by Amy Kiss
We ran the perimeter of the town, around smokeless factories, rusting warehouses,and cargo yards with lines of parked trucks. Things weren't going so well for the good folk in Gilsner, which meant business was good for men like us.
Before the war that would have bothered me. Until the government had sent me to baby-sit the poppy fields of Afghan warlords. Nothing noble in that. But it had taught me that people would get what they wanted one way or another. If making a cut off it gets you through another day, then so be it. I wasn’t getting rich off this. Maybe I’d feel worse if I was.
We only had to turn in a bit to get to the motel. The parking lot stood cracked and baking under the noon sun. Mostly empty. The road it sat on had a car here and there but no pedestrians at the moment, neither druggies or civvies. The four riders rolled right into it, but I lowered my engine and crept out to an empty office a block away. A fire escape ran up an alley behind, just out of reach. I sighed, then spiked.
I never knew how the army lab rats had wired up the system inside, but it always felt like a needle coming down on the back of my neck, cool and sharp. Then my body blared hot like a chemical reaction. I sprinted up the brick wall until I could reach the lower rung. I clambered up top as easy as climbing stairs.
The office was no more than 3 stories, but I could see out on all sides of Gilsner from the roof. Yellow and dusty on one sides, but grey concrete - broken up with blurs of green on the other side. Katie lived in one of those green oases.
I set the thought aside and crouched in the gravel at the corner overlooking the motel. I slung my rifle off my back and sighted it on my guys as two of them filed into the manager's booth. The grip was worn and the barrel rusty. Our gear was seriously out of shape, but at a couple hundred feet, it should work fine. If it even needed to.
The booth had tinted glass. I could remove my shades and resolve the shadows I saw through my scope, but didn't see a point. I knew the deal. The buyer would check the stuff, complain a bit. Canyon would call him a prick and name a price. The guy would flinch, and demand something: security, reliability, a discount. He'd get one or two of the above. The show of force was meant to remind him we were still a legit operation. The Scorpions had probably fed him lies about our club’s impending demise.
Sure enough, about the five minute mark, Canyon and Crispy bust back out with a plastic bag, looking not-pissed. The four men nodded, and sauntered back to their hogs.
Another day, another deal.
Behind me, I heard the faintest scritch of one pebble crunching along another. A bird, I told myself, as I turned, but spiked anyway. Call it instinct, but it sounded like one fat fucking bird.
I swung the rifle around to see a meaty hand reaching up from the fire escape, joining the other already there. The first held a little black gun with a silencer.
There were little electrical boxes all along the roof and I leaped onto one, landing into a soft crouch. The world moved with all the slowness of a playground, as I leaped from one to the other, right up to the fire escape. When an ugly face heaved up to join the hands, I was already sighting it through my scope.
The guy pulled high enough for me to see the Sand Scorpions logo on his jacket, and then he noticed the long shadow and looked up.
"Oh shit." His face was ugly, but not quite as ugly as when my bullet cracked through his skull. The gunshot ran crisp in the air and then vanished. The biker's body went rattling down the fire rail.
I sprinted back to my nest, spiking again. The world resolved into high def under the yellow glaze my glasses gave me. If I took em off, my retinas would burn white for days. But even at my speed, gun fire rattled out in the parking lot below before I could peek out.
A dozen Sand Scorpions converged on my boys, from every cross-street, nook and alley. No engines rumbled, the firing vectors didn't criss cross. This wasn't even an ambush. It was a goddamn execution.
Canyon went down even before I sighted my rifle. He staggered back into the bikes and they all crashed onto the lot. I found a sharpshooter with a rifle on the motel roof and ran a round through his heart. One more was on the next building over, and I spun and took him out. Those were the executioners.
But there were too many file and rank, and they all spat out bullets with automatics.
Where the fuck were they getting this shit from? I wondered as I turned one's head into an overripe tomato. Uncut was down now too. The nickname hadn’t done him much good. My guys should all be dead by now, but these Scorpions were just spraying. No training. It didn’t give me hope. Just better than nothing odds.
Something cracked near my head. In my hyper state I saw another bullet fly past my skull. More crashed on the low stone rise shielding me, and I had to roll to find a clean spot. When I popped up, Twist was down too. I felt nothing. It felt like a deeper nothing than for the others, and that sickened me. He was one of mine. An asshat, but blood. I took out another two guys in his memory, and another seemed to have been down from one of my guys, but it had shifted now. 8 on 1 was never a fair fight. Three of the guys advanced on Crispy and he slumped to the ground as if he had just heard shit news.
The guns turned on me. Concrete dust and chunks and steel were flying my way now. It felt like I were in a sandstorm. My cheek felt wet and I found blood. Men were shouting orders. I tried to sight another shot and found my viewfinder shaking. I had spiked way too much and my body was coming down hard. A dozen minutes and I would be making angels in the gravel. If I lived that long.
Police sirens wailed in the distance. I heard boot-steps clatter my way.
I needed to extract. I strapped the rifle to my back, and sprinted the side of the roof, leaping towards the next one. I tumbled right over the edge, rolled and broke right back into a run. The next roof was further or I was slipping. I barely caught the edge, and had to heave myself on. I lay there panting, looking at the cyan sky. Even with my shades it began to turn white and I had to look away .
