Rachel nodded, staring up at him with a degree of empathy and a bit of pity.
“I survived but at what cost? Her torment. A nice girl who gave me a free round from time to time. What they must have done to her…” he trailed off, fresh tears rolling toward his chin.
From her bed she reached toward him and he took her hand. “It’s okay,” she said.
He was shaking his head. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he wept. “And worst of all I thought I deserved to, and not just for the waitress.”
“Hey,” she snapped at him and he quieted. “You didn’t. And it’ll be alright because I love you, right?”
He smiled and nodded.
“You and me.”
He climbed onto the bed beside her and draped his arm over her. “I love you,” he told her and she held him back.
“I know,” she said.
“Don’t tell him,” he whispered, exhausted.
“Who?” she asked.
“Quey. About the waitress.”
Her heart skipped and the full gravity of what he’d told her, what he’d been carrying for all these years, hit her. And he’d shared that burden with her and her alone.
Settling against him, she allowed herself to sleep once again.
Reggie and Arnie were sharing a table at a diner near the edge of town. Reggie had a plate of pulled pork on a bun with some beans and mashed potatoes steaming on the table in front of him. Arnie chose a roasted chicken breast with beans and slaw. He also ordered some fries.
“Should have gotten the fries,” Arnie said as he took a bite.
“Naw, I like the spuds mashed.”
“Sure, but with a sandwich, you always go fries.”
Reggie shook his head. “No, see, this is pulled pork my friend,” he said between bites. “Its gunna fall out this bun and when I’m done I’m gunna have this little pile I can stir into the potatoes and then I’ve got a whole nother round of delicious.” He took a bite of the sandwich and a glob of pork and sauce splattered onto his plate. Reggie gave the boy a look, ‘see,’ it said and Arnie nodded.
Arnie had cut into his chicken and taken the first bite when he looked up and out at the road leading into town. “Fuck me,” he said and Reggie turned in his seat. Two bikes rolling in and the men on them showing Angels of the Brood patches.
“Get hold of Quey. Tell him we’re humped like five cents a dance on payday.”
Arnie nodded and pulled his folded sheet device from his pocket.
The salesman was trying to hustle him. A plump man with thinning hair wearing a bad suit stood across from Quey, the front end of what had once been a moving truck between them. His name was Larry and he could smell the urgency coming off Quey as soon as the man stepped onto the lot.
Leapin Larry’s discount cars, it was the only place in town and the man standing across from him was the reason he didn’t advertise his prices. “It’s a good truck,” Larry assured him with a sleazy smile. Quey imagined it was the same sort pedophiles used when they went to the playgrounds and asked, “Would you like a piece of candy.”
“It is a good truck,” Quey replied as his sheet started to chime in his hand. He looked at it and finished, “Just not at that price.” Incoming Arnie. Quey frowned.
“You won’t find another deal in town that’ll-”
Quey held up a finger and tapped the screen. Arnie's face appeared and the kid said, “We have a problem.”
Quey nodded. He knew the rest but he let the boy say it anyhow.
“Pair of broodlings just rode in on bikes.” Reggie took the device from Arnie and Quey watched the random blur of images streaming across the screen while the big man settled it on himself.
“It’ll take ‘em a bit but they’re going to find the car. I mean it’s out of site but it’s not exactly hidden.”
Quey nodded ponderously. “Think it’s time we put an end to this cat and mouse.”
“What cha got in mind?”
Quey’s eyes squinted as he looked around him, as if there was some sign posted with instructions as to what he should do. Despite the lack of such a thing he felt inspired and said, “Think you can get to the guns?”
The big man glanced across the table at Arnie, sipping coffee from a cup. “I think we can manage.”
“Get as many as you can carry and meet me at the town line. I’ll get Dusty.” A thought occurred to him and he added, “You got anymore grenades?”
Reggie nodded, “Sure do, but I think I might have a better idea than standing in the middle of the road hoping they don’t want a fight.”
Brow furrowed, Quey asked, “What?”
Slyness touched Reggie’s lips and it must have been a contagious sort because by the time the big man finished telling what he had in mind a bit of it was on Quey as well.
Seeing as how the whole of Bravett consisted of four major streets and a lot of undeveloped land, there was never any need for more than the one Sherriff and his deputy. As the bikes roared through town, the Sherriff, sitting in the station house sipping coffee, exchanged a glance with his deputy and then went to the window.
Herold, tall and in his late forties with salt and pepper hair—far more salt than pepper these days—peered out at the pair rolling through the streets and took note of the patches on their backs, shoulders, chests and sleeves. The back said they were from the Angels of the Brood. The others bragged about men they’d killed and women they’d raped and towns they’d pillaged.
Danny, shorter and in his late twenties, was standing next to him, watching him as much as he did the gang members. Herold could feel the younger man’s eyes, saw him nervously run a hand through his chestnut hair, and nodded. “Better get the shotguns,” Herold said, remorseful that men such as this had come to his town.
