The Saffron Malformation

by Walker, Bryan

  Quey huffed a chuckle and nodded, “Guess so.”

  Reggie didn’t ask him to explain any further. Truth was, the man didn’t want to know, he’d been through enough to understand sometimes ignorance was blissful.

  “I’m gunna go walk this off,” Reggie said, standing and collecting his empty plate. “The hangover, that is. Care to join me?” he asked and Quey shook his head.

  “Think I’ll just wait here for the grease and protein to settle in.”

  Reggie walked into the bar and Quey leaned back in his chair and watched Geo roll along the beach and disappear into a field north of town.

  Quey reached into his pocket, pulled out his folded sheet computer and turned away from the glare of the sun. He unfolded it, clicking the button to make it flat and rigid, and turned it on. The deep glossy black flashed gray for a moment and then it booted, and he was looking at Rain again. He’d forgotten to back out of the website last night and he did it now, quickly. He felt silly, jerking off to the fantasy of the adventure she might be. He didn’t really know her, no more than at least a dozen other men, and probably some women it seemed, so there was no reason to have a mind that lingered on her like his had.

  Quey let it go and brought up his contacts. He touched Ryla’s name. ‘Connecting,’ appeared across the screen with a spiral slowly churning below it. Finally the screen brightened and her face came into view, soft and simple, a section of long brown hair hanging down across her cheek with no makeup highlighting her.

  Quey watched her for a moment, her eyes glancing over to some other task, probably some marvel of computer or robotic engineering beyond his understanding. He smiled.

  “Is there a problem with Geo?” she asked when he didn’t say anything.

  His lips slowly shriveled. “No. Just wanted to let you know I got him going. Doing his thing now.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Starting him up was soup and salad,” he added.

  Ryla turned her attention from what she was doing, thought for a moment and stared at him. “I don’t understand,” she finally said.

  “It was simple.”

  “Oh. Yes. I tried to make his controls as plain as possible. That one button actually initiates a rather long and complicated string of code that should have been individualized to a series of separate switches, but I didn’t want you to have problems because of an activation sequence. If anything does go wrong it’ll be harder to fix this way.”

  “I see,” he said, pondering whether or not she just called him stupid and added, “Job well done then.”

  “Thank you,” she replied dryly as she focused on something else. “Any luck with the items on my list?”

  “Won’t be able to find things like that here. Fen Quada’s mostly a simple city, big as the map might claim it to be, it’s still a one-horse town. Only reason it’s got the resources it has is the beach, makes it all touristy and what not. But I’ll be heading north soon as your robot’s through. Got a stop in a real city where what you’re looking for tends to lurk.”

  Ryla looked at him through her screen. “Okay.”

  They stared at each other for the better part of a minute. “Guess I’ll go then?” Quey asked.

  Ryla turned her screen off.

  Quey sat for a time, looking out at the ocean, thinking how Ryla should see this. It would make an excellent mural.

  Reggie had gone up the sloping road bringing him to upper Fen Quada. He’d strolled along the cliffs trying to clear the soup from his head and sweat out the bitter soreness in his muscles. There was a cool breeze coming off the ocean that tossed pebbles and loose leaves across his path on its way inland. Reggie came to the top of the road, a good set of kilometers from where he started and looked out at the world, a seemingly endless stretch of green landscape that continued on and over the horizon.

  Reggie took a deep breath and felt the pleasant burn in his legs. The three up-hill kilometers had done just as he wished, leaving him refreshed with a thin beading of sweat on his skin. He started along the road leading into upper Fen Quada, a place he rarely visited despite its proximity.

  Avoiding the main part of town, he headed along its outskirts where there stood only a few bungalows with killer views. Reggie nodded to a man sitting on his front porch with a device around his wrist about the size of a watch, displaying information from the network signal. He manipulated the pages with the hand the device was attached to while his other held a cup of coffee. The man noticed Reggie and nodded back with a slight smile then returned to the morning news. He was just as unaware of what was rolling down the highway and toward the city as Reggie was, making his way along the two-lane road.