This was probably safe from the Scorpions at least. But I couldn't stay here. A sharp spike always had a hard fall on the way down, but things were getting worse. The withdrawals might actually kill me if they were hitting so fast. Whatever modifications they’d done to my body must be coming loose. A long term problem that wouldn’t matter if I didn’t even make it through the short term.
I looked out and saw I was going deeper in Gilsner, going further from home.
Katie was in there. She knew medicine. She would have meds. She could help me.
Or maybe she would put me down. Turn me in.
Either seemed ok.
I staggered to my feet, crawled down the building and moved into the city.
"Geez, Katie, watch where you aim that thing!"
"Huh?" I noticed my arm poking out in the aisle ready to hit someone with 20 ccs of canine tranquilizer. Not dangerous - probably fun actually - but I said sorry and stuck my hand back in.
Sandy frowned, then came over from her lab bench and took my latex gloved hand in her own. "Hey, are you remembering it again?'
I peered in to her adorable little face. The dusty blonde hair that fit her to a T. Her wide green puppy eyes. No wonder she got along so well with the dogs.
"Yeah," I lied. "I'm so sorry."
She drew me into a tight hug that almost ended up with me injecting her again. "I'm telling you. Take some time off."
"It's the beginning of the semester."
"Exactly. We don't have much crap to do. I'll bring you all your stuff when you're ok."
Ok after a near bout of rape, as far as she knew. Not seeing a dead man staring at you with a knife in his throat. I hadn't told her that bit, or the whole town would know. I shivered at what that would mean for me.
All she knew was that a biker had cornered me in an alley and started to grope me, until someone stepped in and stopped him.
I really should have lied about there being a savior. I counted myself a decent liar, but Sandy turned curiosity into a martial art. I'd tried selling him
as some clean shaven college boy, but she'd kept asking me about his history. I couldn't keep up with her jabs.
So I confessed that he was a biker too. Which was exactly the wrong thing to do. Her questions switched from his thoughts to his body. And she didn't settle for my vague visual descriptions. She wanted a muscle by muscle play about holding onto him when he took me home.
She knew how big a deal that ride was for me, which made this guy sound even more special. Couldn't lie about that. I'd left the car there, and she'd had to send her new stunt driver beau to pick it up the next day.
Ironically, the part she didn't buy at all was the one bit of truth. That Ghost had just turned around after taking me home and driven off. But her guilt about the whole thing kept her from pushing me on that point.
For now.
God knows what she would think if she could see what was on my mind as we worked side by side.
I barely remembered anything Twist or said, and thankfully, nothing of his touch. The beer had even clouded the murder. My night almost seemed to start at the sight of Ghost glowing in that open doorway. My killer in shining armor. I couldn't forget the way he had perched me on his ride and held me as I shook.
As easy for him as slashing a man's throat.
Sandy released me. "Just think about it, OK? Maybe even think about talking to someone."
Pfft, like I could afford that. Sandy and I had grown up on different sides of town - a perfect example of opposites attracting. But my parents had been deeply indebted. When they'd died, they hadn't even fully owned the townhouse they left me. I'd part timed as a waitress my senior year to pay off the final bits, only to find that I still had to pay taxes on the damn thing. Between those and vet tech school, I was burning through credit. If I just sold the place, it would be enough to pay for school, pay rent till I graduated...but, the house was all I had. My parents’ only gift.
Yeah, that was just the memory I needed to add to the mix in my head. I focused on our practicals. The lab we were in held hundreds of little vials of medicine, some to keep animals alive, some to send them on their way peacefully, some that did one to one animal and the opposite to another. Part of our training to be veterinary nurses involved getting the syringes and gear ready for the appointments of the day.
It was the sort of mindless work that would get you in a lot of trouble if you screwed up. Sandy hummed a little ditty as she did her bit, busing a tray to one of the teaching hospital's rooms. Truth be told, there wasn't enough work to send two students down here. The vet hospital was a relic of when we had ranchers from all around come here for advice. Most of them had long since been rounded up by some megacorp that had its own in-house vets and staff. Probably where I would be headed if I wanted a job. This housepet stuff might never even come in handy.
So I had nothing but time. Time to think.
Ghost was military, I'd decided a couple nights ago. I was staring at my ceiling and trying to forget the sight of that guy Twist's ugly face grinning down on my breasts. Even then it was a faint memory.
Nothing compared to how close my brain held onto Ghost. To the broad thrust of his chest. The ripples of his back. His hands picking me up like a piece of gear, and his eyes studying me endlessly. Assessing me. All carefully sculpted elements. Built for some purpose more than whatever his stupid club had him do.
I could get lost in the memory of his body for minutes. Analyzing it gave me a sort of justification for that. Eventually, I would remind myself he killed a guy, and that would get me back to work.
But that's what soldiers were trained to do right? And Twist - ugh - had said that this was a guy that had done bad stuff. All these bikers did, so what did it matter that he killed one of them.