Danny stood unsure for a moment until the older man looked directly at him. Then he nodded, swallowed hard, and went to the gun locker. Looking back to the street Herold could hear the rattling of keys behind him and the thin metallic sound of a locker being opened.
Herold took another sip of his coffee before setting it down on the edge of his desk as he walked over and helped Danny load the guns.
Dusty was lying in bed beside Rachel when the door opened and Quey stepped in quietly. She slept deep, even as Dusty lifted his head off the pillow and looked to where Quey stood.
With a sigh, Quey crossed and stood over the bed, looking down at Rachel, her brown hair flowing out from under her bandages. She looked beautiful. At peace, in the midst of a perfect rest and Quey found it regretful that this state only seemed to occur after something terrible.
“How’s she doing?” he asked his friend, lying on the bed beside her.
“She woke up once, bout an hour ago.”
Quey nodded. “I always knew she was a tough girl. Had to be to put up with your shit,” he added with a smile.
Dusty chuckled. “Yeah.” A moment. “This isn’t why you’re here is it?”
Gravely, he shook his head and answered, “Sincerely wish it were old friend. Unfortunately it has to do with the Broodlings that rolled into town not ten minutes ago.”
Dusty’s heart sank as he rolled off the bed.
Quey traced Rachel with his eyes, watching her sleep so peaceful and oblivious and he envied her. Envied Dusty too for having someone like her.
“You got a plan?” Dusty asked.
Quey nodded but for another reason.
“What is it?”
“I get it,” he told his friend, who was confused and surprised by the words.
“Get what?”
“Why you quit the life.”
Dusty chuckled. “Makin shine and hauling was,” he paused then restarted, “That life was for you and Cal, not me.”
Quey was shaking his head. “No. Wasn’t for me either. Never gave much thought to what was till recently and now I don’t know.” Dusty’s brow furrowed as his friend’s eyes glassed over, and for the first time in as long as he could remember he s
aw Quey scared and unsure. “My shinnin came from ease not desire. Cal took me in, money flowed, all the mash needed was time and ingredients. Shit, it was better than the street. Especially after you went into the detention center. Fucking street. Fucking shine. Fucking truck. Fucking road.”
Dusty watched his friend silently. Even his breath took pause.
“You know when it blew up, you know what I thought of first?”
Dusty shook his head slightly.
“After I saw the robot was okay, I was just grateful to be rid of that fucking shine.” Quey took a deep breath and Dusty nodded slowly.
“What’s it do-” Dusty was cut off by the sound his friend’s screen made, folded and in his pocket. Quey collected it and opened the communication.
“I’m set and Arnie's waiting for you with the guns,” Reggie said and Quey nodded.
“What’s the plan?” Dusty asked when his friend clicked off his device and set it on the table beside the bed. He could get it when they came back for Rachel, and if he couldn’t well then he wouldn’t need it.
“The plan is we say hello. Find out why these fuckers are after us.”
Dusty nodded and the two men left the room and headed out to the street.
Arnie was waiting outside the doctor’s office with a bag of guns and a nervous hand. As they distributed the weapons, a rifle for all three of them and two pistols each, Arnie finally spoke up. “I can’t do this.” The kid’s hands wouldn’t lay still.
Quey and Dusty looked at him then exchanged a brief glance of knowing. Arnie was tough, but he was also right. He couldn’t do it. If it came time he’d hesitate and there was no doubt he’d be the first to die. Still they needed him pointing a weapon for this to go well.
“I’ve never shot anyone and I can’t,” the boy trailed off. He looked so young and fragile standing on the sidewalk with a rifle in his trembling hands, the fading afternoon sun draped across one side of his overwhelmed face.
“Listen,” Quey said, trying to calm him. “There’s not going to be any shooting, alright? We just need them to think there will, and we need you, not to kill anyone but just to hold the gun.”
Sweat trickled from Arnie's pale brow. His stomach was churning and he was sure he was going to see his lunch again soon.
“You can do that right? Just hold it?”
Arnie swallowed hard, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and nodded. He still didn’t look good so Dusty gave it a try. “Hey Arnie?” The kid looked over at him. “How old are you?”
“Twenty four.”
“Really?” Quey and Dusty asked, both shocked. They’d have sworn the kid was eighteen. Twenty, maybe. Dusty shrugged, “Right, well you went to a proper school right?”
He nodded.
“What were you tracked for?”
“Originally?” he asked and Dusty nodded. “Pilot,” he shrugged.
Quey and Dusty smiled at each other and laughed. “Really?” Quey asked.
Arnie nodded. “Blue Moon put land lock on the planet just before I was in high school, that and the red flag from a few years before made it so nothin flew. That’s how I ended up at Rail’s. I mean, what good’s a pilot when nothing flies so I just drifted until the old man found me.”
Quey and Dusty laughed some more and this time Arnie chuckled a bit.
“See that,” Quey said. “You were just thinkin on it too much. Try to keep moment to moment and if shit gets to be too much,” he shrugged. “Just think about being a pilot.”