  Arnie found Quey on the back patio facing the ocean with his device in his hand. He was watching something, a video and sipping coffee. “Excuse me,” the young man said tentatively.

  Quey tapped the screen, paused his video and looked over his shoulder.

  “There’s a thing,” Arnie took a moment to think. “It’s by your truck and it’s flashing and beeping.”

  Quey stood, feeling the fluids in his body slosh this way and that, and took a moment to clear the lingering dizzying effects of shine from his head. After that he followed Arnie out back to where Geo was sitting beside the truck.

  “Huh,” Quey huffed, unsure why the robot was there.

  “What is it?” Arnie asked.

  Quey slapped him on the back and replied, “Nothing to worry about, just a little favor I’m doing for a friend. Now if you could give me a minute, I need to talk to that friend.”

  “Sure,” Arnie said, walking away.

  Quey called Ryla.

  “Hello,” she answered.

  “I think there’s a problem with Geo.”

  Suddenly her attention shifted to him. “What’s the malfunction?”

  “He’s back.”

  She stared at him. “That’s not a malfunction.”

  “Didn’t you say it was going to take three days?”

  “I said the exact time frame was between one and three days.”

  Quey looked at her, staring at him through her own screen, unsure of what to say next. “Oh,” was what he finally came up with.

  “What’s he doing now?” Ryla asked.

  Quey shrugged. “Just sort of sitting there. It’s got a light on its head and that’s blinking. Arnie said there was a beeping sound or something but I haven’t heard it.”

  “He’s fine,” Ryla replied. “You can load him into the truck.”

  Quey nodded and watched her attention shift to another task off screen.

  “Anything else?” she asked after a moment.

  “Say, what is it you’re doing.”

  She shifted her attention to him again and looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Just pressing copper.”

  “Yeah, what’s that for?”

  “Circuit boards,” she replied.

  Quey nodded.

  “Let me know if you have trouble finding the things on my list.” she said. “I’ll have to adjust my plans accordingly.”

  Quey shook his head. “Told you, I know where to come by that sort of stuff. If you wanted any cheap keepsakes that only function to say ‘I was here once’ I could fetch one of those if you like. That or beach towels. Or bikinis, I could pick you up one of each for when you work on your tan.”

  Ryla furrowed her brow and peered at him, uncertain.

  “What’s your color?” he asked with a smile. “Blue? You seem like a blue.”

  “This is a joke?” she asked

  Quey chuckled, “Meant to be, yeah, a bit of one.”

  Ryla nodded. “Is it because I do not tan, or because I live nowhere near a beach?”

  He laughed and said, “I suppose both.”

  “Hmm,” she groaned and looked away.

  “Least you got it though,” he told her. “That’s progress. Next time you might try to laugh, as it goes people tend to favor that sort of response,” he teased.
>
  “Yeah,” she said dryly and looked at him. “Maybe next time you’ll be funny?”

  Quey found himself dumbfounded for a moment and then he laughed.

  “That was right then?” she asked. “A good joke?”

  He smiled at her. “It was fine, being it was your first and all.”

  “I’ve been reading about jokes,” she trailed off, slightly embarrassed, or so it seemed.

  In the distance there was the rumble of multiple engines Quey didn’t notice until a series of gunshots cracked and echoed from upper Fen Quada. He looked at the screen in his hand, at Ryla watching him, her eyes widened. “Was that,” she started to ask but Quey was already nodding.

  “I believe it was at that,” he replied before she could finish.

  “Quey,” she started.

  “Gotta run now, but I’ll let you know when I start Geo up again.”

  “Should I,” but there was nothing for her to do so she stopped.

  “You just keep reading about those jokes, I look forward to plenty more amusements at your behalf,” he told her and cut the communication feed before she had a chance to respond and accessed Geo’s control app. The robot rolled to the back of the truck and parked itself inside. It even closed the door behind it.

