waiting to reach Tybalt, our desires no doubt motivated into our sudden tryst by the expectation of the coming hunt. I’ve run my fingers through the dark hair floating in that canister; I’ve trailed my hands along all the contours of Marlena’s figure. Still, I fear that I failed to appreciate the beauty Marlena offered me when she took me into such embraces. Only as I watch her heal do I sense the depth of her grace. She took a bad beating for her father’s safari and though modern, medical science might account for the healing canister’s magical ability, such technology cannot claim any credit for how Marlena’s soul recovers so completely from her hurt to seemingly spill from her eyes and fill that canister with light.
So it’s very difficult indeed to avoid staring at Marlena while her father stands next to my wheelchair, chatting with the obliterator doctor while waiting for his daughter and his tabloid reporter to recover from the fighting and folly that they engaged in during the night.
“How much longer do you think Marlena will need to remain in the canister?”
The young doctor scribbles something upon his digital clipboard before adjusting some knobs and recalibrating some numbers glowing on the healing tank.
“At least a few more hours, Mr. Jackson.”
Teddy frowns. His daughter heals from the injuries she suffered in his cause, and still Teddy pushes to get back on the trail of whatever creature we’ve come to Tybalt to hunt.
“All the bruises seem healed well enough,” Teddy replies, “and you’ve promised there’s not even going to be scarring. Why a few more hours?”
The doctor shakes his head. “Believe me, Mr. Jackson, you’re not going to find a more efficient healing canister on any other obliterator planet on the fringe of the charted galaxy. Your daughter suffered more than bruises. She suffered several cracked ribs, with a hairline fracture of the jaw to go along with the teeth she lost. I’ve also no doubt that she suffered a concussion, and regardless what you may think, there’s no such thing as a minor concussion. She’s fortunate she didn’t suffer more severe injuries beyond this healing canister’s capacity. Beyond this device, there’s little more we might have given her in means of medical care.”
Teddy’s smile returns. “Of course. Forgive me if I gave any sense I was pushing you. I’m most grateful the obliterators have offered their medical services to Marlena, and to Zane.”
The doctor flashes a pen light into my eyes. “I’d recommend you take another bag of solution, Mr. Thomas. Another round will do your body wonders as it recovers from so much gin.”
“I’d be very happy for another round,” I chuckle.
“Go ahead and give it to him.” Teddy answers as if he’s in charge of the decisions relating to my medical care, “seeing how we’re going to need to wait a while longer to get Marlena pieced back together.”
No matter what expression Teddy employs to mask his emotions, I know this delay from the hunt angers him. We have little way of knowing what the obliterators might choose to do with us once that doctor decides that canister has sufficiently healed Marlena. Regardless that the obliterators invited Teddy to Tybalt to kill the creature that vexes their mudder annihilation crews, they might decide that Teddy’s decision to gift a Spartan sentry to a bounty hunter proves Mr. Jackson lacks the wisdom to conduct his hunt without inflicting more harm than good. The obliterators might decide it a better idea to turn Teddy away, forcing the aging man to wait all over again for an opportunity to engage in a new safari. The way Teddy paces about the room while Marlena continues to wink my way convinces me that he’s very worried about such a possibility. It wouldn’t surprise me if the obliterators cut this story short. Perhaps such an abrupt end to the hunt might finally convince Teddy Jackson of the foolishness, and the danger, inherent in putting too much trust into a robot’s ability to make good decisions.
“For goodness sake, Zane, stop sitting there with your eyes fidgeting all over the place like some academy brat who’s just copped his first feel! Stop trembling as if I’m not aware of the pleasure you’ve been sharing with Marlena,” Teddy suddenly snaps the moment the young doctor exits the room. “The two of you are adults, or at least Marlena is. And if you’re not, then I’ll buy you a return ticket aboard an empty construction freighter so you can get back empty-handed to Mr. Higgins.”
I scowl as a bit of my headache returns. “You were the one who chose to hand an armed robot over to that bounty hunter. No reason to take your frustrations out on me. I was only trying to show a little respect.”
Teddy scoffs. “You were afraid of getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar, Zane Thomas. I don’t care if you and Marlena think it best to keep your tryst a secret from me, but I’ll not have your eyes turning meekly away from mine every time I glance your direction. I can’t afford you turning away the moment I’m trying to silently convey something on the hunt. Besides, it’s not like you’re stealing anything away from me. Marlena’s nothing you’ll ever have the chance of taking. She’s too much to be any trophy mounted in your collection.”