They had another brief laugh before a voice shouted, “Drop it.” The three men snapped into awareness and looked to the two law men approaching from up the road.
“Easy,” Quey shouted, keeping his rifle at his side. “We’re not here to do you harm.”
“Lot of strangers’ wandrin’ through my streets this afternoon,” the older of the two said almost as a warning while looking at him down the site of his shotgun. “None of whom I like the look of.”
“We just want to help,” Dusty said calmly.
“This here twelve gauge is the only help I’d like, thank ya kindly.”
Another look from Dusty to Quey. This one was Dusty telling Quey he’d tried, that he was all out of ideas that didn’t end badly.
Down the street the Broodlings turned a corner and stopped. They starred at the group holding guns a block away for a long moment, then they were on their devices, sending a wolf’s howl.
“You’ve got a pair of Broodlings and you think that’s your problem but it isn’t. Your problem is the convoy comin’ after them. Dozens, rollin’ up from Fen Quada, which they sacked earlier today. I do believe we can agree Fen Quada is a might bit larger than your fine burg here. Now its rubble, and they had a bit more than a Sherriff and his Deputy.”
Herold and Danny looked at each other for a split. Herold sighed.
“How do you know that?” Danny demanded.
“Because he’s the one they’re chasing,” Herold said, like a man defeated. “Brood never comes out less there’s something worth finding and our piddally bits sure as hell aren’t enough to lure ‘em.”
“It’s true,” Quey said. “Me and mine brought this heap of ugly in with us.”
“So we give you to them,” Danny suggested, aiming his gun with bravado. Herold remained still, a rock in the chaos of a storm.
“I promise, your town wont burn, and if you just give us a chance we’ve got a plan that could end this without any blood.”
“A plan huh? Yeah and what if it gets hitched?” Herold asked.
“Then you do as your deputy suggests. You bargain me for the town.”
Herold lowered his gun and a moment later Danny followed the lead. “I will too,” Herold warned. “Won’t feel a bit bad about it.”
“Neither would I,” Quey told him.
The Sherriff and his Deputy followed Quey, Dusty and Arnie to the town line where they stood holding guns and waiting. The broodlings had rolled up the road where they remained out of town a ways to wait for their friends. The landscape was lush, trees beginning to change scattered amidst the long green grass and etched into it were the thin lines of paved roads and the subtle structures that made the town of Bravett. Rolling down one of those lines, slowly closing on those structures was a convoy of nastiness, and waiting to meet it were five men with guns, one of whom would never bring himself to fire.
The convoy stopped near the edge of town. Render looked out at the five men standing on the road and grew curious. He opened the passenger’s side door of the rig and stepped out, showing his hands were empty.
“Why do I feel like I’m rolling into a trap?” he shouted to Quey, the middle of the five men.
“Maybe it’s my friend up there on the rooftop.”
Render looked up at the roof of a bar and nodded. Reggie was standing at the corner.
“Is that…” one of the brood began, squinting.
“A dark ass mutha fucka with a bazooka?” another finished.
“I believe it is,” Render answered. “And he does look pissed.”
“Close,” Quey shouted. “What my friend is holding is a Genuine Blue Moon issue pulse cannon. Know what that is?”
Render nodded slowly, his eyes squinting as he tried to make whether or not this moonshiner was for real. “Put a good sized crater in this world.”
Quey nodded.
“So what do you want?”
“Why are you after me?”
“Bounty on your head.”
“All this for a little bounty?”
Render shook his head, “Nothin’ little about this bounty.”
“How much?” Dusty asked. Quey shot him a look and he shrugged, figuring it couldn’t hurt to know.
“Depends on a few things, but we’re promised ten million at least.”
The four men standing to either side of Quey looked at him for a moment and Quey felt dizzy.
“Who the fuck did you piss off?” Dusty asked, quietly.
Quey shook
his head then shouted, “What’s the bounty for?”
Render shrugged. “You. Alive.”
A bit of relief trickled into Quey. At least they weren’t planning on killing him, which might be the only reason this little plan was working. “Who placed it?” Quey inquired.
“Man didn’t say his name.”
“What’s he want?”
Render shrugged. “Don’t know. Have to guess he wants to talk to you a bit. Ask you some questions I reckon, being as he specified alive.”
“Questions about what?”
Render chuckled. “He was non specific, though it probably has to do with this bitch he was lookin to find. Rain, think he said she went by.” Quey’s eyes widened slightly and Render smirked. “Know her, I see. Yeah he was askin ‘bout her before you ever came up.”
“Alright then, you call this guy, tell him you’ve got me. He can come here and ask all the questions he wants. You get your money, he gets his answers, I walk away with my skin. Everyone’s a winner.”
“Say we don’t like that arrangement.”
“Only other one is everyone’s a looser.”
Render glanced up at Reggie again and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“And in the mean time, what do you say we truce and lower these guns for a spell. My arm’s gettin’ tired.”
The Saffron Malformation Page 24