  Arnie stepped from the loading doors and paused. “Did you hear?”

  “Go back inside,” Quey ordered and the boy complied hastily. Looking up at the cliffs above he heard another round of gunfire, this one longer in duration and greater in the number of weapons being used. Next came a pair of explosions followed by wild cries and shouting.

  Quey used his computer to place a call to Dusty. ‘Connecting,’ appeared across the screen along with the spiral and remained for over thirty seconds before Rachel appeared. “Quey?” she asked, a tremble of fear quivering her words and widening her eyes.

  “Where’s Dusty?”

  “He’s out front. He’s got a gun,” she added, her eyes shimmering. “I didn’t even know he had one,” she added hollowly.

  “That doesn’t matter now, because it’s a good thing he does. You listen-”

  “Are they savages?” she asked.

  Quey pondered, looking up at the cliffs, listening to the rumbling engines and exchange of gunfire. It was likely the law had rallied in an attempt to fend them off, whoever they were.

  “Don’t know,” Quey replied, “But I don’t think so,” he added. “Once Men are scavengers mostly, comin across what’s smaller and weaker.”

  Tears dripped down Rachel’s cheeks and she gasped, breathing frantically.

  “Hey, it’s going to be fine,” Quey told her. “You just stick with Dusty, he and I been through stickies greater by far than this, right?”

  She nodded, though she didn’t believe him.

  “You stick to him and-”

  The screen cut out.

  The word ‘Searching’ appeared on his device but Quey knew it was hopeless. Raiders liked to jam up the networks to keep people from calling for help.

  Quey exited the call and opened the map. He zoomed in on Fen Quada and began looking at the roads. One major road leading into town and another heading out was what there was and that was bad news for them. He scanned the map more thoroughly and found a number of side roads that led to smaller settlements outside of Fen Quada, but if they went that way they were stuck on those roads for a while. None of the outlying areas had direct access to the major highways.

  Quey looked back at Rusty Nails and Fluffy Tails and tried to imagine holding up inside but couldn’t. It was open and welcoming with too many windows. They’d need and army to cover all the points of entry and then a team of carpenters to build cover for them.

  “Fuck,” Quey grumbled and turned back to his truck. It was risky, depending on the sort of raiders that were pillaging overhead. Gathering up his folk and jumping into his truck might get them out or it might get them chased.

  Motorcycles growled up and down the street and peppered through the sound of the engines was the cracking pops of gunfire. They weren’t shooting at anything particular, just trying to scare folks so they’d scamper like spooked livestock and put up less of a fight. It worked. Residents of Fen Quada ran this way and that, hiding when they could, making their way toward whatever or whoever they deemed precious enough to risk a bullet over.

  A ways behind them were more vehicles, cars and trucks, maybe even a rig or two, rolling in slowly with bad intentions. When Reggie first heard the engines and spotted the raiders he searched for a spot to nestle down and found it in a side street between two buildings. There was a crook in the wall and he pressed into it knowing they wouldn’t pay notice unless he moved. As the bikes roared past he leaned over and took a peak at the situation on the main road. Motorbikes were crisscrossing through the streets, scouting the grid of upper Fen Quada. Residents scurried here and there, most just trying to vacate the streets. A woman ran, a man on a bike spotted her and opened fire. Her chest heaved and a faint mist of red exploded from it as she tumbled to the ground.

  Reggie ducked back a bit when another bike came around the corner up the block and started toward him. He kept his eyes on the bandit, seeking his markings, hoping to make out what gang affiliation they showed. It wasn’t until the bike passed and he could see the patch on the back of the biker’s jacket that he knew who they were. An angel screaming with its hands to the sky while its flesh rotted off its body and blood soaked into its robes. Its wings were tattered and bat like, its halo shattered and insects crawled across its face and hands. They were Angels of the Brood, probably one of two gangs that could pull off a raid of this size. Fen Quada had sheriffs aplenty for its own needs but no official Blue Moon Security and nothing that could handle something like this. They were used to tourists getting a bit too much drink in them and stumbling down the street with a bit too little clothes on, not a full on gang raid.