“Fine,” I growl. “Getting it out in the open means one less headache I have to hold in my head.”
Teddy glares at me, but he grins when my eyes don’t flinch from his.
“See? That’s not so hard, Zane. No more peeking away from me like a lovesick puppy. Marlena knows what she’s doing, and believe me, you’re far from the first paramour she’s invited for a little company to help spend the time while jumping between stars. Nor will you be the last. She’s not waiting for any man to claim her. She’s no one’s prey, because my family raises only hunters. You’d be an idiot to think that Marlena’s some fragile doll in need of anyone’s protection, especially if you still think that after her performance in that mudder cage.”
I take a long, hungry look at Marlena as her body sways in the canister’s amber fluids. I’ve not been honest with myself. I’ve been trying to fool my heart into believing that the embraces I share with Marlena are only temporary distractions. I’ve ignored the truth my heart returns, the truth that I’ve grown attached to Marlena Jackson, the truth that I now harbor hopes that our lovemaking might survive beyond this expedition. I realize that I’ve tricked myself into believing the impossible, that I might claim Marlena as my greatest trophy, as a lover to make my manhood swoon. I’ve come to believe I can claim Marlena’s beauty and caresses for myself, so that Marlena’s presence upon my arm will wash
away any of my insecurities. If I cannot run as fast as another man, or if I cannot fight as ferociously as a rival, it would not matter so long as Marlena waited in my bed. I’ve been a fool. Marlena Jackson hasn’t been created to provide mankind with any such assurances. Her beauty doesn’t shine to simply mask mankind’s shortcomings.
My desire nonetheless burns for her. How far would I go to claim her? Would I not happily build the cage to imprison her if such a trap was possible? The pursuit would be vain. In the end, Marlena would escape or devour me. But still, as I watch her body float in that healing canister, I desire her more than ever. Marlena again winks at me. Certainly, she realizes I’m the one who’s been caught within a cage.
Teddy laughs at me. “And you worried that you stole from me.”
I shudder. Suddenly, I recall the way the dark mist that visited us in the night coiled into form, how its feelers stretched to caress Marlena’s battered face. Did her beauty charm that shadow as powerfully as it has charmed me? A chill races through my body, and the point where the needle enters my arm begins to throb in a dull, cold hurt. Was that shadow responsible for stealing that bounty hunter’s face? If so, I find it difficult to believe that shadow would’ve preferred that bounty hunter’s ugly visage over Marlena’s features. Had that shadow considered Marlena’s face, and did it decide to wait until those hurts might heal before returning to claim the face it suspected lay beneath so much bruising? Marlena might possess the power to deny man, but did she hold the power to deny shadow?
Teddy mistakenly guesses the origin of the thoughts that turn my face pale.
“Cheer up, Zane. Marlena’s got taste. I’ll never deny that. Consider it the highest compliment she ever shares a bed with you.”
I consider telling Teddy of that shadow I witnessed in the night, regardless if the entity was a thing of reality, dream or madness. But the door behind us chimes before I can choose the proper words with which to begin my telling, revealing a trio of men dressed in formal business suits and straight, narrow ties. I hold my breath. I’ve shared time with all manner of people during my tabloid tenure, and I’ve come to believe that there’s no type of person more dangerous than those who were the suits and ties present on those men standing in the door. The obliterators have come to summon us, and they will no doubt soon reveal whether Teddy Jackson’s hunt will continue.
“We understand your daughter will require several more hours in the healing canister,” speaks the oldest face among those men. “We ask that you come with us so we can discuss the continuation your hunt. We have ideas we’d like to share.”
Teddy nods, but he hesitates to follow the men.
The tallest of the suits softly smiles. “We promise Marlena will be fine, Mr. Jackson.”
“And we also offer refreshments,” adds the third obliterator.
Teddy slaps his thigh. “Refreshments? Why didn’t you all say so in the first place?”
I gulp and follow Teddy out of the medical chamber. I’m sure guilty of too often indulging too freely of the mudder gin, but I’m a little scared to think about whatever refreshment might be offered by the obliterator men dressed in their formal suits and narrow, straight ties.”
Trophy Grove Page 9