Then again, he was one of them. Even if he stood a little bit apart, even if he was a soldier once, he was a biker through and through now.
So why had he put his whole club at risk to save me? Why put a ‘ho’ over a ‘bro’?
I smiled to myself. I had no idea if he talked liked that, he seemed more the strong silent type. It was the sort of the thing Sandy would say, and though she was working a few feet away, I couldn't share this. So I had to think it for her.
Our work practice shift ended, and we went to change. I pushed into the changing room and froze.
"What?" Sandy stared at me, ready to swoop in.
"The room he took me too... It had bleach."
"I thought you were in an alley?"
I hated lying to her. "I mean, the corner of the alley. Someone had dumped a bunch of the stuff there."
"Oh, honey." She took me by the arm and led me in. "I'm so sorry I left you. I am such an idiot."
"It's ok."
"Well, I'm here now, OK? I got you. It's ok. It smells like bleach and it's ok."
She had on such an earnest look. I broke out laughing. Her cute face looked even cuter the deeper she frowned.
"I'm ok," I said. "I'm ok."
I slung off my lab coat, lathered my hands and studied myself in the mirror. I wasn't as cute as Sandy, but I wasn't so bad off. A heart shaped face and thick bronze hair, courtesy of Mom. A good straight nose and glimmering copper eyes, thanks to Dad. I could almost see the two of them, one at each shoulder, their faces beaming to meet mine. My vision blurred. What was it about this day making me so moody? I was pretty sure all my stress had chased away my normal cycle for half a year and I wasn't due anyway. Maybe it was the secrets I had to keep now. What would I have told them anyway? About the near rape? About the murder?
About my crush on the murderer?
Oh god, no. It wasn't a crush. My first adult crush couldn't be on a murderer.
I splashed myself and met Sandy at the locker. "You're right," I said.
"I am?" Sandy sounded like she had seen a miracle.
"Yeah, about taking time off. I think I'm calling it early today. Can I get your notes tomorrow?"
"Yes, yes, absolutely. You need a ride?"
"No, no, it's fine. I'm not in a rush."
We parted with another tight hug.
I went out and baked in the Arizona heat till the bus came. The motion and heat soothed my worries away, and I even dozed enough to dream. I was still riding somewhere in my head, but when I tried to open my eyes, my vision was black. I pulled back and saw the tapered edges of something vast in front of me. The dark surface rippled and I saw the muscles underneath. I pushed against it and now I could feel deep and powerful breaths and a soothing heartbeat. The faint scent of gasoline.
"Hey, miss?"
I startled. We were at my stop. I thanked the driver as I got out. I walked past block after block of manicured lawns. Kids played on some of them, smeared with white sunscreen.
A smile crossed my face. It seemed to be happening more now. Maybe a new appreciation for life. Odd that it took death to that. I giggled at how crazy the human brain worked.
But maybe it wasn’t the near death part of the experience that awakened me.
Kids shrieked nearby and rescued me from my thoughts. I watched them and wondered if I'd chosen the wrong profession. I had been 50/50 between being a vet tech and a nurse. But nursing school meant I'd have to leave Gilsner. I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
My own little lawn sat perfectly still. The grass had wilted to a straw yellow. I promised myself to water it as I walked up to my front door. It rattled open and I stepped into my refuge.
The smell of diesel and sulfur hung heavy in the air.
I should have turned and run. The world outside was bright, open, safe. A wheezing sound hit my ears though, and it sounded very much like hyperventillation. It sounded like a wounded animal.
I grabbed a long unused umbrella from the strand and crept around the entrance to the living room. A trunk-like arm swung from the side of the couch. A dark mass covered the cushions, billowing up and down. I saw the frizz of light hair and knew it was him.
My own breathing spurted into overdrive for a whole mess of reasons. I moved into view,
but his eyes were shut, his other hand covering them. His jacket lay in a crumpled heap and he just had on a white shirt and jeans.
"Ghost?" I said.
My words froze. His body locked and he looked like a giant toy soldier. Ever so slowly, his face turned toward me. The hidden half glistened red.
"Katie," he said, "I need some help."
His words sounded very forced. His body remained locked still, but his arm gripped the bottom edge of my sofa and trembled.
"Did you OD?" I asked, still keeping my distance. He might know my name, he might be wounded, but he had killed a guy sober. If those muscles moved the wrong way on me…
"The opposite," he said. "I'm coming down."
His voice creaked as if keeping it on hinges was the hardest thing in the world.
"Coming down from what?"
"Biosynthetic," he said. "Classified." His teeth broke out into a chatter, but he forced them tight and mouthed, "Please."
That was enough. I dropped my bags and rushed in. His hand came rattling loose and his entire body shivered on my cushions. I took his hand in mine with the idea to comfort him, but it was like trying to soothe a rodeo bull. My entire body rattled with his. I settled for a hand over his chest. It seemed to soothe him, though whether for real or for my benefit, I couldn't tell. He had blood on his cheek, but only a smear nothing serious. Over that, he actually had on a pair of aviators under the palm covering his eyes. I tried to lift them to see what his pupils could tell me, but he stilled my arm.