  Gunshots boomed with greater frequency and he could hear return fire attached to them. Another explosion sent a tremor through the ground. Someone was putting up a fight, and Reggie feared that someone wasn’t going to last long. A car screeched to a stop just up the block and the doors opened. Five men climbed from inside, each carrying a rifle, and started down the street. They were sloppy, just walking, no organization or formation and no one watching the rear. The barrels of their guns pointed everywhere but in front of them.

  Reggie crouched in the alley. They weren’t covering themselves, they didn’t check the shops as they passed or the spaces between. The large dark man smiled as they strolled past as carefree as teenagers heading to the theater, happy just to see people running away from them. When the last one passed Reggie hurried, moving surprisingly fast and silent for a man of his size, and seized the one in back. One arm wrapped around his neck, choking him, while the other tore his gun from his hand and then he tossed the man to the pavement. Oblivious even as one of them fell, the others continued forward until Reggie opened fire.

  There was a switch in Reggie’s mind that he allowed to flip and the soldier took over. He fired four quick shots that tore through the bandits and sent them to the ground. Two were dead for sure, he assessed as he lowered the barrel to the head of the one he’d grabbed. The guy, probably no older than twenty-two began to plead. “Plea-“

  But Reggie fired and his head burst like a water balloon across the pavement. As he went around, collecting the raiders’ ammo he popped rounds into the two that were wheezing and struggling to move. No reason to leave a man suffering and choking on his own blood.

  Two minutes after he had dashed from his nook between the buildings, Reggie was back in place and taking stock of his inventory. He’d collected a fully loaded assault rifle and four spare clips from the dead men in the road. There had been more but he only needed to get back to his place, that’s where the real artillery was.

  Watching up and down the street, Reggie took off his shirt and tied the clips inside. He would have rather had them on his belt or in his pockets
but the shorts he was wearing wouldn’t accommodate that.

  Another car rolled down the street and stopped not far from the first. He could hear men yelling from inside, they’d spotted the bodies in the road and they were deciding what to do next. Kneeling, Reggie brought his gun up, keeping as much of himself behind the corner of the building as possible, and fired into the car. The first three shots punched tight, clean holes through the windshield and left a web of cracked glass around them. The rear doors flew open and the three men in the back seat clamored out of the vehicle. Reggie pumped a set of rounds into the one who’d made the mistake of getting out on the side he was shooting from. The other two fired wildly from across the car, aiming their barrels up and at nothing. Reggie waited and when the first one shot up from behind cover, like a whack-a-mole, Reggie gently squeezed the trigger. The man’s head jerked back as a bullet shattered his skull and showed his brains the light of day.

  The last of them stayed low and hurried back up the road. Once or twice Reggie thought he might have a shot but nothing was clean and he didn’t feel like wasting bullets just yet. In his mind his mission wasn’t to kill these assholes but to get back to lower Fen Quada. Get to his guns and get to Quey and Rail and even that little guy Arnie, that’s what was important. Anything else was gravy.

  After a brief pause, when he was sure the street was clear, he snuck away from the main road, gun in one hand and ammo wrapped in a shirt in the other, and started down the side road that would take him back to the cliffs.

  There was a time when Dusty would have run the two kilometers or so from his house to the Nails and Tails without feeling the effort, but that was long ago. Now he had to pace himself, and that coupled with needing to keep track of Rachel made the trip a slow go. He stuck to the side roads, passing through the main streets only to cross them and duck into other alleys. He could hear the motorcycles screeching down Costal Cliff road, a three kilometer stretch that took its time winding down the cliff. From where he was, lightly jogging through an alley between a set of bungalows, he could see Fen Quada above and could hear the gunshots faintly cracking in the wind.